You might ascribe a karmic tint to the fact that, by naming themselves the Grateful Dead, these men had brought about an inevitable and unenviable ability to defy the odds and die really early and predictably. Like the universe just did that to them.

Others might see their rock held belief that in order to jam on an E minor 7 for, like, 20 fucking minutes again (while Keith nods off and no one–not a single one of those hirsute bastards–can remember the lyrics to the song he’s been singing for 11 years) they must stuff every single drug they see anywhere at any time directly up their own asses. This was a poor long-term strategy.