Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: bob weir (page 4 of 170)

When I Had No Wings To Fly

“We’re back on the Radio Randy Show, and it seems that both I and Radio Rhonda are decohering. Bobby, do you know anything about this?”

“Huh. Little bit. Are, uh, you two in the Grateful Dead?”

“No.”

“Well, there’s your problem. The Time Sheath kinda…how do I put this…plays favorites.”

“What does that mean?”

“Just because a door’s unlocked doesn’t mean you should walk through it.”

“That made even less sense, Bob.”

“Shouldn’t have come back to ’72, Randy. Or, at least, you shouldn’t have stayed this long. You two are like a black guy in a Mississippi town after sunset.”

“That sounds bad.”

“It should. You, uh, wanna talk some more about Dead & Company?”

“No. I want to stop becoming transparent.”

“Very popular nowadays. Mom turns into dad, dad turns into mom. It’s all the rage.”

“Not ‘trans parent,’ Bob. Transparent. See-through.”

“Ah. Have you tried bee pollen? I swear by the stuff.”

“Will that work?”

“No, but the smell is heavenly. How about we take a caller?”

“That’s my job.”

“Caller, you’re on the air with Bobby and Radios Randy and Rhonda for like five more minutes.”

“Bobby? Is John there? I need help.”

“I know that pleasant, yet limited, voice.”

“Bobby, it’s Katy Perry. I’m in terrible trouble.”

“What is it?”

“I need to make a boom-boom.”

“Ah.”

“I did not plan this outfit with all eventualities in mind. It’s really just good for being photographed in.”

“Doesn’t look too comfy.”

“The wings weigh 300 pound apiece. I needed to have a backup spine installed.”

“You can do that?”

“Doctor Gary can.”

“Oh, how’s he doing? Been a while since he made an appearance.”

“He’s very busy.”

“Yeah?”

“He’s the new White House physician.”

“Pretty sure we all saw that coming. So, uh, Katy: I can’t help you. I’m in a locker room in 1972.”

“Dammit.”

“Why don’t you call Josh? He’ll help you. He loves buttholes.”

“Not invited to the Met Gala. In fact, Anna Wintour told me specifically that he couldn’t come.”

“Those two got bad blood?”

“He jerked off on Andre Leon Talley.”

“Huh. Well, I dunno what to tell you.”

“Maybe I can get the poop to go straight into my giant boot.”

“I say that to myself once, maybe twice a day.”

“Should I tell Rhianna you say hi?”

“No.”

“Okee-doke!”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

“Radio Randy?”

“Rhonda?”

“This bit’s over, I guess.”

There’s A Cabstand On Fucking Yucca

“That’s not the right haircut for you.”

“Excuse me, Bob?”

“Makes you look like John Stamos’ stand-in. You need more poof.”

“Well, um, I don’t–”

“Are you doing the movie?”

“–know if I…what? I have several projects in various stages of development.”

“No, the big one. The one you’ve been worrying about all season.”

“Huh?”

“Vinnie, you have to take your career seriously. Especially you. See, you’re a ‘face.’ I was a ‘face.’ But, you know, gravity tugs at you. Gotta build up the credentials for when you’re not pretty anymore. You should do the Aquaman sequel.”

“Are you confusing me with my character from Entourage?”

“No, I’m recalling your Hollywood adventures from your reality show.”

“Bob.”

“You should get rid of that little Eric guy. Just hatefully boring.”

“Bob.”

“But Turtle and Drama? You keep those two close.”

“You’re talking about a fictional series, Bob. My name’s Adrian.”

“Oh, no. That’s a girl’s name. You’re not a girl. You’re a boy. Boys are named things like Vinnie, or Turtle.”

“Does he have a handler?”

Are You Bobby For Me, Baby

Where did you get a baby?

“Honestly, I have no idea. I was holding a cocktail, and then I went to take a sip and it was a baby.”

Strong cocktail.

“Well, you know, what’s the point otherwise?”

Sure. Bob, who taught you to hold babies?

“Parish.”

Wow.

“Grab by the hips and ignore the neck. Their heads are floppy because they’re coddled. You know what they say–”

Please don’t say what I think you’re going to.

“–‘You can’t baby babies.'”

That was what I thought, and feared, you would say.

“The children are soft nowadays. You know what I was doing at his age?”

Ranch?

“Yeah, there ya go. I was on the ranch. Bronco-busting and whatnot.”

What’s the kid’s name?

“Berniewouldawon.”

His parents live in Marin, huh?

“My neighbors.”

Sure.

Weir And When

“Um, Bobby?”

“Coop?”

“Don’t call me that. Are we in an editing program?”

ROCK STAR LOOKING AROUND NOISE

“Looks like it. So, uh, we can count out Thelma Schoonmaker. She’s old school.”

