Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
“We’re very conscious!”
Um. Okay. Of what?
“The problems facing society.”
Sure.
“We’re aware of them.”
Right. Conscious. But you still haven’t answered–
“And we’re together.”
“Hi.”
“It’s the two of us.”
Uh-huh. Hence, the alliance. What exactly is it that you–
“I’M BECOMING AWARE OF SOMETHING!”
“Can we do it together?”
“Of course!”
I’m not talking to you two anymore.
I don’t think those are legally pants. Like, if they were imported and needed to be classified for tariff? They would be taxed at the rate for “loose cloth” rather than for “trousers.” They’re definitely from Creepy Ernie’s because they have three or four inseams, and there’s nothing Ern likes more than measuring an inseam.
Anyway, there’s a show tonight, because it is summer and we are Americans, and so the Grateful Dead (Or What’s Left Of ‘Em) is playing somewhere. They’re at Folsom Field* in Boulder, CO, tonight and the show’s being webcasted. Buy it here, or you can listen on SiriusXM Channel 23, or you could steal the pirate feed like a scurvy dog.
The show starts at 6:30 pm Mountain Time, which means I do not know when it starts.
Why are time zones so confusing to you?
Why aren’t they confusing to everyone else?
Terrible answer.
*These will be the first rock shows in 15 years since Dave Matthews blew past the strict curfew and the university stopped booking concerts, once again proving that Dave Matthews ruins everything.
“We need a poster for the Colorado shows, and we’d like you to do it.”
“Oh, man: that’s great. I am so excited. I won’t let you down.”
“I know you won’t. Got any ideas?”
“A crow.”
“Doing what?”
“Just kinda hanging out.”
“Okay.”
“And a lot of blorange.”
“is that blue and orange?”
“It was blue and orange. Now it’s blorange.”
“Awesome. Oh, there’s two shows, so we’ll need two posters.”
“I’m just gonna make one, twice.”
“Wow. Your uncle recommended you so highly, and I think he might have been underselling you.”
“It’s nice being a Lee.”
“All right, Artistic, get to work.”
“Hey, Thoughts on my Ass!”
Billy.
“This is the guy who should be on TV. Old pretty boy and young pretty boy are fucking boring, man. This fucking guy? He’s got jail stories.”
“I was in a holding cell for an hour, Billy.”
“You shanked six guys.”
“Jeff Chimenti ain’t no punk.”
I had no idea, Jeff Chimenti. Did you join a gang in jail?
“Yeah. Well, I replaced a guy in a gang. But I was actually in the gang longer than the guy I replaced.”
You keep doing that.
“Ass! You agree it’s bullshit, right?”
What?
“That we’re not on television.”
No. The singers get invited on TV. The drummer and the keyboardist–
“Have to break into the studio and hijack the broadcast! Great idea!”
–don’t get to…wow, not even close to what I was going to say.
…
Guys?
…
Guys?
…
Dammit.
As you know, TotD aims to be your one-stop shop for all news of the Grateful Dead (Or What’s Left Of ‘Em) and provide you with the unvarnished truth about the secrets Big Dead doesn’t want you to know. It is with this in mind that I pass along this information about the upcoming Folsom Field show in Boulder. There is, however, a second page but I couldn’t get it to upload, so I will copy the facts as best I can:
ADDITIONAL PARKING LOT RULES
ADDITIONAL PROHIBITED ITEMS/ACTIVITIES
CAMPING
Keep walking, fucko.
Goddammit, Garcia. We had this talk last summer.
“No one’s noticed, man. I’m being discreet.”
No. This is the opposite of discreet. This is creet. You are being unbelievably creet right now.
“How so?”
You’re wearing a shirt with your own face on it.
“Right. I’m hiding in plain sight.”
No, you’re just in plain sight. At least go backstage or in the Earthroamer or something. Stop wandering around the lot.
“I’m going backstage in a little bit. Concentrate on your own problems.”
…
You’re not sitting in.
“Donna is!”
DONNA’S ALIVE.
“I’m alive in the hearts of most of the folks here.”
Good for you. Stay off that stage.
“That guy right there? That’s Bob Weir. He once ate an entire roast hog in one sitting.”
“Wow.”
“And he was sitting Indian-style.”
“WOW.”
“And that’s Bill Kreutzmann.”
“The best-selling author?”
“The author.”
“Wow.”
“And that’s Mickey next to him.”
“In the sailor hat?”
“Yeah.”
“Why is he wearing that?”
“Pettiness.”
“Wow.”
“Is that Branford Marsalis?”
“Yes.”
“Woooooow. Man, John Mayer has a kick-ass backup band.”
…
“Okay, you can’t stand next to me any more.”
“What?”
“You heard me.”
I’m okay with this. In fact: this guy wins the show IF he is wearing the correct footwear, and there is only one answer to that question.
Someone find this guy and report back to me. I am prepared to be his friend, but it’s all about the shoes.
Hey, Billy. Whatcha doing?
“Smiling.”
Is that what that is?
“Yup.”
Why you so happy?
“Money.”
How do rock stars get paid? Is it every two weeks? Direct deposit?
“Krugerrands.”
There wasn’t a non-apartheid currency?
“Nah.”
Good talk.
(Also: you can listen to the Hartford show here, or watch it here.)
“You look Jewish.”
Excuse me?
“Oh, are you insulted by that? Do you think that looking Jewish is a bad thing? Because you do look rather Jewish.”
Please don’t be a dick, Lou Reed Dress.
“Do you have any Obetrol?”
I don’t think they make that any more.
“You look at me when I talk to you or I’ll punch you in your heeb nose.”
You are truly living up to your reputation, Lou Reed Dress.
“Did Iggy Pop Dress say anything about me?”
You’re the worst.
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