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

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An Exclusive Transcript Of Phil’s Haggadah From The TXR Passover Seder

Terrapin Nation Passover Seder 4/26/16

In what’s become an annual tradition over at Terrapin Crossroads, Phil led a Passover Seder, and then played a set; it is with regret I inform you that the band was not retitled “Phil and Mishpuchah;” nor was there a Hava Negila jam.

Phil did, however, play Hide the Afikomen (which is a completely different game than Hide the Salami) and led the Haggadah>Rider>Donor Rap.

As always, one of the Haight Street Irregulars comes through with a recording: it’s an AUD, but it’s a FOB Haggadah. If there’s a SBD around, a matrix would be nice; for now, I’ll just transcribe Phil’s words:

“My friends, my guests, my family, Baby Levon: shalom. We are all here tonight to observe Passover. Not celebrate, observe. Jews have a lot of holidays you don’t celebrate. This is one of ’em, I suppose. Just a lotta days where you gotta suffer a little bit.

“Anyway, we’re changing the whole thing up a bit and going with a real liberal-type Haggadah here: it’s not in Hebrew and there’s a bit about domestic violence and we all know it’s going to end with the Donor Rap, so if you’re serious about your Jewishness, you should be aware that this Seder might not count. God might not count it: we are freelancing.

“As we look at our plates, let us take notice of food’s symbolism. I mean, let’s be honest: this food isn’t particularly good for eating, so it better be symbolic as hell.

“There are bitter herbs, which represent the time the Jews spent in bondage in Egypt. I spent some time in bondage in Egypt, but I was free to go at any time. It was a voluntary bondage kind of thing. Not so much for the Jews. Pharaoh was harsh and made them build the pyramids, and also a couple of cubes, and one rectangular solid.

“Next is charoset, which is a word I am not pronouncing correctly. It’s nuts and apples and some other stuff chopped up and mixed together; the apples are organic and there is a vegan alternative available. Charoset is the mortar Jews used to build the Great Wall of China when they were enslaved there, also.

“Then, karpas. It’s literally just a piece of celery dipped in salt water. Salt water. You kidding me? Christians get a ham at Easter, you guys went with ‘celery dipped in sea water?’ Fascinating. Oh yeah: these are tears. Salty tears, Jewish tears. Your ancestors were miserable, and you must be reminded of the fact constantly.

“Okay, you got a…zorro? Zatanna? Zoomzoom? Something with a ‘Z.’ It’s the only meat on your plate, and it symbolizes a lamb that was sacrificed  at the First Temple. We had some great grass-fed, locally-sourced lamb shanks; long story short, Bobby’s sister-in-law released the shanks into the wild. So, we sent a busboy to the Buffalo Wild Wings down the street and got chicken wings. You’ll notice that they are the spiciest wings they sell: this is to remind us of the heat of Egypt.

“Beitzah. Beitzah? Baitzah. It’s an egg.

“We now take the first sip of wine, which is a 2012 Altamura available for purchase at the bar, and break the matzot. Most breads are broken metaphorically, but matzoh snaps like a cracker. Because it’s a cracker. I mean no disrespect; you know this; Phil Lesh loves the Jews. But calling matzoh “bread” is just false. It’s not even a lie: it’s simply incorrect. Matzoh lacks almost all bread-like qualities: it is not delicious; it does not look good sticking out of a grocery sack in the basket of a French woman’s bicycle; if you tried to toast it, you’d burn your house down. Not bread.

“And as we take our second sip of wine, I will reward the child who found the Afikomen with one drink ticket, good for well drinks only. I will also chastise the grown men who pushed the children aside trying to get the Afikomen. It’s bad enough you guys ride the rail when we play music for the kids in the backyard, but this was out of line.

“Our third sip of wine reminds us of the flight from Egypt. You had a bad flight from Egypt? Try doing it with the Grateful Dead. Billy hijacked a stewardess. They may have let Walton fly the plane for a bit. Road crew pried open the luggage hatch and went rummaging through bags, and then they started wearing people’s stuff: it got confrontational.

“The last of the wine brings us to the end of our service, and the Four Questions. In keeping with our progressive Seder, we have foregone the traditional Four Questions, and chosen new ones that were sent to us on Twitter.

“The first question is ‘Isn’t there another way to commemorate one’s heritage without symbolic food? Matzoh stops me right up.’ Good question. Something to think about.

“The second question is ‘Why did people stop breakdancing?’ Another good question; I don’t know.

“The third question is ‘Will TXR begin offering a larger dessert selection?’ Now that I can answer. We’re hiring a dessert chef, plus we’ve contracted with a local Girl Scout troop that’s going to sell cookies in the bar.

“The fourth question is ‘Have you caught the person who was pooping on the bocce courts?’ Vigilance is being maintained. Let’s say that. You know how Israel isn’t at war right now, but they’re not exactly relaxed? I’m like that. In this situation, I’m the Jews and you know what I’m going to do? I’m going to outlast that pooping sonuvabitch. You know who he is? He’s Pharaoh. He’s Arafat. He’s Hitler.

“Now, I know I promised not to bring up Hitler at the Seder again, but I think this year I’m justified.

“Pss pss pss.”

“I have been told to wrap it up. Happy Passover, everyone. The bar’s open.”

Showing Brent The Way

band brent first show

This is from Brent’s first show, 4/22/79, at UC San Jose State. (Go Banana Slugs.) It was so nice of the other Grateful Deads to dress up for the occasion.

