Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: steve parish (Page 2 of 7)

I Keep Getting Older…

March 20, 2019 / / 0 Comments

Parish?

“Oh, hey, man.”

I need you to answer a question and no fucking around.

“Is it about Garcia?”

No.

“Cuz I got a ton of Garcia stories.”

I am aware. I listen to the Sirius show.

“I also got a bunch of stories about getting into fights with cops. You used to be allowed to do that without spending the rest of your life in jail.”

It was a looser era.

“You said it, brother.”

My question is also not about that, though.

“Well, fire away, man.”

What exactly is going on with you and Young Katie Skene?

“Gentleman never tells.”

Yeah, but you’re not a gentleman. You were on the Grateful Dead’s road crew.

“Yeah, still, I’m not saying anything.”

Oh, don’t make me talk to her.

“Up to you.”

Goddammit, Parish.

The Somewhat-Less-Than Sacred Store

March 7, 2019 / / 4 Comments

Some of you don’t click on the blue words, which is rude and anti-Semitic of you, but still I must teach. For I am the Teacher. O, hearken unto my swingtacular sausage and meatballs. Clam sauce time, children!

Stop it.

Why?

It’s not right and it’s not good.

Those are excellent reasons to stop doing something.

Illuminate the picture, please.

Parish is, like I linked to previously, selling vaguely-Garcia-related bullshit he found under his couch on Ebay. This is a cable that once connected Garcia’s wooble pedal to his spazmoidizer; it was at no point ever plugged into his guitar because Garcia’s guitars were so preciously hand-crafted that they required custom cables. (And none of ’em ever sounded better than his Strat.)

In case you doubt the item’s provenance, Parish provides a picture to assuage your fears.

That’s just as good as a certificate of authenticity. (ALSO: Holy shit, Garcia’s big. Oh, Lord, he soloing.)

Upon slightly more poking, one can also find a jacket given to Garcia, stolen by Trixie, and now sold by Parish.

In these fractious times, the one thing Americans can all agree on: white denim was a mistake.

This has been your Daily Grateful Dead Content. Content! It’s your life now.

Trixie Garcia: Posture Princess

March 7, 2019 / / 1 Comment

Hey, Trixie Garcia-Girl.

“Just Garcia.”

I couldn’t call you Garcia. That’s what I call your dad. It would be weird.

“No, my last name is just Garcia. First of all, my mom’s name wasn’t actually ‘Mountain Girl,’ and second of all, you’re an idiot.”

Gotcha. Your hair looks cool.

“Thank you.”

And edible.

“If you’re gonna be weird, I’ll sic Parish’s Parish on you.”

Seriously, what’s going on with those two?

“I don’t know and I’m not asking.”

You think she’s trying to get into the will? Get a piece of the vast Parish fortune?

“Fortune? The man’s an ex-roadie. Like, 80% of his holdings are in stories. He’s selling wrenches on Ebay.”

Sell the face right off your head.

“You got it.”

Trix?

“Trixie.”

One last question.

“Make it quick.”

Sure. You think you should have finished the cocaine on the table before you took the picture?.

…

“Dammit.”

Is that a “yes?”

Green Room

March 5, 2019 / / 2 Comments

Parish.

“Oh, hey, man. How’s Precarious?”

He’s good. I need to know something here.

“You want a Garcia story?”

No.

“I got a ton.”

Well aware.

“And I got a bunch of Mickey stories, but they’re not as fun.”

I don’t need any stories about any Grateful Deads. I wanna know about the young woman you’re on tour with, Katie Skene.

“She’s far out, man.”

Uh-huh. What precisely is her job title?

“Funny story: she’s my Parish.”

She hits people?

“If people need hitting, sure. She’s good at it, too! I think she knows that kung fu stuff. And, you know, she makes sure I show up at the right venue. Tells me if I have a booger. Your basic Parish-ing. Holds my stash.”

Your stash?

“Weed and Coumadin.”

Sure.

He Is The Road Crew

March 3, 2019 / / 5 Comments

Hey, Parish. Whatcha doing?

“Well, I was a professional roadie for 30 or 40 years. And then I was a professional ex-roadie for a while.”

You have successfully monetized a lifetime of carrying heavy shit and punching people who got too close to Garcia, yes.

“And now I’m starting a band.”

Oh, God, no.

“Yeah, man. We got a good groove going here.”

You and Katie Skene.

“Is that her name?”

Yes.

“I’ve been calling her Girl Bobby.”

Her name is Katie Skene. She plays with all the old jam band guys. I think maybe she has a grandpa fetish.

“Well, that works out for me pretty well.”

Casey Jones At The Bat

May 26, 2018 / / 0 Comments

FUN FACT: Parish isn’t trying to look threatening. He just looks threatening. It’s like Resting Bitch Face, but with a bat.

