Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: jerry garcia (page 1 of 119)

Turtle, Horse, Cat

Billy?

“Ass?”

You’re white again?

“Had to switch back, man. I got pulled over nine times in an afternoon.”

That’ll happen.

“I wasn’t anywhere near a car.”

Yup. So, uh, why is there a picture of a horse crudely taped to your bass drum?

“Skank sees horse, skank thinks dick.”

Sure.

“Skank has a simple thought process. Salt of the earth. Know what needs salt on it?”

Popcorn?

“Meat. Specifically, mine.”

Don’t you have any other topics of conversation?

“I once punched both Gumbels in the dick.”

I’d almost rather talk about skank.

“Speaking of meat, you can find prime skank at the butcher’s shop.”

Like, ordering something in particular?

“Nah, not in the store. Out back feeding the stray cats. That’s choice skank right there, but you gotta watch out for toxoplasmosis. Then once you bang her, you can shit in a litter box.”

Wow.

“And that’s what America means to me.”

We’re done. Wait: who’s the chair for?

“Elijah.”

Now we’re done.

Bill Schwarzemann

Billy?

“Thoughts on my Ass!”

Any explanation?

“Well, you know how Phil’s black now?”

He’s not. You’re talking about a man named Oteil Burbridge.

“Yeah! That’s what Phi keeps saying his name is!”

When I heard this joke the first time, the name was Rappaport.

“So I decided to try and understand the plight of his people. I’m a soul brother now.”

How?

“Don’t worry about it.”

Okay.

“I’m about to lose my voice, I’m saying the n-word so much.”

Stop that.

“I’m allowed! It’s great!”

You’re not black, Billy.

“Tell my dick that.”

STOP THAT. Get out of Jaimoe’s body.

“It’s nice in here. Look at all these muscles and hair. I’m staying.”

You’re gonna stay black?

“Definitely.”

You do know you have to walk offstage and back into America at some point, right?

“Not a bad point.”

Sadly.

“I’m gonna bang some white chicks behind the amps before I quit, though.”

Of course.

Jerry, Phil, and Pigpen Sitting On A Fence

Jesus. Precarious?

“Yo.”

What the fuck?

“The picket fence?”

The picket fence.

“Security.”

How?

“40,000 volts running through it.”

40,000? Isn’t that a bit of overkill?

“Hey, man. I don’t work for the fuckin’ Eagles.”

True.

Pete Townshend, Jerry Garcia, And Some Coke

“And then the alien jumps down, right, and eats Harry Dean Stanton.”

“Blimey, Jer. ‘Ow’d you get away, then?”

“Pete, for the third time: this didn’t happen to me.”

“Right, right. Go on.”

“So Sigourney Weaver takes off her clothes for some reason, right? And she’s got on a pair of panties that are, like, not functional. They’re just not big enough to perform the task of underwear.”

“Blimey. Fuck her, didja?”

“Again, Pete: movie.”

“Sorry. Right.”

“And then she blasts the sucker out of the airlock.”

“You guys have an airlock? Where? On your bus?”

“Is Entwistle around?”

“Yeah, but he’s not much of a talker.”

“I would prefer that.”

I’m Ready For My Closeup, Miss Brightman

Who’s a sleepy bear? Who is? Who is?

“I didn’t really miss our talks, man. Aren’t you a big-time novelist now?”

I’m like James Patterson if he could write and didn’t make any money.

“So, nothing like him?”

I guess, sure. You know how to sell a book?

“I see guys on the street that lay ’em on blankets.”

Not that way.

“Yeah, I know, man. I got no idea. Every business deal I ever did was brought to me.”

Pete Townshend said being a rock star was like being a hot chick.

“I can see it, yeah, sure. Everybody pretends to laugh at your jokes while they’re figuring out how to fuck you.”

How did no one notice how cynical you were?

“I have a cheerful way of speaking. No one listens.”

Course not. You’re a hot chick.

“I didn’t apply for the job, but it’s not a terrible position.”

Nope.

Star, Stripes

Garcia’s about to pop that blond fucker for stealing his look.

Also: Olompali?

And: This photo comes via the Brokedown Podcast, which you should check out.

Plus: I’ve changed my mind about Purple Dress’ age nine times now. Look at her: she could be anywhere from a really-mature 13 to 43 with good genes.

