Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: citifield (page 1 of 3)

Number 19 In Your Program, Number One In Your Hart

Nice shirt, Mickey.

“Pre-yoinked!”

Does that take some of the fun out of it for you?

“It does. Well observed. The thrill of the yoink is in the hunt. I was a bit let down.”

What did you do?

“I yoinked a bunch of merch. Cleared out half the table, then went outside and made people give me free shirts.”

You’re a predictable man.

“I like what I like.”

What’s on your monitor?

“Lyrics, sometimes.”

What about the other times?

“Truly tasteless jokes. Remember those books?”

Yeah. The paperbacks with all the jokes about dead babies and the disabled.

“Those. They come up randomly. Lotta fun. Hey, what’s worse than a pile of dead babies?”

Please don’t, Mickey.

“A pile of dead babies with one live one in the middle, chewing his way out.”

Dammit, man.

“Billy showed it to me. Lotta fun. How did Helen Keller burn her ear?”

Oh, not Helen Keller jokes.

“Answering the iron. Great little pieces of comedy there. Like I said–”

Lotta fun?

“–lotta fun.”

You drinking again?

“Not again. Still.”

Sure.

Steal Your Base

“Jenkins!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Backman flies out to left.”

“Oh, no, sir.”

“Hernandez flies out to center.”

“Please don’t tell your Game 6 story, sir.”

“I had 30,000 on the Mets, and I was smoking a lot of crack. This was when I was a cop.”

“No, sir. This is the plot to Bad Lieutenant, sort of.”

“I was going to murder Mookie.”

“None of this happened, sir.”

“Make it look like an accident. Maybe a tiger would eat him, I don’t know. Luckily, he won the game for me.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Why are you here?”

“The poster, sir.”

“Poster!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Let’s not do a poster, Jenkins. Rude to the blind. Let’s do a smell for this show.”

“A what, sir?”

“A signature smell. One-time only. That’s how we’ll advertise the show.”

“Sir, posters aren’t for advertising any more. We just sell them for $60 a pop.”

“Then we’ll make it a very fancy smell. Money mixed with not being afraid of the cops.”

“Maybe for next year, sir. I think we should stick with the sense of sight for this one.”

“Sight. Pish-tosh. Overrated sense.”

“Be that as it may, sir.”

“Why don’t we go somewhere cold and cut the cables on a ski lift, Jenkins?”

“After the poster, sir.”

“Promise?”

“Sure.”

“I imagine it would sound like this: TWANG! AAAAAAaaaaaah! PLOOMPF!”

“Yes, sir.”

“The ‘PLOOMPF’ was them hitting the snow, Jenkins.”

“I figured that out from context clues, sir.”

“Don’t you get all high and mighty with me, Jenkins. Figuring things out like a smarty-pants.”

“No, sir.”

“In fact: give me your pants.”

“Poster, sir.”

“Poster!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Oh, just put some bullshit on a piece of paper.”

“Same as always,. Yes, sir.”

“Wait, Jenkins. Let’s do something different.”

“I told you that we can’t do a poster made out of smells, sir.”

“No, not that. Let’s have the poster be…I don’t know the word for it.”

“Vaguely attractive?”

“That’s it.”

“So, not the same as always.”

“And put the bears in it.”

“Mostly the same as always. Yes, sir.”

“Not kidding about that ski lift plan.”

“I didn’t think you were, sir.”

Garcia On Garcia

jerry citifield

Goddammit, Garcia. We had this talk last summer.

“No one’s noticed, man. I’m being discreet.”

No. This is the opposite of discreet. This is creet. You are being unbelievably creet right now.

“How so?”

You’re wearing a shirt with your own face on it.

“Right. I’m hiding in plain sight.”

No, you’re just in plain sight. At least go backstage or in the Earthroamer or something. Stop wandering around the lot.

“I’m going backstage in a little bit. Concentrate on your own problems.”

You’re not sitting in.

“Donna is!”

DONNA’S ALIVE.

“I’m alive in the hearts of most of the folks here.”

Good for you. Stay off that stage.

Let There Be Songs To Fill The Aaron Paul

aaron paul citifield 3

“That guy right there? That’s Bob Weir. He once ate an entire roast hog in one sitting.”

“Wow.”

“And he was sitting Indian-style.”

“WOW.”

“And that’s Bill Kreutzmann.”

“The best-selling author?”

“The author.”

“Wow.”

“And that’s Mickey next to him.”

“In the sailor hat?”

“Yeah.”

“Why is he wearing that?”

“Pettiness.”

“Wow.”

“Is that Branford Marsalis?”

“Yes.”

“Woooooow. Man, John Mayer has a kick-ass backup band.”

“Okay, you can’t stand next to me any more.”

“What?”

“You heard me.”

Escapades On The D Train

bobby cosplay subway

I’m okay with this. In fact: this guy wins the show IF he is wearing the correct footwear, and there is only one answer to that question.

reebok-pump-1

Someone find this guy and report back to me. I am prepared to be his friend, but it’s all about the shoes.

Stella Lou

lou reed dress girl citifield

“You look Jewish.”

Excuse me?

“Oh, are you insulted by that? Do you think that looking Jewish is a bad thing? Because you do look rather Jewish.”

Please don’t be a dick, Lou Reed Dress.

“Do you have any Obetrol?”

I don’t think they make that any more.

“You look at me when I talk to you or I’ll punch you in your heeb nose.”

You are truly living up to your reputation, Lou Reed Dress.

“Did Iggy Pop Dress say anything about me?”

You’re the worst.

Invasion Of The Bobby Snatchers

Dead and Co. Live at Bonnaroo

Mrs. Donna Je–

“EEEEIIIIIIIYAAAAAAAAAAAAAH!”

Sweet Jane (Approximately)

deadandco citifield girls lou reed dress

Immediately after this photo was taken, the woman in the middle’s dress got in a fight with Lester Bangs and then erased Robert Quine’s guitar solos from the master tapes.

Everyone’s A Critic

art bobby painting kid citifield

This kid right here? This is a good kid. Not only is he rocking the aviators, which is a baller move for a ten-year-old, but he’s doing the “looking at art” face, and if ever a painting deserved that face it was this one. Is Bobby creating DNA?

Also: who buys paintings at a Dead show? You have to carry it around all day, and that is a fate worse than hell. I don’t usually compare myself to Holocaust survivors, but if I had to lug artwork around a Dead show, then I would absolutely compare myself to a Holocaust survivor. And rightly so.

Tell Me Your Secrets, Mister Mustache

marlin man deadandco.jpg

Speaking of baseball: this guy is the Marlins Man of Dead & Company’s summer tour, and I am his biggest fan, and will almost certainly be coming up with some bullshit about him.

« Older posts