OR

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Stepping into the bucket, looks like.”

Gotta stride towards the pitcher. And keep your elbows up.

“Oh, yeah. 90% of baseball is keeping your elbows up.”

You guys should get a team together now.

“Like, in 2018?”

Yeah.

“Huh. Yeah, no. We tried playing what’s left of Journey in 2016, and everyone was on the ground after an inning-and-a-half. Knees, backs, you name it. Neil Schon required light defibrillation.”

Wow.

“Time, you know, marches on.”

OR

SHOCKING FACT: The Dead went to the sporting-goods store and bought a cheap backstop like normal people instead of having Alembic custom-build them one out of carbon fiber.

Random Responses From Steve Parish’s Reddit AMA

April 15, 2018 / / 2 Comments
  • Keith’s was the biggest, but Ramrod got that name for a reason.
  • Nah, fuck expiration dates; that’s just Big Dairy trying to squeeze an extra dollar out of you.
  • We don’t speak any more.
  • Wally knows what he did.
  • One finger is cool, but any more than that and you’re gay.
  • Gropius? Fuckin’ Gropius? Gropius couldn’t wipe Mies van der Rohe’s ass after Taco Tuesday.
  • Okay, yeah, I’ll give you the couch; Gropius could design the fuck out of a couch.
  • I’m talking big picture here, man.
  • I never punched anyone, cuz you could break your knuckle on someone’s jaw real easy, man; what I did was the old-school Bunny Foo Foo head bop: closed fist WHOMP right on the crown of the skull.
  • On tour, we used to hide a toy in the cereal box for Bobby to find, because he’d be a nightmare all day if he didn’t.
  • We were brothers, man, we were brothers and one of the things about being a brother is treating your sisters like shit.
  • Of course I would ride a unicorn, man.
  • There was nothing underneath Brent’s beard.
  • Just a void.
  • If you stared into it for more than a second, you’d wander around fucked-up for a week or so.
  • Number one rule to being a roadie is to wear a vest; after that, you know, you gotta set the equipment up and whatever.
  • I never saw TC naked, but he offered quite a bit.

 

Go check it out, unless you’re allergic to Reddit, which is an excellent choice.

There Are No Conscientious Observors In Rando War

June 13, 2017 / / 3 Comments

Hey, Parish. Rando War?

“Fuck, yeah. Gonna smoke this joint, take a piss, and break this fucker’s arm.”

Why?

“Prostate’s the size of a volleyball. I go every 20 minutes.”

Not the pissing. Why are you gonna break the rando’s arm?

“Old time’s sake. I don’t get to hit anyone anymore.”

Y’know, you’re overstating the Dead crew’s violence just a bit. You guys weren’t Led Zeppelin.

“Nah, shit no. We weren’t just goons. We didn’t hit people for no reason.”

Right.

“It’s just that people were always giving us reasons to hit them.”

Well, this rando hasn’t.

“Give him a minute.”

Please don’t hurt randos, Parish.

“It’s a Rando War. Gonna be some deaths.”

Deaths?

“Injuries, injuries.”

“Not true, love. There have been and always will be a great deal of mortality in Rando War, innit? Nature of the gimmick, right?”

Oh, I know that accent.

“‘Ello, love.”

What is happening here, Sam Cutler?

“Oi am making Rando Love, not Rando War.”

None of this makes sense.

“Also, Oi just dosed you. Ta.”

Ta.

Ladies And Gentlemen, The Beatles

May 15, 2017 / / 4 Comments

If there is a camera within 100 feet of him, Bobby can sense it. And glare at it.

OR

An incomplete list of Parish’s strengths:

  • Roadie strength.
  • Big guy strength.
  • Old guy strength.
  • Crazy guy strength.

If Parish grabs you, you’re grabbed.

OR

The fellow in the blue is Steve Silberman. He wrote the indispensable Skeleton Key: A Dictionary For Deadheads, which was a bit of a tangible shibboleth of Deadheadedness in the 90’s: every single Deadhead owned this book. (Of course, there were fewer books about the Dead back then, as opposed to the shelves’ worth you see today.) And he’s in Long Strange Trip, where he does a wonderful thing by discussing the Deafheads, who should be brought up often and loudly.

“Who’s your favorite band?”

…

“Oh, they’re cool. My favorite band is so good that even Deaf people listen to them. Checkmate.”

OR

Nice pants, Bobby.

“They were sold to me as a ‘clingy slack.'”

Is there spandex in there?

“They got a lot of give.”

OR

That’s Bobby’s wife, Natasha Monster, and she’s in Long Strange Trip, too; everything she says is eminently reasonable to the point where you wonder how she got involved with a Grateful Dead.

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