Thoughts On The Dead

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

Author: Thoughts On The Dead (page 1 of 913)

The Daily Recounting, 8/20/19

No one expected this.

Enthusiasts, I will confess that I thought it would be far more catastrophic. I thought we’d be in nine more wars, and that the dollar would have long ago eaten its own dick. Basketball Head would be inaugurated in January, and we’d be living in Bartertown by March. Typhoons and hurricanes would switch hemispheres and fuck shit up all year long, glorying in the thrill of the new. Pies–even cobblers and crumbles–would turn bumptious. Your high-school reunion would get rabies. Fierce times coming up.

None of that happened. It’s just been so damn weird.*

The Great White Dope has been talking about buying Greenland for a while, which is normal. He brings it up out-of-nowhere in meetings. Everyone”ll be discussing whatever it is they discuss in those meetings–lunch and Ivanka’s tits, I’m guessing–and the Sheriff of Tard Town will pipe up:

“Where are we on Greenland? We get financing and we’re a ‘go’ on Greenland. That’s what Mitch McConnell told me, and he was very strong in his compliments of me that day, but I would trust him more if we were trying to buy Yellowland. The wife he’s got, yellow lady. You think she walks on his back? All of them do that. You can’t keep them off of there. Pence, why are you crying? Get out of the room!”

And so forth.

The rabble was greatly roused by this news. Memes were created, some dank. In one, Trump stood over a boy pushing a lawnmower: WILL YOU SELL ME GREENLAND? A number of wags tweeted out This is the day Donald Trump became President…of Greenland. News anchors smirked, or agoggled their eyes in disbelief. And, of course, some poor schmuck journalist had to ask the Danish Prime Minister for a comment.

(Greenland is an autonomous country within the Kingdom of Denmark, along with the Faroe Islands, Jutland, and an archipelago of teeny-weeny landfalls in the Baltic Sea. The Kingdom of Denmark is officially history’s most depressing empire.)

She, being Scandinavian and efficient and not used to such foolishness, said,

“What? Of course Donald Trump cannot buy Greenland. Why would you ask me something like this?”

This irritated His Royal Toiletface. The man owns several highly-profitable golf courses! He’d do a great job with Greenland! Who does that little bitch think she is, keeping me from buying Greenland? I’ll show her:

Your grandkids, maybe, are gonna ask you about this shit, and you better not sugarcoat it for ’em:

“Timmy, it was fucked up. Now fetch Pappy his pills.”

 

 

*For those of us not currently hiding under their beds because they thought they saw an ICE van drive down the street.

You Boys Look Sharp

This was 1969. When next Elvis returned to Vegas, he would have a fancier set and snazzier outfits for his band. Also, Ronnie Tutt had more drums. Like, a lot more drums.

See? More drums.

(Ronnie Tutt needed every single one of those tom-toms, though, because Ronnie Tutt’s job wasn’t playing drums; Ronnie Tutt’s job was helping Elvis be awesome, and so when the King demonstrated karate, Ronnie Tutt made it sound like Thor was taking a shit. Rock Nerds will note that “accenting the singer’s dance moves” was also a requisite for James Brown’s drummers, but they should further note that James Brown had, like, four drummers onstage at a time. Ronnie Tutt had to play Hound Dog way too fast AND underscore Elvis’ spin-kicks.)

(At no point did Elvis consider a multiple-drummer set-up.

“THASS SOME COMMIE BULLSHIT, MAN. GOOD LORD WANTED US T’ HAVE TWO DRUMMERS, HE WOULD’A MADE THE STAGE WIDER.”

How did you get inside a parenthetical?

“GOD MADE ADAM AN’ EVE, NOT TWO DRUMMERS AT ONCE.”

We get it.

“AH DIDN’ EVEN HAVE ONE DRUMMER WHEN AH STARTED OUT, AN’ AH DID JUS’ FINE!”

Sure, but that was a different type of music, King.

“AN’ AH HAD NOT YET MASTERED KARATE!”

True.

“LISSEN, BOY. ONLY TWO REASONS YOU GOT MORE’N ONE DRUMMER IN YER BAND. EITHER YER A COMMUNIST, AN’ Y’THINK EVERYONE WHO WANTS A JOB IN TH’ BAND SHOULD GET ONE, OR YER ONE O’ THEM IN’ELLECTUAL TYPES THAT THINKS MUSIC SHOULDN’T SOUND GOOD.”

I agree with the second part, but don’t really understand the first one.

“ONE DRUMMER!”

Okay, okay. How many backup singers?

