Breaking News: NO Asymptomatic Transmission

The WHO just released a statement saying that (19) is NOT spread by asymptomatic individuals, just like the regular Flu. There you go. You can look it up for yourself, but do you think you'll hear about it in the mainstream news? If the people in charge truly had our best interests at heart you would. I keep trying to tell you they're evil. If they really cared this would be front-page news, but as it is they're only promoting the fear aspect of it all and are still hell-bent on destroying our economy. Think about it. It's NOT the plannedemic. It's the sons of bitches in charge. It's pure bullshit. This has been a special news report from the WHO. We now return you to your regularly-scheduled programming. Have a nice day. 
 

Challenger Memories Part 1

Like 9/11, Pearl Harbor, the bomb, the JFK assassination, the birth of skinny jeans and other pivotal and shocking events, the old-timers will remember where they were and what they were doing when the Challenger exploded. I sure do. It's burned into my RAM. My memory began the night before. 

 

 I was working in the crazy restaurant. A beautiful young lady who was around my age came in with her folks for dinner. Her voice was raspy and she said she had a sore throat, so I whipped her up a home remedy. If I recall it was hot tea with honey and lemon, plus a dash of cider vinegar, a pinch of salt, a few shakes of Cayenne and a shot of Jack Daniels. By the time they left she was feeling better. It could've been the Jack but she definitely sounded a lot better. "Thanks, y'all. Have a nice evening!" "You too. Thanks, we enjoyed it!" "Come back any time" I said. I was hoping they would. "Oh, and thanks for taking care of our girl!" said mom. "My pleasure" I said. If she only knew...

 Imagine how pleased I was about 45 minutes later when I looked out through the big glass windows and saw the girl formerly with a sore throat walking toward the front door, sans parents. Apparently she was pleased with the results of my home remedy. Hey, I wasn't nicknamed "Doctor Octafer" for nothing. I was wondering if she was coming back to express her gratitude. She was. She looked so good walking past the windows and I had a big ol' grin on my face. My friend (to this day) Cinj was working that night and she could never resist an opportunity to fuck with me. "Hey, Kelj...look who's here! Looks like your medicine did the trick. I think she's coming in to get another prescription filled, if you get my drift." "Just tell me where to sign" I said. Good times.

 

 She came in and we had a drink or two and she thanked me for making her throat feel better and then she followed me over to my buddy Doug's. Doug's inner circle of friends was welcome any time. There was a hot tub, a studio, a fridge and stove, music and a queen-size bed. I introduced her to Doug and we hung out for a bit and then hit the tub, and then hit the queen-size. All I'll say about the rest of the night is that I had a rubber band on my wrist and it got stuck in her curly blond hair, she smiled a lot, and "Yeee-HAWWWW." She was a nice lady. I wonder what she's up to... ... ...hmmm...

 Anyway next morning I woke up with a beautiful naked woman. At first I didn't know where I was but I didn't ask questions. I thought for a second..."Oh, yeah! The scratchy-throat girl. Oh, HELL yeah." A minute later she woke up and had to assess the situation too. She looked around the room, then at me, then at her naked body, and then she smiled. That was a good sign. Given the circumstances we decided to give it another go. I knew that the Challenger launch was that morning but it was the last thing on my mind. I had a rocket in my pocket.

 Doug was living at home with his mom, who was on dialysis. They had a machine there and Doug became certified and gave her dialysis three times a week. Doug was crashed in the next room and his mom was upstairs. She yelled down the stairs to wake him up and let him know that the shuttle was about to launch. It took an act of God to wake Doug up and it scared the shit out of me and my girl when she yelled. The bottom of the stairs was right by the queen-size. 

 "DOUG? DOUUUUUUG? WAKE UP!" "huhhhhhh?" "WAKE UP DOUG. THE SPACE SHUTTLE IS ABOUT TO LAUNCH." Doug muttered something about it being old news. We felt the same way. We took a pause during the cause in case Doug's mom decided to come downstairs and wake him up in person. She was insistent that he get up and watch the launch. It was weird. Doug yelled back "We've seen it before." "Yeah, but you never know if something will happen" she said. "Get up!" Wearily Doug got up and turned on the TV. We pulled the covers over us and took up where we left off.

 Suddenly there was a commotion, and it wasn't my date. Doug was yelling and his mom was yelling. "It blew up! IT BLEW UP!" There arose such a clatter that I sprang from my girlfriend to see what was the matter. I walked into the next room, still naked. I couldn't believe what I was seeing. "C'mere" I said to my friend. She wrapped up in a blanked (sexy thing) and came in the room. We were stunned. Stunned and naked. Millions of people saw the iconic image above that day. I wonder roughly what percentage was naked. The Challenger had blown to smithereens. Our jaws were hanging open. Doug's mom was right. I'll never forget how strange that was. 

 Another interesting thing was that she happened to be cousins with another really close friend of mine from the restaurant named Cay, although I didn't know it at the time. It's a small world. I found out a couple of days later at work when Cay came up to me with a grin on her face and popped me on the arm. "Ouch! What the hell was that for?" I asked. "You slept with my cousin!" she said. "Umm...I didn't know that," I said, "but I do now." "Well, she likes you" said Cay. "Good" I said. "I like her too. A lot." "You'd BETTER!" said Cay. Cay's cousin and I saw each other a few more times, and for the life of me I can't remember why we quit dating. It certainly wasn't anything bad and I didn't burn any bridges. I think maybe it's time to give my old buddy Cay a call and see what up with Cuz. I'm single. Maybe she is too. This doc still makes house calls.

 Well, that's my Challenger memory. I think it's a good one. If there's a disaster I'd just as soon be fucking. It certainly helped lock it into my brain. The moral? Always help a gal with a sore throat.

 

 
 

Outrage

This is an utter outrage. This woman was assaulted, tased and arrested for not wearing a mask at a high school football game in Ohio. She has asthma and she's not supposed to wear a mask. Early reports said she was pregnant but I can't find more about that. If that's the case then those fucks should be charged for that. That's a crime as well. Either way she was brutalized. 

 The people who took her to the ground didn't care. The big man (and I only mean that literally) who tased her didn't care. What's worse is that except for one guy mainly who tried to ask why they were treating her that way and was basically told to fuck-off, most of the people who witnessed it didn't care and looked the other way, and many people cheered on the "cops." It's sick. To me it's unthinkable to support this bullshit in America, or anywhere else. We've become really sick. What are we going to be tased for next?

 The big dudes who subdued the woman weren't even real cops. They were Rent-a-Cops. Who gave them the authority to brutalize US citizens? Seriously I want to know, and so should you, if you still have a working brain. Do you know what those Rent-a-Cops are? I'll tell you exactly what they are. Cover your ears, because I'm utterly appalled. 

 They're spineless twits. Yellow-bellied, barbaric, cocksucking, panty-waste, chickenshit, lily-livered, pussy-whipped, dicklick, morally-bankrupt, power-mad, fear-driven, toolistic, piece-of-shit PUSSIES, who let their little-boy badges go to their heads. They should be ashamed. I sure am. "Oh, they were just following the law" you say? BULLSHIT. They didn't have to get barbaric. It's not a law anyway...it's a mandate. Big, big difference. By law, technically they can't do that shit to her. The woman did resist but she should have. You see, she still has a functioning brain. Supposedly she still has rights too, although that's obviously becoming very questionable.

 Normally I'm opposed to frivolous lawsuits for farting in public or whatever but this woman should sue the piss out of everyone involved, especially the big ol' cowardly men who tased her, the school, the Rent-a-Cop company, the county, state and everyone else she can think of. I'd think she's got a hell of a case. Sue the fuckers. It really needs to happen because some people are outraged by this, and we need to show solidarity, and take it further and keep the ball rolling and keep public attention on this.

 She has rights, and they were violated. Someone should start her a Gofundme account. I hope someone will do that, but if not I may look into it myself. People need to wake up and smell the brutality, and ask themselves if this is the USA they really want. It damn sure isn't the USA I want. Wake up. This is WRONG.

 Speaking of the law and bullshit, of course they had to issue a statement, and here's how the bullshit works. Sadly people buy it. Some official came on TV and said that they didn't knock her down, tase and arrest her for not wearing a mask, but for repeatedly violating campus rules, or something to that effect. BULLSHIT. While technically that may be true, it IS 100% about the mask, and you know it and I know it and the asshole who made the statement knows it too. It would've never happened if not for the mask. But they put out that smokescreen of bullshit and deny the obvious truth, and our dumb asses buy it. We believe that bullshit. How? 

 It's unthinkable that this woman was so brutalized and the video is hard to watch. At least it is for people who understand that this whole mask thing is bullshit, and this kind of brutality may be at home in communist China or back in the Third Reich, but it has no goddamn place in this country. Is this what you want? REALLY? According to statistics it is. Although people are slowly waking up and realizing that something is deeply wrong, and the number of people who support this barbarism has gone from about 80% down to about 75% in the last few weeks, the majority of people in this country support this shit. I don't get it. Where did we go wrong? Narcing on our neighbors for not standing six feet apart? It's pathetic. It didn't work out too well for the citizens during the Third Reich, did it? Fuckers. 

 I'm pissed to the point of distraction and I should be. Not to mention we're about to shut down the country again and finish off what's left of the economy, all over a disease that granted is bad, but kills no more than the regular flu. This is rule by fear and control, whether people can get their heads around that or not. A mask won't protect you from Coronabonah. Standing six feet apart won't keep you from catching Coronabonah. Killing the economy won't stop Coronabonah. Treating each other like germ bags and taking a wide berth when we pass someone on the street and never shaking hands or hugging anyone and becoming less human by the day won't stop Coronabonah. Brutalizing a woman who wasn't harming a soul won't stop Coronabonah. 

