Cryptical Development has a first-hand account from the 3/24/71 show I just posted about: go read it. Then come back here, because I have stolen all the photos accompanying the well-written tale and will say witty things about each, or maybe just one, or the whole post could suck.
Who knows what the future holds?
Okay, you back? Wonderful. You always come back to me. No one else has what you need. No other website–
I’m going to cut you off early on this one.
–touches your buttocks like I…dude. Stop interrupting.
Stop being weird.
I’m not being weird. I just want to rub my wordboner on strangers’ eyeballs.
That right there. That’s the weird I mentioned. Stop doing it.
My posts are boners made of words: they’re full of life, and I want people to look at them.
Just show the pictures of the hairy white people making a racket.
Which points out another interesting aspect of this show: Peanut!
Also, this was apparently a benefit for the Sufis, who did this:
“Oh, hey, Bill. We were just–”
“Don’t you ‘Hey, Bill’ me, you goddamn maniac. Put that fire out!”
“Oh, Bill: this is a sacred fire.”
“I don’t care if it’s the Pope’s Zippo lighter! Put it out! Put it out now!”
“You can’t just ‘put out’ a sacred fire, Bi–”
“It’s out, man.”
“Well, it was a sacred fire. I wanted to make sure. WINTERLAND IS MADE OF WOOD AND OILY RAGS! No fires!”
The Sufis chanted and then their choir came out; the Dead played with them for the last few numbers, but there’s no tape.
Hero of the Picture: Billy, who cares so little about any of this Sufi bullshit that he doesn’t even want to punch a Sufi dick. (Sufi dicks spin when you punch them.)
And here’s another shot of Peanut, and Pig with the last bit of fat he’d ever have.