“SHITLOAD, MAN. THINK OF A BIG NUMBER, THEN DOUBLE THAT SUMBITCH.”

Cool.)

Stop This Shit, Peter Shapiro

Garcia’s briefcase isn’t the only attraction we’ve brought with us! Come on down to Garcia’s at the Cap™ Forest and see more of our collection! We have:

  • Montgomery Clift’s windshield!
  • Natalie Woods’ life preserver!
  • One pair baby shoes, never worn (from Sharon Tate)!
  • The pickle that accompanied Mama Cass’ ham sandwich!
  • Book on knot-tying that belonged to Michael Hutchence!
  • Gram Parson’s skeleton!

That’s right! Garcia’s at the Cap™ has the the bones of legendary country/rock musician Gram Parsons! His friends stole his body and buried him in the desert, and then we dug him up and mounted him! For you to look at while you drink $11 beers!

Garcia’s at the Cap™! Come on down!

OR

That was where he kept his death. He carried his death around, and took out a little bit at a time. That briefcase was where he kept his death.*

And you hung it on the wall like a trophy.

 

 

* Garcia kept all of his death in there. The narcotics, obviously, but you know he also had his Camels and some cookies in there.

Putting The “Super” In Supergroup

“We don’t gotta hold hands, Bob.”

“It’s not a sexual grasping, Sam.”

“I know, I know. You can let go, though.”

“No, uh, tantric pleasure is being derived thereof. As you can see from my face.”

“I see your face, man. You don’t wanna smile for the crowd?”

“Nope. Giving ’em the glower.”

“It’s like they’re revenuers you want off your land.”

“Well, Sam, I wasn’t in Van Johnson–”

“Halen.”

“–and I don’t know much about your heavy mental world. Maybe grinning like a sap is what you folks do, but the Grateful Dead always went their own way. We glower. Actually, most times we’d just ignore the audience entirely. Never got into that Hello, Cleveland stuff.”

“Okay, man, okay.”

“Bob, are you brushing my palm with your middle finger?”

“Yes, but it’s not sexual.”

I’m Bringing Back World Party

Just try to stop me, motherfucker. I know I’m not alone.

OR

For the musical musicians out there: Werewolfs of London divided by Sweet Jane times Sympathy for the Devil.

This Is A Show Recommendation

Is 4/28/89 a Grateful Dead show?

It is. Well spotted.

Should I listen to it?

You? No. Classy people? Yes.

Speak of the Playin’.

She is rotund and robust; pay her heed and you will do right in this world.

And the Picasso Moon? Is it a heady one?

Nay. Bobby is doing this weird falsetto thing. Unpleasant listening experience.

Does the moon know of our sorrows?

Know? Yes.

Does she care?

Care? No.

Alas.

Alack.

It’s Pronounced Rubberneck-IN’

Ignore the false start–Elvis would pull that shit on the band at most shows during his Vegas years–and the post-song plea for wawa. Listen to these motherfuckers. And on Rubberneckin’! The performance is far more than the song deserves! Suspicious Minds has a killer riff and memorable chorus; Hound Dog and Heartbreak Hotel are stone-cold classics; In The Ghetto has that part where it gets real loud. Rubberneckin’ is just shit.

But the TCB Band rips it several new assholes.

When men* have common purpose, mountains tremble.

 

 

* And the Sweet Inspirations and Kathy Westmoreland, the li’l lady who sings all them high notes.

“EV’RYBODY LOOK AT KATHY. SHE GONNA DO A TWIRL.

“SHOW ‘EM THEM SLACKS, KATHY WESTMORELAND!”

How the hell did you get into a footnote?

“AH AM TH’ KING.”

True.

“SHE SINGS UP REAL HAH, MAN. DOGS GIT SQUIRRELY ‘ROUND HER.”

I can’t spend all night talking to you.

“YES, YEW CAN. YEW GOT NOTHIN’ BETTER T’ DO, AN’ AH NEED ME A NEW CHARLIE HODGE.”

What happened to the real one?

“TURNS OUT HE CANNOT FETCH A LAHZ’NGE. BOY AIN’T GOOD WITH NEW INF’RMATION. HE POPPED A VALVE OR SOMETHIN’, MAN. HIS EYEBALLS AIN’T FACING TH’ SAME WAY NO MORE.”

Terrible to hear.

“YEW GOT NO IDEA, MAN. AH TRIED PUTTIN’ RED WEST ON SCARVES AN’ WATER DUTY, BUT THAT LIPFLAPPIN’ GOPHER WANNA CHEW UP MY EAR. AH JUS’ WANT MAH SCARF! DON’ BE PUTTIN’ Y’R TWO CENTS IN, AND AH AIN’ PAYIN’ NO PENNY F’R NO THOUGHTS!”