 If you can actually watch the video, which is all over YouTube right now, and say it's okay in any way...all I can say is you're an asshole, and you deserve what you're going to get. This is an outrage. Have a nice fucking day. 
 

Verse of the Day

"In the morning sow your seed, and in the evening do not withhold your hand. For you do not know which will prosper, either this or that, or whether both alike will be good." Ecclesiastes 11:6

My Old Rhythm Devils Shirt

I'm a t-shirt guy. Many people have favorite Ts and I've had quite a few, but some stand out, especially when there's a good backstory. I got the Rhythm Devils T at a Dead show at Red Rocks. It had a completely different design than this one, but I couldn't find an image anywhere. It was probably a local deal anyway and run off by the dude selling them. The design was excellent. 

 I'll never forget the day I bought it. It was the third of three shows. It was sunny and hot and I was tripping balls. A guy walked up to me with a stack of t-shirts and held one up. I was mesmerized. It was a red shirt with black print and it had skeletons playing tympani and xylophone and other percussion instruments. Rhythm Devils was a side-project by the Dead's drummers BTW. I think he only wanted $3.50 for it. It was beyond a bargain.

 So this guy is holding up a t-shirt and the second I looked at it, all traces of where I was or what I was doing vanished momentarily, and I was lost in space and jamming with the skeletons. They were dancing and playing their instruments right in front of my face, just like a cartoon, and for a few seconds all I could do was watch. Finally the dude snapped me out of it. He had a big grin on his face and he said "They're dancing, aren't they?" "Yep" I said. He laughed and said "Here, you need this" and tossed it to me and walked off. "Thanks man!" I said. He flashed a peace sign and disappeared.

 One thing you learn at a Dead show is that if someone gives you something, whether it be a ticket, a hit of acid, a sheet of acid, a toke, a sandwich or whatever it might be, you don't hem and haw or scramble to find something to give them in return. You accept it graciously and thank them and then go on to extend a kindness to someone else, and the wheel turns. That's how things should be, and I hope and pray we'll return to that attitude one day.

 I have to hand it to the Deadheads- they had the community thing down. They took care of each other, even total strangers. I saw it happen time and again and I was always so impressed. To me that whole scene was every bit as interesting, if not more so, than the band. Shhhhhhh...please don't tell any Deadheads I said that if you happen to run into one. Lots of truly amazing things happened during those shows but buying the t-shirt with the dancing skeletons was a highlight.

 I probably only had that shirt 3 or 4 years because I wore it all the time. It got to travel the country a bit but mostly it hung out here in town. Even washing it by hand it started to get a bit threadbare after a couple of years. That was okay but I knew that one day it'd be destined for the rag bag...a distinguished member to be sure, but rag-bag material nonetheless. I couldn't put it on without thinking about the Dead shows and how much fun it was, and for a second I could see the skeletons dancing. That t-shirt had one hell of an energy signature. It was always a conversation-starter at gigs, as if someone with my sparkling personality needed it, ha-ha. 

 After about four years the shirt had become sort of like a gossamer doily. I'd have given it about six months tops. I was actually planning to retire it and get it framed, because it was that cool of a t-shirt, but as fate would have it it's life was cut short by one last, heroic act of courage and humanity, believe it or not. 

 One afternoon at around 4pm I was in front of a club in town. I'd just finished setting up for a gig that evening. As usual I had my Rhythm Devils shirt on. I was about to leave when a young lady asked if I could help her. I walked over and she pointed me to a kitten huddled underneath a car. She'd been trying to catch it for several days and thought she was close but it got spooked and ran underneath the car. It was near an intersection of two busy main roads and 5:00 traffic was starting up. 

 We tried to coax it out but the poor thing was scared to death. After repeated attempts failed I knew what I had to do. Reluctantly I took off my shirt and threw it over the kitten like a net. I reached in and grabbed it and gathered the ends around the squirming kitten as best I could. The girl's car was parked a space or two away. She went to open the door as I walked over holding out a hissing, scratching, wriggling kitten wrapped up in my Rhythm Devils shirt. I was standing in the middle of Southside, shirtless (luckily I was in half-decent shape) and holding a freaked-out kitten. It was shredding the shirt and I was hoping there would be enough left to salvage. The kitten then proceeded to empty its bowels. 

 It was acid-diarrhea too. The shirt had already faded to a pinkish-red but now it was mostly brown, with black oil spots for good measure. I was crestfallen but I carried the kitten to her car and put it into a carrier. I bet even with the carrier she had to get her car detailed the next day. The shirt was fucked. I knew there was no point in trying to wash it. The claws and the liquid cat shit had finished it. I held it up and saw the skeletons dance one last time. It was a sad yet remarkable moment. 

 The girl walked over and said "I'm so sorry about your shirt. If you tell me where you got it I'll get you another one." I grinned and told her she'd have to fly to Colorado whenever the next Dead shows were. I told her the story and I told her that if she wanted to she could name it Jerry if it was a boy or Scarlet if it was a girl. It was a red tabby so either name would fit. She laughed and said she liked those names and she'd choose whenever she found out if the kitten had a ribbed penis or not. She thought it was a girl so it was probably named Scarlet. At least I was able to pass along a little of the experience. That was nice. 

 I tossed my beloved Rhythm Devils t-shirt into a trash can. I wished I could've given it a proper burial or a 21-gun salute or something but it was done. It was an inglorious ending, but what it had done was amazing. It gave its life in one final act of kindness. You can't ask anything more of a t-shirt. How many times do you think you'll ever hear that statement? I saluted it. It was all I could think to do. I turned away dejected, but happy about the kitten, and drove off shirtless. That was appropriate really. 

 My girlfriend lived a couple of blocks away so I went by her place to grab another shirt. She asked where my shirt was and I told her I lost it rescuing a kitten. She cracked up at first but she could see by the look on my face that I was serious. She was intrigued and couldn't wait to hear the story, but she had a great sense of humor and she loved to fuck with me. She couldn't resist an opportunity or a story like that. "Uh-huh...I bet you were with a 'kitten.'" She got close and sniffed me, pretending to be checking for unfamiliar perfume, but all she got was a whiff of liquid-acid cat shit. 

 "Oh my" she said. "You weren't kidding." "Nope" I said. "I'm gonna take a shower, honey." "Sure" she replied. Whether or not she joined me is classified information. "Sorry about your shirt" she said. She knew I loved it but I doubted she was going to miss it like I was. Skeletons weren't really her thing. Still she was impressed by the altruistic act of an inanimate object.

 Obviously I still think about that t-shirt. Not many t-shirts get to see the world, much less go out in a blaze of glory. I think shirt dude would be thrilled to know how one of the shirts he made got to be around more music, and died saving the life of a kitten. Deadheads love that shit. So do I. RIP t-shirt. You were loved.
 

Band Name of the Day

If I were starting a new band this afternoon I'd name it "White After Labor Day." No particular reason...it just popped into my head and I like it. It's one of those band names you can't fuck with. It has a slight anarchy, or maybe just dorkiness. Either way is cool.
 

BlickumBlickum

I recently had a couple of flip-outs on YouTube regarding my channel name. "Blickum" isn't even a word, or so I thought. I think it was from an old SNL skit where they were talking about how boring drum solos are. I didn't actually see it myself because I was touring at the time and didn't watch much TV, but I fell completely in love with this sweet little thing from Oxford, MS named Tara, who'd seen it and thought it was hilarious, and one night she told me the story. 

 Whomever it was in the skit (maybe Gilda Radner) was imitating the sound of a boring drum solo. "It sounds like 'Blickum...blickum...blickum...blickum-blickum-blickum.'" Being a drummer myself I thought it was hilarious. When I started my YT channel it was the first thing that popped into my head. I knew that almost no one would get it except maybe for another drummer, or a sweet sister from Mississippi maybe, but I thought it was as good a channel name as any. It has rhythm anyway.

 My experiences on YouTube have been extraordinary. I've learned so very much and met some remarkable people (mostly digitally so far but a couple in the flesh), but that's another story. I can say that, shitty of a platform as it's become I've been blessed by YouTube and that's a fact. At first I started a channel so I could save videos and maybe comment and such, and I didn't think about putting up any videos, but one day I just wanted to see how easy or hard it was to upload. I picked a short random vid from my phone and it was a cakewalk...three or four clicks and my illustrious YouTube career had begun. I've enjoyed every low-res moment of it. 

 Several months back I met a guy from Bavaria. He commented on one of my vids and he said he liked my name. I thanked him and said something about it being a made-up word but he told me that it actually was a word, and that in German it means "To look around." I'm not sure if it's slang or a real word in their language but I really got off on it. It's certainly appropriate for me. I've been training my observational skills every day since I was young (I just did in fact on my walk just now) and I was blessed with excellent vision. It made my day to hear that and I appreciate him telling me. How cool. 

 A few days ago I was in a live chat I've visited for the last year or so. It's run by an old bastard that's even crustier and more of a cynical asshole than I am. It's funny because back when I first got on his channel he misread my name and thought there was an N in it, and to this day he still calls me  "Blinkum." It sounds like a new fairy-tale character- Winkum, Blinkum and Nod. I think it's great. He's smart as shit though and he's had a really interesting life. Anyway YouTube in its infinite wisdom took away the "Go to channel" feature in a chat, where you could click on someone's channel and check it out and maybe subscribe. It's even getting very difficult to find some channels even in a direct YT search, and that's changed too. 

