Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Kicking And Screaming

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I’m not getting home, am I?

“You are.”

How?

“Just stop fucking around, please. That Spam Jam fellow was right, and rather polite about it, but: you know. It’s getting on everyone’s nerves.”

Chicago?

“Please and thank you.”

I’m gonna make a cup of coffee.

“This late? Wow. You take it with milk and rebellion.”

I rule.

“Sure, champ.”

Are you still the Wook of Wisdom?

“No. Italics guy. I incepted the Wook.”

You can do that?

“For the exact same reason you can go back to 2015.”

Ironic.

“It is not ironic at all.”

Fungible.

“You don’t use words right and someone should cut off your fingers and replace them with snorkels.”

Ow.

“Yeah. Get hopping, froggy.”

18 Comments

  1. omg fam

    I’m famous

    #fangirling

  2. Also
    try and deny that this is fanfiction. TRY AND FUCKING DENY IT.

    SEE?????? YOU CAN’T DO IT

    YOU ARE A GRATEFUL DEAD FANFICTIONEER.

  3. These are great photos, and I enjoy so the so called procrastination.

    • Chicago was neat and all but Alpine shows with actual real live Garcia kicks that shit square in the nuts.

      We staged an actual runaway golfcart marathon there in ’88. Fact.

      • First time we went there we arrived in the dark and there was no direction whatsoever. We all just parked anywhere and everywhere. I kept thinking what a nicely manicured spot we had found and didn’t realize till the next morning that we were camping out on one of the adjacent golf course’s greens. In the following years, there were legions of assholes directing us all to park in neat rows along the brown muddy river.

        • We parked right next to the golf course as well in ’88 and it let directly and inevitably to the unsanctioned borrowing and use of the golf carts, it’s not our fault if you think about it, they were right there and the parking/camping lots are pretty big…

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