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

Tag: phil lesh (Page 22 of 105)

An Increasingly Convoluted Happenstance

Aren’t you and Elvis supposed to be saving the world from Communism or something?

“That’s the plan, yeah. Waiting on him. Decided to come back to Daytona for a minute.”

Why?

“Enjoyed it.”

Yeah?

“Yup, yup.”

Bobby, please don’t use the Time Sheath to give Lillian Monster a do-over. We’re all unhappy she crashed, but this wanton use of time-altering devices is what got us here in the first place.

“Superman did it.”

And people are still mad at that part of the movie. It was very dumb.

“Admittedly, yeah, but there’s still precedent.”

Please don’t.

“She’s been moping around the house, man. Hasn’t told me she’s a vegan in a week.”

Oh, that’s not good.

“So, you know:  and then Elvis gets here, quick chrono-reset, and then, you know…whatever the hell is next.”

I advise against this.

“I’ll take your advice under advisement.”

“WE GOT OURSELVES ANOTHER DANG SITUATION!”

Oh, what now?

“Hey, Elvis.”

“YER DINGDONG BASS PLAYER DONE STOLE BACK THE TIME SCARF AN’–”

“HAIRY GARCIA!? WHAT HAPPENED T’ HAIRLESS GARCIA?”

“Okay, see: I am both of those people, but I’m actually not that person and also that’s the wrong name.”

“AH UNNERSTOOD NONE O’ THAT.”

“Yeah, but it’s all logical. Go check.”

“AIN’T NO REVERSE TO TH’ KING! AH GO FORWARD, MAN, OR SOMETIMES SIDE T’ SIDE, AN’ ALSO AH REST SOMETIMES.”

“Sweet ride.”

“YOU HAVE A JEWELER’S EYE, BOY. THIS HERE’S A PIECE O’ DETROIT STEEL MADE RIGHT IN MEMPHIS. AH CALL IT TH’ CHARIOT, HOW YOU LIKE THEM SWEET TITTIES?”

“Bike’s great, titties are great. All in, Elvis.”

“GOOD T’ HEAR.”

“Who’s your buddy?”

“THIS A HOBO AH PICKED UP ON MAH TRAVELS. IN CASE OF DINOSAUR ATTACK, AH PLANNED TO THROW THE VAGRANT TO TH’ BEAST.”

“Well, it’s good that you didn’t have to. I guess that means no more dinosaurs?”

“NO, THIS HERE’S TH’ NINTH HOBO AH’VE PICKED UP. REST ALL GOT ET UP.”

“Ah.”

Guys. I need both of you to concentrate. Elvis, what did you say about the Time Sheath–

“SCARF!”

“He calls it a scarf.”

–getting stolen by Phil?

“WHO?”

The bass player.

“The bass player.”

“YESSIR, THAT DRUNKEN FOOL DONE SNUCK INT’ MAH PRIVATE HOME AN’ STOLE AWAY WITH THE TIME SCARF. AN’ ALSO TH’ TIME CAPE. AN’ HE RUMMAGED THROUGH MAH MEDICINE CABINET SOMETHIN’ FIERCE. PLUS, HE MIGHTA STOLEN CHARLIE HODGE.”

Might have?

“CHARLIE HODGE COULDA ALSO GOTTEN ET BY TH’ STEGOSAURUS IN TH’ RACQUETBALL COURT.”

That thing’s still in there?

“WELL, WHY DON’ YOU TELL ME HOW T’ GET A 80-TON IGUANA OUTTA A RACQUETBALL COURT? WE DONE CALLED EV’RY EXTERMINATOR IN TOWN.”

They all refused?

“THEY ALL GOT ET!”

We need to stay on topic. You have a habit of digressing.

“MAH MIND WANDERS LIKE A PROPHET.”

Phil—the bass player–has all the time machines?

“AN’ AH BELIEVE HE STOLE A HAM FROM ME.”

The ham is not important.

“AH HAD MAH MOUTH ALL FIXED FOR IT.”

Forget about the ham.

“GONNA HAVE MISS MARY COVER IT UP WITH MAGIC SHELL. THAT CHOCOLATE STUFF GETS ALL HARD, MAN? THASS A DANG MIRACLE. COMES OUT SOFT, GETS HARD. LIKE IF A BONER WAS DELICIOUS.