 Someone I knew from the chat but who hadn't subbed to my channel yet said she was trying to sub me. A minute later she said she'd just subbed me but that there was only one video on my channel. "Huh?" I said. A minute later she came back "Oops, wrong Blickum, lol." "Wrong Blickum?" I asked. "You mean there's another one?" "Yep, and he's a drummer" she said. "I'll be dang" I said. I did a search and sure as shit there was another Blickum- 'blickum blickum' to be exact. He didn't capitalize and there was a space between, but he got it right having two "Blickums." I got a huge kick out of it and subbed him immediately. 

 Not only was he a drummer but his one video was about a very specific and uncommon pair of Paiste hi-hat cymbals that I happened to have a pair of. It was like seeing a doppleganger. I never expected to see another Blickum on YT but I think it's fantastic. He now has four subs, two of which are my friend, by accident and me, on purpose. I left a comment but he may never see it unless he goes through all his notifications.

 The video is two years old and I think I'm the only comment so he's certainly not looking for it. Maybe he'll see it. I thought about getting about a dozen people to all go and "gang-sub" him at the same time, so it will light up his bell and maybe get his attention. He'd have to get a kick out of it, the small-world thing and having the same rather rare channel name, and "Blickum Blickum" is really narrowing it down. For the record I beat him by about five years. I thought I'd found a unique name but not so. Interesting.

 I just took a stab at the spelling since it's not a real word to begin with and I guess he did too, and we agree on that. According to the Bavarian dude the spelling is correct. That's how he spelled it. I hope I hear from the other Blickum one day but it's cool to know another one exists. We must at least share a common sense of humor to name our channel after such an obscure but funny name like "Blickum." He'd probably be fun to talk to. And he's a drummer too, although he'd almost have to be. 'Tis a small world. I say that all the time. Plus I learned that Blickum actually means something in another language, and a meaning I take proudly. Who'd'a thunk it? 

 BTW the image is my YT (and FB) avatar or whatever it is. It's a beautiful old game-piece from the early-20th century. The hand spins around to show how many moves to make or whatever. The action is still smooth and flawless after all these years. The dial is ivory (pre-ban and 100% legal) and the seller on eBay said that he thought the original hand had probably been ivory too but had been replaced by a Bakelite hand at some point, and it looks like it to me. I think it's a magnificent piece and I've never seen another one like it.

 It does have a bit of meaning...even though there are only ten numerals it's still clock-like, and the hand is pointing to just shy of "midnight" if you will. It's a nod to the "Doomsday Clock," which factors in things like famine, pollution, overpopulation and tons of other factors and calculates how much time we have left, figuratively speaking, before it's GAME OVER for Planet Earth. Believe you me that bitch is pegged right now. 

 It's a small world, for Blickum and YouTube anyway, and YouTube is a very big universe. I like the word "Blickum." Even though it's not really a word, the other blickum blickum and I, plus the dude from Bavaria are doing our part to give it legitimacy. Come to think of it it's an Onomatopoeia (hey, I didn't get spellchecked). That's where the word itself makes the sound of the thing, like "Boing." It's definitely quite the percussive word. It's the sound of a boring drum solo and I'm a boring drummer. Touche. I love it. 

 
 

The Time the Band Made it into a Bestseller (teaser)

I've told this story before but it's been a long time and it's a good one. There's another story, literally, that goes along with it. It's a twofer. I told the story about an incident that took place in Oxford, Mississippi back when I was playing in the Bud Greene band. 

 A few years after the band broke up I was talking to Greg, the former guitar player, and he told me that someone from Oxford had written a published book, and that incident was mentioned in it. Of course I was thrilled and proud to hear that and I wanted to get a copy immediately, but Greg didn't know any more details and at first I couldn't find out more about it. 

 I wanted to get a copy of the book but I let it slide and didn't think about it too often until I was talking to Greg a few years ago. He told me it was written by a firefighter from Oxford, which made me die laughing, for reasons you'll see later. I searched it and found it, as you see here.

 It's called "On Fire" by Larry Brown. That made me laugh again. In no way do I mean to belittle Larry Brown, because the truth of the matter is that he was forced to be involved in a very dangerous situation that was a direct result of something our dumb-asses did. But knowing it from our part of the story makes it funny.

 When I first found the book a few years back the copies I found were a little pricey, but the subject came up again the other day and I decided to try to get a copy if I could find a cheaper one, and I found a new paperback for $11. That's an excellent number. Even if it's just a brief mention it'll still be fun to read. I thought it was a bestseller and it may be, but I don't see it on the cover. It doesn't matter though...it's a real book and it was published and people read it and we're in it and that's cool. I seriously doubt the name of the band is mentioned in the book, and thankfully the club owner was our friend and didn't rat on us  The book only mentions the incident itself I'm sure, but we were definitely the instigators. 

 I'll save the story until the book gets here. It's supposed to arrive Wednesday. However small the mention is, if it is indeed really there and supposedly it is, it'll be fun to supplement the story with what Mr. Brown had to say about it. I'm assuming that's his real name and not a nom de plume. Or nom de flume. All I'll say else for now is that since it's obvious the fire department was involved, that should tell you that it's not a normal story; it made it onto the front page with an amazing photo next day, plus it was an accident. 

 If Larry Brown mentioned us at all or thought about us, he probably said something like "stupid assholes" and frankly he'd be justified. It was obviously a big enough deal to be mentioned in his book. Judging by the "life and death" blurb on the cover, the tone of the book I'm sure is at least partially very serious and probably sad, and he may have hated out guts. I don't know Larry's story yet. Maybe all is forgiven by now, and I could contact him and tell him our part in the story, but that might not be smart. I'll wait and see what he says about it, if anything. Sorry Larry. It wasn't malicious. Stay tuned.

These Dreams: Girl of My Dreams (Masked/"Peaceful Protests" Edition)

This mask bullshit finally made it into my dreams. I was wondering when it would. In my dream I'd reverted back to my younger self. That happens sometimes..The dream started with me meeting up with some friends to go to a party. I was with my best buds Chef Dave and Cay and a few others. In my dream we were younger. That happens sometimes. In reality I'm an old fuck although usually I really don't think of myself as such. Cay mentioned that a friend of hers would be there and she'd introduce us. "Fine by me" I said. 

 We got to the party. Some people were wearing masks and some weren't. You can probably guess if I was or wasn't. We got to the party and Cay's friend was sitting on a sofa. She was tall, blond and beautiful. She didn't look like one of those freaky and questionable supermodels or anything like that. She was just beautiful enough and she had the girl-next-door thing big-time. 

 She had a gorgeous smile and right off the bat she seemed to have a sweet spirit about her. She was healthy and she wasn't wearing a mask. "At least she still has a functioning brain" I thought. I was smitten. Gobsmacked maybe. I thought I detected a spark from her too. 

 Cay introduced us. "Nice to meet you." "You too." "She's a hugger" said Cay, in a tone of dismay because everyone is afraid to get near another human being, much less hug one. "I'm a bit of a hugger too" I said. "Everyone is afraid to hug people" lamented the beautiful blond. "I'm not" I said. I offered my hand and she took it, stood up and gave me a hug. It was wonderful. I intended to give her a brief-ish hug, but when we did it was so nice that we kept on hugging for a minute or two. It was love at first sight. Cay winked at me. As much as I really love Cay in real life I love her even more now for hooking me up in my dream. 

 We sat down and everybody was talking. Every now and then she'd look at me and smile. I think we both had the same idea. Next thing I knew we'd found a quiet place and took up where we left off. We did find time to have a conversation and we were already making plans to get together the next night, and the next and the next. I guess it was a little quick but for one thing it was a dream and I damn sure wasn't going to question it, and for another it just felt right. We just liked each other and we both knew there was no need for pleasantries and such. That actually happened to me in real life once, and she turned out to be the true love of my life. Luckily she still loves me and I her but that's another nice story. 

 I know it was just a dream but weird as it may sound I'm still basking in the afterglow. It was so real, except that I can't remember her name. I'll call her Ms. Right. So we decided to go back and socialize with our friends for a bit but we were planning to leave soon and go have dinner and whatnot. Since it was back in the day we all decided to smoke some weed. There was a drug store around the corner so I decided to go get some papers. I asked if anybody needed anything and someone needed contact cleaner. 

 I went in the back door of the drug store. I had a bandanna in my hand to put on but there was no one around so I opened the door and went in before I put on my mask. Out of nowhere the manager appeared and yelled 'YOU MUST WEAR A MASK!" "Sorry, sir" I said. "I'm still getting used to this." I grabbed my stuff and left. They'd locked the back door so I went out the front, and I had to go around the block. And then another little slice of current events popped into my dream- those fucking Antifa fucks. I couldn't believe it but there they were. 

 I was walking the block back to the club. It had been an old three-story brick house built in the mid-60s. It was in a beautiful old neighborhood with nice yards and trees and stuff, and it would've looked pretty much like any other house, except for the lights and music and people, and it was painted a nice shade of deep red. It was a really nice club. I was so excited to get back to my new friend that I was practically floating up the slightly-uphill block. 

