…this Wang Dang Doodle. (Trust me.)
…Mickey’s birthday. (Get him a drum.)
…Salvador Allende, who committed suicide by shooting himself in the back of the head nine times .
…I know I’m missing something.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Author: Thoughts On The Dead (Page 113 of 1031)
Drifting off and doing all those things…
And Paula Abdul choreographed it.
Hope it hurt when he died.
“Look how many n—-s I got on stage with me.”
Hey, Mr. Davis. I asked you politely–
“I got so many n—-s that a couple of ’em ain’t even n—-s.”
–not to use that word.
“Got a Jew. Real Jewy Jew, too. Bagelfaced motherfucker.”
Offensive.
“And I got two Indians. The foreign Indians, not the ones from the movies. They playin’ Indian shit.”
It’s an enormous band.
“Who’s that bunch of hillbillies you listen to?”
The Grateful Dead.
“How many motherfuckers in that band?”
Anywhere from 5-8.
“Pussies. I’m thinkin’ about gettin’ four or five more motherfuckers. Maybe I’ll get some Eskimos. Are Eskimos real, or they some made-up white bullshit like leprechauns?”
They’re real, and they like to be called Inuit.
“It’s my band. I’ll call ’em snow-n—-s if I want.”
I’m so glad you lived when you did.
“Should be. I contributed to the fucking world, motherfucker.”
That, too.
“Because there’s no piping system. At home, you’re either hooked up to the mains or you got yourself a private tank, but the bus toilet isn’t like that. It’s just a seat on a bucket, basically. Nothing goes away. You literally take a dump. You take it with you down the highway.”
“We all know that, Bobby.’
“I literally grew up on a tour bus, Uncle Bobby.”
“We have a plane now, Bob.”
“Number one is fine. You’re more than welcome to make number one. But, uh, no loaf-pinching.”
“Please don’t call it that.”
“Seconded.”
“Aye.”
“All right, who’s’ ready for the tour?”
You weren’t really a church in Medieval Europe unless you had some relics. What was the point in sending all those belligerent rich kids to Jerusalem if they weren’t going to yoink some merch? (For those of you keeping track: yes, that is the first time the Crusades have been referred to as a “merch yoink.”) Bigger the cathedral, the more important the souvenir, too: locks of His hair for county parishes, knuckle bones for the city venues. Pilgrims would come from miles away, and they didn’t mind a two-indulgence minimum, either.
Anything to be closer to Him, right?
OR
I need someone who knew Garcia to explain this shit, because I cannot live in a world where Jerry Garcia was one of those psychos who don’t have a brand. Were the Merits (which were filtered) the “snack” cigarettes, and the Camels and Pall Malls (both unfiltered) the “meals?” Were the Merits the downstairs cocaine, and he handed ’em out to randos and bummers? Why the fuck would you have Camels AND Pall Malls? Why the fuck would you buy hard packs AND soft packs?
That is my question here: Why the fuck? To all of this, I say: Why the fuck?
OR
They didn’t sell. Guess Shapiro was saving his money for Lot 49: “A Jerry Garcia wad of crumpled-up tin foil with brownish residue on it.”
…where’s hers?
OR
Both of these men were great vocalists, but only one of them could sing.
OR
My favorite fact about the New York Dolls was that Johnny Thunders cut all their hair.
OR
This is a battle of the accents right here. Staten Island vs. Posh. (The British “posh” accent is properly called Received Pronunciation; it’s called that because it isn’t a natural way of speaking, and must be taught, preferably by a governess.)
OR
That’s Lisa Robinson on David’s lap, and her book There Goes Gravity is one of the best rockyroll memoirs ever written.
Takes a couple seconds to realize what’s wrong with the picture, right?
OR
Opposite Day, as always, was a complete disaster.
OR
“Hey, uh, guys? We wearing our enormous glasses today?”
“Obviously, Weir.”
“Yeah, man. Biggest you can find.”
OR
If you don’t like 9/1/79, then you don’t like the Dead. And if you don’t like the Dead, why are you reading this bullshit? Who am I even addressing here? Ah, screw it: life is pointless.
OR
Which band had the most lefties in it? I can’t think of any with more than one southpaw player. (Not counting natural lefties who learned to play right-handed because left-handed guitars were tough to find and/or more expensive.)
Who does a riff really belong to, anyway?
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