We Gonna Pitch A Ball Down To That Barton Hall

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I got nothing.

Oh, come on! It’s the Most Wonderful Show of the Year!™

Why the trademark sign?

Garcia Estate has claimed the intellectual property rights to everything involving 5/8/77.

Sure. Listen: I don’t wanna.

You gotta.

Do I haveta?

Well, you oughtta.

What’s left to say?

Maybe you could talk about how when the crowd departed the gym–

It was snowing.

—after that scorching show–

It was snowing.

—the snow fell from the sky in a very, very , very symbolic and meaningful way.

Oh, perish the thought I would deny the snow’s symbolicism and meaningfullness: it definitely wasn’t just weather.

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Y’know, for someone who insists on jamming magic into everything he writes, you’re kind of a literal-minded putz sometimes.

I like my magic; when other people tell me something’s magical, I immediately want to piss on it.

That’s a personality flaw.

Big time, yeah. Anyway: let’s just pretend it’s October 2nd and listen to the Portland show with the Casey Jones opener.

Why don’t you want to listen to Cornell?

It’s not that: I am going to listen to Cornell; I am excited to listen to Cornell; I deliberately don’t listen to Cornell all year so I can enjoy Cornell. But I have nothing left to say about it.

Haven’t live-blogged it.

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Goddammit.

YAAAY!

I despise you.