Tag: jerry garcia (Page 62 of 139)

Hey, Garcia. Look like a rock star, man.

“Nice of you to notice.”

Wish you could be there the next two weeks.

“Well, y’know, man–”

You stay away from that goddamned Time Sheath technology.

“–I can be there.”

…

“What if I come dressed as Bruce Hornsby?”

There’s already going to be a Bruce Hornsby there. Bad enough there’s two drummers – there can’t be two Bruces Hornsby.

“Is that how you pluralize that?”

Yeah: it’s like surgeons general. Anyway: not only is there already a Bruce Hornsby, but literally all of his distinguishing features are the opposite of you. Tall, skinny, sober, reasonable–

“All right, all right.”

–family man, can play the piano, has all his fingers, was in the Wu-Tang Clan.

…

“Really?”

How do you think he met Tu-Pac?

“Huh.”

Hey, Jer.

…

Yo.

…

Garcia?

“Yeah, more like it. ‘Jer.’ Such familiarity, y’know?”

Sorry.

“No worries. It’s just, you know: nicknames are for the hoi polloi.”

Gotcha. A lot of circles in this picture.

“Thematic aesthetics important to me, man.”

Really?

“Fuck, no. I don’t even think what I said is a thing.”

I thought you hated tie-dye.

“Spilled hot fudge on my shirt. Had to borrow this one from one of the plumper foxes.”

That’s a good name for a spaceship.

“The Plumper Fox?”

Yeah.

“All right, man.”

Hey, Garcia. Whatcha doing?

“Playing pedal steel.”

I can kinda still tell you have no chin.

“Yeah, I need a little more beard.”

You look like a hairy turtle.

“Eat it.”

Aw.

No one loves Garcia more than me, but: this is a terrible idea.