Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: jeff chimenti (page 3 of 8)

Company & Dead

Dead & Crew

Allow me to preface my silly little jokes with this: hail to the road crew. First in, last out, first blamed.

In no particular order:

  • If you asked someone to describe what this photo would look like before they saw it, they would have gotten it exactly right; nothing about this photo is a surprise.
  • Oh, wait: there’s a bunch of ladies.
  • They are hidden in the back.
  • Maybe the photographer is a bear, and all the women are menstruating, and the men are being chivalrous.
  • Beard guy.
  • Bald guy.
  • Bald guy who is maybe black.
  • Lady in red cocktail dress.
  • Matt Busch.
  • Other beard guy.
  • Waldo.
  • Harry Knowles.
  • Y’know, I think Bald Maybe Black Guy and Handsome Dan back there are the drivers for some reason–the two guys by Mrs. Donna Jean in the Stealie button-downs–and now I am fascinated by them and am starting to make up stories about them.
  • I will come up with better names, though.
  • And speaking on behalf of Mrs. Donna Jean: same shit, different century.

Rando War Never Dies

jeff chimenti rando hotties

“Ahhhhh, yeah.”

Slow your roll, Jeff Chimenti.


All of you need to stop presenting me with your randos. You’re like cats bringing dead birds into the house.

“Gonna show ’em my power.”

Oh, God, not all of it?

“At once.”

They can’t take that much power, Jeff Chimenti; you have so much.

“So much power.”

“Is one of my backup musicians getting delusions of grandeur again?”

jm rando hottie

Dammit. We are not continuing the Rando War.

“Tell piano boy to go comb his hair.”

I like her hair.

“She’s like Thor, with boobies.”

Yeah, but here’s the thing: she might be not be a rando. That looks more like a stone-cold fox.

“Still a rando.”

Can’t be both.



elvis 76 hotel

Why are you here?


That’s the Memphis Mafia and a cop. Not randos.


Not how it works. And I don’t think you’re allowed to fire cops, Elvis.


True. Go away.

jeff chimenti milfs

“I got more.”

Jeff Chimenti, this is beneath you.

“Was that Elvis?”

Don’t worry about it. What happened to the randos we started with?

“They couldn’t handle my power. I showed it to them, and they were overcome.”

“By my power.”

Are they still alive?

“They’re so much more that that now.”

Did you kill more randos, Jeff Chimenti?

“They’re so fragile!”


“Can we just stuff ’em into Garcia’s Briefcase of Infinite Felonies?”


In Which Mrs. Donna Jean Meets An Italian

donna jeff backstage

“Look, sugar: I got me one o’ them randos you been goin’ on about.”

That is not a rando, Mrs. Donna Jean. That is Jeff Chimenti.

“Oh, I don’t know anyone in the Mafia, hon.”

I don’t think Jeff Chimenti is in the Mafia.

“That vowel at the end of his name says different. My father, Mrs. Daddy Jean–”

Not his name.

“–used to say the biggest mistake Roosevelt made was not treating the Italians like the Japanese.”

Wow. The Japanese-Americans, you mean.

“No, the Japanese. Daddy advocated nuking Staten Island.”

I agree with your father, but for different reasons.

“Everybody does.”

Two Unicorns In Communion

jeff donna back hair

The reboot of The Ring was a failure: the VCR tape was replaced with an AUD of a 1984 show, so no one listened to it and no one had to die.

Between Heaven And Earth


You must root for humanity. Sides are to be chosen, and you must root for humanity: not simply because the alternative is monstrous, but because for all its failures and tenacious weaknesses, humanity has its moments. For example, this picture didn’t exist yesterday.

But Spencer made it, because there is no sanity test involved in the purchase of Photoshop, and now it’s on the innertubes, so the entire world has it, except for the country in which the iconography originated. (That right there is some high-test irony, and is another reason to root for humanity. There are reasons everywhere, if you look.) It’s become very easy to give something to the entire world.

Also, Jeff Chimenti is wearing a little Chinese hat, and that makes me happy.

