Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: dead & company (Page 11 of 38)

Second Verse, Chooglier Than The First

May 20, 2017 / / 3 Comments

Hey, Oteil. Whatcha doing?

“Singing! And playing bass. But the singing is the headline. Gonna take lead this summer.”

Good for you. What songs?

“It’s a surprise.”

Boo. You know all the words?

“Of course I do.”

Well, forget about a quarter of them. You’re a Grateful Dead, dammit. There are standards and precedents.

“Nope. Gonna kill it.”

You’re a positive man, Oteil.

“What’s there not to be positive about? Playing music I love for huge crowds, making lots of money, flying on private jets, my kid’s healthy, and I got a mohawk. I’m a happy man.”

You’re awesome.

“Right back atcha.”

Nice.

…

…

…

“I know you see me, asshole.”

Hello, Red Metal Stool.

“You’re a hater.

No I just hate you. Your actions and behavior and statements have caused me to hate you. Not a free-floating hater.

“Jealous.”

Of what?

“You want Bobby to sit on you.”

I truly do not.

“Plop right down.”

Is this gonna be all summer with you?

“Yeah, I’m thinking about evolving my character into a more antagonistic-type deal.”

Wonderful.

“Hey, tell Chris Robinson to suck my red metal dick.”

I am not in contact with any of the Black Crowes.

“He looks like hippie Slender Man.”

Granted, but I don’t speak with him.

“Tour, baby!”

Everything about this year is worse than everything about last year, and last year was the worst year.

“Really? ‘Everything?’ The ‘worst?’ You sound like him now. This year is worse than 1920?”

Yes.

“Five percent of the world’s population died from the flu.”

Fuck ’em. I am distracted by the news. This is worse.

“You’re a monster.”

You’re a stool.

“Touché.”

John’s Advertising Love (Not For Free)

March 16, 2017 / / 2 Comments

Instead of calling them personally and giving me the money, John Mayer took out a full-page ad in Billboard the other day to thank the Grateful Dead. It was a sweet gesture, even though the colon after the first two lines technically makes this a business letter. As you know, TotD has eyes everywhere and the Haight Street Irregulars have sent me the first draft of the ad, which was much more verbose.

I share it with you now:

To the band who touched me in so many ways, including ways specifically forbidden by the contract,
and for their music that I solo over

Congratulations on the 50th anniversary of your debut album, which I have not listened to. Is it the one with an ugly cover where you sound like a crappy surf band? Yeah, I have not listened to that one.

Bobby, your leadership and friendship have meant so much to me. We have rocked baseball stadiums together, and attended your family functions together for some reason. I’ll always remember that show in Denver when, in the middle of China>Rider, you walked over to me and said, “Tell me the bass player’s name again.” Such good memories.

Billy, I know you do not read Billboard, so I have also run this ad in Juggs. You have taught me so much about life and music. And, of course, skank. As a Grammy-winning musician, I thought I knew the ins-and-outs of road strange, but you became my sensei of the sensual. You also stopped Mickey from hurling his drumsticks at my head that time.

Mickey, you only hurled your drumsticks at my head one time. Thank you for that.

The other guys. Wow, I don’t know the protocol on including the other guys. Big ups to Jerry Garcia, I guess. Phil, thanks for not talking shit about Dead & Company to Relix. Makes things easier. Looking at you, dead keyboardists.

Here’s to 50 more years, even though that would require massive medical, technological, and societal changes to actually happen.

Forever Grateful,
John Mayer (Josh Meyers)

Reasons Dead & Company Is Not Playing South Florida

December 9, 2016 / / 4 Comments

  • Too hot.
  • Too far.
  • Jeff Chimenti’s got warrants, man.
  • Not enough titties and cocaine in South Florida.
  • Gotta go through North Florida to get to it.
  • Zika.
  • Because it is a silly place.
  • Mickey’s not allowed around gators any more. (FUN FACT: dosing alligators is not a great idea.)
  • At the meeting when they were putting together the schedule, Bobby said, “Josh, if we go to Miami, are you going to be ridiculous?” and Josh was already wearing a Speedo and pricing artisanal jet-skis on his phone, so Bobby ixnayed the stop.
  • Just to fuck with me.

