I’m almost afraid to ask what you’re doing, Mickey.
“This is part of a project in which we amplify my own neural rhythms and jam along with them.”
…
Can’t you just take mushrooms and have a new bar band every year like Billy?
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: mickey hart (Page 45 of 71)
Hey, Mickey. Whatcha doing?
“Drumming. Enjoying nature. Wearing sunglasses.”
Credit where credit’s due: you’re wearing the fuck out of those shades, pal.
“Yeah. So, I got a feeling you want to talk about the 50th anniversary and Trey and all that.”
Of course.
“Great. But, before that: let me tell you about the history of this drum I’m playing.”
Shocker.
“It’s called the ha!tzh’mOH. There’s a chance I might not be pronouncing that right.”
Good chance.
“I purchased it on the Dead’s aborted African Tour of 1978.”
Okay…wait, the what now? Why have I never heard of this?
“Because the tour was aborted immediately after being brought up for the first time at the meeting.”
Ah.
“The plan was to follow the Egypt shows with a tour around the Dark Continent–”
Please don’t call it that.
“–from the Sahara, where we’d play for the Bedouins among the shifting sands of the Dunes of Insanity, to the Serengeti, where Phil wanted to shoot a giraffe. (Revenge.) Two shows in Uganda, where Idi Amin had promised to make us the kings of whatever country you wanted (I chose Belize) and let us eat however many people we wanted (I wanted to eat three people.)
“From the dystopic sprawl of Lagos to the double-z’ed name of Brazzaville, the Dead would explore the rhythms of Mother Africa and spread our music to the huts and shanties and coups and child soldiers and outdoor butcher shops that share buildings with hospitals.”
It’s sounding less and less appealing, to be honest.
“Bobby really wanted to meet this General Buck Naked fellow, until Phil explained to him that, no: you shouldn’t meet General Buck Naked. It ends poorly.”
Yeah, he was a pip.
“Plus, we realized that at least one of the members of the group who will remain nameless–”
Billy.
“–used a certain word too freely to ever visit Africa safely. So we just did the three shows at the Pyramids and called it a day.
“It also turns out that, at the time, the only countries that coud handle the Dead’s power and engineering requirements were hellscapes ruled by syphilitic madmen. That Uganda thing? He was serious about the eating people: he wrote us a letter telling us he could “order some Chinese,” whatever the hell that meant.”
So: no Africa.
“No Africa.”
Then where’d you get the drum?
“Drum shop called Rudy’s in the East Bay.”
Why’d you make up all that nonsense?
“You never talk to me.”
I see why.
“You RESPECT a core four!”
Settle down, Beavis.
“You give me the 25% of total respect I’m contractually entitled to, mister.”
Okay!
Since the announcement of the Farewell Shows at Soldier Field this July, TotD has been the first to bring you all the news that Big Dead doesn’t want you to hear, such as Phil’s assorted letters to his new bandmates, the seating arrangements, and the band’s rider for the shows. (Billy wants a case of Michelob; Phil wants a freshly harvested liver with no strings attached.)
The public list of VIP packages has been released, but as we all know that flashing your stash can get you pretty far into the Dead’s backstage, and there will be number of high-class, super-quality, ultra-exclusive packages available to only the most discerning Enthusiast.
The Deal Experience In addition to the standard backstage passes, great seats, and meet-and-greet, our VIPs will get to play a game of strip poker with the Core Four, and Mickey will show dong. (Mickey is contractually required to show dong. You might see Billy’s regardless, but you can only bank on Mickey’s.)
The St. Stephen Experience No one knows how she did it, but Jill pulled some strings and you can get canonized. Straight-up made into a Catholic Saint. Also, autographed posters.
The Comment Board Experience Our Comment Boarders will get a lunch with Jeff Chimenti, then get a three-minute Skype session with Bobby and Phil to tell them how they’re doing everything wrong. (Lunch with Jeff Chimenti is mandatory if you want the Skype call.)
The Ride Bruce Hornsby Like A Horse Experience You get to ride Bruce Hornsby like a horse.
The Lenny Hart Experience Our VIP Lenny Harts will have the chance to use familial trust and financial naiveté to their advantage and steal up to all of the revenues from the night’s concert, then flee to Mexico (first-class.)
