“Jenkins!”
“Yes, sir?”
“When I say ‘Jerry Garcia,’ what do you think of?”
“Tie-dye? Hippies?”
“No.”
“Beard.”
“Nuh-uh.”
“20-minute solos.”
“Stop that. Concentrate, damn you, or I’ll give you such a hiding.”
“I don’t know what you want me to say, sir.”
“Skank!”
“Wow, that wasn’t even close to one of my guesses.”
“Jenkins, when you think of Jerry Garcia, you think skank. Semi-naked titty-bitches writhing in orgasmic ecstasy in furtherance of a capitalist agenda. You know, skank.”
“That’s a bit misogynist, sir.”
“Yes. I’m a terrible man.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Nothing, nothing at all, sells like skank, Jenkins. Humor, cleverness, outright lying: these work in ads, but not like skank.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but what is this exactly an ad for?’
“The concept that Garcia’s guitars were magical.”
“Ah.”
“Otherwise, people will just think they’re overpriced geegaws that sounded objectively worse than a Strat.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Can’t have that, now. Bad for merch sales. Gotta sell merch, Jenkins. And do you know how?”
“With skank, sir?”
“Skank! Cures all ailments and washes away trouble, does skank. Puts a spring in your step and a boner in your pocket; talking about skank here. Jenkins, have you ever felt the warm summer rain on your face?”
“I suppose.”
“It was skank.”
“The rain was skank?”
“All is skank; skank is all. Like the Christ, but with a butthole you’d like to wrestle into submission.”
“Why would you need to wrestle a butthole, sir?”
“They get feisty. Buttholes have minds of their own, Jenkins. Never turn your back on a butthole.”
“I’ll be careful.”
“You’ll be dead!”
“Sir, do you have a plan beyond ‘procure skank?'”
“Oh, yes.”
…
“Would you like to tell me?”
“You didn’t make it clear that was your desire, Jenkins. Be assertive, old bean.”
“What is the skank plan, sir?”
“That’s better. So: we get the skank.”
“Right.”
“And the guitars. Then, we apply a thick coat of polish.”
“To the guitars or the skank, sir?”
“Yes.”
“And then?’
“Well, then the skank skanks it up, I suppose. Wriggling. Going ‘woo!’ That sort of thing. Maybe we get some bellybutton in play. Who knows with skank?”
“So, the model will just dance around in her underwear in front of the guitars?”
“You say that as if it isn’t a mitzvah.”
“It’s not, sir.”
“Anti-semitism will not be allowed in this office, Jenkins. Unless it’s from me.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Now, set up a casting session and run to the store for some polish.”
“Skank or guitar?”
“Yes.”
,…and yet all my eye is drawn to is the headless guitar on the right. What the hell is that, now?
Wolf Jr…
http://www.wald-electronics.com/wolfjr.html
I assume the headless guitar on the right is Jerry’s Steinberger. He only played it in public a few times, not at Dead or Garcia Band shows.
it is indeed how Jerry wanted it, whether we like it or not. To quote another singer, a very deep thinker indeed
You got your eyes on the cheerleader queen
And you’re walkin’ her home from school
You know that she’s only seventeen
But you know that your a fool
You know you can’t touch this stuff
Without money or a brand new car
Let me give you some good advice young man
You better learn to play guitar
Nothing rhymes with banjo.
I rhyme “orange” with “banjo”.
this never would’ve happened if Guild Starfire II was there
III (Bixby)