Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: precarious lee (Page 4 of 11)

We Were Having A Thigh Time

January 21, 2018 / / 7 Comments

These men got groupies.

OR

Younger Enthusiast, this cannot be explained away by invoking “it was the fashion of the time.” When the Dead wore rainbow trousers and fringed jackets and frilled shirts: well, it was the 60’s. That was what hip young men wore to attract groovy young ladies. But this bullshit? This bullshit right here? This bullshit was not the fashion of the time. This bullshit was not the fashion of any time in human history.

OR

It is rare, exceedingly so, that Bobby’s short shorts are the most acceptable pant on stage: if a bit risqué, they are still basic and classic jean shorts. Whereas Phil is wearing sky-blue velour and holy fucking shit there are cuffs on Garcia’s.

OR

None of their shoes are helping, either.

OR

If Phil sits down, his balls are escaping. That’s a fact.

OR

Precarious?

“Yo.”

Is Brent’s monitor on an end table?

“Yup.”

Why?

“Coffee table was too low.”

Sure.

Ready, Set-Up, Go

January 2, 2018 / / 4 Comments

Precarious?

“Yo.”

Why?

“Which part?”

All of it.

“Drummers wanted to be up front.”

Why did you let them?

“Why would I care? They wanna set up in the bathroom, I’ll set ’em up in the bathroom.”

What about Phil?

“What about him?”

Why is he all the way in the back?

“He was feeling anti-social today.”

Sure. Precarious?

“Yeah?”

Is there any security at all?

“Now there is. Shitloads of it.”

What about in 1970 when the picture was taken?

“Yeah, no. No security at all. Concept didn’t exist. You hoped that the kids were too fucked up to riot, and the road crew punched stagehoppers. That was it.”

The good old days.

“The old days.”

A Giant In His Field

January 1, 2018 / / 0 Comments

…

…

…

I’m stunned.

“Yo.”

Precari…oh, there you are. I assume you’re responsible for this.

“I was part of a team.”

Great. I have many questions.

“Shoot.”

Gonna start generally, and then move clockwise starting at the dude in the MAGA hat.

“Yup.”

Why are the musicians in this arrangement?

“Intra-band politics and intra-crew apathy.”

Why is there a dude in a MAGA hat?

“Some of your time bullshit? I dunno. Fuck him.”

Is Li’l Orphan Annie okay?

“In the middle?”

Yeah.

“Seems fine.”

Okay, how about the teetering tower of heavy bullshit on the right?

“Started stacking shit and just kinda got into it.”

Is it gonna fall?

“Nah.”

Is the balancing act in the middle gonna fall?

“Nah. Wait. Maybe.”

Is any cable taped down?

“No.”

Is every fusebox open?

“Yup.”

Did you forget Phil at the hotel?

“Nah. There he is.”

…

Oh, okay.

“Funny story, though: we forgot Phil at the hotel.”

Really?

“Uh-huh. This is Giants Stadium in ’78, right?”

Yeah.

“Yeah, we forgot Phil at the hotel. There’s a Sheraton or whatever right near the stadium, just across the parking lot. So, we all take the van over at two o’clock or whatever, but Phil was in the pool and got left behind.”

The pool?

“Phil liked drinking in swimming pools.”

That’s a terrible idea.

“Just beers.”

Still.

“Anyway, he gets out and dries off. We’re all gone. He’s running through the lobby naked screaming about betrayal.”

Naked?

“Phil skinny-dipped.”

Of course he did.

“Security tackles him a little, but he’s all juiced up and using Nude Fu.”

Nude Fu?

“No guy wants to fight a naked guy, right?”

Correct.

“So, if you’re in a situation where you’re the naked guy: use that to your advantage. Lead with your cock. Employ your buttcheeks. Turn the negative into a positive.”

Nude Fu.

“Anyway, they calmed him down and got him in some clothes. But now it’s like 3 or 3:30 and the lot’s getting pretty full of kids. Took him two hours to walk half-a-mile. Guy was getting assaulted with blowjobs.”

Why didn’t you just send the van back for him?

“Not as funny.”

Sure. Precarious?

“Yup?”

Why does Keith’s piano have a heat shield?

“To survive reentry.”

I love our talks.

I Spy With My Little Eye…

October 18, 2017 / / 4 Comments

  • Classic iPod. (Behind Mrs. Donna Jean.)
  • Amazon Echo. (In between Mrs. Donna Jean and Garcia.)
  • Two iPads. (To the left of Billy and Mickey.)
  • Phil’s booty. (Behind Phil.)
  • Precarious Lee’s handiwork. (Bottom left.)

Precarious?

“Yo.”

Is that a humidor?

“On top of the monitor?”

Yes.

“Nope. Ashes.”

Human ashes?

“Yup.”

Whose?

“Don’t worry about it.”

Is that secure? That angle is rather…

“Precarious?”

Exactly.

“It’ll be fine.”

Will it?

“Should be.”

Your words don’t fill me with confidence.

“I duct taped it.”

Oh, well, then it’s fine.

“I know.”

I was being sarcastic.

“I know. Don’t care.”

That Confounded Bridge

October 6, 2017 / / 3 Comments

For fuck’s sake. Precarious?

“Yo.”

Precarious Lee, everyone.

ENTHUSIAST APPLAUSE NOISE

“Hey.”

What the hell is that?

“That’s the Dead. Choogly-type band.”

Yes, thank you. I recognized them.

“They’re easy to spot.”

But mostly I recognized your handiwork. Are those speakers?

“Where?”

On the right.

“Yup.”

Are those two columns of speakers separated by a couple feet with another speaker bridging across the top?

“Yup.”

Why, man?

“Why not?”

So, so, so many reasons.

“If someone dies, we’ll do it different next show.”

That’s your motto, isn’t it?

“Mottos are for assholes.”

True.

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