Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
In keeping with local tradition, Bobby took multiple stone-cold foxes back to his room that evening.
Also: that’s Robert Vaughn on the balcony. Honest.
(This pic is from 9/4/83 at the Park West Ski Resort in Park City, Utah. The Dead played there once again in ’87 and then three shows at the Delta Center in Salt Lake City in ’95. When you think Utah, you think the Grateful Dead.)
“Where did that thing come from?”
“Which thing?”
“The Apple logo, Steve. The one in between us just floating there.”
“Oh, that. Isn’t it great?”
“No.”
“Hard-light hologram. This one is 14 millimeters thinner than the last one.”
“Is that better?”
“It’s thinner.”
“How’d you manage it?”
“Took out the headphone jack.”
“Oh. And it just kinda floats there?”
“It’s the ultimate Apple product: it does nothing, but everyone knows you have one.”
“Sounds good.”
“Hey, Jobs! Asshole!”
“Stop stealing my look, man!”
“Let’sss play Ssshakedown Ssstreet.”
“Quiet down, Snake Tee-Shirt.”
“Weir, tell your shirt to stay out of band business.”
“Excuse me, but if Bob’s shirt gets a vote, then my tank top gets a vote.”
“Nobody’s shirt gets a vote, man!”
…
“See what you started?”
“Sssorry, Bobby.”
We found Barb.
Fun fact: Garcia was pissed. In ’94, the Dead was inducted into the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame and Garcia decided not to go for several reasons; the rest of the band had a cutout of him made up and took it to the ceremony. They didn’t run their joke by him; he didn’t think it was so fucking funny; there was yelling.
I learned that fun fact in Susana Millman’s new book, Alive With The Dead, which was BotDs gift to me this Christmas. It’s beautiful, and my copy is signed and came in a very classy slipcase.
I’d not seen this shot before. The other more famous and widely-circulated frames from this roll of film, yes, but not this one. Any day, any day at all, you could wake up and meet your true love, or step in front of a Honda, or you might see a picture of the Grateful Dead you’d not before.
There’s always a reason to wake up.
OR
Get out of the picture, Rock.
OR
Spot the Heineken(s).
“Look what Phil got me for Christmas!”
Human shield?
“Mickey’s making it through the next four years, man.”
I need the Grateful Dead to stop kidnapping or buying or stealing children to make into human shields.
“Jesus. You’re a downer. “Don’t buy monks, don’t buy midgets, don’t buy children.’ Who can I buy?”
No one. You cannot purchase humans.
“Even foreigners?”
Foreigners are legally human.
“Really?”
Yes.
“Always?”
Maybe not Belgians.
“Well, I wouldn’t even want to buy a Belgian. You know how much the VAT is on ’em?”
No.
“And so many safety regulations.”
Give the children back to their parents.
“I dosed their parents.”
Dammit, Mick.
As always: Bearded Mickey is terrifying.
OR
Joans Jett, Collins, Crawford, Cusack>Joan Baez. Also, the one who loved Chachi. (But fuck Chachi.)
OR
Billy is about to chomp on that lady’s hand.
You’ve just been amusing yourself since you’re 16, right?
“What?”
The shorts.
“Were we in Bermuda, everyone else would look out of place.”
The Dead did not play in Bermuda.
“Jamaica.”
Yeah, you played in Jamaica.
“Hawaii.”
Right, in 1970.
“Manhattan.”
What is your point Bobby?
“We’re no strangers to islands.”
…
What is going on here, Bob?
“Well, uh, judging from the presence of Clive Davis and champagne, I’d say we sold a shitload of records.”
Oh, yeah. You totally did that one time. I forget.
“It was a bit of an anomaly.”
And you welcomed your success with such dignity.
“All the dignity that the situation demanded.”
Clive Davis looks like a high-end pornographer.
…
“Well, yeah.”
Jesus. Precarious?
“Yo.”
What the fuck? I mean: what the fucking fuck, man?
…
…
…
“The monitor?”
Yes.
“It’s fine.”
It’s not.
“Sure, it is. Long as, you know, no one touches it or makes a loud noise ’round it.”
Right.
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