Thoughts On The Dead

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

Category: Uncategorized (Page 383 of 1031)

If You Want To Destroy My Sweater

April 1, 2017 / / 7 Comments

I’m gonna judge the fuck out of you. Right up front: if I see you wearing this, I will judge you until my knees go weak. (And, yes, I know that John Mayer has one; I stand by my statement.) Why, Grateful Dead, why? Did you see a market opening in the “chilly grandmas” demo? Who approved that two-tone? What is that collar’s form and function? I feel bad for the wool. It could have been a child’s favorite winter hat, but instead it got knitted into an ugly sweater.

Bright side: you can give these to homeless people when it gets cold.

This is official merch, too, and because the Grateful Dead is dedicated to sustainability and related whatnottery, there’s a photo essay about where the sweaters come from, and how the sweaters were all raised cage-free and fed grass.

Look:

Oh, excuse me. Don’t mind if I take out my hand fan.

FWAP

flapflapflap

How do you do, muscly farm boy?

“Um, hello, sir.”

Call me daddy.

Excuse me.

Get out of here. I’m making a run at Farmer Brown.

He’s a healthy-looking young man.

I want him to treat me like he’s treating that sheep.

Can you stop sexually harassing photographs and get back to insulting sweaters?

…

It all sounds so meaningless when you say it like that.

Gee.

Okay, look at this. It’s where they dry the wool, or blanche it, or braise it. Perhaps there is a ceviche involved, I did not bother to read the captions.

The entire Industrial Revolution culminated in the production of that sweater, Enthusiasts. And this one:

Look how embarrassed the model is. (This was the best take; in all the others, he’s covering his face with the hat.)

And they’re $470 fucking dollars.

Sell tee-shirts, Grateful Dead.

Big Pig On Campus

March 31, 2017 / / 1 Comment

Good God.

“Whatchoo jawin’ about!?”

You’re a mess.

“The ol’ Pig’s like an unmade bed. Sloppy and invitin’!”

You look like you’re 28 and just got thrown out of the Navy.

“Always been a mature sort. My mama said my first words were, ‘Flop out that titty, woman! Pig’s got a thirst!'”

That is both very mature and not mature at all.

“Even babies get the blues! Can’t do nothin’ but make pee-pee on yourself! That sorta thing’ll bring ya down.”

Babies got it rough. You remember any of these kids?

“Made it with Michele!”

Nice.

“She’s weird-lookin’, but so’s the Pig! An’ she got it where it counts.”

Brains? Personality?

“She had an ass like a lifeboat!”

Sure.

“I would hold onta it for safety!”

Weird. What about the guys?

“Fuck them guys.”

Right answer.

“The ol’ Pig’s got nothin’ but!”

I know.

Balloony, Tunes

March 31, 2017 / / 5 Comments

They ran a tight ship.

OR

It’s past that kid’s bedtime.

OR

Rarest Phil of all: baseball cap Phil.

OR

Could the giant speaker be any closer to Keith’s head? When he died, how deaf you think he was on a scale of one to Mickey?

OR

On New Year’s, Precarious always amused himself by getting the newest member of the crew to look for the “heavy helium” to fill the balloons with.

OR

Seriously, why is Phil wearing a hat?

Imagine A Birkenstock Stamping On A Human Face Forever

March 31, 2017 / / 7 Comments

We have, Enthusiasts, hit Peak Festival; after this comes the crash. Wise investors are shorting Bonnaroo as we speak.

OR

“Umphrey’s Season!”

“String Cheese Season!”

“Umphrey’s Season!”

“String Cheese Season!”

OR

What’s the over/under on renditions of Soulshine? 12.5? I’m setting the line at 12.5.

OR

“Ve haff vays of making you listen to Tauk, Mr. Bond.”

OR

Phil, just because someone asks you to play with them doesn’t mean you have to. You’re allowed to pass on Moe. (I’m not playing along with their anti-capitalization bullshit, and I deliberately put them at the end of the sentence so I wouldn’t have to play along with their punctuation bullshit.)

OR

Fogerty should be headlining, shouldn’t he? Fogerty wrote Travelin’ Band and Lodi; hell, he wrote Proud fucking Mary. Widespread Panic has written songs, I suppose, but I couldn’t name any. Football analogy: Fogerty is to Manning brothers as Widespread is to Hasselbeck brothers.

OR

Brandi Carlile is awesome and should be a much bigger star. No jokes or sarcasm: she’s kickass in every way.

OR

Is that a typo? Is it supposed to be “His Golden Messenger” and they added an extra S? Or is the band named after Snake Jesus?

