Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Page 809 of 1031

New Riders Of The Black And White Sage

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Hey, Garcia. Whatcha wearing?

“Blanket.”

Yeah. Guy on the left is killing it.

“He is, yeah.”

Rest of you look like mutants.

“Cannot argue with that.”

Mickey?

“Sure?”

You got on a watch cap and bell-bottoms, but also a cape.

“Your point?”

Can’t be in the Navy and a dracula at the same time.

“Don’t tell me how to live my life.”

Why aren’t you wearing a Dead shirt?

“They haven’t been invented yet.”

Makes sense.

Other Things Your Doctor Doesn't Want You To Know

  • The thing that’s been causing all the autism? Seatbelts.
  • A good half of their jobs is just googling your symptoms.
  • Eat right, don’t smoke, and sweat at least once a day. Everything else is genetics and luck. (Wait, sorry: that’s something your doctor most likely has posted in his waiting room.)
  • Like alcohol consumption, IV drug use is perfectly fine if you use moderation.
  • You’re full of thetans. The Scientologists are right.
  • The only way to find out if you can fly is to jump off the roof.
  • Most doctors are naked beneath their white coats. Their cuffs and pant legs are held on with garters, and their collars are dickeys.
  • The best way to measure health is by how a person looks with his/her shirt off, which makes Iggy Pop the healthiest man alive.
  • Interferon is produced by milking captured ‘Squatches. This is why you never see any in the wild.
  • Doctors would most of all like you to forget that the entire profession is little more than a century away from sawing off limbs of the conscious, robbing graves, and prescribing laudanum for everything.

Riding A Gateway Bus

The cities of the American West have shopkeepers for fathers and whores for mothers. Of course, so does every other city on this planet, but the West is so young that there are photographs of the settlers. (Well, the most recent batch.) This puts a crimp in mythology.

The original city walls of Rome, we’re told, were laid out by Romulus after laying out his twin brother Remus in a fight over where the boundaries should be placed. Which is a rude thing to do, but he was literally raised by wolves.

And since this happened around 2800 years ago, we have no proof one way or the other. Common sense says that human nature is human nature and, therefore, Rome was originally a trading post situated near a river for easy access, a couple guys set up an inn and stables, a few women built a house, then a church came by a little later to collect tribute from the inn and tell everyone the woman’s house was one of ill repute.

Things begin, but nothing simply starts.

As is the case with the location of 7/25/72. Portland finds our heroes in town for the last two shows of an astoundingly good four show mini-tour, the first half (mostly) of which is available on Volume 10 of the criminally underrated and foolishly cancelled Digital Download series.

It’s a doozy, but instead of the usual review–

You’ve never seriously reviewed a show in your life. You pretend to have a philosophic/aesthetic disagreement with the practice, but it’s mostly that you can’t be bothered.

–I shall present the awesomess of this show in a somewhat novel way: I’ll list a fact about this show or the city of its birth, and you guess True or False. Ready? Go:

  • There’s a jam about 15 or 16 minutes into The Other One that would turn Miles Davis into a small white girl named Lucy. Garcia’s on the slide guitar and I will venture this: they never played this jam before or after and it’s a glorious piece of music.
  • Portland is the capital of whatever state it happens to be in.
  • This show might as well take place in Phil’s skull. There’s just so much goddamned Phil; a normal person might cry “Hold!” but we demand “More!” The proper amount of Phil is like the proper amount of money or tuggers or compassion: as much as possible.
  • The first set contains a twelve-minute medley of Negro spirituals that peters off into shame.
  • Trey played guitar.
  • Loser’s outstanding. No joke for this one: it’s just an absolutely HoF version of a tune that’s hit-or-miss for me.
  • The city of Portland is actually 21 miles inland and was named after its founder, Allen Portland.
  • The transition between He’s Gone and Greatest Story is hilariously muffed. Bobby, Phil, and Billy all roar full-throttle into the rocker after the gentle come-down of He’s Gone’s coda. Except they do it one at a time, and it doesn’t matter because Garcia needs to tune his guitar, anyway.
  • They do make up for it by utterly killing Greatest Story.
  • Four minutes after Portland acquires its first nuclear missile, Seattle will cease to exist.
  • A very rare BIODTL with π beats.
  • That it has the most strip clubs per capita in the country might seem fun, until you remember that strip clubs are depressing: not one person in that building is happy to be there. Strip clubs are the opposite of the Olympics.
  • Okay, some people enjoy strip clubs, but they’re 19-year-olds or guys with vanity plates on their ‘Vette.
  • Although, it could just be the strip clubs I’ve been to. They;’re always such dank, clearly mob-owned places with posters for Bud Lite and the DJ yelling at the patrons to hit up the ATM, or, as he called it, the “Ass and Titties Machine.”
  • So clever, those strip club DJs.
  • Maybe Portland–being progressive and sensitive and new age to the point of satire and parody–has eco strip clubs, where the ass is organic and the titties are locally sourced.
  • An artisanal, small-batch strip club is what I’m talking about here. Owned cooperatively by the dancers. Free admission for bicyclists. Poles made from recycled steel. Giant high heels made from salvaged lucite. All lap dances will be carbon-neutral.
  • But, in the end, it’s still just a lonely dude paying a pretty girl to stick her butt in his face.
  • Most of Sugar Mags is missing.

