I met an actual, real-life Enthusiast the other day; he asked me who my favorite member of the Dead was. I said Bobby without thinking. I didn’t even know why at the time.
Now I know.
It’s because he can photobomb himself.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: bob weir bobby weir
you don’t know how precious a stool is until the road crew brings you one.
you don’t know why all these people are in your living room.
you don’t know how it feels to be me.
you don’t know where garcia is.
you don’t know how you knew that if you ever collapsed onstage that phil would just keep singing, but you were right.
you don’t know how bitcoin works and, quite frankly, don’t wish to know.
you don’t know how easy it is to love you.
you don’t know if the doctor said one pill every four hours or four pills every hour so NOM NOM NOM PILLS YAY GO SLEEP NOW KTHXBAI.
you don’t know where that highway leads to.
you don’t know what happened to the rest of your pants.
you don’t know how hard it is to love you.
you don’t know the way to minglewood.
you don’t know the way to el paso.
you don’t know the way to mexicali.
you don’t know the way back to new york city, but i do believe you’ve had enough.
First thing I did when I got back to the bloggings was to check on the internals, the numbers, the data dammit. Analytics, they’re called. They are called this because it is remarkably easy to become anal about them.
That is not true.
The first thing I did when I got to Tokyo was buy a Japanese guitar.
Are you kidding me?
What?
You’re making Cheap Trick jokes now? Cheap Trick’s one of those bands you see by accident.
The second thing I did is check whether anyone had cracked the cipher I’ve hidden within the posts that, when cracked, leads to the hidden cache of cash, fine narcotics, and solid B+ whores.
There is no such cipher, nor are cash, drugs, or…wait, why are they B+ whores? Why not A+?
Because all whore grading is situational. I’m just gonna TELL the whores that they’re just B+ and that’s gonna make ’em work that much harder. It’s gonna make ’em want it. I’m gonna whitewash their fences.
Maybe coming back wasn’t–
That has a double meaning, what I just said.
–such a great…Yeah, I got it. I see what you did there, chief.
It was a Tom Sawyer reference, but I was also referring to my gift. I’m going to give the B+ whores my gift.
Are you done?
…Yes.
Then do you think we might–
GIVE IT TO THEM ALL OVER THEIR PRETTY BOOBIES!
Bang!
Wow…that is the quickest we’ve needed a replacement. This one must have had a bad motivator or something. Well then, below is a small collection of the best search terms people have used to get here recently. They’ve not been altered in any way. Also, when the police ask about me shooting the other guy, let’s all say that he was coming at me with a knife and he also looked Chechan.
We’ll have some auditions real soon and, anyway, we were thinking about going in a different direction for Mark II, so–
I’M NOT DEAD, MOTHERFUCKER!
Cut to the list! Cut to the list!
Close, but no cigar – thoughts for someone who is deceased, thoughts to be dead, thoughts for someone who is diseased.
All of it – how much did lenny hart steal?
Actually, a pretty good idea for a post – dead logical fallacies
Weir, I know you’re out there googling yourself – phil lesh yelling at bobby, hey bobby? i was hoping you’d play slide tonight, bobby problem
You gotta have a gimmick – billy kreutzmann dick punch, billy kreutzmann dickpuncher, dickpunching billy
Whatever you’re on, I want two – furrybooru fireon, bagger vance i am your caddie, gamma fuck prone.
Go to a doctor right now – total nipple refraction
This one is–completely on the level–oddly affecting and beautifully melancholy – i was called a pretty panther
It means you need to sit down and drink fluids – what does it mean when they said that the telegraph plat dance better to the grateful dead?
It wasn’t good in the first place – is 2 year old coors light still good?
Oddly specific – two dogs in communion #3
I don’t like your tone, pal – garry w. tallent jew
A detailed analysis of minutes 11.45-40.30 of The Closing of Winterland (See previous post). We’ll talk about Bobby’s glasses later, I assure you.
11.45 What the fuck, Phil?
12.33 Donna thought it was the Halloween gig and came dressed as a woman ripped to the gills in an awful dress.
13.15 LISTEN TO FUCKING DONNA: SHE HAS THE VOICE OF AN ANGEL.
14.20 …but she should probably knock it off kinda soon.
16.00 What the sweet potato pie is Garcia doing? Oh my god, I’ve seen that before: that’s MOVING. GARCIA IS FUCKING MOVING. He is no longer in precisely the same spot Parrish duct-taped him to an hour earlier.
17.25, Oh, Mickey, why?
18.50 Garcia is two seconds away from twirling the guitar around his body while Angus Younging across the stage to emotionally bully Bobby. There is only one word, fellow Enthusiasts, for what is going on right now: rock star. Shut up.
21.40 Mickey is wearing a Dead shirt because of course he is.
22.26 Mickey is just terrifying.
22.48 Mickey just drum-fucked us all with his eyes and mustache, but mostly mustache.
23.29 We will get to the glasses, Bobby.
24.00 We’re all thinking the same thing, but let’s have some respect, ok.
24.30 Except i cant stop looking at them–oh, thank god, a wide shot.
26.30 Garcia has gone loopy. Now, I know he’s Jerry Fucking Garcia, man…but isn’t anyone else in this band? A certain dickpunching manager of the caddies at Bushwood? Mm, Danny? (You just read that in his voice, didn’t you? Predictable.)
13.05 There he is! Hey, Billy! What’s with the hair, Billy?
32.50 Bill Graham!
33.15 Sometimes i like it when Bobby talks. Sometimes.
37.10 There’s Phil aaaaaand no more Phil.
37.44 Keith exists!
40.30 I’ve decided I don’t want to discuss Bobby’s glasses.
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