Does anyone remember when we were kids and the Days Between weren’t quite so commercial? Before Big Dead turned it into the multi-billion dollar sell-fest it is today? My God, every radio station I listen to is talking about nothing but!

Again, though: you’re being lied to. Much like Christmas is actually a syncretic mutt of Yule and Saturnalia and whatever the Druids called their Winter Solstice Pancake Death Orgy, the Days Between was originally just one of many competing holidays to honor Garcia.

  • The Swayz Between We celebrate Garcia by watching Point Break on a loop.
  • The Ofeys Between We spend the week using derogatory old-timey terms for white people. (e.g., Cracker-ass cracker, peckerwood, Mr. Charlie, pinetop pinky, Topeka dish towel, demon motherfucker from the fourteenth hell that wants to shit in every pure stream on God’s blessed world just for a nickel, and honky.)
  • The Fayes Between Using Time Sheath technology and quite a bit of tequila, Faye Wray and Faye Reagan/Valentine go town on former Major League Baseball commissioner Faye Vincent.
  • The Gays Between Dongs.
  • The Kays Between In honor of Garcia, just this once, you may ask me about my business.
  • The Bidets Between For a week every August, we all pamper our buttholes.
  • The Taze Between To pay tribute to a musician who meant so much to us, Enthusiasts everywhere break into strangers’ homes and taze them repeatedly in front of their children.
  • The Treys Between For the eight days separating the anniversaries of Garcia’s birth and death, Enthusiasts really, truly try to get into Phish. Again.
  • The Rays Between How the fuck do you trade David Price?
  • The Aunt Mays Between We remain a seemingly immortal albatross around Spider-Man’s neck no matter how many times we’re killed off.