Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: bob weir (Page 23 of 198)

Happy And Barefoot

January 23, 2019 / / 4 Comments

Look at you, all happy and barefoot.

“We had the rugs deep cleaned. I tried to get Josh to kick off his shoes, but he started talking about Ibaldi’s Theory of Lace Color, and I think I blacked out. The boy likes to explain his outfits.”

He does.

“So, uh, he’s still got his shells on.”

Shells?

“Your shells. Foot’s an oyster. Shoe’s the shell. Gotta slide on outta your shell, man. That’s where the living is done.”

All of you are getting weirder.

“Mickey is not only wearing shoes, but playing them.”

Sure. This is Mexico?

“Oh, yeah. It’s a hoot. Right on the beach, got the Holy Roller Monster Moon going. Nice check. Cannot complain about this check. Plus, uh, I wasn’t incapacitated by a shrimp taco this year.”

Right. Last year, you caught Montezuma’s Revenge.

“Rough 24 hours. Went through three toilets.”

Glad you’re healthy and happy.

“Better than the alternatives, yeah.”

No One Ever Called Him Unobservant

January 15, 2019 / / 2 Comments

“There’s a step, Bob. I’m standing on a step and it’s making me unreasonably taller than you. If you look down, you’ll see the step I’m talking about. I don’t want you to be overwhelmed by my mass.”

“Gee, thanks.”

“Were I actually this size, I would set off primal alarms in your amygdala. All over your brain, in fact. Neurons, synapses, areas belonging to both Wernicke and Broca. Maybe even the Isles of Langerhans.”

“I went there on vacation once.”

“Bob, my friend, I just have one question for you.”

“Shoot.”

“Where’s your beard?’

ROCK STAR FACE-FEELING NOISE

“Goddammit.”

“Check the freezer.”

“Natasha!”

In Fields Of Green, (Slight Repose)

January 12, 2019 / / 1 Comment

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“I’m in a meadow.”

Right. Why?

“Although ‘meadow’ implies level ground. Maybe better to say I’m on a grassy knoll.”

It’s never better to be on a grassy knoll. Nothing good can come of it.

“However you wanna classify it.”

But why?

“I’m not quite lounging, but I’m casual.”

I see that.

“A little bit coquetteish, maybe.”

It’s the hair.

“Thank you.”

You’re not gonna tell me why you’re sitting there, are you?

“As soon as I know, I’ll pass it along, but I think I’m gonna say ‘screw it’ and go with calling a grassy knoll. People know I didn’t kill Kennedy.”

I would hope so.

“Y’never know.”

Man, He Can

January 8, 2019 / / 1 Comment

Hey, Bobby. Did you know that Regina King’s name means Queen King?

“I have no idea who you’re talking about.”

Sure.

“Now, the clean-cut fellow to my left…is he secretly a mannequin?”

No.

“Like in that movie, Mannequin?”

He is not.

“Heck of a love story, Mannequin. And Kim Catrall. Easy on the eyes, that lady.”

It was a decent film.

“Decent? C’mon. It was part of the Catrallogy. Porky’s, Police Academy, and Mannequin. Heady days back then for a young starlet.”

What the fuck are you talking about?

“My shoulder hurt.”

And now?

“Much better.”

Ah.

Some Get Lei’d, Some Get Screwed

January 3, 2019 / / 2 Comments

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Same ol’ shit.”

This one of those VIP gigs?

“Oh, yeah. Amazing how much folks’ll pay to get close enough to smell Don Was.”

What does he smell like?

“Weed and annuities.”

Sure. Hey, Billy.

“Ass! Look at all these suckers!”

They’re fans, Billy.

“Rich dumbfucks is what they are. We’re just gonna play the same songs tonight.”

But they get an experience.

“They sure will. I farted on the canapes.”

Great. Hey, Don Was.

“GRRRRR.”

Are those Yeezys?

“GRRRRR.”

Awesome.

Christmastime Is Weir

January 2, 2019 / / 0 Comments

“Christmas randos.”

Nice.

“They, uh, come around once a year.”

Spreading joy and cheer?

“No. A lot of ’em cough on me.”

So what makes a Christmas rando different from a regular one?

“The tinsel.”

Sure.

“There’s a quality of gingerbreadishness.”

That is not a concept. Are you wearing suspenders?

“They’re called braces.”

Why?

“Went crazy over the holidays. Need ’em to hold up the old shortaloons. Thinking about making it my thing. Maybe add some pins.”

Please don’t.

“Just like Mork.”

Do not go Full Mork, Bobby.

“I dunno. Recently, I’ve added Giant Western Hat into the mix, and that’s been a complete success.”

Just get a belt.

Not An Empty Seat In The House (Because It’s Just Bleachers)

December 27, 2018 / / 4 Comments

“Hey, Jer?”

“Yeah, Weir?”

“What if cars drove us?”

“I’m not having this conversation, man. Just play your guitar.”

“Or is my guitar playing me?”

“You’re playing it. You can’t just flip the subject and the object of a sentence around like that unless you’re Yakov Smirnoff, man.”

“In Grateful Dead, guitar plays you.”

“Yeah, right. And that makes no sense.”

“What if the guitar took lessons as a kid?”

“Just play the song.”

“Jer?”

“What, man?”

“I bet the first bullfight was accidental.”

…

“Yeah, you’re probably right about that.”

Grateful Dead: Generations

December 20, 2018 / / 0 Comments

“Hey, Lesh?”

“What, Bob?”

“Is that Eric or Don Junior?”

“My children are not named Eric or Don Junior, Bob. That’s Grahame. You have known him literally all of his life.”

“But not all of mine.”

“Just play the song, would ya?”

“Why doesn’t his beard touch his hair? Your boy has a skin moat going on.”

“I don’t know.”

“Is that the new fashion?”

“Bob.”

“Is it a meme?”

“Bob.”

“Monet tried to explain memes to me, but I just blasted Mingus at her until she stopped. Are those memes?”

“I’m begging you to just play the song, Bob.”

“Okee doke. Phil?”

“WHAAAA-aaat?”

“Is this your other boy on lead vocals here?”

“That’s a girl, Bob.”

“Well, you know: it’s 2018. I’m afraid to assume anything any more.”

“The song. Just play the song.”

“Sure. Phil?”

“Jesus, man. What?”

“Remind me what we’re playing again.”

“We’re playing Fire on the Mountain, Uncle Bob!”

“YOU SPEAK WHEN SPOKEN TO, BOY, AND NOT EVEN THEN!”

“Aw, geez, Pop.”

« Older posts Newer posts »

The Stacks

Follow Us

Google Verification

Follow Us

Follow me on Twitter

© 2026 Thoughts On The Dead

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