The Antelope Greg Experience Any VIP participating in the Antelope Greg Experience will be kicked in the neck by otherwise placid Enthusiasts if he pulls any of his usual shenanigans.
“Hi there, friend. I’m Bobby. Would you like to be in the Grateful Dead?”
“I’m in the Grateful Dead, Bob. It’s me, Mickey.”
…
“I’ve never seen you before in my life.”
“Okay.”
“So: you wanna be in the Dead?”
“Sure. Can I play drums?”
“No, we’ve already got a drummer. Two drummers? That makes no sense.”
Also: Go Banana Slugs!
- Did a gypsy steal Phil’s shoes?
- Speaking of which, why is Bobby wearing Marty McFly’s future sneakers?
- How long has Mickey been a lesbian park ranger?
- Trey’s driving?
- Really?
- Couldn’t resist those fucking bears, couldja?
- Would anyone really want to be rained on by Cloud Garcia?
- Speaking of which, why is Billy a cloud?
- How is he gonna play drums? Someone’s gotta play the drums while Mickey fucks around with his tar, don’t they?
- Why not just put all of them on the hot dog?
- Do you think that’s not going to cause jealousy?
- “Why does Billy get to be a cloud?”
- “Well, why wasn’t I even asked if I wanted to be a cloud?”
- Won’t that giant hot dog smother all the people in Soldier Field to death?
- Why a hot dog, anyway?
- Is that some dopey Phish bullshit, the hotdog nonsense?
- Do we need to have a talk about keeping one’s toys in one’s own side of the sandbox?
- I mean: the first motherfucker that WOO’s during the Farewell Shows knows he’s getting punched, right?
Randomly:
- Phil is roughly 1.29 Mickeys high.
- Brent is straight-up jingling his keys. doing his Hanon exercises, counting his change, milking his shake, shaking his milk, putting away his toys, stroking the place that makes him a bad boy.
- Bobby and Garcia heard you been talking shit.
- Things Mickey does because it is his nature: drum, physically assault people, wear Dead stuff, assume superhero poses whenever a camera’s present.
- Phil wants to show you his imported tentacle porn.
- Or his van.
- Or his deathnipples.
- Billy never had these feelings before. Especially not about Mickey: Jesus, he was the man’s brother drummer! That would be like getting wood from your sister and banging her in the closet of Uncle Al’s 60th birthday party. (After Uncle Al walked in on the incestuous closet-banging, he had a massive heart attack, so the theme was quickly changed to “wake.”)
- But there it was: that tingle in his dingle which meant Billy’s heart had a boner. And Billy’s boners weren’t like the dumb boners of old, just chucked out of the trousers in vain hopes of hitting the ground; no, Billy’s boners were like today’s smart boners: steerable, programmable, and deadly accurate; one made it down a chimney once. This boner had a name on it, and the name was Mickey.
- Billy was desperate: perhaps Mickey had secretly been a stone-cold teen fox all this time? Like a Mrs. Doubtfire deal? Billy rejected that one on the grounds that he had seen Mickey naked 18 billion times. That’s a conservative guess.
- A potion? Voodoo? Santeria? Any other of the ethnic magics? A curse from an ancient Eastern European, one of those places where everyone there is an 85-year-old woman? Had that goddamn Time Sheath technology spawned another zap gun that turned people gay? (Again.)
- No matter: Billy’s hand was creeping towards Mickey’s crotch, that heaping bowl of potato salad, and creeping slowly but steadily and then Mickey…
- “HIYA!” and smacks Billy’s hand.
- “You were up to your no-good dickpunching ways, William.”
- “Huh? I wasn’t…YES, I was going to punch you in the dick. Because I’m Billy and that’s hat I do to dicks. Punch them.”
- “But I thwarted you with the Judo that America taught me while I served in her Air Forces!”
- …
- “Why are you talking like Superman?”
- “It’s a photo shoot thing. I stand like this, and sometimes–“
- “Oh, right: you get into it.”
- “–I get into it and kinda get all Clark Kenty. What were we talking about?”
- “I don’t remember.”
- No joke: Garcia and Bobby are sending some folks to the hospital tonight.