“I agree. You can’t beat Magic Shell.”

Bobby, I forgot you were here.

“Elvis draws a lot of attention.”

“AH AM A SPECTACLE.”

So, neither of you has any sort of time machine?

“Nope.”

“AH DO NOT. LEMME ASK TH’ HOBO.”

“HE DOES NOT.”

Great. You two are useless. I’ll handle this.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“This is Phil Lesh of the Grateful Dead.”

Give back the Time Sheath; give back the Time Cape; you can keep the ham.

“You got the wrong guy.”

You just said you were Phil Lesh.

“I’m Phil from ’95.”

Dammit. I misdialed. Sorry.

“You looking for ’78 me? He owes me $20.”

’85 version.

“What did that drunken jackass do now?”

Stole a couple time machines.

“And a ham?”

And a ham.

“Not my problem.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

An Impropitious Introduction

You really should play some ’97 DMB, bro.

“Not familiar.”

Bro? Fuckin’ Tinsley on the violin? Sick, bro. Sick.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

What are you doing?

“Giving the fans a little John Time.”

Is that like Pope Time?

“What?”

Nothing.

“Gotta promote the new record, The Search for Everything.”

The Search for Everything?

“Yeah.”

You need a writer? Seriously. I work cheap, but you have to put up with a lot of bullshit.

“Kiss my ass. You think you could do better?”

Yup.

“Go to it.”

Put Your Pussy On My Heart.

“Terrible.”

John Mayest.

“What?”

Like, more than John Mayer. John Mayest.

“I get it.”

Like it?

“No, but I get it.”

“AH AM BREAKIN’ INTA THIS HERE MIDDLIN’ POST TO BRING EV’RYONE A ‘PORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!”

You can’t just show up.

“BUT AH DID AN’ NOW AH’M HERE SO LESS JUS’ MOVE PAST IT.”

“Hey, Elvis.”

“GO PLAY DAVE MATTHEWS TUNES, BOY. THIS HERE GROWN-UP BUSINESS.”

“I’m older than you.”

GUNSHOT!

“I’m gone.”

“AH DO NOT KNOW WHY AH GOTTA PUT UP WITH THAT.”

Join the club.

“THERE HAS BEEN AN INCIDENT.”

Oh, no.

“Y’ALL KNOW THIS RUSSIAN FELLA, POOTER?”

Putin.

“BLESS YOU. HE’S A BAD HOMBRE, MAN. GETTIN’ ALL KINDA FUNNY IDEAS ‘BOUT TH’ WAY THINGS WORK.”

I know who he is.

“AS YOU KNOW, AH AM A MAN OF PEACE.”

Sure.

“BUT AH AM ALSO AN AMERICAN OF PEACE, WHICH MEANS AH AM GONNA WHUP SOME COMMIE ASS.”

Yay.

“‘CEPT THERE HAS BEEN AN INCIDENT. AH BLAME EV’RYONE ‘CEPT MAHSELF.”

What happened?

“AH DECIDED THAT THE AWESOME POWER OF A FULLY-OPERATIONAL TIME CAPE WAS NOT ENOUGH F’R WHAT AH HAD T’ DO. AH REQUIRED A SECOND DEVICE OF TIME-WARPIN’ CAPABILITY.”

That is probably not a good idea.

“AIN’T NO PROB’LY ABOUT IT, BOY. YOU SHOULD NOT LET TWO TIME MACHINES TOUCH EACH OTHER.”

Wow, no.

“THINGS IS GETTIN’ WEIRD ‘ROUND HERE. MISS MARY JUS’ CALLED FROM GRACELAND. BIG OL’ STEGOSAURUS IN TH’ RACQUETBALL COURT.”

What precisely happened, Elvis?

“THERE WAS ONLY ONE OTHER TIME MACHINE AH KNEW OF.”

Dammit. Not the Time Sheath.

“WHEN AH POSSESS IT, IT BECOMES A TIME SCARF.”

You shouldn’t possess it. Neither should the Dead. I’m trying to think of people who would be worse to give machine to than Elvis and the Grateful Dead, but all I can come up with are serial killers and dictators.

“POSSESSION IS NINE TIMES EIGHTY-FOUR!”

