“Hey, man. What you’re doing? Riding the guys about selling out? You keep that up, man. You’re right, absolutely right.”
Well, thanks. I appreciate that.
“Corporate bullshit, man. Have no part of it, I say.”
“Shooting an advertisement.”
“Making money isn’t a crime, y’know? Unless you’re robbing a bank, I guess.”
Then, it is.
“Or actually making the money.”
You’re talking about counterfeiting.
“I don’t know. Are we? Do you know a guy?”
“It’s charity or some bullshit. Little bit of publicity: gotta get your name out there if you wanna fill the dance floor, right?”
“Sweet and pure Grateful Dead selling stuff like one of those regular bands. Can’t have that, can we?”
“Do me a favor and grab me a pint of ice cream out of that freezer there?
Sure, which flavor?
“The flavor that proves the point I’m making.”
I see what you did.
“Yeah, you know: I’m Garcia, man.”
What is going on here again?
“One of those ads for the guitar magazines. They gimme like a dozen nice guitars, an envelope of cash: sweet deal. If it’s offered, you should take it without hesitation.”
You knew the photo shoot was today?
“Yeah, man. Of course.”
And you thought the shorts were the way to go?