
“Look! It’s Nick Offerman!”
Nope.
“Ernest Hemingway?”
No.
“Mariel Hemingway?
That’s Teddy Roosevelt, Mickey.
“Where’s his top hat and wheelchair?”
Did you even go to school?
“I mostly just drummed on my desk.”
Sure.
“History is not my strong suit. Wasn’t that hot at math, either. Or science. Used to skip gym class. Honestly, I just drummed on my desk until they gave me a diploma.”
No doubt. You’re at the Planetarium?
“The Hayden Planetarium in New York City! Never played here before. Very exciting. We’ve already been banned from ever coming back.”
Who is “we?”
“The Dead. I brought everybody. Bobby’s at the bar. Billy’s at the bar. Brent is, well, he’s at the bar, too. Everybody’s at the bar.”
Could you stop using the Time Sheath to bring dead keyboardists to your gigs, please?
“No.”
Okay. What did you guys get banned for?
“Bunch of stuff. You know that Neil DeGrasse Tyson guy?”
Yes.
“We have been calling him Branford all day.”
Not cool.
“He has virtually no sense of humor. Plus, Pigpen stole one of his fancy little vests with all the stars and comets and shit on it.”
You brought Pigpen?
“Big fan of astronomy.”
What else did you guys do?
“There’s been a lot of ‘Uranus’ jokes.”
Can’t be blamed for that.
“Road Crew had a cookout in the main theater. You know that big doohickey that the lasers come out of? Looks like a double-sided dildo?”
I do.
“Turns out if you up the amperage, you can flash-fry a lobster in ten seconds. And, obviously, you set some seats on fire.”
Why can’t the Grateful Dead be taken anywhere nice?
“We’re hooligans.”
Yeah, okay.
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