Double-Plus: Behind Garcia on the other side. Blue shirt and sunglasses. All right, all right, all right.

With: Garcia is not smoking, and for the only reason Garcia was ever not smoking: he was about to smoke. There were only two options.

Join Together With The Band

Fun fact: this is a bigger crowd than at Trump’s inauguration.

Not fun at all fact: Trump was inaugurated.

Familiar fact: Mickey. Who does he look like? I can’t quite place my…oh, right.

I knew I recognized him.

Anyway: Meet-Up at the Movies is on 8/1/17 and the show is 7/12/89. Make your plans, or don’t. I’m not your boss.

Olsen Shmolsen

Keith Olsen (left) produced Terrapin Station, which might be the saddest Dead album. Not theĀ  material–there isn’t even a ballad on the record, unless you want to count Mrs. Donna Jean’s Sunrise–but the doings and transpirings behind the scenes. They tried so hard on this record. Hired a big-time producer with a big-time haircut, trucked in violinists by the bushel, had Parish nail the studio doors shut from the outside. (Perfectly safe. Not like anyone in the band was constantly setting his surroundings on fire. No worries.)

Then the record came out and no one gave a shit. Lucy pulled the football away again.

Fun fact: Mickey’s first opinion of Keith Olsen was that he was “too small to hit.”

Funner Fact: Mickey still hit him.

Dead & Company At Citi Field

When did Bobby dye his hair?

That’s Garcia.

No. Garcia’s dead. I had to explain this to Nephew, but I thought you knew. Oh, shit, I’m not breaking this to you, am I?

This attitude is why Pitchfork won’t hire you.

Fuck Pitchfork.

That attitude, too.

Dude, hop on the D & C train.

It’s not Dead & Company. That’s the actual Grateful Dead at Bickershaw.

Nonsense. It’s Citi Field. Look in the crowd to the left of the stage; you can see Mr. Met giving Oteil the finger.

That’s not Oteil.

He would totally wear that sweater.

Absolutely, yes. Still: no.

I don’t get you, man. What about this picture doesn’t scream “21st century corporate perfection” to you?

Every single thing.

Ah, I’m just funning with you.

It’s never fun when you fun.

What’s the most Precarious Lee part of this setup?

Ooh, good game. Let’s play. Hmm. Amateurs might say the oblique angle that the monitors are lined up at.

Amateurs.

A more seasoned vet would point out that Pig is literally behind the PA.

Well, it’s not like there was any room on the stage.

True. But the real Enthusiast sees Precarious’ handiwork in that super-taut wire leading to the speaker all the way up top on the right.

So many points of failure.

It’s amazing they’re all alive.

They aren’t.

I was funning with you.

Yeah, you’re right: funning isn’t fun.

I know.

Childhood’s End

Hey.

Psst.

You. The one with the beard and the bills. And you, the one with the lady-beard and also the bills. Can I talk to you over here?

By the bar. We’re grown-ups, so let’s talk by the bar.

Great. This is comfy and cozy. You want a drink? I’m buying.

No, you can’t have a Singapore Sling.

A Bahama Mama? Is that even a thing? No. You cannot have that. Would you like clear ethanol with some ice cubes or brown ethanol with some ice cubes?

Fine, tequila.

TIRO DE TEQUILA SONIDO

Ahh. Now you listen to me, you swaddled little puke, and listen fucking good because I’m only going to say this once: GROWN-UPS DON’T FUCKING COLOR. You wanna paint? Paint a house, paint a picture, paint a naked person. Paint until the fumes make you dizzy and sterile. But you can’t color. This is the kind of pantswettingly childish nonsense that brought down the Roman Empire. Also, over-expanding and stocking the Legions with barbarians, but mostly the coloring.

How about Colorforms? Do you wanna do some Colorforms, too, after you’re done coloring in your coloring book? Ooh, how about a Sit-N-Spin?

Or maybe I put you up on the table, wipe your ass, and change your poopy diapies. Is that what you want? Because if you color, then TotD is coming to your house and changing your poopy diapies against your will.

Okay, finish your drink. We’re done here.

P.S. I was going to link to whatever entrepreneurial soul is selling this bullshit, but then I scrolled down the page and saw this…

…and I’m not linking to shit.

Older posts
%d bloggers like this: