When Garcia heard that the event was black tie, he wondered how many fucks to give, decided on ‘none’, threw on his courtroom-appearance blazer over the t-shirt he’d been wearing for four days, and got in the Beemer.
Thoughts On The Dead
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Page 965 of 1031
Not many other bands contained such unabashedly bespectacled members. Most musicians would rather squint through the show.
Garcia, on the other hand, enjoyed seeing what he had accidentally burned down.
Didn’t know that Uncle Billy had a baseball card, did you?
For fuck’s sake, man.
No matter how much poison Parish put down, he could never get all of the ninjas out of the rigging.
Finally: proof that Garcia and George R.R. Martin are the same person.
Short, yet lethal, Grateful Dead Drinking Game
Every time you ask yourself, “What time are these qualuude monkeys playing in?” take a shot.
(Warning: Actually playing this game will kill you, possibly well before the second set if they open with Help>Slip>Franklin’s.
All the boys in the band knew that when Mrs. Donna Jean was having a moment, you complimented her hair without making eye contact and then you moved the fuck on.
Yes. Praise Jesus and all his ships at sea, yes: I am ready for some motherfucking football.
Those balloons? They ain’t full of air.
It’s better to simply avoid nitrous oxide, instead of the more common relationship people have with the gas, which is to enjoy it immensely until, one afternoon, they enjoy it slightly too immensely and get a dick-hair away from stroking out and never do it again. Everyone with a certain level of drug-fondness who has made it to a certain age has had that one bad time; nitrous is Latin for ‘tequila’.
© 2025 Thoughts On The Dead
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
Recent Comments