An Open Letter To Everyone Involved, Even Tangentially, With This Bullshit Right Here

Dear Everyone Involved, Even Tangentially, With This Bullshit Right Here,

Hi. How are you? It’s hot here. I’m not complaining about the heat–it is to be expected, after all–but just noting it for your benefit. Painting a word picture, if you will. Are the mountains nice this time of year? Do you ever get tired of being Boston to Aspen’s New York, Vail?

Anyway, I’m writing about this poster. Let me express my feelings. Hey, Melissa, come here. Look at this.

SHOWING A POSTER TO A PREGNANT WOMAN NOISE

You look pale.

“I don’t feel so good.”

MISCARRIAGE NOISE

See? See what you did, EI,ET,WTBRH? That baby could have grown up to disrupt couches, and now it’s on the floor but the placenta hasn’t dropped yet, so Melissa is attached via the umbilical cord and she’s running around the room being chased by her own dead baby. She’s too freaked out to understand that she’s towing the teeny-weeny corpse, and so she’s juking and stutter-stepping to try to get away. In all likelihood, we’re watching a human being acquire PTSD; this is something you’re not supposed to witness. Oh, no! She stopped short and the dead baby hit her in the back of the head. She’s down. Down goes Melissa! Down goes—

Stop this right now.

Don’t blame me for the poster, man. That sucker’s miscarryotic.

Nowhere ever near a word.

The poster’s Medusavian in its powers. Shouldn’t be looked at.

It’s not that ugly.

Relative beauty has nothing to do with why this is bullshit.

Explain, please.

Jerome John Garcia, born August 9th of 1942 in San Francisco, California, was known for many things. Playing the guitar–that’s first off, I guess–and singing, and writing songs. Beard-having. Garcia was well-known for having a beard. Pretty much only ZZ Top were more famous for beard-having. He was missing half-a-finger, and he loved smoking cigarettes and opiates, and he tended towards hefty. Read a lot. Liked watching movies and nodding off. Fell for every scam artist he got within a mile of. Enjoyed getting married.

He did not backpack.

Garcia did not backpack to the very limits of not backpacking: no human could not backpack as hard as Garcia. There are men and women without backs who do not not backpack as hard as Garcia did not backpack. Garcia had a briefcase that was full of drugs, comic books, and a sheaf of Ritz crackers, not a rucksack with special jungle socks and paracord and other such survival gear. Garcia did not need survival gear, as he had access to a Road Crew. He would survive.

I am almost impressed, EI,ET,WTBRH, by the distance between the Garcia represented on your poster and the historical Garcia. It’s as though you shot an arrow at a target, and ended up increasing the LIBOR. As far as being out-of-character for Garcia, there are few occupations or activities even close to backpacking:

• Cliff-diving in itty-bitty Speedos while the American widows throw pesos.
• Ultra-marathon.
• Male cheerleader.
• Pope. (I honestly believe Garcia was closer to being Pope than he was to being a backpacker. He was (raised) Catholic. He was good at forgiving people. That’s two shared qualities, whereas he has none with a backpacker. On the other hand, Garcia would have been terrible at wearing all-white.)
• Ultimate Ninja Whatever-The Fuck. (The teevee show where the people with too much fitness do the obstacle course thing? That. Garcia would be utterly dreadful at that. He’d most likely just refuse to participate.)
• Senator from Utah.

And so forth.

EI,ET,WTBRH, I demand that you rejiggerate this poster to something more approaching Garcia’s true character. He could be, say, deciding between a tuna melt and a steak sandwich. Or sitting on the most comfortable chair in the room while smoking and playing scales. Or sleepily trying to put out a mattress fire. But this is simply unacceptable.

Sincerely,
Rock Star Richard

PS And it looks just your Dead & Co in Phoenix poster