In honor of Jimmy Page’s birthday, watch this outrageous set from Denmark and then get someone else to pay for lunch.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Author: Thoughts On The Dead (Page 6 of 1031)
- Family group chat. (Two texts marked 9/26/12: “Love you, dad” from Junior. One minute later, Trump responds “I love you, too, Ivanka.” There are no further entries in the chat.)
- MoviePass.
- Scroll through his photos. (1,224 shots of him giving the thumbs up with various fuckwits.)
- That one app no one can identify that won’t open and blinks green every time he enters the Oval Office.
- Throw it at Junior.
- Breitbart.
- Only Fans.
- That emergency alert thing he made the phone companies give him. (NO ONE REMIND HIM HE HAS THIS.)
- Stick it up his jive ass.
Yours is to celebrate James Carroll Booker Day. Go get yo’self a taste o’ heeeehr-wan. (Do not get yo’self a taste of heeehr-wan.)
I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: This was the the apex of Garcia’s fuckability. We have the exact date.
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Some solid fun would be to get yourself a uniform of some sort, snatch out milk crates from under people’s asses, and scream DAIRY POLICE at ’em.
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This photo is the aesthetic equivalent of using a giant wooden spool as a coffee table.
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Though a remarkably beardy era, not as beardy as right now.
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Christ, they played like demons this show.
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The Grateful Dead owned at least 70 speaker cabinets.
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If the Travis Bean isn’t secretly your favorite of Garcia’s guitars, then you might be a redneck.
- BIG RIVER It’s a about a lady, but it’s also about a river. Or maybe Bobby’s just cutting out the middle-lady and straight-up river-fucking. That’s the good kind of lyrical ambiguity.
- BIG RAILROAD BLUES They didn’t play it a ton, which–according to a certain subspecies of Deadhead–makes the song inherently groovy. I will not call them liars!
- BIG BEAUREGARD’S BEEF Played only once on 9/24/68 and thankfully not recorded or even remembered all that well by anyone in attendance, BBB was about a fellow named Beau and his gargantuan meat. Blot out the sun, Big Beau’s steak-shaft would. Hog city down there.
- BIG BOSS MAN This should probably be where Big Railroad Blues is, but I don’t have the energy to fix it. Use your imagination.
If you want to unplug from the maelstrom and crank up the happiest jam you can find, it’s okay. Try this one. If it doesn’t work, then there’s always Sam Cooke at the Harlem Club. If that doesn’t work…well, you’re fucked.
We’ll leave our pants at home. Eat various fruits. When it rains, we’ll get wet.
Gotta be better than this.
This land is your land and this land is my land
From California to the New York island
From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me
As I went walking that ribbon of highway
I saw above me that endless skyway
Saw below me that golden valley
This land was made for you and me
I roamed and rambled and I’ve followed my footsteps
To the sparkling sands of her diamond deserts
All around me a voice was sounding
This land was made for you and m
When the sun come shining, then I was strolling
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
The voice was chanting as the fog was lifting
This land was made for you and me
This land is your land and this land is my land
From California to the New York island
From the redwood forest to the Gulf Stream waters
This land was made for you and me
When the sun come shining, then I was strolling
And the wheat fields waving and the dust clouds rolling
The voice come a-chanting and the fog was lifting
This land was made for you and me
I found this in the archives and fixed up all the broken parts. It’s a trifle, but why take yourself so seriously?
All the best songs are, y’know.
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