Thoughts On The Dead

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

Shed, Skin

bobby slicked back hair 3

Fuck Alligator. And Wolf, Rosebud, Tiger, Tugger, Frogger, and all the rest. Garcia’s guitars, though iconic, were never ground-breaking: the only way they differed from normal guitars is that they had, like, four Radio Shacks worth of bullshit stuffed into them.

The true pioneer in the band, as we true Enthusiasts have always known, is Bobby; his medium is fashion.

For weeks now, Bobby has been holed up in a storage unit outside Fresno visiting his old clothes. Racks of t-shirts and short shorts, piles of thick athletic socks: it was all there.

TotD is sad to have to report that Bobby’s famous jean shorts will not be making an appearance at Soldier Field. It’s been 30 years since he wore the damn things and, while Bobby’s kept himself in wonderful shape, nature gonna do what nature gonna do. Bobby slipped on the old boys, feeling their familiar denim whisper on his excited thighs. Then, he buttoned them up.

The button lasted almost nine seconds, and then Bobby exhaled and it rocketed off with the force of a bullet and killed Bobby’s nephew, Stan, who was just hanging out and chilling with his cool Uncle Bob. He will be missed.


“Who is that?” Bobby said into the darkness of the unit.

“Ssssssselect me. I’m ssssuitable for Sssssoldier Field.”

“Snake T-shirt, is that you?”

“Well, who elssssse would be sssspeaking in ssssuch in sssssnake-like manner?”

“Madonna T-shirt had a lisp, didn’t she?”

“No, I did not have any sort of lisp, thank you,” Madonna T-shirt called out from under a pile of leather jackets with elastic wrist cuffs.

“Madonna T-sssshirt had a terrible Britissssssh accent. Sssssss.”

Bobby found Snake T-shirt and held it up.

“Oy. Snake T-shirt, I got some bad news.”

“You can only wear me for two of the three ssssshows?”

“Nah. I, uh…huh. Well, I kinda forgot I cut off the sleeves and rocked the muscle flaps.”

“We were sssssexy together.”

“Okay. Anyway, though: I’m coming up on 70 and no one wants to see my bat-flap arms and nipples flopping everywhere. I gotta pass, Snake.”

Snake T-shirt tried to bite Bobby.

“Stop trying to bite me, Snake T-shirt. You’re a t-shirt.”


  1. Finished reading from the beginning last week after a slow but steady six-month journey through your bloggy nether regions. Things like “four radio shacks worth of bullshit stuffed into them” are what keep me interested and laughing (although while I have to admit I didn’t make it all the way through the KISS posts, I did listen to a lot of Warren Zevon).

    Keep on choogling. This is by far the best Dead-related site on the interwebs.

  2. Actually saw bob where that shirt at a furthur show just last year.

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