The only reason Mickey is doing the Farewell Shows is because there will be tons of new Dead clothing on sale, which he will steal and wear every single day.
“Look at me, Mrs. Donna Jean! Hear my thoughts as I send them out towards your pigtails and modest, yet form-fitting, dress. READ MY MIIIIIIND, woman! Broadcast, Bobby does, his neurons and synapses doing…their…thing. I do not know what neurons and synapses do: no matter, my love!
“I know what my dong does. I know what it does to you. Remember that time you were going to sneeze, and I stopped up your nose with my penis? You thanked us both that day. Then, you sneezed on my penis. I was cool with that.”
“Shut up, Bobby. I’m ignoring you.”
“You CAN hear me!”
“You’re basically screaming across the psychic plane. My telepathic powers enable me to hear you if only you speak quietly.”
“It’s weird we’ve never discussed these telepathic powers before.”
“It is. Maybe we’ll discuss them at length in the coming days and then discard the idea again.”
“Love me, Mrs. Donna Jean! Love me back! Feel my gaze on your beauty, and my hands on your booty.”
“If you guys are done, Billy’s got a bunch of lines back here.”
“Who is this?”
“Get off the line.”
“It’s Phil. You two gotta cool it. Keith’s gonna figure this out.”
“Phil, you know that Keith is unable to hear any psychic conversations!”
“I did not know that. And it seems awful convenient. Irregardless, he wouldn’t even have to.”
“Yeah, Bob: your neck’s kinda losing its mind there.”
“Garcia?”
“Hey.”
“Hey.”
“Bobby, I gotta agree with everyone: you got a needy vibe coming off ya.”
“Who is this?”
“The skull Mickey’s holding.”
That’s enough.
Rumors abound, swirl, procreate, grow, invade Moldova: this is the way people do things, and for all evidence to the contrary, the Dead are just people. (Some of them are no longer people.)
The 50th anniversary will be a big year, the money has decided, and if certain band members need to be separated from one another by a chain-link fence, or others require cash deposits with the promoters due to the “not being upright for the show” problem they’ve acquired recently, then accommodations will be made. The money has stated, in no uncertain terms, its location and availability. All that is required is for four specific senior citizens (and whatever ringers they choose) to not kill each other (or die of unrelated causes) for long enough to go get the money.
But between comments boards of various sites, forums, anonymous tips, tweets from actual participants, leaked schedules, the bugs TotD has planted in Terrapin Crossroads, and things clearly pulled out of the universe’s ass and posted on Facebook, it’s hard to tel the players without a scorecard.
TotD presents the Most Credible Rumors about the 50th Anniversary Tour:
- Phil’s had enough of Bobby’s bullshit.
- Billy’s had enough of Jill’s bullshit.
- Mickey knows he got promoted into the “core four” through sheer not-dying, but he’s happy to be there all the same.
- Everyone hates everyone else’s guitarist.
- It might end up being Warren Hayes because–and this is a quote from a high-placed anonymous source–“he’s gonna be at all the damn festivals, anyway.”
- There is still a small, but vocal, minority pushing for Hologram Garcia. (I am warning all involved: do not make Hologram Garcia.)
- Contrary to some of the more misogynist blathering that goes on, Jill Lesh is neither a shrew nor a chiseller: she is an intelligent and savvy woman getting Phil what he is worth on the open market.
- That said, she did float an idea about offering a “Super-Platinum Super-Fan Super-Package” that allowed a fan to jam with the band on a song of his (it would assuredly be a guy) choosing.
- This is awkward to bring up, but: remember that nice thing that Bobby used to do for Garcia, vis-a-vis holding certain things? Yeah, well: Bobby needs a Bobby now.
- There does remain the slightest possibility that none of them are remotely insurable.
- Mickey really wants Night Ranger to open, and he’s being stubborn about it.
- Regarding Mrs. Donna Jean’s participation, the “core four” are of one mind: they would like her to be there. They are also of one mind about preferring not to pay her a full member’s share of the money.
- A good third of the arguing and misunderstandings can be attributed to the fact they they’re all stone-deaf at this point.
Mickey had had that kazoo in his mouth for a week; two waiters nearly punched him.
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