Of the 80 pounds Brent weighed in this photo, around 25 of them are purely beard.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: brent mydland (Page 9 of 14)
“Oh, good: the guitarists brought their guitars. That way, everyone will know they’re guitarists.
“Phil, the directions were to come dressed up and…oh, I didn’t realize that was a collared tie-dye. Classy. You and Jill having date night after this?
“Can we have some people looking at the camera and others just talking amongst themselves at random, please?
“Is the bearded one in the back gonna collapse? Because he’s gonna collapse.
“Looking good, Bob. Chess King have a return policy?”
So: apprently this was not a black-tie affair? Bobby just decided to air out the monkey suit? Becuase Johnny Saxamophone is wearing a Dead shirt, and that’s the opposite of a tux.
How many Hawaiian shirts does the man own?
Also: Garcia dug out the Summer Shorts,
PLUS Brent. Just…fucking…Brent.
As we recently revealed, the Grateful Dead made a policy of treating foxes kindly and seeing them out the door with a smile on their face and an STD in the pants. Young ladies spending the night with the Dead would also receive a tote bag with assorted goodies. Tell ’em what they’ve won, Johnny!
- Lifetime supply of Turtle Wax. (A lifetime supply is one can.)
- New underwear. (During the night, Billy scurries from room to room stealing panties like a sexually perverted racoon. He will not give the underwear back, nor will he tell anyone what he does with it.)
- A selection of freshly picked fruits, berries, and nuts.
- A well-lit Polaroid of the Grateful Dead member of your choosing’s member. (NOTE: The Grateful Dead dong you receive the picture of need not be the from Grateful Dead you allowed to plow you. For example, no one has ever asked for Brent’s. Also, no being cute and asking for Mrs. Donna Jean’s.)
- A baseball signed by the entire 1974 Oakland A’s team except for Vida Blue.
- A complete collection of Yes, Minister, and Yes, Prime Minister on VHS.
- One (1) use of the Time Sheath technology. And you can only use it for little trips and I’m not even going to mention you-know-who and what you’re not allowed to do to him.
- If you exhibit the slightest bit of competence, composure or just know how to get to the next gig, then you might be made road manager.
- Dead shirt. (Tuesdays/Mickey only.)
- A pat on the ass, a “good job, slugger,” and a ride to school.
I’m not saying Brent brought anything on himself, but putting the logo for the Jacksonville Jaguars on your organ doesn’t help your karma.
Was Brent always the size of Keira Knightley?
It’s easy to see why the road crew got so much power and money: their strategy of “piling things over there” and “stacking things on top of one another” could never have been replicated.
As all Enthusiasts know (or SHOULD know, were it not for the nefarious henchmen of Big Dead, Dwight David Lemiuex Eisenhower) Garcia’s briefcase had hyper-cubinoidal properties that could never be fully measured. (Bobby tried once but what that means is that he showed up at Garcia’s pad with a tape measure, some joints, and a dog he had befriended on the walk over. No pencil.) It was Harpo Marx’ coat, basically.
A partial list of things produced from within Garcia’s briefcase include:
- 800 kazoos.
- Judge Crater.
- Fire extinguisher. (Never discharged.)
- Zod and the rest of his radical followers.
- Wilkes-Barre, Pennsylvania.
- A cygnet who had mistakenly imprinted on Garcia. The cygnet’s name was Allen. The story has no winners.
- Hitler. Garcia’s briefcase occasionally Bluetoothed itself to the Time Sheath technology and would they would pull the most irritating bullshit. Like, everybody’s hanging out at Front Street and I’m not even going to mention what Night it was (Chimichanga, obvs) and a grand time is being had by all and these two semi-sentient beings of nigh-upon-infinite power decide to start calling fucking audibles. There was a SNIKT and a BAMF and the sky ripped in two with a huge sound TUCUMCARI! and then, boom: Hitler.
- And these two idiots–who aren’t even supposed to have wills of their own, mind you–are all, “We helped,” and the Dead were all, “No, you most certainly fucking didn’t.” Then Phil choked on Chimichanga and wouldn’t you know it: Hitler gives him the Heimlich and the ‘changa goes whistling across the room and then there’s silence. (Except for Brent crying: he was scared.)
- And the Dead are looking at one another, and Phil is absolutely torn: does he thank Hitler? The guy did just save Phil’s life. And yet: Hitler.
- So Billy just punched Hitler in the dick and shoved him back into Garcia’s briefcase and there was the longest, weirdest meeting ever.
- Fresh mangoes. No matter what time of year it was: Garcia’s briefcase had an unlimited supply of the ripest, freshest mangoes you’d ever taste and it was simply the creepiest smoothie you’d ever drink.
And YOU get a ponytail! And YOU get a ponytail!
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