Assorted thoughts:

  • Two clean-shaven, two full beards, two mustaches: that means something, I’m sure of it.
  • Phil’s monitor was chilly.
  • Speaking of mustaches and Phil: while we do have a firm grasp on Garcia’s mustache timeline, we haven’t quite pinned down the start and end dates for the rarest period in all of Grateful Dead history – the brief moment when Phil was the fattest guy in the band.
  • The only other photo I know of in which Garcia and Phil exchange places on the chubometer is this one:
  • jerry bobby phil fat backstage
  • This must be from ’79, too: Phil got larger than this, peaking in the mid-80’s when he cut back on the Heineken, but from ’80-’82, Garcia put on at least a hundred pounds and was never challenged for his title again.
  • Bobby looks like he is starring in the direct-to-video feature American Gigolo 2: On The Gigolowdown.
  • How involved is Mickey?
  • Actually, there’s two questions nestled within that larger query:
  • How involved does Mickey think he is?
  • How involved is he really?
  • All of us–all us adults–know that the Wall was a ludicrous invention, and it broke the band’s back, but God it looked grand.
  • It was a feast for the senses.
  • The Dead in 1979 was not a feast for the senses.
  • Bunch of mangy dudes and Peter Potato Salad over there.
  • Although in defense of Bobby, he was the only thing to look at, so he felt like he had to put in extra effort.
  • “Drum store? What’s the biggest drum you got?”
  • “Bigger than that.”
  • “Bigger than that.”
  • “Bigger than that.”
  • And so on.
  • Look: it’s Brent.

That Deal Gone Down

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Hey, Phil. Whatcha doing?

“Paying for some amplifiers.”

Ah, the old gear-endorsement trick.

“Best trick there is. Turn a smile and a picture into new toys.”

Like a Playmate.

“Nothing wrong with that.”

Didn’t say there was.

“Tried to do this at the Ferrari dealership. Much less amenable to giving things away than small, hippie-run amplifier companies.”

Shocker.

“I told them I’d take as many pictures as they wanted, but I still had to pay.”

Bastards.

Stand, In The Place Where Phil Works

Phil Lesh of the Grateful Dead Concert at Brendan Bryne Arena 1 April 1988

Every once in a while, Phil would challenge the rest of the Grateful Deads to a Standing Broad Jump contest; Phil had skinny legs, but he pumped his arms very well, and could get air.

Also: those are the biggest glasses in the entire world. There’s more glass in the pyramid outside the Louvre, but just.

Also also: TotD is shocked to see the guitar-holder-stand-thing behind Phil. I would have figured on an elaborate, hand-made stand from Alembic that cost two grand.

Mysteries Solved

IMG_4062

TotD can now reveal the reason the Internet Archive lags, or freezes, or goes down for an hour here and there: this is where they keep it. The Internet Archive is kept in a panel van in Palo Alto. The last major outage was because the Archive had been impounded due to unpaid parking tickets. Sometimes on the high–

“Hey, man? I’m sleeping, man. Shh.”

Soup?

“Heeeey, man.”

Goddammit, are you living in the Internet Archive?

“I’m in between places, man.”

This can’t be good.

“Oh, I’m cool, man.”

I’m not talking about you, Soup. I meant for the Archive.

“Cant be optimal, probably. I try not to have too many guests, though, man.”

Great. Is there a bathroom in there?

“No way, man. It’s a panel truck, not an Earthroamer, man.”

Then where have you been pooping?

DAMMIT, SOUP!

“They’re like big litterboxes, man.”

Stop pooping on Phil’s bocce courts, please. You’ve driven the man around the bend.

“Oh no, man. Phil’s upset? No way, man.”

You pooped on his lawn. Of course he’s upset.

“I love Phil, man! I should go say sorry, man.”

No! Don’t do that!

“Why not, man? I’ve wronged Phil, man.”

Because he’ll have the busboys murder you. Or he might do it himself. He’d do it himself.

“Y’know, I’ve had people poop on my lawn and I just called ’em a dick, man.”

We’re so far beyond that point. Just stop doing it.

“Oh, yeah. No problem, man. Tour season starts pretty soon anyway, man.”

Who you touring with?

“Doesn’t matter, man.”

Good attitude.

“I’m Soup, man.”

Sure.

Sky, Marshall

IMG_8248

“Reddy Kilowatt to Bradley Cooper. Come in, Bradley Cooper. Over.”

“Reddy Kilowatt here. Come in, Bradley Cooper. Over.”

“Where the hell–”

“Phil, I don’t want to be Bradley Cooper. It’s a dumb code name.”

“It’s my restaurant, they’re my bocce courts people are pooping on, so I get to pick the code names.”

“What does it even mean?”

“He was in that sniper movie. He sniped. Good sniping.”

“Phil, I’m not sniping anyone.”

“You don’t have to. Just spot.”

“Phil, did you hire a sniper?”

“No.”

“Let me rephrase that. Is there a busboy with a rifle in one of these trees?”

“Yes.”

“Dammit, Phil.”

“It’s special bocce sand! I won’t have it pooped in! This is a classy establishment!”

“I’m calling Jill.”

“Don’t bother. She washed her hands of this long ago.”

“Smart lady.”

“She’s a sharp one.”

IMG_8301

“Phil, this is Officer Mahoney. Come in, Phil.”

“Use your code name.”

“No.”

“Use my code name.”

“No.”

“Okay, that’s settled. What’s the sitrep?”

“Bocce courts are poop-free. Like, a million other crimes are taking place right in front of me, but no one’s engaged in public defecation.”

“Those aren’t public courts, Mahoney. They belong to me.”

“You know what I meant.”

“Are you trying to entrap me, Pig?”

“Please don’t call me that.”

“But you are! You’re a narc of a pig of a pig of a narc! But it’s okay: we are joined in battle today. Just like in the classic M, when the cops and criminals teamed up to face a horror beyond all of them! Except instead of children get murdered, it’s my bocce courts getting pooped on. Same principle, though.”

“Yeah. Mr. Lesh, I’m gonna switch off my walkie-talkie.”

“Over and out.”

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