 I knew they were Antifa assholes because as in real life these people were there for one reason only- to cause destruction and chaos. They were standing on a sidewalk watching me go by. At first nothing happened but as I neared the club a huge guy came up and tried to grab the box of lens cleaner, of all things. I managed to hang onto it somehow and I told him to fuck off. I figured I had nothing to lose...he was about 6'4 and 330lbs, plus he had two buddies. I was proud of myself for standing up to him. I was almost to the club but I knew I was seriously out-manned and I wasn't back yet. 

 The thing about it was that realizing they were Antifa, another part of reality, plus the shock and absurdity of a guy trying to steal a box of contact-lens cleaner made me fully aware that I was dreaming, and the dream turned into a lucid one. A lucid dream is where you become aware that you're dreaming but you're not fully awake (if you open your eyes it's over), and you can control the action in your dream 100%, just like a movie director. I've had several of them and they're one of the most intense, and fun, things I've ever experienced. I was thrilled knowing I was about to head back to the sister and resume non-social-distancing, if you will, and that, Holy Mother of God, I could now have a direct say in how my dream went with the girl of my dreams. 

 Nothing changed at all about the dream except that I became aware that I was dreaming. I have to say that if you've never experienced lucid dreaming, but you do have some dreams you remember, then lucid dreaming isn't hard to do, and it's mind-blowing. You go from being just an observer to a participant in full control of your actions, and everything else, instead of just watching what the dream-state throws at you, like a movie. It's wild. You can add effects, blow shit up, fly, get the girl or whatever else and call all the shots just like Mickey Wizard in Fantasia, or you can be more laid-back and just control your own actions and be completely immersed in the dream. Both ways are cool but I like the latter. I still like the characters to interact on their own more and other things to happen more naturally, if that makes sense.

 There are some simple exercises you can do to help the process if you're interested. For some reason I've never done them but I really should. One thing you can do is think of a common but distinctive object, say a bluebird, and think about it before you go to sleep. Supposedly it will eventually make it into your dreams and let you know you're dreaming. It's like when you're asleep and dreaming and there's a real sound or whatever going on and it makes in into your dream.

 Decades ago Sharper Image started offering goggles that detected REM sleep, which is when we dream. When REM sleep was detected the goggles sent pulses from red LEDs. The light was red instead of white, like a darkroom, and it was just bright enough to pass through your eyelids but not enough to jolt you awake. It lets you know you're dreaming without waking you up. They were pretty pricey back in the day but I bet you could find them for much cheaper now. They've probably been largely replaced by VR goggles anyway. That's what lucid dreaming is like, and it's certainly at least as intense as a video game. It becomes your own deal...a once-in-a-lifetime, personal thing. 

 Anyway once I realized I was dreaming and I was a real part of it, I might as well have been in Heaven, except for the assholes. But true to form I "changed the script" so that they backed-off, and they did. I was going to make this dream as lonnnnnnnnnng as possible. I was almost back to the club and the woman, I was looking forward to smoking a joint in my dream and spending some quality time with my friend. BTW she was wearing jeans and a white cashmere sweater. "Woof," I dreamed. 

 As much of a dog as I could sometimes be I truly love women, and, when applicable, I really respect them and want to do right by them and so on. I don't always but I try my best to. It didn't hurt that this woman was beautiful to the perfect degree and not a click more, but as stunning to me as she was, that was just icing on the cake. Somehow in the dream I was able to read her instantly, and she could read me too, and that was it. Her body was about a 98 out of 100, but I dug her mind too. I dug what made her tick. Somehow I knew she was a truly good person.The cliche "made for each other" was true, and I knew it. Just the fact alone that she was single and not carrying any baggage for some coked-out loser or whatever and she was into me with no fake bullshit about it proved that she was meant for me. God, this is cheeseball. But it's true

 Back when I was just starting to sneak into clubs and hear bands and play myself sometimes, I made friends with a famous local drummer. He was quite a bit older than me and possibly a different color, but he liked me okay and I got to hang and pick up a few pointers occasionally, but mostly just talk. He was an advanced ladies' man and I was just trying to break into the game. We'd talk about women and he'd say "Pussy's a penny a pound." He meant that a bit literally in that women were everywhere and available, but what he really meant was that it's what's inside that counts. It only reinforced how I already felt about it but it was cool to hear him say that. Different, but cool.

 Believe it or not even in my dream I was going to be a gentleman. I know it sounds ridiculous because it was just a dream and here's this amazing sister who really digs me, but screw all that... dreams are short and I might wake up any minute and I really need to hit it while I can. I've dreamed about quite a few sisters but she was a keeper, for a dream, and I wanted to at least show respect. I wasn't planning to sleep with her until the third date, although there's a good chance it would've been the second. Call me old-fashioned. I'm guessing she'd have been ready too. The thing is since I could control the dream, all three dates would play out in the same dream. Oh I'd have slept with her. Bet your ass. I'd just have tried to do it right.

 I've always heard that dream-time is very compressed; in other words dreams that seem like a long time are really only a few seconds, although I recently heard a few people say it's actually stretched. Dream-time seems normal in a dream whatever happens, but it seems like when you become aware you're dreaming, dream-time and real-time line up, but I can't be sure. Either way I planned to put a pillow over my eyes and keep the dream going for the rest of the day. My baby was waiting. I was looking up at the red brick building and picturing her inside. What happened next I hate to even say.

 Out of nowhere the big dude jumped me and one of his buddies came at me with a knife. Apparently I should have taken more control over the dream and waxed the bad guys but all I could think about was the girl. Somehow the bad shit slipped through and it jolted me awake. I've had at least a dozen or so lucid dreams over the years and nothing like that ever happened. Usually a lucid dream pretty much ends when you want it to, unless the phone rings or it gets too bright in the room or someone calls you. Usually you can just later-on the bad shit, which I thought I'd done, but my mind was on the female instead of the Antifa fucks behind me. They're assholes even in my dreams. 

 I woke up pissed. Several times I've woken up from a dream and gone back to sleep as many as ten times, and went back into the same dream and continued along. I prayed I could fall asleep and get back into that dream and fuck those fuckers but no such luck. It was just a dream, but dammit. It was good while it lasted. On a personal note, in dreams that involve sex, rarely do my dreams go beyond about one second before the act of penetration or whatever, although luckily it sometimes happens and lasts a few seconds anyway, In a normal dream I suppose the excitement is too much and I wake up. A lucid dream is very different. I'll say again that you can totally control your actions and leave it at that. It's fun. 

 It was just a dream, but we know we all have amazing dreams sometimes and this was one, even though the bad guys fucked it all up. I don't get that. Even so it oddly gave me quite a lift. It was a nice escape in these fucked-up times. It was sort of a ray of hope, in more ways than one. Obviously I'm single right now and I'm fine with that but you never know...maybe something is afoot, C-19 be damned. If this sounds pitiful I have actually dated one or two real women during waking hours and they've mostly been true sweethearts, but Dream Sister was up there with any of them. Dreams are cool. Maybe I'll dream of her again. I'd love to know her name. Maybe I'll get some of those goggles... Maybe see you in my dreams.

 

T-Shirt of the Day

This is classic.
 

Drugs are Bad: Can We Learn from Psychedelics?

I've always said that there are two types of people who take drugs- those who want to get high, and those who also want to get high, but also maybe learn something or grow or take something positive away from the experience that doesn't fade with the high. 

 Some people understandably would say that any different thoughts that occurred during an acid trip or whatever were just a result of the drug, and meaningless and invalid. From what I experienced and from what others have said I say no. 

 I learned or experienced quite a few things during my experiences with these things back in the day, which turned out to be valid, and stayed with me forever. There were so many things that it's hard to pick one. This story is more about an observation than getting new ideas, although it was new and I did learn from it. It does show the possibility of there being more to these substances than just getting high. 

 I went to a big party one night and dropped some acid or shrooms. I was sitting and talking to some friends. When it kicked in I saw beautiful colors start to radiate from people...mainly around the head and shoulders but in some cases the whole body. As I watched the colors began to take on a bit more structure and shape but they were still pretty abstract. It looked like an outline around the body like they were glowing or something. It had the basic shape of the head and shoulders and it extended maybe 6" out from the body but the distance could vary. 

It started to become a little more organized, and it reminded me a bit of the famous paintings, as seen here, by artists who experienced Schizophrenia, only nowhere near as intense or disturbing. In fact it was beautiful, and it was getting harder to concentrate on conversations because it was so fascinating. I was talking to good friends of mine while I was seeing colors all around them. I'd recently read an article saying that people and other objects had an "aura" around them, and I wondered if that was what I was "seeing."

 I chalked it up to the effects of the acid, and it was, but it did seem to make sense in that the colors and patterns seemed to match the different people I was looking at. Most of my friends were fairly easygoing and peaceful, and their "auras" seemed to reflect that, but with subtleties. My mellow friends generally had colors in the blue-green range and the edges such as they were were fairly smooth. A few of my fierier friends had more oranges and reds and the outlines were more jagged. Some were a rainbow of both, but it did seem to go with their personalities to a T. 

 Years later when I learned about firing Raku clay with copper sulfate it reminded me of the aura thing. When copper sulfate is added to the kiln it vaporizes and bonds with the surface of the clay. It gives a rainbow of colors depending on the firing temperature. Cooler temps yield green and blue, warmer temps give yellow and orange and hotter temps give reds. It was the same with people. My "cooler" friends had auras that were mostly greens and blues while my "hotter" friends had more reds and oranges. 