Front Five

deadandco football folsom

Bobby’s jersey says LORAX.

Also, Jeff Chimenti is my favorite person. Look at him, all goony and happy and magical. If you catch Jeff Chimenti, then he must grant you wishes; if you made a paintbrush from his hair, the art you create would go with any sofa. Jeff Chimenti talks in his sleep, but only inspirational messages and compliments. An anagram for “Jeff Chimenti” is not “Wow, he’s great.”

Also also: the fun and games are over. I need to know where Billy was.

Reasons For Billy’s Absence

deadandco football jerseys folsom

  • Didn’t wanna.
  • Underestimated an edible.
  • Perfectly estimated an edible, but ate nine of them.
  • Just can’t look at any dude feet right now.
  • Halfway through a Settlers of Cataan game and needs to manage his lumber.
  • Halfway through a divorcĂ©e from Aurora and needs to manage his lumber.
  • Wandering around the lot handing out rolling papers and screaming, “CAN YOU DIG IT?” at Deadheads.
  • Nap time.
  • They didn’t have a jersey with the number 69 on it, so Billy refused to participate.
  • Murdering Benjy for old time’s sake.

Hallways And Means

deadandco hallway rolling ston

I don’t think those are legally pants. Like, if they were imported and needed to be classified for tariff? They would be taxed at the rate for “loose cloth” rather than for “trousers.” They’re definitely from Creepy Ernie’s because they have three or four inseams, and there’s nothing Ern likes more than measuring an inseam.

Anyway, there’s a show tonight, because it is summer and we are Americans, and so the Grateful Dead (Or What’s Left Of ‘Em) is playing somewhere. They’re at Folsom Field* in Boulder, CO, tonight and the show’s being webcasted. Buy it here, or you can listen on SiriusXM Channel 23, or you could steal the pirate feed like a scurvy dog.

The show starts at 6:30 pm Mountain Time, which means I do not know when it starts.

Why are time zones so confusing to you?

Why aren’t they confusing to everyone else?

Terrible answer.

*These will be the first rock shows in 15 years since Dave Matthews blew past the strict curfew and the university stopped booking concerts, once again proving that Dave Matthews ruins everything.

Billy And The Kid (Relatively Speaking)

billy jeff chimenti backstage

“Hey, Thoughts on my Ass!”


“This is the guy who should be on TV. Old pretty boy and young pretty boy are fucking boring, man. This fucking guy? He’s got jail stories.”

“I was in a holding cell for an hour, Billy.”

“You shanked six guys.”

“Jeff Chimenti ain’t no punk.”

I had no idea, Jeff Chimenti. Did you join a gang in jail?

“Yeah. Well, I replaced a guy in a gang. But I was actually in the gang longer than the guy I replaced.”

You keep doing that.

“Ass! You agree it’s bullshit, right?”


“That we’re not on television.”

No. The singers get invited on TV. The drummer and the keyboardist–

“Have to break into the studio and hijack the broadcast! Great idea!”

–don’t get to…wow, not even close to what I was going to say.




The Randos Of Navarone

mickey walter cronkite mike gordon

“I found randos!”

Oh, for fuck’s sake, Mickey: that’s Walter Cronkite and Mike Gordon. And the lady looks important. And I think that’s Steve Kimock’s hat.

“Gimme a second.”

I don’t want to.

“But you will.”

Oh, fine.

“Here you go. Prime rando.”

mickey peter fonda stills


“Not randos?”

They are actually less rando than you are, Mick.

“Is the guy behind me a dolphin?”

No, he’s the living embodiment of both nepotism and the different beauty standards society holds male and female movie stars to.

“Wait, wait, wait: I got ’em. I got the greatest collection of randos. Check this out.”

obama michelle band

Jesus, Mickey.

“What? I’m standing right next to two randos!”

On which side of you?

“Right side?”


“They are randos, though.”

Sure, but their rand gets overwhelmed by the non-rand surrounding it.

“I’m not great at this.”

Not at all.

“I didn’t know Branford was married.”

You’re not allowed to be in the Rando War anymore.

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