Are you trying to say “Possession is nine-tenths of the law?'”

MAH HEEBIE-JEEBIES IS COMIN’ ON SOMETHIN’ FIERCE, MAN.

Please just tell me what happened.

“AH SWALLOWED MAH ROYAL PRIDE, AND EVEN THOUGH AH HAVE FAILED IN MAH QUEST T’ KARATE WITH HAIRY GARCIA, AH CALLED TH’ FILTHY DRUG DEN THEY ALL LIVE IN. LUCKILY, THE DIRTY HIPPIE THAT PICKED UP KNEW ‘BOUT POOTER. HE AGREED TO JOIN ME AN’ BRING THE TIME SCARF.”

Sheath. Who was it?

“TH’ BASS PLAYER.”

Phil?

“AH WILL BE DAMNED T’ HELL ‘FORE AH LEARN A BASS PLAYER’S NAME.”

Dammit. Phil’s actually vaguely competent. I don’t know why he did this. Wait. Phil from when?

“MIDDLE O’ THE 80’S.”

Aw, man. Phil?

“Kiss my ass.”

Jesus.

“You, with your little sketches, and Pooter–”

Putin

“–and his bullshit, and Josh and his chatting and snapping, and Elvis, too. Kiss my ass, Elvis.

“DONT’ YOU TALK T’ YER KING THAT WAY, YOU SLOPPY SUMBITCH.”

“Everything would’ve been fine until dickless here’s monkey grabbed the Time Sheath–”

“SCARF!”

“–and threw it around his sweaty neck.

“THAT MONKEY HAS A NAME, BOY. ISS CHARLIE HODGE. AH ALSO HAVE AN ACTUAL MONKEY. HIS NAME IS CHARLIE HODGE, TOO.”

You’re straying from the point, Elvis.

“TH’ POINT IS WHATEVER AH’M SAYIN’ AT TH’ TIME!”

“Should’ve seen the damn thing. It was like time vomited itself up. Everyone in the room’s wrists turned inside out. Jackass.”

“YER GETTIN’ AWFUL CLOSE T’ KARATE TIME, BASS PLAYER! YER LUCKY AH AM, AS AH SAID BEFORE, A MAN OF PEACE. WHAT TH’ MEMPHIS MAFIA FUCKS UP, TH’ MEMPHIS MAFIA FIXES. AH GOT MAH SENSEI ON IT.”

Who?

“Elvis, I’m in New York and John Lennon is dead.”

“SHOULD HE BE?”

“That depends. What year is it?”

“WHEN AH AM OR WHEN YOU ARE?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus, man. Your sensei is Benjy?”

“HE HAS CONQUERED DEATH HISSELF. THAT BOY’S LIKE DARTH PLAGEUIS THE WISE, MAN. HE IS TEACHIN’ ME HIS SYSTEM OF MARTIAL ARTS, BENJIDO.”

“Okay, yeah: none of this is my fault. I may be drunk, but you’re a ninny.”

“Hey! Phil! How ya doing?”

“Hi, Benjy.”

“Lemme run one thing by you: Searching for the Sound 2?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What about a Cadillac?”

“GIVE THAT MAN A CADILLAC!”

“BAM! You just got Cadillac’d, Phil!”

“Okay. Phil out.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH NO ONE WAS ON THE PHONE

“Elvis? King? Between you and me, all of this is Phil’s fault.”

“AH KNEW IT!”

“Hello?”

“Hello?”

John?

“Yeah. You forgot about me.”

Oh. Huh. Well, the post’s over.

“I’d like to talk about my new alb–”

Post’s over.

“I despise you.”

Yeah, yeah.

Not Fucking Around

That’s some fine Dead shirt-wearin’.

“Kidd stole it from a bootlegger in the lot.”

Looks like it. Proportions are all wrong.

“You should feel how cheap it is. My nipples get hard and this thing shreds like tissue.”

Why are you wearing it?

“Mickey yoinked my other shirt.”

Oh. Wait, Mickey is not in the band during this photograph.

“Right. He had the element of surprise.”

Sure.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“That’s me.”

Dammit, Phil.

“What?”

How many times do I have to ask you guys to stop bringing smart phones back to the 1970’s and routing your WiFi through the Time Sheath?

