TotD has been banned from any and all academic conferences concerning the Grateful Dead. I was already on probation after summoning Abbadon the Unforgiving to the Marriott ballroom a few years ago, so the kidnapping of David Lestellablieux was not seen in the humorous manner it was intended.
(It’s rather easy to kidnap a Canadian. Saying “Come with me: I’m kidnapping you,” in a stern voice almost always works. They’ll stay put until you release them or they get shot in a botched rescue attempt.)
But I needed access! How else to hear the presentation of such papers as “Calliope Wail: A Second Look at TC” or “The Work of Man: A Queer Reading of the Weather Report Suite” or “Mirror Shatters: The Intersectionality of the Dead, Size-ism, and Body-Positivism?”
Luckily, the Museum of Modern Terrible Dead Art (Mom: ta-DAA!) had agreed to loan the Conference one of their most terrible pieces:
I came up with a brilliant plan: I would secret myself within the statue of a ‘Squatch dressed like Garcia. Then I would–under cover of darkness while the academics slept with one another–sneak out of my hiding place. It was such a good plan, I couldn’t understand why no one had tried it before.
What underhanded plots did I ferret out? What nasty secrets did I dig up?
TO BE CONTINUED!
You never continue stuff, though.
I will this time.
PS Thanks for the pic go out to a person who lives nowhere near Seattle, Mr. Completely.