“Bob.”

“Razor blades and tape and whatnot. Much more authentic cuts.”

“Bob.”

“Coop, you wanna check out what’s in that chafing dish over there? I’m peckish as all get out.”

“This doesn’t bother you?”

“You know what band I’m in, right?”

“Still: this is weird even for you.”

“Actually, no. This is right down the middle for a weekday. Gosh, I could swim in your eyes.”

“Focus, Bob.”

“Why don’t we take a call?”

“What?”

“Caller, you’re on the air.”

“Who am I speaking to? The hippie or the homo?”

“Excuse me?”

“The hippie.”

“Excellent, excellent. This is your president.”

“No, not anymore. I think you meant to call 1972.”

“Goddammit, did Rosemary dial wrong again? Woman can’t run a switchboard. Just no good with electronics. When am I speaking to?”

“2015-ish. Somewhen around then.”

“Seriously, what’s happening?”

“Don’t worry about it, Coop, but I need you to get on the chafing dish. There, uh, could be sliders in there.”

“Now, listen here. I need that young man’s number, the negro singer. The suggestible one. The Republicans are making an outreach to the urban community. And the rural urban community. Wherever the urbans live, we’re going after them, and the young man with the high opinion of himself is a natural fit for our agenda.”

“What’s your agenda?”

“Crushing the urban community.”

“Ah.”

“The number, please.”

“I don’t have it on me, but if you call me back in 1972, I will. Or I did. You know what I mean.”

“Time travel makes everything more complicated, but nothing moreso than conjugation.”

“You got it. Hey, uh, Coop. You wanna talk to Nixon?”

“What’s happening?”

“Buddy, God love ya, but you’re adding virtually nothing to this scene.”

“What?”

And Introducing Radio Rhonda

“Hey, all you Deadheads. Welcome back to the Radio Randy Show on SiriusXM. You can hear us in your car, or on your app, or just about anywhere. Coming up next is The Big Steve Hour starring Steve Parish, where every story ends with ‘and then we all got tugged off.'”

“Parish did get tugged off a lot, Radio Randy.”

“And that familiar voice is, of course, Bob Weir. He’s gonna be talking to us and answering questions. Bobby also insisted we do the interview in 1970.”

“Uh, about that: the Comment Section seems to think we’re in ’72.”

“The who?”

“Oh, I haven’t spoken to those guys in a while.”

“Not The Who, Bob. I was asking who the Comment Section was.”

“They’re right under us. Great bunch of folks. Some of ’em get an attitude once in a while, but you have to expect that.”

“I’ll just move on with the interview.”

“Super. Who’s, uh, this?”

“Radio Rhonda.”

“Sure. Does she have any lines?”

“Dialogue or cocaine?”

“Either is cool.”

“No.”

“Dang it.”

“Bob, tell us about the Grateful Dead’s future.”

“Well, Randy, we have a Time Sheath. We could just go see it. Gotta warn you: it’s depressing as hell.”

“Don’t tell me. I want to be surprised.”

“Okay. Lips are sealed. Although, if you’ve got money in the market, you should short Keith.”

“Not a thing.”

“Oh, Keith’s definitely a thing. I’ve smelled him.”

“Let’s take a call.”

“Awesome.”

“THE CIVIL WAR WAS NOT CIVIL AT ALL! PEOPLE WAS SHOOTING AND SHIT!”

“It’s ‘Ye, Randy.”

“I recognize his voice, Bob. ‘Ye, how are you calling us in 1972?”

“VIRGI ABLOH MADE ME A TIME SHEATH. I DESIGNED IT BECAUSE I AM A DESIGNER.”

“That’s some wonderful collaboration.”

“IT ONLY WORKS FOR PHONE CALLS RIGHT NOW. I CALLED THAT BITCH CLEOPATRA SO SHE COULD TALK DIRTY HIEROGLYPHICS TO ME!”

“How’d that go?”

“SHE GOT TO THE PART ABOUT THE BIRDS AND THE EYEBALLS AND I WENT SKEET ALL OVER!”

“Great story, ‘Ye.”

“MY STORIES ARE SCOOPY WOOPY.”

“Okay. Do you maybe have a question for Bob Weir of the Grateful Dead?”

“DID YOU KNOW LINCOLN LOGS ARE REPUBLICANS?”

“I did, yeah.”

“Great talk, ‘Ye. Bobby, how much longer are we going to be in 1972?”

“There’s only one more picture in this set.”

“Good to know.”

작은 감자

“We’re back on the Radio Randy Show right here on SiriusXM’s GD Channel. All day, all night, all Dead.”

“Did you think that up?”

“No, that was our jingle guy.”

“What’s his name?”

“Jingle Jeff.”

