Thoughts On The Dead

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

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Someone Steal That Man’s Razor

A reminder: Never wear your boots like that unless OSHA demands that you do so.

A further reminder: “Body Positivity” is a scam invented to sell products–some cheese-covered, some not–to fat people.

A farther reminder: Nick Paumgarten fucking loves mountains. Climbing ’em, sliding down ’em, getting drunk with rich fuckers at the base of ’em: the man’s a catholic slopist.

A father’s reminder: Get your hair cut and tell your mother you love her.

A farmer’s reminder: The Grange meeting is Tuesday night.

A Farnsworth reminder: I INVENTED TEEVEE, YOU UNGRATEFUL BASTARDS!

How Do You Live Like This?

A listing of all the shows at Winterland from ’66 to the wrecking ball. I think I posted it already, but I ain’t afeared of no Content Nazis.

An article on the history of men’s shirt collars. Far more interesting than you’d think, and of course it came about because of the Boardwalk Empire bingewatch. You need to see the men’s shirt collars on this program. They verge on gorgets. Gorgets!

Three Wikipedia pages: The P-Funk mythos; a surrealist play I’ve not read but liked the title of; and the Drake Equation, which I tried and failed to rewrite last week because my grasp on math is shitty even when I’m allowed to make up the numbers.

A real long article on The Charlatans. They were friends with the Dead and liked playing cowboy. Seriously: they walked around all day with vests and canes like they were Bat Masterson.

Turns out Cargo Cults, and the legend of John Frum, may be yet another Colonialist lie. Or at least a misunderstanding.

All of that was open in your browser?

Yes.

And yet you whine about never getting any work done?

Also yes.

Crybaby

Not to gargle my own nuts, Enthusiasts, but if you can find another Grateful Dead-adjacent website that features sentences like…

“But Lacan wanted to see Moonalice.”

…then you should go there. That’s some MacArthur Genius Grant shit right there, even though I would turn down the award. (I will not be spoken of in the same breath as Garth Youngberg. Children know more about agronomy.)

How are you contributing to society right now?

Negatively.

Yes. Stop it. Do better.

Be best?

Sure, if you can.

How about some funky shit?

That would be fine.

Lizzo rules.

Phillo, Sophist

Hey, Phil. Reading to the kids?

“Gosh, you’re observant.”

Don’t say anything, but I think that little boy in the middle has one of those aging diseases.

“That’s Guberman, jackass. He’s my keyboardist.”

Is this how you pay your band? With stories?

“I’m this close to 86’ing you from TXR.”

But I was looking forward to Psychic Night with Evidential Medium Cindy Kaza. I have some important questions for my father.

“Like what?”

Where he left the remote, for starters. It’s been ten years and we still can’t find it.

“Go away.”

“Have you considered ze locus of power within zis discourse? Also, would you consider peeing on me?”

“Who is that?”

C’est moi.”

“Oh, go away, Mike. No one understands a goddamned word you say.”

Oui. Zis is because you are all–‘ow you say?–doofuses. Zis is correct? Doofus?”

“Escargot away.”

Non! We shall discuss ‘ow schizophrenia is a conspiracy of ze ‘eterosexuals. And zen we shall fist each other.”

“Dammit, man, there are children here!”

“I shall fist ze bearded one.”

“HEY!”

Me?

“Oh, yeah. You. Don’t come around here any more and don’t bring any more perverted philosophers.”

But Lacan wanted to see Moonalice.

“OUT!”

Rising Up To Paradise

Happy Easter, Enthusiasts.

A Giant Among Musicians

Is the Stealie so you don’t forget what band you’re in?

“Why am I in every post tonight?”

It’s Passover.

“So?”

Phil Lesh is Mr. Passover. All Jews know this.

“I never even heard of the holiday until I met Mickey. And if I can be honest, I find it a bit creepy.”

Is it all the murdered children?

“Yup.”

Well, you have to understand: Pharaoh was being a dick.

“And?”

Bad decision. Old Testament God didn’t like backtalk. He was really more of a I say ‘leap,’ you say ‘How high?’ kind of deity.

“So why didn’t he kill Pharaoh instead of all the first-borns?”

Pharaoh was spared due to professional courtesy. God went to Choate with Osiris. It’s all who you know.

“That’s enough. Go away.”

Tell Precarious he did a wonderful job with the gear.

“No.”

Why Is This Jam Different Than Any Other Jam?

“Good evening, ticketholders, and welcome to Terrapin Crossroads’ annual seder dinner. Since Passover happens to fall on 4/20 this year, we’ll be combining the two celebrations with a very special meal and haggadah. We’re calling it the haggadoobie. Rabbi, would you like to lead us in the prayer over the edibles?”

“Not a rabbi, Phil. I’m Ross James.”

“You do look rabbinical.”

“It’s just the beard. Half the guys in here look like me.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll do it myself. I don’t actually know Hebrew, so bear with me. Ahem.”

Barack Obama Illinois
And-a hey-ho melon something something
A chair, Miss Ivana, Bar Mitzvah Dave
I gotta lick shells.
Passover.

“That was great. I did a hell of a job. And with no rehearsal! Okay, how about the Four Questions? Rabbi?”

“Still not a rabbi, Phil.”

“Again, I will take care of this. Okee-dokee, remember everyone: we’re combining the seder with 4/20. Everyone got it?”

“They remember the premise, Phil.”

“Y’know, you’re awful talkative for someone who isn’t a rabbi.”

“Sorry.”

“If I may continue. Where did I leave the paper with the questions? Did anyone see it? Ross? Did I leave it in my coat? And those were the Four Questions. Now it’s time for the children to find the afikomen.”

“Here I am!”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s me, haredi yoga instructor Afi Komen.”

“This has gotten a bit surreal.”

“I’d like you to meet my wife. She doesn’t have a name.”

“Why not?”

“We treat our women like shit.”

“Happy Passover.”

“And a bitchin’ 4/20 to you, boychik.”

Hand Me Jer’s Old Guitar

Hey, Phil.

“Look at me. I’m the Garcia now.”

Funny.

“That’s a meme, son. I know all about them. Baby Levon is teaching me to shitpost.”

Please don’t shitpost, Phil.

“I’m gonna be ironically racist.”

There’s no such thing.

“What do you want?”

Love and a reasonably-priced steak sandwich.

“Yeah, okay.”

It’s not too much to ask.

“The love part probably is. For you, I mean.”

I’d be happy with just the steak sandwich.

A Small And Uninteresting Conversation

Stop binge-watching Boardwalk Empire and write something!

NO.

It’s just The Sopranos with fancy collars and Irishmen!

And Bobby Cannavale’s dong!

Get to work!

SUCK BOBBY CANNAVALE’S DONG!

Well, this was worth clicking on.

He Loved It When They Called Him Big Poppa

What the song doesn’t tell you is that Big Bad Bill/Sweet William had a son with that brown-skinned Delilah, and they named that boy Leroy Brown.

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