Tough to find good help.

“SONNY COULDN’ DO IT, NEITHER! KEPT THINKIN’ AH WANTED T’ RASSLE! AH ASKED F’R A SCARF, AN’ TH’ SUMBITCH TACKLED ME DOWN TH’ DANG STEPS! AN’ USUALLY, AH LOVE RASSLIN’ WITH SONNY, BUT NOT WHEN AH WUZ IN SUCH DIRE NEED OF A SCARF. JOE ESPOSITO WUZ TH’ WORST, THOUGH.”

How so?

“BOY DON’ KNOW WHAT A SCARF IS. KEPT BRINGIN’ ME BEACH TOWELS AND BATHROOM TISSUE. ONE TIME, HE BROUGHT ME AN OVEN MITT. AH WUZ FORCED TO FIRE MAH PISTOL AT HIM TWO OR THREE TIMES.”

That’s an ineffective teaching tool, King.

“AH AM NO PROPONENT OF MONTESSORI!”

Wasn’t expecting that declaration. Can I go?

“WATCH KATHY TWIRL!”

Fine, fine.

KATHY TWIRLING NOISE

You’re a lovely woman, Kathy.

“COURSE SHE IS.”

Casual Readers Should Quit After The Second One

Billy looks like a character in a Randy Newman song.

OR

Hey, Mrs. Donna Jean. Whatcha doing?”

“Ah’m wearin’ mah wizard robe, sugah.”

Happy New Year’s, ma’am.

“Bring mama her lime rickey.”

Yes, ma’am.

“Mama loves her a rickey.”

OR

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Phil and Jer are telling jokes and leaving me out again.”

Ah, no. That sucks.

“And, you know: I know great jokes. There’s the one about the bees.”

We all know the one about the bees. Does anyone in your organization have any plan to get the balloons off the stage?

“Huh. I, uh play guitar and do some singing. A bit of songwriting is also expected of me. That’s my whole portfolio. I am not involved with the logistical side of it.”

Sure.

“You should ask Precarious.”

Good idea. Precarious?

“Yo.”

Same question.

“No plan whatsoever.”

Thank you.

“Uh-huh.”

PRECARIOUS LEE EXITING THE SCENE NOISE

Oh, so that‘s what that sounds like.

“Not, uh, what you’re expecting. Different sound than you’d assume.”

Way different, yeah.

“It was my ringtone for a while.”

Nice choice.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“I should take this; it might be Elvis Presley.”

That sentence is 100% true.

“Weir here.”

“HAIRY GARCIA, THIS IS ELVIS!”

“Oh, hey. Hold, please.

“Yeah, like I said: Elvis. Gimme a sec.”

Are you talking to me?

“Yeah.”

Why? That’s not how this bit goes.

“Right, but I didn’t want to be rude. Like, uh, Jer. And Phil. Mostly, I’m mad about Garcia ignoring me. Sometimes it’s nice when Phil ignores you, but it hurts when the Big Guy does it. And, uh, I didn’t wanna pass that rancorous sentiment down the line.”

How thoughtful of you. Thank you, Bobby.

“I’ll be back in two shakes of a wig’s tail.”

Sure.

“Elvis? You still there?”

“AH AM HERE, AN’ SO IS GRITS!”

“Grits?”

“AH HAVE ASSEMBLED A TEAM O’ KARATE-DOLPHINS. THIS ONE’S NAME IS GRITS.”

“Good name for a dolphin.”

“KARATE-DOLPHIN!”

“Team of what? Why?”

“TH’ KING WAS COMIN’ ON OUT TO BE YOUR HON’RABLE SECOND IN A KARATE FIGHT T’ THE DEATH WITH THAT HEWIS LEWIS FELLA. GONNA GET ALL UP ON THAT MAN THERE. AH’LL BE A SQUIRREL GETTIN’ A NUT.”

“Uh-huh. King, I gotta be honest with you: I do not pay attention to the bullshit around here in the slightest.”

“IT WUZ A STORYLINE.”

“I’m not doubting you, but I just care at the time, so I don’t remember now. Also, you know, the near-constant time travel has jumbled up all my memories. It’s like cut-up poetry up there.”

“NEVERTH’LESS, AH HAVE A PLAN TO HELP YOU REGAIN FACE. IN TH’ STREETS, WE CALL IT A GOOD NAME, BUT IN THE DOJO, IT IS CALLED FACE.”

“I’m familiar with the concept.”