The Importantest People

December 6, 2016 / / 4 Comments

DEAD TOUR! (Kinda!) There’s gonna be another Dead tour, or what passes for one these odd days, and it’s coming to a venue near you, as long as you don’t live in South Florida. (Then, it’s coming nowhere at all near you. Second year in a row. Thanks, fuckheads.) Citi Field, and Fenway, and the Hollywood Bowl this year–very glamorous–and once again CID Entertainment Guest Services will be there to take care of you, the fan, and to take really good care of you, the rich fan.

As always, the highest-end guest experience is not detailed on the website: you have to know a secret URL, and get a password; otherwise, poor people could look at the site, and that would make it dirty. There’s the “Scarlet>Fire” Seamless Experience™, and then there’s the “Steal Your Face” VIP Experience™, topped off by the “Golden Road” Super VIP Experience™.

But TotD’s here to tell you: there’s something else. The Praetor’s Suite.

A Praetor’s Suite package includes the following:

  • One (1) GA ticket OR premium reserved ticket in the first five (5) rows OR you can sit anywhere you want and we’ll tell the asshole sitting there to move.
  • Door-to-door concierge to fetch snacks for you, hold your drugs if you meet a cop, and agree with you when you complain about the songs being too slow.
    • Praetor’s Suite guests may have sex with (or keep) their concierge at the end of the show.
  • Access to Bertha’s, the exclusive lounge we are not even telling the regular VIPs about.
    • Open bar.
    • Open kitchen, which makes the place look so much bigger.
    • Complimentary hors d’oeuvres
    • Complementary hors d’oeuvres. (The pigs in a blanket and the egg rolls just go well together.)
  • One (1) digital copy–1080pi and HD sound– of the show you attend, loaded onto a MacBook Pro. (Shipped directly to your home.)
  • One (1) limited-edition, collector’s item, screen-printed, hand-signed and numbered poster that probably has those fuciking bears on it. (Shipped directly to your home.)
  • One (1) box of shit laced with super-ebola that explodes when you open it. (Shipped directly to your enemy’s home.)
  • One (1) thoroughbred horse. (Shipped directly to your home after the show, or you could eat it at set break.)
  • Access to Praetor’s Parking Lot for 72 hours before and after show.
  • Access to monster truck with which to drive through regular parking lot, crushing poor people’s cars.
  • Meet-and-Greet with the band.
  • Fuck-and-Suck with Billy. (PREMIUM MEMBERSHIP ONLY! Call for pricing. Not available at Fenway Park show.)
  • One (1) foreign person to marry. (CID Entertainment Guest Services realizes that these are frightening times, so if any of our Praetor’s Suite guests wish to assume residency in another country through marriage, then we can facilitate the nuptials through our Travel Packages. WARNING! While CID has vetted our foreigners carefully for wealth and education, laws prevent us from hiring based on gender. CID can guarantee that your foreigner will be landholding, and a skilled lover. We cannot guarantee the specific kind of love.)
  • One (1) piece of rebar to swing at the impoverished urchins standing between you and the merch table.

Bill(y)

August 11, 2016 / / 0 Comments

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“SKAAAAAAAANK!”

“No, thank you. I’m a happily married man, Billy.”

“Skank!”

“I’m okay.”

“Think about the skank, Walton!”

“Oh, sure: I think about the skank. I’m just like a man, only larger.”

“Right! C’mon, man: I need some good stories for my book.”

“Well, Jeez, Billy: nothing can top the Healy orgy.”

“No, no. I can try to equal it, though.”

“Most rock books don’t include the time the subject and the sound guy assembly-lined a roomful of skank. You dared to be different.”

“I gotta be me. C’mon, Walton, remember what we used to do to chicks? What did we call it?”

