Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: deal

Just The Facts

May 9, 2015 / / 0 Comments

Title Deal: My Three Decades of Drumming, Dreams, and Drugs with the Grateful Dead.

Author Billy.

Guy Who Did The Actual Typing And Figuring Out Where The Commas Go Benjy Eisen.

Pages 400, with an eight page, full-color, high-gloss picture insert.

Pictures Of Billy’s Feet One, but he is holding a giant fish in the shot, so I think that should count for something.

Pictures Of Phil The same number as pictures of George Porter, Jr.

Pictures Of Current Wife One.

Pictures Of Ex-Wives

ISBN Number 1250033799.

Roll Another Number For the road.

Heft, Quotidian One-point-four pounds.

Heft, Subjective It’s, like, totally a real book and shit: it’s heavy. It is a book.

Price, Normal $27.99.

Price, Canadian $32.50. SUCK IT, LEMIEUX.

Price, Ethnic And/Or Terrible Places There is no one in all of South America who wants to read this book. South Americans are Iron Maiden fans, and are waiting for Nicko McBrain’s tell-all.

Release Date May 5th, 2015.

Which Makes It A Taurus.

Publishers St. Martin’s Press, which is a wonderful outfit with thoughtful people working there.

You Sound Unbiased The folks at St, Martin’s have the admiration of their children and the respect of their neighbors. They handle social situations with aplomb and make the environmentally-conscious choice instinctually.

Stop It They smell like guava and first kisses.

Index Yes, and it’s hilarious and its own post.

Bibliography Memoirs do not have these.

Back Cover Blurbs From Famous Friends Nope.

Foreword By Famous Friend Nope. Benjy Eisen did it.

Mickey Seems Like The Obvious Choice To Write The Foreword He does, doesn’t he? And still: Benjy Eisen.

Bobby Did One For Phil’s Book He did, yeah. Small point: Phil didn’t talk shit about Bobby in his book.

That’ll Do It Yeah.

Current Sales Position On Amazon, Overall 2o3rd.

Current Sales Position On Amazon, Memoirs 31st.

Current Sales Position In Our Hearts Number one, baby.

Shadiest Line In The Amazon “About The Author” Section About Benjy Eisen Upon completion of Deal, he cut a deal with Kreutzmann and is now his manager.

Wow I know, right?

It Suggests Shenanigans, But The Evidence Is Lacking It is. This is a picture of Benjy Eisen presented without comment.

61gXQqA3vsL._UX250_

I Want You To Read My Mind Shenanigans?

You Read My Mind I love Book Club!

MexiBobby Blues

January 22, 2012 / / 0 Comments

“How long are you going to play Eyes tonight, guys?”

“From immediately after drums until the heat death of the Universe.”

“So, the same as last night, then?”

“Yes.”

I once heard a ’74 Playin’ that is still being played at this moment.  It has been going on for nigh-on-40 years now because Phil is, and I am quoting a man who belongs to several tough-guy unions and yet still allows other people to call him Ramrod, “really feeling it.”

The only reason to play a song for as long as the Grateful Dead played several of their’s is if the lack of music will trigger a bomb. Like the Grateful Dead were in Speed, and Bobby is Keanu so he is pretending to be a Cop On The Edge instead a Cowboy With A Broken Heart this time.

As we’ve discussed, Bobby actually thought he was a fucking cowboy. Now, each of the Dead’s singers had a certain persona they delivered their songs through: Jerry was the Gambler, Bobby was the Cowboy, and Phil was The Guy Who Couldn’t Sing. Now, when Jerry did Deal or Loser or whatever, he was delivering these songs from a uniquely American perspective, one that he and Hunter had crafted to serve as an avatar for the Dead’s sheer Americanness.

For the Dead were the most American band there ever was: far too loud, prone to ridiculous, money-losing foreign entanglements, drugged out of its mind, and dying of diabetes. But also capable of the most astonishing grace–American. And what’s more that than the Gambler, armed with his six-shooter and his wits? Garcia and Hunter recognized this metaphor and wrung all they could out of it.

Except Bobby actually thought he was a fucking cowboy. He apparently spent part of one teenaged summer a’ropin’ and a’rasslin and a’rompin’ and a’ridin’ and whatever the fuck else gentiles do in the summer. You can imagine Bobby traipsing through the fields, shirtless, asking the farmhands if they thought he was pretty.

Thereafter, Bobby was a fucking cowboy and we had to sit through Mexicali Blues every other night

The Stacks

Follow Us

Google Verification

Follow Us

Follow me on Twitter

© 2026 Thoughts On The Dead

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