“What kind of hat you want, Mickey?”
“Ah, just wrap a bath towel around my head.”
“Done.”
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: mickey hart (Page 44 of 71)
Hey, Mickey. Whatcha doing?
“I have absolutely no idea.”
We can tell.
I don’t know if you heard, but there will be some shows this summer. Around the Fourth, to be specific, and in Chicago, to be geographic. Notice I didn’t say “Dead show” because they’re not, either. Everyone said they’d never perform again as the Grateful Dead and they’ve honored that, so far. The poster for the shows doesn’t call them the Dead: it says that a bunch of dudes will be “celebrating 50 years of the Dead.”
(Some might call that a small and legalistic distinction, but it doesn;t make it not important. The difference between your wife and her identical twin is small (mole, Iron Maiden tattoo) but rather vital. Whether the money was deposited into the company’s account or yours is, indeed, a legalistic distinction; one people take seriously.)
As far as I can tell, the so-called “Sore Four” and the ringers are just, kinda, appearing. No name. This is not for trying, though: a bunch of cool names and bitchin’ logos were tried out before they decided to go with “worst law firm in town.”
“Bad news, Mr. Wilkins: we lost. It seems that Bobby filed your lawsuit at the dry cleaners.”
TotD presents Rejected Names for Farewell Shows:
- Dateful Gred
- The Fucktones
- Big Wilma and the Booty Bandits
- The Still Walking Dead
- Mt. Tamalpais Chiefs (Bobby argued that he “already had the shirts.” Mickey was intrigued by the idea of free t-shirts, but the idea was abandoned.)
- Mickey and the Hart-Healthy Diets
- The Face of Gus Grissom (No one understood what the fuck this one meant, but Bobby was proud of it.)
- “Hows about we do ourselves up a symbol? Like that little Prince fruit? Except our symbol is a real tight close-up of my itchy asshole.” (Three guesses whose suggestion that was.)
- The Bill Cosbys (“It’s topical,” said Bobby, who had really prepared for this meeting.)
- The Good Hitlers
- Little Bunny Foo Foo (Phil was actually Skyping with his grandkid, but everyone overheard him and kinda liked the name. It survived remarkably far into the decision-making process.)
- Cat
- Dog
- Table (They were running out of steam at this point.)
- The Grateful Dead Experience brought to you by the exciting and powerful Surface Pro 3 (This was Jill’s idea. The voting was tabled for another day; Bobby was woken up; the meeting was adjourned.)
Everyone stop making Garcia a cloud.
Why is Bobby eyefucking Bruce? If they were in the prison cafeteria and Bobby looked at Bruce like that, Bruce would have to shank him. Those are the rules of prison.
“I just don’t understand why you don’t want to be in the Grateful Dead?”
“We’ve got a band, Bob.”
“Hot Tuna. You’ve jammed with us.”
“Okay. How about you, little fella? Wanna be in the Dead?”
“It’s me, Bobby. Mickey.”
“Mickey…?”
“Hart. Mickey Hart.”
…
“Not ringing a bell. Are you Ned Lagin? If so, you can’t be in the Dead.”
The casual fan might be amused by Vince’s skullet; the normal human tickled by TC, who looks as if he has been arrested in the Sarasota area three times this month for sexing strangers’ above-ground pools.
The Enthusiast knows that the real fun is Phil, who is not wearing his glasses and, therefore, completely blind.
And–as usual–where the fuck’s Mrs. Donna Jean?
Other bands can still sell out the big rooms.
The Stones can still do it, I suppose. Metallica. U2.
Tickets get snatched up quickly.
Maybe they’ll even add a second show.
Probably not a third.
But I’m gonna bet they can’t sell out three shows before the tickets even go on sale.
(Oh, and did I mention that people had to find envelopes and stamps and remember what the hell a money order was?)
The Boys play stadiums because there’s nothing larger.
This is the most Grateful Deads that have ever been assembled at one time.
Using all the research skills that TotD has at his disposal (got halfway through a Google search, page froze, said “fuck it,”) this photo can now be definitively (not in the slightest) proven (again: nope) to be the earliest sighting of Snake T-shirt.
This shot is reportedly from one of the Oxford Plains, ME, shows in 1988. Bobby has paired Snake T-shirt with his usual short shorts and a pair of Ugg boots. (Bobby had been warned on numerous occasions not to use the Time Sheath technology to go shoe shopping, but he countered by saying that they were “sooooooo totes comfy” and that everyone was just “jelly” and “haters” and then he went to Starbucks for a latte.)
Mickey is a lifeguard.
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