Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
A few of them took up scuba diving. Billy enjoyed a chance to get away from the constant drudgery of punching dick and revel in the decadent thrill of punching cloaca; Garcia just thought the phrase “poop deck” was the funniest thing he’d ever heard.
The road crew was at least spared from having to cart around a case full of stage clothes.
Shortly after this picture was taken, Garcia plugged up his nostrils, exhaled real hard and BOOM: beard.
Here’s a spectacular spectacle and bodacious creation from that magical year of 1977: 10/30 in Nap City. Overshadowed by the night before’s manic roar and stomp, as well as the first week of November’s streak of genius, this one deserves a listen.
Second set’s the juicy goodness here: Vice-Admiral of the Northern Fleet Mr. Completely pimps the weirdly placed Peggy-O for enbronzifcation, and he might be right: Check out Keith on the clavichord and LEAVE IT ON for the rest, a big Playing sandwich with a HoF Wharf Rat that threatens to tear the roof off the dump; then the downshift in the Reprise fading away to barely articulated string scrapings from Garcia until it wells up in no time at all and you remember just why they had two drummers, especially this year.
And then it’s Chuck Berry time: you don’t have to go home, but you can’t stay here.
The reason the Dead didn’t use a lot of car metaphors is because every time they got anywhere near an automobile, they looked like complete muppets.
Here’s how high David Crosby is in this photo: he can’t gesture.
And there’s never been a story told about Stills where he didn’t come off like proto-Bieber.
Today, Terrible Dead Art brings you the answer to a question you didn’t know you had: what if Garcia had a seafood allergy and someone gave him shrimp?
There’s high, and then there’s Rick Danko in Festival Express high.
Ain’t no Tuesday like a T-Shirt Tuesday, cuz a T-Shirt Tuesday don’t stop.
It seems that we’re all in agreement that these upcoming Sochi games will end in blood. Slightly less disastrous was the time the Dead attended the Winter Olympiad…
Keith was assigned the bobsled and immediately drove the thing through the front window of a bank, which isn’t even possible. he was fine, but then he ate all of the pain pills the doctor had given him and then he wasn’t fine anymore. The other bobsledders ended up kind of bowling him down the track and, wouldn’t you know: that son of a bitch won the bronze.
They tried playing Garcia in goal at ice hockey because fat guy, but a strange thing happened when they put him on the ice: Garcia sprawled out like a starfish. “SAD PANDA. SAD PANDA,” he pleaded with tears in his eyes, and then he started making this unholy noise.
Bah-rooOOOOOOOOO. Bah-roooOOOOOOOOO. Over and over and, you know: if it were Bobby was doing it, there would be procedures to follow, but this was Garcia and it was making people nervous, so Billy hopped in the Zamboni and ran over three Canadians as a distraction while Parish fireman-carried Garcia out of there.
Pig declined the invitation entirely, correctly deducing that, and I am quoting, “my type a’ pussy ain’t gonna be there.”
Bobby was a pretty good skier, but when it was time for his race, he was in the chalet working on a drink and a fox and didn’t much care to compete.
Phil was told there was nothing but snow everywhere, and when he got there and found out that, while technically not a lie, that description was more than a bit disingenuous, Phil was ripshit for, like, five minutes before some dirty hippie wandered by and recognized him and gave him some drugs. Then he was better, but from then on, if you said ‘winter Olympics’ around Phil, he would retort ‘winter suck MY dicks’ and it wasn’t funny the first time, so people excluded him from figure-skating related conversations after a while.
Punched in the dick by Billy: Torvill, Dean, Peggy Fleming, Peggy Fleming’s haircut, six separate teenagers who were wearing the mascot costume, Brent while he was wearing the mascot costume, Brent in his street clothes, a reindeer, Bob Costas, an interdimensional trickster being named the Spirit of Winter Promises, and the inventor of the ski jump, Johann von Skijump.
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