  I thought that too was just an effect of the acid. It made sense that if I was seeing an hallucination that it would align itself to the individual. If I knew someone's personality already then it made sense I'd see an aura that matched. But then a "control" experiment presented itself. A bunch of people started coming in and most of them I didn't know. I thought I'd test it out on them. I'd pick people and take note of their auras, and if I got to meet them later I'd try to get a basic feel for their personalities, and again it seemed to match every time. Like my friends their auras were different. A few did look fairly similar to the cat painting, and of the people with those auras that I got to meet, true to form they all were complete loonies or assholes or angry people, and I avoided them like the plague. 

 I met some of those people through mutual friends and I saw them many times after that, and their personalities lined up with what I'd concluded the night of the party. In fact I met a young woman who had the most beautiful aura in the place, and I asked her out later. She was a friend of a friend and she was single. She matched her aura and I was crazy about her. She was a sweetheart with a very calming personality. We dated for almost a year before she was offered a scholarship to finish school elsewhere, and mover out west. We might still be together otherwise. She's an angel.

 

 After that night at the party I got more interested in the aura thing so I started looking into it and I discovered Kirlian Photography. By using special lighting and/or frequencies or special film or whatever, that can film auras, as in this image. It's basically electromagnetic energy and that can be picked up on film.

 What I saw at the party that night was basically a combination of these two images. It wasn't as jagged as the hand image or quite as smooth and halo-like as the image of the woman, but very similar. BTW I think I can dig her aura but I'd have to meet her to know for sure. 

 Hey, maybe the aura deal could be used in a pickup line. "My aura would like to get to know your aura. Aura you free this weekend?" Maybe I'll try that one of these days. Anyway what I saw looked very much like a combination of these two photos. It was incredible and it certainly seemed to lend some credibility to what I'd seen at the party.

 So are these substances only useful for getting high, or is there some knowledge we can glean? Again there were many ideas that came into my head when I was tripping that turned out to be true, and stayed with me long after the effects wore off. One thing I learned beyond a shadow of a doubt is that everything is connected, and in many, many ways. Not only do my experiences suggest it but science (SCIENCE) proves it.

 For an experiment to be valid it must be repeatable and the same results obtained. I experienced the same thing a couple other times under the same circumstances, and a couple of times when I was completely sober. Both of those times the general light level was low but they had some sort of funky light coming from somewhere. Maybe it was a light frequency that was similar to the Kirlian process. It wasn't as vivid as when I was tripping but it was definitely there and it looked exactly the same. Does that lend validity to the idea that there's some "truth" or lessons in a psychedelic experience? It's hard to say but there's enough evidence to at least think about. Anyway don't do drugs. Have a nice day. 

 

The Daily Bullshit: How the Bullshit Works (Masked Edition #1)

Here's how the bullshit works. Slowly people are starting to wake up to the fact that there just might be more to this mask thing than just a virus. A few weeks ago about 80% of people surveyed support the Draconian measures officials have taken on this issue, and I'm talking about things besides just wearing masks- shutting down the economy for example.

 To think that we can eradicate a virus that's already permeated the globe and will probably be thriving and mutating for centuries by locking everyone in their homes (or worse) is completely ludicrous, yet most people support these measures. When you're living in fear you can't think straight or make good decisions. It's a fact. 

  So what happens when people start asking logical questions like "Why am I wearing a mask while I'm driving my car?" or "Why am I wearing a mask when I'm in the great outdoors and 100 yards from anyone?" or "How the FUCK am I going to catch some disease when I'm by myself (and yet I'm still wearing a mask)?" Those who control the flow of information have to scramble to counteract that, so they put out nonsense like this:

  (from psypost.com) "Sociopathic traits linked to non-compliance with mask guidelines and other (19) containment measures." Really? Do people who ask the above questions sound like sociopaths to you? Am I a sociopath? Hardly. I'm a very sociable person. In fact I love people, which is why I'm putting my ass on the line trying to get people to think with their brains rather than from fear. People might not read an article in the PsyPost but very soon this general idea will make it into the mainstream news...I guarantee it. That's how it works. 

 It's called social-engineering, or brainwashing, and it's been going on for centuries, whether people understand it or not. Most people would never believe it goes on, much less that it's had an effect on them. Here's how it works. People will read one of these articles, or in most cases just the headline, which is all that's needed, and instantly their emotions will kick in, which precludes any chance of critical thinking. This also is fact. They'll go "Oh, there go those crazy people again." They'll be predisposed to ignore anything they say before they even say it, when what they're saying makes a hell of a lot more sense that the idea of wearing a mask outdoors or whatever. It's called programming, like it or not. It's okay if you've been fooled...we ALL have and we're all in the same boat. 

 Then there's this: "New research from Brazil has found that people who are unconcerned with adhering to measures to prevent the spread of (19) tend to display higher levels of traits associated with antisocial personality disorder, also known as sociopathy. The findings have been published in the journal Personality and Individual Differences." So now not only are people who ask logical questions sociopaths, but they also have a disorder. Again it's utter nonsense. It's a smokescreen and it's designed to stop people from asking questions. They'll think "Maybe I'd better not use my brain and think about what this headline says ('cause it sounds like bullshit), because I don't want people to think I'm a sociopath." That's how it works.

 Of course there are people who truly are suffering from some sort of mental condition and they'll do anything to rebel against anything. They might not wear a mask in public because that's just what they do, but anyone else, whom the article is talking about, and not the true sociopaths, are not "unconcerned." Most people realize that masks contain coughs and sneezes and that they make sense when in close quarters with other people, but the rest of the time they're useless, and shouldn't be worn. Have you looked into the disadvantages of wearing masks for long periods of time? It's right on the CDC's and the WHO's and other official sites, straight from the horses' mouths. Check it out for yourself. 

 About a third of the cars I see these days have a mask hanging from the rearview mirror. Ideally you should use a brand new mask each time you put one on (but thank God we don't do that...I'm not sure the landfills can handle the billions of masks coming their way as it is), but obviously they plan to use the same mask again. For how long...a day? A week? Longer? If the bad bugs have even been stopped by the mask to begin with then guess what...they're stewing in that mask, and it's going to be reused. I'm sorry but when I see a mask hanging on someone's rearview mirror I see a sign that says "FEAR ON BOARD." People aren't thinking if they think that mask is going to stay clean. I do realize that many of them are simply complying and would rather not be wearing a mask, but still they're buying into the fear whether they'd admit it or not.

 I've already posted the warning label from a box of M-19 masks that says that the masks don't protect the wearer from 19 or any other virus. It's right there in black and white, and yet I bet that same 75% of the people who don't see the problem with arresting people for being outdoors and shit like that think that masks do protect from the bug, just because we're being told to wear them all the time. A mask trying to stop a virus is like a chainlink fence trying to stop a bee from flying through...it doesn't work.

 Look at electron microscope images of the virus compared to the size of the gaps in the weave of the fabric and you can clearly see for yourself. It really is like a tiny bee compared to the holes in a chainlink fence. Masks won't keep you from getting sick. Sorry to say. People could read the warning a million times and still say "Well, facts don't matter. We have to wear a mask all the time because hey SAY we do," without ever seeing the problem

 And what about the goggles thing? Remember? Back in January when this was breaking here they said that the bug could be spread via eye contact, and that we should all be wearing goggles, but we're not. If you can catch it through your eyes, then what good are masks? Where are the goggles? And the social-distancing thing? Do you really think that six feet is the "Magic Protection Number" or something? Would seven feet be safer? Will five feet make you sick? It's an arbitrary number.

 A cough or a sneeze or even loud talking can send particles over twenty feet. I realize that masks protect from people sneezing and coughing but the 6' thing is a random number, and not backed by ANY scientific evidence whatsoever, because it can't be. It's arbitrary, yet we treat it as gospel, and automatically distance the proper space from the next person, like zombies  It's compliance by fear, and NOT any kind of scientific proof. In fact the scientific proof renders it totally invalid. It's clear to see if you can still think.

 Speaking of mask-talk back in January, an article came out about masks and facial hair. It flatly stated that if men were going to be wearing masks, ANY facial hair had to go. No one was wearing a mask at that point and the tone of the article was more relaxed than it would be now. It mentioned all the types of facial hair- beards, goatees and soul patches. It even mentioned Frank Zappa's legendary facial-hair feature, which I thought was cool. The article said that any facial hair would render the mask useless. It makes perfect sense. What about the gap around the masks? To really protect against a microscopic virus particle you'd need a sealed respirator system- essentially a re-breather, with an independent oxygen source. Again this is fact. People should easily see this.  

 

Then there's this bit of bullshit. If this isn't propaganda I don't know what it. This photo is from a tweet by Alyssa Milano. The fam is all masked-up and ready to go to the shopping mall or whatever. I'm not going to go back and find the entire quote but it started out saying "Protect yourself!" Protect yourself from what? Being thought of as having a brain in your head? 

 Look at that mask. She made it herself. Isn't she talented? Look closer. See those holes in the weave? That mask wouldn't protect against a swarm of gnats much less a virus. But she knitted it herself and that's just so cool. People will see that and go "That's great! Isn't she wonderful? Anyone who disagrees is a lunatic" instead of "Who the fuck is she kidding? What's that mask going to protect her from...being thought of as having a brain in her head?" This is straight-up propaganda, and bullshit. That's how it works. Plus the fact that apparently she's much more intellectually-challenged than Nature had intended, if she thinks her mask will keep out viruses or anything else. 

 Don't even get me started on that incredible campaign they've started about how wearing a mask 
"shows love." Does not wearing a mask show hate? That's what it implies. Again, more emotional triggers right off the bat, to stop critical thinking, which BTW is a dying art. It's how we used to survive, but now we have Google to do all our thinking for us. It's true. So, if you don't wear a mask, you don't love people? It's a fraud. It's deep, deep bullshit, but that's exactly the bullshit being spread. We're buying into it...at least around 75% of us are at this time. 

 Then there's the lockdown. We know that alcohol consumption has risen by over 40% so far. Ditto substances. The suicide rate is through the roof and the same goes for domestic abuse, depression and even murder. Right now there's a petition that's been signed by over 2,000 doctors so far, saying that the eventual death rate from the effects of lockdowns such as mentioned above, and things like not going to the doctor or dentist for routine checkups where a simple problem that could be fixed becomes life-threatening, poor health due to poor diet due to less money to spend on quality food, problems with more prescriptions for anxiety meds and a host of other things, will FAR exceed the actual deaths from the virus itself. It makes perfect sense to me, but then apparently I'm a sociopath and I have a disorder for talking about that.

 How can what these doctors say not make sense? And yet people will still react out of fear and they simply won't be capable of asking the same simple and logical questions. If our economy crumbles and our whole way of life (and our freedoms, don't forget) go away, then what's the point? As much as I don't want to catch this thing I'd rather take my chances with a virus that is highly unlikely to kill me, rather than a dead world. What we've already lost is tragic, and it's far from over, unless we stand up peacefully. 

 If you've even bothered to read this far, congrats and thanks. I don't see anything incorrect with this information, that is what I'm saying. I DO see fraud in what those headlines say, and anyone who can still think should have a problem with what they're saying. Are people who ask questions like "Why am I supposed to wear a mask outside in the fresh air?" sociopaths? Those articles say so. Are we to believe that bullshit? We can if we want. 

 Also if you've read this far, the next logical question would be, "If this is true, and there's more to it than so-called public safety, then why? What's really going on, and does the truth differ from what we're being told? Since that's a very good question I've been looking into that very thing for about two decades now. If you want to insult what intelligence I may have and tell me I'm full of shit and that I've been learning bad information from crazy people, for twenty years, than you're welcome to think that and I support your right to do so, but you'd be wrong.

 The thing is I'm not going to go into it here because the only way any of it made sense to me was actually looking into it, and doing a little homework. I don't mean checking Snopes or the first site that pops up on Google, because those things are entirely different stories and there's way too much to go into in this post. You have to do your own research if you care even a bit about getting to the real story. 

 If you don't give a shit and you only want to think that things couldn't possibly be any different than the official narrative says, then carry on and have a nice day. If you're even the least bit curious, and you should be, then have a look into this. The info is there for anyone to see, but you do have to dig deeper than CNN. I hope you'll at least spend a few minutes checking it out, but sadly and statistically you probably won't. Either way don't live in fear. It'll fuck you up. Take care, and get some fresh air. 

 

 

My experiences with the Grateful Dead (from a Non-Deadhead)

I have to say that for not ever being what I'd call a "Deadhead" I sure do have a lot to say about the band. I love their music and I thoroughly enjoyed seeing them live- the shows and also the temporary communities that sprang up in towns all across the US and the world wherever they played. I wish everyone could've experienced that.

 Interestingly I saw the Dead live way more than any other band, including bands I loved way more and saw many times. I saw them here in town and in nearby Atlanta, and I had an absolute blast traveling with a bunch of friends to see the Dead play in cities in different parts of the country including Hampton, Virginia and at Red Rocks in Colorado. The plane flights there and back alone were worth going.  

 I wasn't a real Deadhead for several reasons. Mainly there was other music that got my juices flowing a lot more to be honest- more powerful drumming, more intricate arrangements and many other reasons. Plus I was put-off by so many of the Deadheads who though that Grateful Dead music was the only valid music in the world and basically ignored so much other great music, much like "Jazz Snobs." So much music...so little time. I was into everything from Acid Jazz to Rock to Prog and I was really into Funk. The Dead was a great stopover along the way between genres. 

 Although I could appreciate it I certainly didn't have time to indulge in all the "religious" aspects the Deadheads endowed the music with. They'd trip out on things like changes in the songlist, or if Jerry did this or did that (The Fat Man Wobbles) and all kinds of minutia. They also loved to listen to every single bootleg they could get their hands on, which sometimes drove me to distraction. I remember driving ten hours to see them in Hampton. There were at least 15 of us and we took several cars. I rode with my good friend Stephen and three other people. After about 7-1/2 hours of driving and listening to nothing but bootleg soundboard tapes and hearing "Sugaree" for the tenth time I finally cracked and asked Stephen if we could please listen to something else for a minute. Luckily he wasn't offended and everyone else thought it was a nice breath of fresh air too. 

 Besides listening to 150 versions of the same song, which I can also understand, the thing about that to me was that they could be a little sloppy. I know that was part of the charm but to me it got old after a while. Sure they could be on fire and tight as hell and blow my mind sometimes but they weren't exactly consistent. That too was part of the charm but to me it was just sloppy. I was the antithesis of a Deadhead in that while I didn't give a shit if I ever heard another soundboard tape in my life, I absolutely adored their studio albums, and to many of the Deadheads the records were just a means of getting the songs together so they could be played live, and they didn't really dig the studio stuff nearly as much. 

 I loved their studio stuff because it was tight for one thing. It had to be, since a studio recording will be around for a long time. Plus I thought the songs were really good and sometimes great, and I appreciated them more and more as I listened more. I do get that the energy of the live shows was what it was all about and indeed they were considered to be a "live band," but from a song standpoint I really enjoyed the clean studio versions. I bet I played drums along to Shakedown Street about 850 times. The drumming was really good but mostly simple, and I love stuff with technical drumming, but the feel was amazing, and to me that's #1. 

 Speaking of studio albums and playing drums I have to relate a story from when I worked at the crazy restaurant. Even though as I said I'd later fall in love with Shakedown Street, in the early days of working there I hadn't played drums to a Dead record. I'd covered Dead songs in bands and I'd learned the songs but hadn't really bothered with analyzing the actual drum parts because it wasn't usually necessary. There were a bunch of true Deadheads there- my great bud to this day Andy, and Kimberly, Clark, Ronnie and several others. The restaurant was pretty wild and more informal at first, and we played whatever we wanted on the stereo, which was usually Grateful dead and Oingo Boingo, but mostly we played Dead during food-service hours. 

 I started really getting into Terrapin Station and especially the title track. It clocked in at something like twelve minutes and to me it was almost a "Prog" epic, especially for the Dead. I really got into hearing it just playing in the background, and like every other tune I like I started to memorize it, and I actually payed attention to the drum parts. It rocked and it grooved and it had little movements and tempo shifts and all, and for a song that did that it really had a beautiful flow. From hearing bits and pieces of the song when I was passing through the dining room I finally memorized it. 

 Andy lived in a huge, beautiful stone house that was less than two miles away. The basement door was always open for anyone at the restaurant who got too buzzed to drive home, and since I was close to the whole family I was over there all the time.  Sometimes if I was working a double I'd go over to Andy's and play drums for a couple of hours and go back to work. He had a really nice drum kit. One afternoon I did that and I decided that I was going to play drums to a Dead album for the first time, and that I was going to play "Terrapin Station, or "Terrapin" for short. 

 I don't remember how but a bunch of people found out about it and followed me to Andy's house. That was before the Internet and cellphones and such, so believe it or not that was considered to be entertainment. To me it was going to be something special, but I never thought it would be worth people actually driving over to watch, but it turned out to be amazing. I remember having a smile on my face because I knew it was going to be a treat, and maybe people picked up on that. It turned into a party. Most of my friends were off for the rest of the day so they stopped to grab some beers. I didn't ever like drinking in the daytime or especially before a shift so I didn't participate, but I'd guess a J or two was burnt. 

 I put on the headphones and everybody found a place to sit. I may have played a song or two to warm up; I don't remember, but I started into Terrapin pretty quickly. I played it note-for-note with a grin on my face the whole twelve minutes, and everybody clapped when I finished. I hate to use an overused word but it was really almost a "religious experience." I'm not really sure why but again the feel was incredible. There was passion and integrity and melody and beauty and a few twists and turns, and it really took me on a ride. I was glad that people wanted to share that with me and a good time was had by all. Pardon the detour...it's Dead-related anyway, and it was very personal. Now back to the band. 

 In each city, the day or the night before a show or series of shows, an entire city would spring up near the venue. It was usually in the parking lot but in a few cities where they were welcomed they stayed in the lots of nearby motels. It was like a tie-dye tent city. People fixed meals and did everything else people do, only in tents, and most of them followed the band all around the country for entire tours, for months on end. It was their whole existence. It may have been the closest thing we've seen to a "Utopian society" since the 60s. For the most part people were totally cool, but mostly they did whatever they wanted. 

 Drugs were sold openly, except in just a couple of places that tried to crack down on that stuff, and when the band found out they usually didn't play there again. Not because of the drugs but the oppression. When I say openly I mean openly. The cops knew there were too many people to bust so they left them alone as long as they weren't causing any trouble, and the vast majority weren't. It still blows my mind to this day when I can see clear images of guys in tie-dyes standing along the roads as far as five miles short of the venue, holding up entire sheets of acid; as many as 250 hits per sheet I think, and trying to sell them to anyone who looked like a Deadhead. They'd call out "SHEETS! Sheets for sale. SHEETS!" It was incredible. It sounds like a joke but I saw it pretty much every show. People bought them too. Back them most anything you could want was available, from weed to nitrous oxide to acid. TONS of acid.