The correct answers are: TTFTFFTTFTFTTTF, though not in that order.

I See You've Got Your List Out

In keeping with the best-of lists people seem to enjoy around the end of the year–

It is February.

–TotD would now like to present The Definitive Ranking of Grateful Dead Official Releases. I would like to, but won’t: mainly because I’d rather kill myself than do anything of the sort. Let’s just say that the Dick’s Picks from ’83 and ’92 can be avoided, and everything else is tied for second behind One from the Vault. See how much time we just saved?

Just Like Tom Snyder's Blues

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“Now, now, now: Jerry. Mr. Garcia. May I call you Jerry?”

“Ah, Jerry’s cool, Tom.”

“I would actually appreciate Mr. Snyder. HAW HAW HAW HAW. Now, now…tell us and tell the viewers what we’re watching here.”

“Well, this seems to be one of our drummer Billy’s home movies and if I’m right–”

“Holy cats and kittens, what is going on here?”

“–he’s about to, yeah: this is the part that got him declared persona non grata in, like, 50 countries.”

“Well, that…that is something. I’ve noticed your little buddy doesn’t understand how mugs work.”

“I’ll add that to the list.”

“HAW HAW HAW HAW.”

Fully Dressed In A Nudie Suit

This is the legendary (no bullshitting or snark or irony implicit) Dolly Parton and Porter Wagoner doing Lost Forever in your Kiss on some long-gone hillbilly TV show, and it is a little scary: I will not lie.

The guitarist’s Jesus sticker and Porter’s facial structure combine to give a very clear message of “Fuck off, Jewboy” to those of us attuned to those sorts of things. Plus, it’s the sixties, so Dolly has to giggle at Porter’s jokes and show deference to him, even though she’s a brilliant songwriter and performer and businesswoman and clearly the brains of this outfit. (Nobody’s planning a summer vacation to Porter Wagoner’s theme park, are they?)

Also, the audience is made up of, like, four random children and both Dolly and Porter’s hair need red blinking lights on their apexes per FAA regulations.

But then they start singing…

Cake?

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At this show, this day, this fixed moment in time, women (some stone-cold, others not) would not only slobber this man’s johnson, but would slobber Parish’s johnson for the opportunity to get to Garcia’s johnson. Fame: ain’t it a bitch?

OR

Big-Dicked Sheila was at this performance. After the show, she said to Garcia, “With my cock and your tits, we got the whole package, baby!” She was on the Dead’s shitlist for about a year after that remark, but Bobby still went to her in secret.

OR

Bring Solo and the Wookiee to me.

OR

For today’s show, the part of Garcia will be played by an obese Afghan Hound.

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OR

Halfway through Deal, Garcia’s moobs became sentient, declared jihad on one another, and started fighting. It looked like angry Tribbles under a tablecloth and the microphones picked up the meaty SHWAPTHHHHHWUCK sound as the mountainous mammaries struck and them sweatily withdrew from one another. Intermission was longer than normal as interns had to be sent out for Ace bandages.

OR

Ten minutes after this photo was taken, Garcia ate the American flag behind him.

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