“If sssomone ssstrikesss you, turn the other cheek.”

“We don’t have cheeksss, Sssnake Jesssusss. We’re sssnakesss.”

“It wasss a metaphor.”

“We are alssso incapable of underssstanding metaphorsss.”

“Sssaint Patrick’sss coming! Run!”

OR

There’s not enough money or blowjobs in the world to get me to sit through that Thursday. I could’ve sworn the Geneva Conventions specifically mention an Umphrey’s/String Cheese double-shot.

OR

Twitter has fucked up the replies, so I don’t know whose joke I am stealing here, but: how can Gov’t Mule have a special guest when Woody Hayes is the special guest?

OR

One of the Pigeons Playing Ping Pong is Rebecca Pidgeon.

The Daily Recounting 3/30/17

March 31, 2017 / / 3 Comments

A drowning man will take you down with him. If you try to save him, that is, or get anywhere near him. Experienced lifeguards will advise you to render the victim unconscious with a length of rebar before attempting a rescue, or letting him die before you save him. Donny’s drowning, and he is desperately grasping for a handhold. A tiny, tiny handhold. He is attacking everyone in sight, with no regard for strategy or repercussion, and if it weren’t for the fact that the world was ending, it would be hilarious.

So, who’d Turnip pick fights with today?

HIS OWN RIGHT FLANK

I’m loathe to give the mushy pile of pumpkin shit advice, but NOOOOOOO. These are the stalwarts here, the ones who would have died marching for him, and Donny’s calling them out in public. He’s really fucking calling them out, too:

I give it until the end of next week: Trump in the presidential limo outside Meadows’ office, clinking beer bottles together.

“FREEEEEEE-dom Caucus! Come and out PLAAAAAAY-ay!”

This is not, as I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you, the way to get people on your team. It also notifies the rest of the Republicans in Congress that you’ll turn on them the second they’re not useful to you any more. Washington’s not like New York or Hollywood: one bank doesn’t like your deal, take it to the next one; there’s a million production companies, and dozens of big buyers in L.A. It’s not like he can peddle his healthcare bill to a different legislative body.

(“Y’know what? Fuck the House. Let’s pitch the Knesset.”

“We can’t do that, Mr. President.”

“Warm the plane up!”)

Also: Raul Labrador is not a real name. Raul Labrador is a character from Little Aleppo’s long-running soap opera Tomorrow’s Yesterdays; he is a geologist/masseur, and he has an identical twin sister named Succulent Labrador.

CHINA

What does this even mean, you rank simpleton? I guarantee you this ninny couldn’t explain to you why tariff wars are a bad thing if you spotted him the Smoot and the Hawley. China buys our cars, and some of our movies, and–I was surprised by this–American crops; we buy China’s everything. China made the thing I’m typing this on, and probably the thing you’re reading it on. America no longer makes a lot of stuff. Whether this is a good thing or a bad thing is up for debate, but it is a fact. We do, however, love buying stuff so much. The only thing Americans like better than stuff is cheap stuff, and slapping a 20% tariff on said cheap stuff doesn’t mean China gives us 20%, it means we pay Walmart and Target 20% more. Plus, China starts ratcheting up the import taxes on our stuff. We know this because this is what has happened every single time it’s been attempted.

I’m a moron and I can understand this.

Also, we return to strategy: not the best idea to announce before a meeting, “I’m gonna be real prick to this guy!”

Also also, the Wigged Whiner invited President Jinping to Mar-A-Lago–because of course he did–and asked him to play golf, and here’s why this is funny: golf is a bit of a sore spot in China now. It’s an aspirational and bourgeois activity, and therefore banned, but that didn’t stop people from building golf courses all over the place; naturally, all the courses had a local Communist Party mandarin attached to them and the corruption became so rampant that Beijing had to step in, and you do not want Beijing stepping in. So, like I said, it’s a sore spot that could have been avoided by ten seconds of googling. Or by not dismantling the State Department.

THE NEW YORK TIMES, HUNDREDS OF YEARS OF WELL-ESTABLISHED CASE LAW

I like how casual he is. “Change libel laws?” It’s like a note you leave yourself by the phone. “Ice cream cake for Timmy’s bday?”

Second: if those that claim these kind of tweets are “distractions” and that he does this intentionally are correct, then they must answer one question. If he’s so smart, why would he make himself look so stupid? There surely must be better distractions. Go after Arnold again. Call Elizabeth Warren “Pocahontas.” People love that one. You don’t make it look as though you have no idea what the president actually does.

Unless, you know: you have no idea what the president actually does. This leads me back to reminding you of the greatest failing of the media during this campaign season: no one asked him how a bill becomes a law.

