Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: dead (Page 2 of 19)
Mockery shall re-commence when it turns out he’s okay.
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
Forlorn! the very word is like a bell
To toll me back from thee to my sole self!
Adieu! the fancy cannot cheat so well
As she is fam’d to do, deceiving elf.
Adieu! adieu! thy plaintive anthem fades
Past the near meadows, over the still stream,
Up the hill-side; and now ’tis buried deep
In the next valley-glades:
Was it a vision, or a waking dream?
Fled is that music: – Do I wake or sleep?
What do you get the man who was everything?
Garcia, you’re not fooling anyone: we all know what’s in the briefcase.
(Picture unabashedly stolen from fuckyesjerrygarcia.tumblr.com.)
Though the man who owned the farm was a huge Deadhead, even he had to admit that the new scarecrow was just not working.
Sorry for the disappearing act: I didn’t feel like making jokes, especially not about Billy punching dicks. Tawdry and insignificant, in the face of it.
But time goes on, so more goofy wackiness to come. PLUS the continuation of the Spring ’78 tour run-through! AND special guest blogger Elvis Presley!
USE MAH ROYAL TITLE, MONKEY.
Umm…His Man-jesty, the Most Hung and Holy Fourth Degree Black Belt, Tushee Monster Extraordinaire, Elvis Presley.
FUCKIN’ A.
Happy birthday to the best piano player the Dead ever had.
Which brings us, again, to 4/21/78 at the Rupp Arena in Lexington, Kentucky. This tour is something of a Rust Belt/Appalachian Trail theme and, yes, there were two shows I’ve neglected, but my versions sounds as if the recording device had been keestered in and then never un-keestered, to be found post-mortem and released in a macabre recreation of Betty Canter-Jackson’s storage locker incident.
So, I went to the Rupp show, which I’ve written about before: it with this weird, wired energy that isn’t just the coke singing. Listen to the Playin’>drums. All of them stay up there for drums and listen to it climax 12 minutes in with a Donna-led call-and-response chant that makes this one of the only drums I’ve ever listened to on its own.
And then, right after that, Mickey starts playing the Knight Rider theme.
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