“Billy.”

“What did we call it?”

“Billy.”

…

“We called it Butt and Jeff.”

“Butt and Jeff! You still got that van?”

“I do.”

“Ever get the smell out?”

“I didn’t.”

“Forget about the van, Walton. It’s not about the van. Here’s the plan: you get the van. We go to LA and rent some porn stars. I got this new thing: it’s called LSD, but the L is for Levitra.”

“What’s that like?”

“Your dick trips balls.”

“That’s a little tempting.”

“It’s good shit. Me and Mickey took some in Boston. We did a Battle of Salamis

“I don’t want to do the little back-and-forth again. Just tell me what that is.”

“You get your skank on top of you in reverse cowgirl, right? Grab her hands and then you stand up, so now she’s supported by your hands and boner horizontal to the ground. Then, on the other side of the hotel suite, your other drummer does the same with his skank. Then you ram ’em into one another at top speed. Battle of Salamis.”

“Billy, that’s not sex. I don’t know what it is, but it’s not human sex.”

“I had a boner.”

“Still not sex.”

“It was sexual.”

“Let’s just play the drums, Billy.”

“We had fun in the van, though, right?”

“So much. Great times. Got more tail than a comet.”

“Oh, yeah. Your dick still weird?”

“My dick’s not weird at all. When it’s soft, it’s like a dangling tube sock with a clementine orange in it; when I get a boner, it plumps up and looks like a Saguaro cactus with 8 deep furrows along the sagittal planes and an equatorial bulge. Not weird.”

…

“Let’s just play the drums, Walton.”

“Okee-dokee.”

A Deal Goes Down

August 5, 2016 / / 0 Comments

billy jm striped onstage

“SKAAAAAAANK!”

“Billy.”

“SKANK! SKANK! SKANK!”

“Billy, come on.”

“You in, kid? You gonna come sail the seven seas of skank with Captain Billy?”

“Seriously?”

“I never joke about skank.”

“I don’t even understand what the offer is.”

“You be the Bobby now. Bobby can’t be the Bobby any more. Hey, y’know what? Bobby’s a Billy now, just like me! Ha! Time turns us all to Billys! HAAAHAHHAHHAHHAHHAHHA!”

…

“You high or insane?”

“Yes.”

“How would I be the Bobby?”

“We leave you out. Like bait. The skank gets a whiff of ya, and comes running. You take the best skank and the rest of us pick off the stragglers.”

“Oh, God, that’s really what happened.”

“For years. And we were happy. Think of all the bands that didn’t have a Bobby. The Airplane didn’t have a Bobby, and their skank was sub-prime. Yeah, it’s settled: you’re the Bobby now. How much time do you spend on your hair?”

“A lot.”

“Wonderful. You’ll learn the ropes quick.”

…

“One condition.”

“I’m not paying you.”

“Something else.”

“What?”

“I want you punch Orlando Bloom in the dick.”

“Done. One question.”

“Is it ‘Who is Orlando Bloom?'”

“Yes.”

“I’ll show you.”

“Deal.”

“Great. Billy?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s my name?”

“No clue.”

“Okay.”

Partners In Skank

August 5, 2016 / / 0 Comments

mickey billy onstage talking

“Mick, I’m not asking you, I’m telling you: get on the skank train.”

“My back, Billy.”

“I got pills for that.”

“Didn’t Bobby steal those?”

“I got new ones.”

“What about my boner?”

“I got pills for that, too. C’mon, Hart: you and me. Like the old days. We can give a chick the Whopper.”

“Two all-beef drummers, special sauce, anal please, pickled teen fox on a Holiday Inn bed?”

“Yeah, that.”

“Billy, I just want to play my drums. I can’t act like I’m in my 20’s any more.”

“I can get you a book deal.”

“Gimme some boner pills.”

“Summer of skank!”

Dreadhead, Deadhead, Redhead

August 1, 2016 / / 3 Comments

billy rando chicks deadandco

“Heh heh heh.”