“Ah. Well, uh, tell him ‘Good work’ from me.”

“That’ll mean a lot to him.”

“Is he a Deadhead?”

“No, his family was just eaten by hippos. He could use any compliment right now.”

“Hippos are a danger.”

“Bobby, how’s the tour going?”

“It depends on when we are, Randy.”

“Early 70’s.”

“Then, uh, the tour’s going real well.”

“Was there a show you liked in particular?”

Green Acres always made me laugh.”

“Have you found your keys yet?”

“No. And, uh, that’s going to be a problem. You can’t hotwire a Tesla. Although, you know, I do have Elon Musk’s phone number. He could probably unlock the car from his phone.”

“Bob?”

“Yes, Radio Randy?”

“You are going to remember to bring me back to 2018 with you when you go, right?”

“Fingers crossed.”

“Doesn’t fill me with hope.”

“Have you tried Buddhism?”

“Lets take a call.”

“Sure.”

“Hi, caller, you’re on with Radio Randy and Bob Weir.”

“Bob, we need to talk.”

“Hey, Josh. Why are you, uh, captioned?”

“I’m also on Snapchat.”

“I have no idea what that is.”

“Because you’re in the early 70’s?”

“No. I’m never gonna know what Snapchat is. Trust me on this one.”

“Okay. Bobby, listen: the new nickname is not cool.”

“Little Potato?”

“Oh, THAT you can remember!?”

“Well, it’s real catchy.”

“Dammit.”

“And, uh, descriptive. You’re little, and you’re like a potato.”

“First off, I’m 6’3″.”

“Only when you’re standing.”

“And how the fuck am I like a potato?”

“You got eyes.”

“Everyone has eyes, Bobby.”

“Probably taste much better with salt and butter.”

“Everything tastes better…can we just not call me that?”

“I’m not the guy to ask. It’s kinda, you know reached the zeitgeist, I guess you could say. Everyone’s heard it by now.”

CALL WAITING NOISE

“I think that’s us, Radio Randy.”

“Call Waiting doesn’t exist when we are, Bob.”

“Yeah, I know. We brought it with us.”

“That makes no sense.”

CALL WAITING NOISE

“Just press the button, Randy.”

“Gotcha. Hey there, caller.”

“Let speak to Tiny Potato Dick.”

“Hey, bro.”

“I’m not your bro.”

“Look where am. Potato everywhere. Like you.”

“Kiss my ass.”

“No can get Kim Jong-Un down. Killing it this week, bro. Everybody love Kim.”

“No, they don’t.”

“Soon Only Korea will rejoin with Not Real Korea and Kim be in charge of all. Everyone thank. Have big party. Get Rod Stewart come and play hits.”

“Rod Stewart?”

“Only Korea love Rod the Mod.”

“I’m hanging up.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

“Radio Randy? I still here. Have question for Bob.”

“Sure, caller. Go ahead.”

“Bob?”

“Yuh-huh?”

“When you bring back Brother Esau? Is my jam.”

“That’s a good idea. Maybe, maybe.”

“Kim Jong-Un having best week.”

When A Caller Comes A-Calling

“Howdy, everyone. Welcome to the Radio Randy Show. We’re here on Sirius XM with Grateful Dead guitarist and vocalist Bob Weir.”

“Hiya. I’d, uh, like to say ‘hey’ to everyone out there listening to the Rawdogg Comedy Channel.”

“Actually, we’re on GD Radio, the 24-hour Grateful Dead station.”

“Why?”

“Why what?”

“Why would that exist, and why would anyone listen to it? I mean, uh, I’m in the Grateful Dead and I couldn’t bear 24 hours straight of it.”

“Your fans are obsessive, Bobby.”

“Lovely folks.”

“What do you like best about Deadheads, Bob?”

“Their money. And the boobies. But, you know, only a certain percentage of ’em got boobies.”

“Sure.”

“The girls.”

“I got that.”

“And, uh, the fat guys. But those aren’t my kind of boobies.”

“Bob, I have a question.”

“35 pounds in the front tires, 38 in the back.”

“The question was not about how much to inflate the tires on a Cadillac SRX.”

“I anticipated, but wrongly.”

“Happens to the best of us. Bob, why did you insist on holding this interview in 1970?”

“I couldn’t find my keys. Usually, I toss ’em on the table next to the door, but this time I’m pretty sure that I left them in 1970.”

“Perfectly understandable. Follow-up question.”

“Shoot.”

“When did the Grateful Dead acquire a time machine?”

“Well, Randy, once you have a time machine, the question ‘When did this happen?’ becomes a lot trickier to answer.”

“Okay.”

“And it’s a Time Sheath. Not a machine.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The flowiness.”

“Bob, let’s take some calls.”

