Found this and thought you’d like it, but before you click on it, know this: you will be going to a desert, a ghost mall of the internet, a junction far, far across the Rio Grand (EeyOoo): MySpace. There exists a MySpace. Still. I wonder if their office still has the half-pipe and yoga studio? Didn’t “Tom” die in an auto-erotic asphyxiation thing last Winter Solstice? (That’s how I mark time, because of my beliefs. TOLERATE ME.)
So, you have to go to MySpace because, well, it’s on MySpace, but mostly because I don’t know how to grab the video, so just aim your clicker over the blue letters–not the blue thing, the blue let–good aaaaaand: there’s your bank account, Grandma. Love you, Gam. NOMNOMNOM your face Gam. Gonna kill you in your sleep, Gam. NIGHT!
EDIT: I’m not even going pretend to know what went wrong there. It’s beyond just apologizing and moving on: this is High Crime or Misdemeanor time. Fuck…WHOO, where was he even GOING with that? These are decent folks out there getting high and listening to the Dead while reading about the Dead. Fuckin’ stoner-ass stoner asses. Who am I again? Am I the Reader or the Faithless Narrator? Sometime, he uses italics for one, and sometimes…sometimes, I think this is all just a bunch of obscure lies and silliness, man.
SUPEREDIT: Play the video or I’ll teach you what the word ‘flense’ means.
So: the Grateful Dead playing Saturday Night Live on 11/11/78. (You should open the video in a different window or, you know what? You’re bright and capable and more than equipped to wrangle the doodads. Just be yourself all over the place.
And we start off with everyone’s favorite secret genius, Buck Henry!
.26 It’s called conditioner, Garcia. Plus–and I’m just saying–for a guy who always bitched about being on TV, he certainly does play adorably to the cameras.
.38 Here we see Donna, who for some reason is easy skanking.
.50 Was Phil just yelling at the drummers on live TV? Seriously, can no one get Phillip Lesh to exhibit anything even resembling human behavior?
1.05 Donna was always dressed like your grade-school art teacher that time you ran into her at the supermarket.
1.15 We need to talk about Bobby’s pants. Young man, are you wearing jodhpurs? Or are they riding pantaloons? Are you playing Young George Washington? Will you golf later? If so, is your caddie Bagger Vance? Are you the renegade scion of the House of Bourbon? How are those socks staying up–is there a garter in play here? EXPLAIN YOUR PANTS.
1.45 Although if we’re going to be honest, they do hug his ‘tocks quite nicely. Bobby’s sexy and he knows it.
2.00 The slide. That’s a choice.
2.22 Hey, there are other people in this band! (None of whom are attractive enough for a close-up, apparently.) And a great shot of both drummers, um, drumming.
3.00 Donna gives me boners.
3.12 It’s Rowlf the dog!
3.27 Hey, Mickey’s in this band!