The only good thing about dying young is that you get it out of the way, and then you can go about your business without death hanging over your head; other than that, you should endeavor to become old enough to really and truly embarrass yourself.

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This is from 3/28/81 at the Grugahalle in Essen, Germany, which was more precisely West Germany at the time. (“Grugahalle” is a German word that means “My lederhosen have been stolen by dark elves; Helga, bring me my Luger.”) Pete was not planning on sitting in–he didn’t bring his guitar and borrowed one of Bobby’s–and truly could not figure out where the beat was. Whatever he’s doing in the picture above may or may not be part of the reason.

(The great Jesse Jarnow sent me this pic, but we disagree on how to interpret Pete’s furtive, yet incredibly public, gesture. I said he was snooting a little tootski; JJ goes with lighting a jazz cigarette. WHAT SAY YOU, ENTHUSIASTS?)

Seriously: Pete’s got no clue. Watch:

Hey, look: it’s the Flying Karamazov Brothers. (The Trump Administration claims that they have never met with the Flying Karamazov Brothers, which is odd because no one brought it up.)

I posted the second set with Pete, but the Althea in the first set is one of the BEST EVAR.

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Moob.