 As far as the drug scene went at Dead shows, I have to admit I fully indulged. For better or worse it's just part of the experience for most people. If you're going to take psychedelics, it's pretty amazing to be doing it with a few thousand other people at the same time. It does tend to make it a much more transcendent; universal and personal yet shared experience. At all but one (as a control) of the roughly 15 shows I attended I fully indulged.

 Most times I liked to take 2-3 times more than what most people would take. I figured if I was going to commit the next six hours or so to a trip I might as well do it right. I didn't want to just see a few colors and tracers and then miss half a night's sleep...I wanted to see cartoons and shit. That philosophy held true for the Dead shows. I did skip taking stuff for one show, just to see if it was nearly as much fun, and I wish I hadn't done that. I still really enjoyed the show but it wasn't the same at all. I didn't feel "plugged-in" like I did tripping. You can say it was just the drugs, but I say there was a bit more to it than that. 

 At one show in Atlanta I saw skeletons climbing all over the rafters above the stage. I knew they weren't real of course but they appeared to be as real as anything else in the building, to the point that I'd have sworn they were part of the show. For all I know maybe they were there. At one of the daytime shows at Red Rocks I saw skeletons relaxing on top of the clouds, and about 100 rainbows in the sky. I also "saw" music coming out of the speakers as waves of color. The different colors, patterns and shapes of the waves seemed to match the music perfectly, like Synesthesia. It was incredible. 

 At one point during one of the RR shows for good measure I'd taken shrooms and acid. Really good acid. I was up and sort of moving-grooving like everyone else, and I could have sworn on the Good Book that I'd somehow managed to dance my way up or down as many as five rows, and I KNEW I'd done it because every so often I'd look around and see different people who actually were moving around from row to row, but then I'd look down and see my shoes and my water bottle and stuff, and I knew I hadn't gone anywhere. It happened several times and it got me every time. I "saw" quite a few other things at various shows but I'd have to say that the skeletons climbing in the rigging in Atlanta had to be the wildest thing I experienced. 

 As long as I'm telling a personal story that's way too long and that nobody will read anyway I might as well tell another story. It does relate to how the Dead fit in to my musical hierarchy. The three shows at Red Rocks were daytime shows, and Dire Straits played the night between the second and third shows. My friend Will and his girlfriend were supposed to fly out with us and they'd gotten tickets to Dire Straits, but they had to bail and gave the tickets to me. I was overjoyed. I took Andy's sister Jennifer, whom I was crazy about and still am to this day. We couldn't have had a better time. 

 As far as being lenient on substances I never personally saw anything like Red Rocks. I couldn't believe it but they'd let you bring anything liquid into the venue as long as it wasn't in a glass container. People would even bring in jugs of a purple liquid that was obviously mushroom tea, but they didn't care. They'd sell drugs five feet from a cop. Anyway we went to the store and got a fifth of Stoli and a gallon of OJ. I poured half the OJ out and filled it with vodka and took that in. It was right after they'd released "Money for Nothing," which is still a song I could listen to fifty times a day and never tire of it. When they launched into that the crowd went nuts. They even had Sting's voice beautifully piped in, singing "I want my MTV." It was glorious. 

 The night was incredible. From the venue you can look to either side and see for miles in both directions. Several miles off to our right there was an intense thunderstorm that was producing amazing lightning shows in the sky but not bringing a drop of rain. It also happened to be the peak of the Perseid meteor shower. The sky above us was clear and we saw meteors flying by the whole show. The upshot of telling this is that that one Dire Straits show was better than the three Dead shows combined, but don't tell any of my Deadhead buddies I said that. After the concert Jennifer and I went back to the hotel.

 We were the only ones who'd gone to Dire Straits. Everybody was doing shrooms and partying in Andy's room. They wanted us to join in but it was late and we were tired from having so much fun at the concert and we didn't want to commit to tripping for the next six hours when we needed to rest up for the show the next day, but they had a bag of dried shrooms with a lot of powder in the bottom, so we put that in a bong and smoked it. The effects come on  instantly as opposed to eating them, and luckily don't last nearly as long when smoked. Jennifer and I had had so much fun at the show that our jaws already hurt from grinning all night, but when the shroom-bongs kicked in we started laughing again. A classic old horror-spoof called "The Ghost and Mr, Chicken" came on and we all watched that tripping on shrooms. It was a great way to end the night. 

 At the risk of being a name-dropper I have to mention my dear friend the one-and-only Dr. Bernie. He's a direct link to the band and a close mutual friend, especially to Jerry. For several years Bernie was my orthodontist and the same goes for Jerry. I can say that Jerry Garcia and I had the same orthodontist. That's my claim to fame. The Dead were coming here to B'ham and as usual Bernie was going to be spending the day with Jerry and the boys. I'd just started dating a friend of his named Anne. She was an angel. In fact she may have been too much of one. 

 Bernie invited me to come along and hang out with the band before and after the show and have dinner somewhere later. I was thrilled to be invited but it obviously wasn't as much of a thrill as it would've been for a true head. A few days before the show I was talking to Bernie and he was filling me in on a few details about what went on backstage at shows. He said that it was always very important that all the newbies learn which water cooler was which. One of them contained water. The other one contained water plus a big shot of pure LSD-25. I had to laugh at that. They did the same amount every time and they let the new guys know roughly how much to take to get to this or that level. Nobody gave a shit. It's a true story. 

 As it turned out I broke up with Anne about three days before the concert. It was bad timing but we'd been dating long enough to take it to the next level and become a thing, and we were planning to hang out for the next couple of days. She truly was a genuine sweetheart. We got along great and we really did like each other a lot. She was marrying material. The problem was that I was just getting started playing music full-time and all that goes with that, and I honestly didn't know if I could be faithful to her, knowing the temptations I knew'd be coming. I wanted to be faithful but I wasn't sure I could be.

 I'm pretty certain she'd have been totally faithful to me and I didn't want to hurt her for anything in the world. Plus I knew we'd most likely be talking about some serious stuff after the night was over, still probably tripping, and I just didn't know what to say so I broke up with her. I didn't mean to hurt her but I did, and I thought it best not to go with them to the show. I went but I sat by myself. I was really looking forward to hanging out with the Dead and drinking from the magic water cooler and meeting Mickey and Billy and talking drums and Jerry of course and whatever else, but it didn't happen. Too bad. 

 I did get to meet Bob Weir when he was in town with his band Ratdog. I sat at the table right next to him. We had a beer and talked a bit and he wasn't really unfriendly but he wasn't overly-friendly either. His mind was elsewhere because he was waiting on an oh-zee of blow to arrive for him and the band. When it finally arrived he took off and that was that. I hate that shit anyway, and I'd already met enough "Rock Stars" by then to know that they can be just as big of a prick as anyone else, and meeting them has never been that huge of a deal. It didn't come close to hanging out out and actually be able to trip with the Grateful Dead but I did get to meet Bobby. I didn't ask for his autograph.

 One of the most fun times I had at a show was actually a show I didn't see. There were three shows in Hampton but for some reason I didn't have tickets for all three shows. It wasn't a big deal and I planned to get a ticket even if I had to pay extra. I had plenty of cash but when I went scouting for a ticket they were asking over a hunj, which was a lot back then. Of course there was the occasional and legendary "miracle," where a total stranger would walk up to someone looking for a ticket, even if they were high-priced and almost non-existent, and hand them a ticket for free and smile and walk away. I saw it happen several times. 

 Anyway I had plenty of money but I wasn't about to pay that much to see the Dead (sorry guys). My friends couldn't believe I wouldn't pull out all the stops and pay stupid money for a ticket or stand there like a fool hoping for a "miracle." It was almost sacrilege to them but it wasn't that important, and I was getting to see the other two shows. They worried about me being by myself but I didn't mind that at all. I thought I'd have a walk around the town and grab dinner. I came back to the room on the second floor of a motel a few blocks from the venue. Since I wasn't going to the concert I didn't take any psychedelics. I smoked a bowl and went out on the balcony to get some air and check out the sights in a different town. 

 Hampton was one of the towns that really embraced the band and especially the Deadheads. The Dead played there often and they'd gotten to know the fans and realize they were good people, plus they appreciated the extra four days of cashflow into the local economy. They welcomed the fans at a couple or three of the local motels with "Welcome Deadheads" signs. We stayed at the main one. There were still tents but not nearly as many. At least half the people stayed in the motels. I'm sure it was nice to have a real shower and such and I'm sure they'd worked it into their budgets. 

 Our motel was 100% Deadheads. They booked the rooms in advance and basically took over for 3-1/2 days until checkout time after the last show. The first thing everybody did was take down the curtains and put up tie-dye sheets. It had become a tradition and it was beautiful to see. There were a couple-dozen or so people milling about in the courtyard of the motel. Apparently they didn't want to pay crazy money for tickets either. Somebody broke out a Frisbee and pretty soon we were tossing it back and forth across the courtyard. I can toss a decent Disc, and some of us were doing some pretty cool trick shots. I was on the second floor and I'd throw the Frisbee down hard at an angle and it would skip across the courtyard and up to the second floor on the other side. We had a great time talking about where we were from and things like that. Deadheads were generally very good people. 

