Jerry Garcia’s black pocket T shirt from last Grateful Dead show @ Soldier Field July 9, 1995 presented to a close personal friend after leaving the venue with certification from an irrefutable source.
Estimate: $ (PRICELESS)
And in the end, their stuff will be hacked off to shitheads with Daddy’s money. Peddled by a third-rate auction house that needs to clear all of this hippie bullshit out the warehouse to set up for the next hoarder sale.*
No British accents, thick and glossy catalogues, and oak bidding paddles for the crap Parish (this is almost certainly Parish) needs to get out of his garage before he moves to Florida. And if the auction house seems more like an auction apartment, then so be it: Christie’s and Sotheby’s passed.
But he deserved better than that description, didn’t he? Nothing has screamed “written by an intern” more: the misplaced modifier, the phrase “close personal friend,” that fucking at sign. She had a hundred of these to do before lunch or Mr. Donley would yell.
*Clicking on the Directions page of the Donley Auctions website will leave you with the knowledge that there is also a Donley Wild West Town, which is a fact I will allow to stand there, naked but for your judgment.