Okay, E.H.?

The Dead was a good band, fine and manly. They first met as volunteer firemen in the Boer War. That was a fine war: manly as all wars were, except the French-Indian War, which was some totally homo shit.

Okay, we’re fine with stretching the truth, but that’s just wrong.

But I look like your guitar player.

Thank you. Next: E.D.?

When Etna purrs

I tremble

Have not left my room

since I discovered the Archive

So, it’s just poetry and frilly blouses and your meals being brought to you, right?

Essentially.

Thank you, sweetie. Next: R.H.

The Dead were like my testicles: hairy and they knew how to swing, man. Check out this MONSTERLICKER–

You sound familiar.

–of a show from 2/15/70 in Philly, that I haven’t actually listened to yet, just pretty much picked at random and will bother you with P.S.’s about in the coming hours.

Ah, fuck it: it’s you. I thought Billy…?

Oh, hells yeah, he worked my sack: I’ll never play the harmonica again, but as it turns out, you can’t truly fire me.

Why not.

We are the same person. It’s just…it’s just that the fonts change, buddy.

…

Buddy?

Why won’t you play along?

Oh, I’m sorry, man.

You always–

–You’re right–

—you do this–

I know.

And it’s why we can’t have fun, y’know?

So, let’s have fun!

I want to go skiing.

We’re gonna go skiing.

YOU KNOW I HATE SKIING!

OKAY, EVERYONE OUT OF THE POOL.