CAN THE PRESIDENT CHANGE LIBEL LAWS: AN FAQ

Can the president change libel laws?

No.

Why not?

So many reasons.

This has been the 70th day of our national nightmare; may we wake soon.

Buy A Shirt, Listen To A Show

March 31, 2017 / / 1 Comment

We have an Enthusiast of the day to honor. You may recall that I recently couldn’t post pictures. Why? I have no idea. A wonderful man named Mike (same guy that helped me movie the site a while ago) came to my aid. Go thank him by buying a shirt celebrating 9/8/90 at Richmond Coliseum.

Additionally, you may also go listen to the show. I have not vetted this show at all, let alone in an extreme fashion; I cannot speak to its choogliness. This is the setlist:

At first, you think “Not many surprises,” but then you realize it’s got an Eyes>Estimated, and that is just crazy talk. Grateful Dead was having backwards day on September 8th.

Ventura Speedway Boogie

March 30, 2017 / / 10 Comments

Holy shit, is this too much Grateful Dead. I’ve listened to, like, four Dead shows today and this is too much Grateful Dead. It’s like sugar: a little sugar in your coffee is good, but too much sugar and three days of Dead tribute bands is ridiculous.

Excuse me.

Yes?

Get your facts straight: there are also Jerry Band tribute acts.

This is my Guantanamo right here.

The question is: how many of these are tribute bands, and how many are cosplay outfits?

You mean, like, they got a Bobby in Bobby clothes that tells Bobby’s jokes, and Fake Billy has a mustache and fake-punches real dicks?”

Yeah.

80/20% ratio.

Probably.

People love being outside. I don’t get it.

It’s a mystery.

Of course, FoTotD David Gans will be wonderful.

Of course, and his book can be purchased here in softcover. Hey, you wanna see something scary?

Sure.

55 HOUR DRUM CIRCLE!

NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!

This is why Trump won.

It is, yeah.

Sin Like Flynn

March 30, 2017 / / 2 Comments

“General Flynn, come on in. Have a seat.”

“Thank you.”

“My name is Jenkins, and I’m with the Senate counsel’s office.”

“Is that a thing?”

“For the purposes of this dialogue, yes. Now, General, you wish to testify in front of the Senate in exchange for immunity?”

“And a new identity.”

“Are you talking about the Witness Protection Program?”

“Yes. I’d like to be Shaquille O’Neal.”

“That’s not how that works.”

“Fine, I’ll be Kobe. I just want to be really rich and black.”

“Leaving aside your race-based power fantasies, sir, why should the Senate offer you immunity?”

“I’ve been a baaaaaaad boy.”

“You’re going to need to be far more specific.”

“I have blood on my hands, Jenkins. Well, not blood. More like piss and vodka. Still: very wet hands.”

“Let’s start from the beginning.”

“I was a rambunctious lad.”

“Not that far back.”

“I entered your office.”

“You overshot. Let’s concentrate on the events in between your childhood and this moment.”

“I need to know that I have immunity first. Plus you really need to protect me.”

“Protect you, General? From whom?”

“My life is in danger!”

“From whom, sir?”

“The Trump Administration!”

…

“HAHAHAHAHA!”

“HAHAHAHAHA!”

“Right?”

“Oh, I love to laugh. Seriously, General, who’s threatening you?”

“Putin.”

“Oh, shit. You’re gonna die.”

“I know!”

“Maybe we should do this over the phone.”

“I’m already here.”

“Sure. Let’s make it quick, though. What do you have?’

“Recordings. Receipts. Plane tickets. Bank statements. I was the courier between Russia and the Trump campaign. I know everything.”

“So? Pretty soon, we’re going to know everything. You’re only interesting to us if you can give us someone bigger than you.”

“Taller?”

“Not physically bigger, General. Larger in scope and importance.”

“How about the President of the United States?”

“Now we’re talking. Yes?”

“President Obama wiretapped Trump Tower.”

“I think we’re done.”

“I can give you Manafort.”

“Dude, we got Manafort.”

“I can give you Jared Kushner.”

“We in the counsel’s office are certain that Mr. Kushner will not only make a deal the very second we threaten him, but also cry like a little girl when he does. so. Give me something I can take back to my bosses, General.”

“I can give you the Vice-President.”

“Vice-President Pence colluded with the Russians?’

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

“General.”

“Immunity!”

“You can’t call ‘immunity,’ sir.”

“Immunity!”

“No. It’s not like shotgun. General, we’re going to think about it.”

“Jenkins, they’re gonna kill me.”

“That’s generally what happens to traitors, General.”

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