Billy.

“Thoughts on my Ass! Look what Uncle Billy got! This is gonna be a whole chapter in the book.”

You still writing that thing?

“The writing comes later. First, I’m living it. Summer of skank!”

You actually gonna write it this time?

“Hell, no. Benjy’s back.”

You re-hired him?

“Kidnapped him.”

Same difference.

“We’re brainstorming names. I like Finnegan’s Dick.”

Terrible.

“Benjy wants From Kreutzboyy to Kruetzmann.”

Somehow worse.

“Whatever. We’ll figure it out once I get all the stories together. I figure you got the skank from this tour, plus the book tour, plus all the Farewell Skank, and you got about 300 pages. Plus pictures.”

Of the skank?

“Sure. And me and Benjy.”

Obviously. Any shots of your family?

“Nah.”

Sure.

“Man, I got some awesome stories. Real choice skank tales. Heres a taste: in Chula Vista, I did some gentrifying.”

…

“Did some gentrifying.”

…

“Did some–”

What is gentrifying?

“I found somewhere cheap and made it all white.”

Oh, God, that’s disgusting.

“That’s not even the first chapter! Much better stories I’m not telling you! Plus, you know: the big one.”

Billy, stop it.

“Jealous.”

I’m not jealous of something that didn’t happen. You are not–

“I’m dating Cher.”

–dating Cher. STOP THAT. It’s a weird lie, and I don’t even know where you came up with it.

“If I’m lying, then what’s this?”

PicsArt_1469664051002

Billy, stop this.

“Look how happy we are. Love, baby. She’s changed me, man. I sleep in full makeup now.”

Please. There’s so much stupid bullshit on this site, but this is outrageous.

“Billy and Cher. If it weren’t for the book, I would have quit the rando skank entirely for her. Crazy about her. Gonna be my fifth or sixth or seventh wife. Whichever number is next. Wait: am I married right now?”

Think so.

“Shit. Welp, Cher is worth another alimony.”

Jesus, Billy.

“Hell, I can probably get her to pay it for me. She’s rich as shit.”

…

Have you spent all the money from the summer tour already?

“A lot of it was pre-spent, if I’m honest.”

Billy, it’s been 36 hours. You’re broke again?

“Not broke. Between fortunes.”

Right.

“Hey. Hey. Redhead, huh?”

Giving you the look of love.

“My finger’s in her butt.”

Jesus, I hate talking to you.

“Who’s forcing you?”

An Arch-Enemy Returned, Kinda

August 1, 2016 / / 2 Comments

hottie shoreline shades

Hello, my name is Thoughts on the Dead. You can call me TotD. I like your sunglasses, and your eyeballs.

“You almost got to the end of your statement without being weird.”

The word “necklace” is half lie: it’s around your neck, but there’s no lace involved.

“Do you talk to actual women like this?”

I don’t talk to actual women.

“You totally should.”

Well, thank you for encouraging me.

“Not me, though.”

Your hair reminds me of a warm, safe place.

“Where as a child you roamed?”

I didn’t do a ton of roaming as a kid. Liked staying inside then, too.

“Will you go buy me ice cream?”

You want ice cream?

“I didn’t say that.”

Was “go” the key word in that sentence?

“Little bit.”

“SHHHHH.”

…

Did you just shush me?

“That wasn’t me.”

“SHHHHH! Shhh! Shhh.”

Oh, you gotta be kidding me.

sailor hat shoreline

“Shhh.”

NEMESIS! You’re the guy who shushed me and Martin in Chicago!

“No, I’m not.”

…

“But I am doing his job now.”

Dammit.

“Shh.”

Fuck you, Shushface.

“That’s Commodore Shushface to you.”

You know Captain Fuck?

“Answers to me. Man’s a disgrace to the uniform.”

He wasn’t wearing a uniform.

“That’s because he lost it, which is the disgrace.”

Oh.

“Shh.”

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