“Hey, man: my wireless deal is for unlimited minutes. I’m just holding them to their word.”

Dammit.

“I could be wearing my Apple Watch. At least with the phone, it’s in my pocket most of the time.”

True.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“I gotta get this.”

You totally shouldn’t.

“Have a sesh with Lesh.”

“This is terrible way to answer phone. Is no good.”

“I’ll answer the phone any way I choose, jackass.”

“I am not jackass. You are jackass.”

“Who is this?”

“Is Putin that is not from Flaming Groovies.”

“Good for you, man. How did you get this number?”

“Ve have infiltrated America, Phil Grateful. You see They LIve?”

“Sure.”

“Like that. But ve are good guys. I am Rowdy Roddy.”

“No, you’re not.”

“Rowdy Putin.”

“Commie bastard. What do you want?”

“You vill use restaurant to spy on dumb Americans. Listen to conversation of rich white people. You vill feed Mother Russia with information so ve can crush you. Restaurant now belong to Putin.”

“Restaurant?”

“Da. Your restaurant. Terrapin Crossroads.”

“Ohhhh. You’re calling 45 years too early.”

“Shto?”

“You have to dial the year code before the area code in this universe.”

“Ven am I talking to?”

“’72?”

“Hold, please.”

“Sure.”

RUSSIAN DIALING NOISES

RESTAURANT PHONE NOISE

“Terrapin Crossroads.”

“Is Putin.”

“I’ve been waiting 45 years for this call, you son of a bitch.”

“Da. Vat vere ve talking about?”

“You sucking my American balls.”

“No. Vas not topic of conversation.”

“Oh, yeah.”

“No.”

“It was.”

“Hold one second.”

“Putin take selfie.”

“Did the phone capture my balls on your face?”

“No balls on my face.”

“All over your face.”

“Face is ball-free.”

“Look behind you.”

“Is many small Mexicans.”

“They’re not from Mexico.”

“They look Mexican.”

“True, but they’re not.”

“Who they?”

“The busboys.”

“How they get in here?”

“Elvis was right. You got no idea what a weapon time travel is, do you?”

“You won’t get away with this, Phil Grateful. Rowdy Putin vill vin.”

“Oh, I’m sure. The busboys are gonna do stuff to you now. Bye.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE.

Phil And Billy

Phil loved the Farewell Shoes. There was the overwhelmingly positive spirit coming from the crowd, and the band got along semi-decently, and the money was wonderful.

But what Phil really liked was that jean jacket Levi’s Stadium gave him.

OR

Right after this picture was taken, Billy punched Bill Murray in the dick and whispered in his ear, “Everyone will believe you.”

OR

“How should we decorate the green room?”

“Who’s using it?’

“Grateful Dead.”

“Hang up as much bullshit as possible.”

“Gotcha.”

“And a rose.”

“Done.”

OR

Phil’s had hepatitis, several different cancers, and a liver transplant, and he’s ten years older than Bill Murray, and he still looks better.

Self-Promotion

This is almost certainly confirmation bias speaking, but there couldn’t have been a band that wore their own shirts as much as the Dead did. Metallica wears Metallica shirts a lot, but they’re pikers compared to the Dead; at any given show, at least 15% of all Grateful Deads on stage will be wearing Dead shirts. Shit, 3-to-1 that Keith’s wearing a Dead shirt in this photo.

Although, it was useful if you were too high.

“What band is this, man?”

(Looks at Mickey.)

“Oh, riiiiight.”

Simply Amazing

I don’t understand what I’m looking at here. Walk me through your trousers, Bobby.

“They were sold to me as a set of drapes.”

They are flabbergasting.

“Comfortable as all get out.”

“Get out” is a good phrase to use. You should get out of those pants.

“They’re not so bad.”

Not if you made them yourself on a desert island.

“First you attack Snake Tee-Shirt. Then you attack Giant Curtain Pants–”

Don’t anthropomorphize the pants!

“–and you know, man: I gotta live with ’em. Stop riling up my clothes.”

Sorry.

“It’s all right.”

Cool. Hey, Phil.

“You see Weir’s pants?”

How could I miss them?

“I can hear you two.”

“I know.”

Yeah, we know.

Oh, God, you’re wearing your fanny pack, too.

“We’re through for the night.”

Okay.

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