Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Bobby takes the solo!
Sammy doesn’t know the words!
Josh plays a teeny-weeny guitar that assuredly costs two grand!
The band almost, but not quite, gets the hang of an >!
Thousands of dudes named Chad and chicks named Bethany ask each other “Are those John’s gay dads?”
Everyone needs to put some damn shoes on.
“Oh, no. Shoes are the foot-killer; I shall not wear them. I will let trips to Foot Locker pass over me like a wave, and when they are gone only my tootsies shall remain.”
Nicely done.
“Besides, I was talking to Josh, and it turns out that sneakers are, like, two grand a pair nowadays.”
Not normal sneakers. Just his handmade limited-edition bullshit. You can get a pair of Adidas for $65.
“Huh.”
One other thing.
“You want some Fret-Eeze?”
No. What’s with the chewing tobacco?
“I enjoy a good dip. See, what you do is–”
I know how it works.
“–you put a pinch between your cheek and gums.”
Yes.
“Mm, what flavor.”
Chewing tobacco is absolutely the most disgusting way of ingesting nicotine. And least cool.
“I don’t know about that. How about that thing that looks like you’re sucking on a robot’s dick?”
Vaping.
“That scene is not for me.”
Good call. But the dipping has to stop.
“I’m gonna keep doing whatever the hell I want.”
Good. We’re agreed.
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Squeezing the last little bit of summer out of the tube.”
Sammy Hagar is a summer type of dude.
“Yeah, sure. You, uh, don’t think ‘autumn’ when you think of Sam. He’s a ‘drink in your hand, toes in the sand’ kind of guy.”
All he needs is a beautiful girl.
“There you go. And we each got one.”
What do you and Sammy talk about?
“Aliens.”
Aliens?
“Almost exclusively. We were gonna join in on storming Area 51, but our wives wouldn’t let us.”
Smart women. Did you make those shorts yourself?
“I make all my shorts myself.”
I should have guessed that.
“You can make pants into shorts, but you can’t turn shorts into pants. Time’s arrow only, uh, flies one way.”
That’s deep.
“Yeah, sure.”
OR
Potato salad.
“Because there’s no piping system. At home, you’re either hooked up to the mains or you got yourself a private tank, but the bus toilet isn’t like that. It’s just a seat on a bucket, basically. Nothing goes away. You literally take a dump. You take it with you down the highway.”
“We all know that, Bobby.’
“I literally grew up on a tour bus, Uncle Bobby.”
“We have a plane now, Bob.”
“Number one is fine. You’re more than welcome to make number one. But, uh, no loaf-pinching.”
“Please don’t call it that.”
“Seconded.”
“Aye.”
“All right, who’s’ ready for the tour?”
Takes a couple seconds to realize what’s wrong with the picture, right?
OR
Opposite Day, as always, was a complete disaster.
OR
“Hey, uh, guys? We wearing our enormous glasses today?”
“Obviously, Weir.”
“Yeah, man. Biggest you can find.”
OR
If you don’t like 9/1/79, then you don’t like the Dead. And if you don’t like the Dead, why are you reading this bullshit? Who am I even addressing here? Ah, screw it: life is pointless.
OR
Which band had the most lefties in it? I can’t think of any with more than one southpaw player. (Not counting natural lefties who learned to play right-handed because left-handed guitars were tough to find and/or more expensive.)
Valued Commentator JES sends in this pic in re: the Leslie ranking. Enthusiasts over the age of two will count seven–SEVEN–Leslie speakers behind the vocalist/flautist/organist/muttonchoppist of Dutch band Focus, Thijs van Leer. I gotta be honest with you: there’s such a thing as being too European. Even the Dead wouldn’t pull this shit; it’s just unAmerican*, man.
Are the British still European? I think that question is being answered on a moment-to-moment basis this week. The island of Britain sits on the same tectonic plate as the Continent, and that’s not gonna change, but every other facet of the query is up for grabs.
The phenomenal Larry Radar sent in this action shot of Ian Hunter and Mick Ronson; go check out his pics, and tell him how awesome they are so maybe he’ll dig around in his basement and find some more for us to enjoy.
This is what that photo sounded like:
(Kinda. The shot’s from 7/27/79 and the video’s from April of 1980. But the band’s the same, so close enough.)
That’s Garcia (left) with a white Stratocaster. Where did he get it? Why was he playing it? The answers are lost to the ages. However, the fantastic Michael Clem has put together a (seemingly) exhaustive photographic timeline of Garcia’s axes.
FUN FACT: It is also a photographic timeline of Garcia’s weight, and–towards the end–hair loss.
*Unamerican? UnAmerican? Un-American? They all look horrid.
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“I thought you were dead.”
Hurricane missed us. Barely even squalled.
“Well, uh, that’s good, I suppose.”
Thank you for the endorsement.
“Just saying that if you had died, then Phil could have used your back.”
You can’t transplant a back.
“Not with your insurance plan, no, but Phil’s got Cadillac coverage.”
Sure.
“No co-pay.”
Nice. What’s Walton doing?
“Attacking life with a zestful glee. And, uh, whacking the bongos.”
Congas.
“Do I look like Mickey? Foreign drum’s a foreign drum.”
Is he miked?
“He thinks he is.”
You’re a good friend, Bobby.
“Yup, sure.”
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“I was looking for my beard. Have you seen it?”
It’s about 20 years in front of you.
“Ah. Thank goodness for my powerful thighs.”
You loved that bike.
“Well, it’s like I always said: a bike is almost as good as a guitar for getting girls.”
You don’t think it helped that the person riding the bicycle was a rich, famous, handsome guy?
“That may have had something to do with it, sure. Although, I will say that a guitar is much softer on your gooch than a bike,”
Can’t argue with that.
I don’t know why this picture reminds me of this performance, but it does.
Phil? Fat.
Garcia? Skinny.
Cowboy? Fancy.
Must be 1979. Go listen to 12/5 from the Uptown Theatre in Chicago, the third show of a run recently showcased in the Dave’s Picks series. The He’s Gone is dreamy, y’all. D-R-Eamy. Someone call the nurse, cuz Dr. Eamy is scrubbin’ in.
Are you going to be obsessed with “Dr. Eamy” now?
Yes, I am.
© 2026 Thoughts On The Dead
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
Recent Comments