Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: precarious lee (page 1 of 9)

A Response Easily Foreseen



You okay, buddy?


They were trying to pay tribute.


It was out of respect.

“I’m trying to see it that way.”

“Nope. Can’t.”

Don’t do anything rash.

“Getting my gun.”

That is rash.


“Sure thing.”

Do NOT get Wally his disintegration ray!

“This ain’t your party anymore, pal.”


Ah, dammit.

Choogle 10, Looks 2



The drum riser.

“Ol’ Risey.”

You named the drum riser?

“Nah. I just made that up.”

Did you build it?

“With my own hands. I used tools, but you know what I mean.”

Sure. Why not put a siding on it so it didn’t look like a pallet you stole from a warehouse?

“What purpose would that serve?”

It would be a more attractive and professional presentation.

“You talk the stupidest shit sometimes.”

I know.

And All The Children Learning

“I already know what you’re gonna bitch about.”

Precarious, what is that speaker doing?



“Cuz it’s halfway off its perch.”

No, I know why it’s teetering. Why was it set up this way?

“Spatial perversity.”

Sure. Precarious?

“The kids?”

The kids.

“They just show up. Usually, they’re naked.”


Olompali, My Lompali


“We couldn’t get the stage any closer to the fuel tank, if that’s what you’re gonna ask.”

It was. What’s the ladder for?



Chaos Is A Ladder



Precarious, why is–

“No. Not Precarious. It is I, the Christ.”


“You asked for me, my son.”

It was just an expression.

“Ah. My mistake.”

Nobody’s perfect.

“I am.”

Eh. So, uh, is Precarious around?

“Lemme get this straight. You’d rather talk to a semi-fictional roadie than to me, Jesus. King of Kings. Alpha and Omega. That’s what you’re saying?”




“Jackass wants you.”


Precarious, is that Ramrod?

“Hanging by his fingertips 20 feet up?”



No safety gear?

“Well, here’s the thing about Ramrod: he’s not a pussy.”


“Besides, why do you think Parish is standing there?”

To catch him?

“Or cushion him. Whichever.”

Whole lotta “whichever” in the Dead.

“Sometimes, it seems we were nothin’ but.”

By God, That Band’s Got A Family!



Hey! Precarious!


Where were you?

“Tending bar.”

Forget about that. What the hell is this?

“It was a seating arrangement we experimented with briefly.”

How briefly?

“Just the first set. Turns out–”

Deadheads started leaping on the band?

“–Deadheads started…yeah, you got it. It was some real Jimmy ‘Superfly’ Snuka shit. Drummers thought it was funny, but not so much the rest of the guys.”


“Phil said that if we didn’t clear the area, he was playing the second set with butcher knives taped to his head.”

I can see that.

I’d Like To Eyes Of The World A Coke


Precar–oh, you’re already here.

“It’s load-bearing.”

The Coke cup?



“We managed.”

Monitors look nice.

“Well, we considered the aesthetics.”


“And then we said, ‘Fuck it,’ and left ’em unpainted.”

Sure. You were joking about the Coke cup, right?

“Shit, no. You move that and we all die.”

Makes sense.

Have A Safe Trip



Were you trying to kill them?


The band.


I can’t even begin to count the safety violations in this picture.

“Ah, they’ll be fine. Big babies. I wrapped the cable around the mic stand.”

You honestly think that counts.

“I do.”

Is that plank of wood attached to anything?

“Attachment leads to suffering.”


Keith’s Left, Keith’s Right, He’s Gone



Why did Keith’s piano move from one side of the stage to the other, depending on what show it was?

“Two reasons.”

Were they shits and giggles?

“Little bit, yeah.”

Why would you do that?

“Gotta find your fun somewhere. We’d put his piano stage left for a few shows, then shift it to the other side, and he’d get so confused. One time, he just sat on a road case and started playing a monitor.”

That is kinda funny.

“Yup. He kept tweaking Bobby’s nipples trying to turn himself up.”

That’s damn funny.

“Certainly was.”

We Were Having A Thigh Time

These men got groupies.


Younger Enthusiast, this cannot be explained away by invoking “it was the fashion of the time.” When the Dead wore rainbow trousers and fringed jackets and frilled shirts: well, it was the 60’s. That was what hip young men wore to attract groovy young ladies. But this bullshit? This bullshit right here? This bullshit was not the fashion of the time. This bullshit was not the fashion of any time in human history.


It is rare, exceedingly so, that Bobby’s short shorts are the most acceptable pant on stage: if a bit risqué, they are still basic and classic jean shorts. Whereas Phil is wearing sky-blue velour and holy fucking shit there are cuffs on Garcia’s.


None of their shoes are helping, either.


If Phil sits down, his balls are escaping. That’s a fact.




Is Brent’s monitor on an end table?



“Coffee table was too low.”


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