“Let’s take ’em to Fresno. Maybe my keys are there.”

“I’m ignoring that sub-Vaudeville-level joke. Caller, are you there?”

“I AM EVERYWHERE AT ONCE DUE TO MY GENIUS AND FLOWER POWER.”

“Hey, ‘Ye.”

“BOBBY WEIR OF THE WU-TANG CLAN! I LOVE YOU BUT WILL BATTLE RAP YOU ON ABC’S THE VIEW.”

“Uh, sure. Lemme check my schedule.”

“WHERE IS LITTLE POTATO? WE WERE GOING SHOPPING FOR UNDERWEAR AND FRAGRANCES.”

“He’s probably still in 2018.”

“I AM 2018.”

“Good to hear, ‘Ye.”

“Great call. Thanks, caller. The fans love you, Bobby.”

“They do, yeah.”

“Wanna keep taking calls?”

“Why not?”

“Hey, caller. This is the Radio Randy Show. What’s up?”

“AH THOUGHT AH TOL’ THAT CRAZY BASTARD ‘BOUT SPEAKIN’ IN ALL CAPS, DAMMIT!”

“Hey, King.”

“YOU TELL THAT BOY WE GONNA KARATE. AH DONE GAVE HIM A CHANCE T’ CHANGE HIS FOOLISH WAYS.”

“That’s fair.”

“GOT ME ALL RILED UP!”

“Can’t be stealing a man’s shtick, King.”

“AH DON’ KNOW NOTHIN’ ‘BOUT NO STICKS. HEY, YOU KNOW WHERE LI’L POTATO IS? WE WAS GONNA THROW DELI MEATS AT VIRGIN GIRLS.”

“I think he’s in 2018.”

“THANK YOU VERY MUCH.”

“Bobby, it’s a bit odd how you know every one of the callers.”

“It’s, uh, a synchronous universe, Radio Randy.”

A Song Of Ice And Fire On The Mountain

Jeff Chimenti looks terrible.

OR

Did Billy’s shirt stop rendering at his nipples?

OR

Either the rest of Dead & Company needs platform shoes, or we have to cut off Josh’s feet. This is just unaesthetic.

OR

Get yourself a big-boy pair of suspenders, Mork.

OR

“LITTLE POTATO! THAT MAN STOLE MY DRAGONS!”

“Jesus, ‘Ye, not now.”

“MY DRAGONS ARE THIS BIG.”

“Wouldn’t that make them just lizards?”

“DO NOT QUESTION MY SKILLS AT HERPETOLOGY, LITTLE POTATO!”

“I do not want to be called that.”

“PRESIDENT TRUMP SHOULD PUT ME IN CHARGE OF THE VA. I WILL HELP THE SOLDIERS WITH MY FREETHINKING AND DOPENESS!”

“Why hasn’t Kim had you tranked yet?”

“MY BODY REJECTS THE POTIONS!”

“I completely believe that.”

“TELL FATTY TO WRITE FASTER!”

“I’m not gonna do that.”

The Boys

Who the hell are you guys?

“Uh, hey.”

Bobby?

“There may have been a slight glitch in the Time Sheath technology.”

Oh, goddammit. Which one are you?

“Top right.”

Yeah, I can see it.

“Josh bought a go-kart.”

Sure.

“And, uh, Mickey and Billy are on either side of Black Phil.”

His name is Oteil. And why is he armed?

“No idea. The second we vivaspirated here, he strapped on a pistol. He was muttering something about ‘White motherfuckers and their time machine bullshit.'”

Black people have no interest in going back in time.

“Huh. But, uh he’s married to a white lady.”

That makes it worse. In the past, that makes it so much worse.

“Ah, well.”

Where’s Jeff Chimenti?

“He has morphed into some sort of stuffed doll, apparently.”

I wish I never gave you idiots godlike control over the timestream.

“Ah, well.”

Sign Your Name

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“I am, uh, enjoying my notoriety.”

Looks like it. The Dead were just the right amount of famous, huh?

“Oh, yeah. You don’t wanna be too famous, otherwise people won’t leave you alone. And, uh, not being famous at all sounds terrible.”

It is.

“Yeah, we were in the Goldilocks zone. Plus, you know, we were locationally famous.”

Huh?

“Walk in a head shop or onto a college campus? Boom. Famous as hell. Go to, you know, Nordstrom’s and no one had any clue who you were.”

What about now?

“Well, uh, now our fans have Nordstrom’s money, so it’s a bit more of a hassle. I gotta go to Nascar races with my sister-in-law–”

Lilian Monster.

“–now to be anonymous. Folks there thought I was an Oak Ridge Boy.”

Why would they think that?

“I kept singing Elvira.”

Papa-oom-mow-mow.

“You said it.”

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