“IN MAH HEART, AH AM ALWAYS IN MAH DOJO.”

“Ah.”

“SPEAKIN’ O’ WHICH: TURNS OUT DOLPHINS AIN’T PORTABLE. LEAST NOT ON LAND, THEY AIN’T. AH WUZ THINKIN’ OF ‘EM IN TERMS O’ WATER HORSES. AH MAHT HAVE TO TURN MAH PLANE, TH’ LISA MARIE, INT’ A FLYIN’ AQUARIUM LAHK IN THAT STAR TREK WHERE SPOCK STUCK HIS PECKER INNA WHALE.”

“I think I saw that one.”

“HAIRY GARCIA, AH WILL NOW CONFIDE IN YEW: MOST O’ WHAT AH USE MAH TIME CAPE FOR IS SEEIN’ FUTURE MOVIES. BEEN T’ EV’RY BATMAN MOVIE THEY GONNA MAKE.”

“Some of ’em were all right. I didn’t like the guy who did the voice thing.”

“NAW,  MAN. SOUNDED LIKE TH’ DING-DANG COOKIE MONSTER. AIN’T NO CRIMINAL SCARED O’ NO DING-DANG COOKIE MONSTER! SPENT THAT WHOLE DAMN MOVIE WANTIN’ T’ GIVE BATMAN A LAHZ’NGE! HAIRY GARCIA, WOULD YOU LIKE A LAHZ’NGE? AH C’N HAVE CHARLIE HODGE BRING YEW A LAHZ’NGE.”

“I’m all right.”

“CHARLIE HODGE GEN’RALLY BRINGS ME MAH SCARVES AN’ WATER, BUT HE COULD GET A LAHZ’NGE, TOO. WOULDN’T TAKE HIM BUT THREE OR FOUR TRIES. BOY’S DUMBER TH’N A DEAD CAMEL’S DICK. TOOK HIM A FULL YEAR T’ MASTER BRINGIN’ ME SCARVES, TH’N ANOTHER TWO T’ TEACH HIM WATER.”

“Y’know, you might want to have him tested by a specialist.”

“DOCTOR NICK HAS EXAMINED CHARLIE HODGE ON MANY OCCASIONS, SOMETIMES IN FRON’ OF ME AN’ THE BOYS.”

“Okay. Why?

“GETTIN’ MAH GOOF ON.”

“Cool. Gimme a sec.”

“WE STILL NEED T’ DISCUSS TH’ DOLPHINS!”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Ahem.”

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha and Elvis doing?

“Listen, man: you gotta make him a new friend. Let him bother Josh.”

Aw. come on. Elvis is great.

“He’s weird even for around here.”

He’s supposed to be: he’s Elvis.

Reasons Sha Na Na Is Better Than Jimi Hendrix

  • Members of Sha Na Na went on to become respected doctors, high-powered litigators, and beloved professors; Jimi did not go on to do anything, as he choked to death on his own vomit at the age of 27.
  • So many guys in Sha Na Na that you could get a good pick-up game going in multiple sports; Jimi just had two guys.
  • None of Jimi’s bands contained any Bowzers at all.
  • Nor did Jimi have Chuck Berry as a musical act.

  • Look, kids: Avery Schreiber!
  • What other Grateful Dead-adjacent websites provide you with Avery Schreiber content?
  • You won’t get The Schreib on Jambase.
  • It’s fair to say that Thoughts on the Dead is the only voice in the online community asking the tough questions, the first of which being Hey, who wants to see Avery Schreiber?
  • That’s a tough qustion, in that most people do not know how to answer it.
  • They’ll say:
    • “Who?”
    • “Wha?”
    • “Did you just lick my ice cream?”
  • And I’ll answer:
    • “Avery Schreiber, braj.”
    • “You wanna see him?”
    • “Yes, I did and I’m gonna bite your cone, too. Stop me. You can’t; I’m an American.”
  • So, you see, the topic of Avery Schreiber is fraught.
  • Fraught!
  • You’ve lost interest in this post, haven’t you?
  • I’m enjoying the tomfoolery, and that people’s time is being wasted.
  • Is there a parasite that specializes in ticks and fleas? Like, a parasite that attacks other parasites. The lowest of the low. Absolute bottom of the food chain. 
  • Are you describing me?
  • I am, yes. 
  • Ouch.
  • Jackass. 

Sha Na Na > Ji Mi Mi

Yeah, I said it. Bowzer was in one band, and Mitch Mitchell was in the other, and that says it all.

You only like Sha Na Na because they bothered hippies.

Maaaaaaaybe.

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