 I could faintly hear the music from a few blocks away and if I paid attention I could tell what a few of the songs were. That in itself was an interesting way to listen to the Dead for me, and certainly cheaper than paying over $100 for a ticket. We heard the final roar as the band finished their set and then came back for an encore. Just then a huge storm rolled in. It was still a way off and it didn't start raining for 45 minutes or so but the lightning was intense and it was moving rapidly our way. The concert let out just as the lightning really started booming overhead. The huge crowd was headed back but still a few blocks away. Every time the lightning would flash and the thunder would boom everyone would cheer and clap. It cracked me up and it was fantastic. I realized that I was with a bunch of people who were also Nature-heads like me, and it was pretty cool. Again please don't tell anyone but I had at least as much fun not seeing a show as I did seeing one. Good times. 

 Something happened after a show in Atlanta and it was one of the coolest things I experienced in my whole time of seeing the Dead live. I went with my good buddy Sean, from the crazy restaurant. They played at the Omni. It was a great show but for some reason I didn't get nearly as dosed-up as I did for most of the other shows. Sean and I split three hits of acid I think, and we smoked some kind. After the show several thousand people headed out in all directions and spread out over the city of Hotlanta. 

 We parked about six blocks away. Normally it was a bad part of town after dark but with all the people and the cops on duty, the bad guys didn't try to mess with anyone, but they were there in full force trying to sell dope. We'd gone about three blocks. The people around us were starting to thin a bit but there were a couple-hundred on our block and spread out all over the city. You could hear people talking and laughing and everyone was in a great mood. 

 Sean looked over at me and said "Watch this." He started clapping the rhythm to the song "Not Fade Away." It goes "Clap, clap, clap...clap-clap. It's called the Clave Beat or the "Bo Diddley" beat. It's the "Shave and a haircut...two bits" thing. Within about five seconds several thousand people that by then were spread out over about nine city blocks all started clapping the rhythm in time. As a drummer I loved it greatly. I'm sure it had happened before but Sean did that just for me and I thought it was one of the coolest things I'd ever witnessed. That Sean. 

 Once I almost got to see a Dead show. My BFF Tut from the crazy restaurant and I showed up as usual for a Friday night shift. It was a very rare night where not much was on the books, and they offered to cut Tut and me loose if we wanted to go. We knew there was a Dead show that night in Atlanta, so we got a wild hair up our butts and decided to drive over. The problem was the show was starting in less than three hours, and we'd lose an hour going to Eastern time. Atlanta was almost a three-hour drive back then, so we knew we'd have to fly. It was no problem because Tut had one of the first Honda CRXs, and it was a fast-ass car. Tut wanted to have a few on the way over so I drove.

 I drove 115mph that is. That car was made to go that fast, and we had to break the speed limit by a bit if we were to make it in time. We didn't have tickets either. I said a prayer for no cops, licked my thumb, grabbed the gearshift and let that bitch fly. I loved driving that car and luckily Tut trusted me with his baby. We flew like the wind to Atlanta. Tut could drink back then but he never did drugs in his life. He didn't like smoking pot even so he was afraid to try anything stronger. 

 That fact made it all the more strange when, about ten minutes away and still hauling ass in the CRX, I pulled a hit out of my wallet and dropped, and much much to my surprise Dave asked if he could have a hit. I was shocked but I gave him one. I guess maybe the same wild hair that made us decide that it was a good idea to drive 115 on the highway to try to catch a Dead show was the same wild hair that made him decide to try acid. I never really knew why he wanted to try it, but stranger things have happened. I asked him if he were sure and he said he was so I gave him a dose and he ate it.

 We pulled up to the venue (the Omni again I think) but the show had already started. There wasn't a soul selling tickets, which was odd, except that if I remember correctly the doors were already locked. We decided to head back home. One of our favotite bands in the world, the Cast, was playing. We'd planned to see them after work anyway, and frankly while we saw almost every local show they did and rarely saw the Dead, I was way more into the Cast than the Dead. Shhhh...don't tell. 

 As I got back on the highway the acid started to kick in. I'd basically forgotten I'd taken it, and the shock of Tut taking it hit me again. I knew that if I was getting off he was too, but an odd thing happened. He denied ever feeling any effects from the acid. I thought maybe it was just taking longer for him, plus he'd had a couple of beers by then and I thought maybe he mistook the early effects of the acid as just being buzzed on alcohol, but he said he never got off. 

 Anything is possible and everyone's chemistry is different but I never knew anyone to take acid and not feel it. It's just too powerful, at least if it's good, and this was. I was starting to really get off. Unlike many people I loved driving while tripping, even heavily. It was like being in a video game. I'd have imaginary lasers with FIRE buttons on the steering wheel, and I'd have endless fun shooting imaginary (but very real-looking) beams at all the other cars. Usually they'd fire back at me. It was a blast. I was really enjoying driving Tut's car and I wanted to go fast again. "Mind if I romp it?" "Sure." 

 I got the car back to around 115 again. The CRX turned into a spaceship and pretty soon I was blasting away at cars. Tut was cracking up hearing me describe my imaginary battles with the other car'spaceships..."LOOK OUT!" I was certain he had to be getting off too, especially considering how high I was, but he said he didn't feel anything. Then things changed. 

 Tut had a half-tank or so of fuel. He meant to fill up when we decided to drive to Atlanta but he forgot. I should have paid attention myself but it wasn't my car and I didn't think about it. About 25 miles out of Atlanta the engine sputtered. I looked at the gas gauge and it was pegged on E. Luckily that was the problem although it's a bit different running out of gas at 115mph than it is running out at 70. I had to fight the car a bit but it was fine. I pulled onto the shoulder and hit the flashers. The nearest gas station was one we'd passed about five miles back. We found a container and started walking. 

 The night was nice and clear and it wasn't that big of a deal to walk. I was tripping good by then and I was rather enjoying it. I love looking at the sky and even with the highway lights it was beautiful. Tut was laughing and saying a few things that sounded a bit "extra funny," but still he insisted he hadn't felt anything. We'd gone a mile or two when I saw a train approaching from about a mile away. I said "come on" and we took off running to the bridge. We leaned out over the edge and watched the entire train pass underneath us. 

 It was intense. I'm sure it would've scared the shit out of some people, tripping or not, but we were digging it. We were whooping it up and cheering on the train. Again I'm glad we didn't see any cops. After the train passed we resumed walking and talking and we got to the gas station before we knew it. We filled the container and paid for the gas. A kind soul offered us a ride back to the car and that saved us an hour or so. We poured the container into the tank and turned around and headed back to the gas station to fill up, followed by the good Samaritan. We filled up and turned back around and headed for home. Well, the club actually. I got the CRX back up to full speed and resumed my Car Wars. We got back into town in time to catch the second song of the first set from the Cast. It was another example of probably having more fun not seeing a show as seeing one. Shhhh...mum's the word. 

 Then there's the direct effect the Dead had on my music, specifically playing live. As I mentioned I played a lot of Dead tunes in several bands. Lots of other bands back then did too. When the Grateful Dead played live they'd take great liberties with some of the songs. They'd go into jams and it could be totally different on any given show. We took full advantage of that and we really took it out some nights. We might start a song, go into a jam, play snippets from a few other songs if the mood struck and then go back and finish the song.

 I remember one night we played the song "Playing in the Band." It's a classic and it can be stretched to fuck and back if you want. We started off the tune and played until the Dead normally went into the jam part. We played a couple of verses and choruses and then went into a 15-minute jam. Then the guys all dropped out, which meant that they were roping me into a drum solo and I had no choice, so I played about a five-minute solo, and luckily it was one I enjoyed. I was feeling froggy so toward the end of my solo I went into the drum beat that begins the legendary Dave Brubeck tune "Take Five." We played the song anyway although I was just doing the beat as a tease, but the other guys joined in so we went straight into the song, complete with yet another drum solo. We finished Take Five and then morphed back into the Jam from "Playing in the Band," and then went back to the verse and chorus and finally finished the song. It lasted almost an hour and that set was one long continuous piece of music, at least for me. 

 I did learn some of Billy and Mickey's drum parts but I never tired to emulate then and that wasn't the point anyway. Stay true to the spirit of the song but make it fresh and make it your won...that's what I got from those guys. They weren't the only band to do that but they took it to extremes that few others did. From the Dead drummers I learned a lot, if somewhat indirectly. Jamming made us have to listen to each other more closely, so we could turn on a dime and do it together as one unit if possible. It made me more willing to take chances and try to get the rest of the band to take a leap of faith and jump off the cliff with me and see where it would take us. The Dead were really good at that sort of thing. I appreciate the "lessons." Playing Dead tunes was always a blast and I got to pay tribute to the Shakedown Street record by singing two songs from it- the title track and "I Need a Miracle."

 The Dead will never die. Members of the band have played in various combinations since Jerry's death, after a respectful and heartfelt mourning period of course, and they were still playing, until recently that is. More than that we'll have their music, which includes about a billion bootlegs. More still I hope that something remains of the general vibe at the shows, because that kind of vibe is sadly disappearing in this country and everywhere else. That's one reason I'm talking about this. Music history fascinates me and I love reading about bands, so maybe someone will get something out of this. 

 The community vibe of the Deadheads was impressive. They weren't perfect...some of them sold drugs to support themselves, but for what it's worth almost all Deadheads frowned upon the use of what I call the "stupid" drugs like heroin and meth. They helped each other out, and every now and then there was a miracle. I'll always have a place in my heart for a girl in a tie-dye. I'm a little sad that the kids today will never get to experience anything like a Dead show, because that was a once-in-a-lifetime deal. If a few old-timers can at least share that history with people, maybe some of that spirit can be kept alive. Deadhead or no I'm extremely grateful I got to be a small part of that community. It was inspiring and amazing and wonderful. 

 Well this definitely was a heck of a lot to say about the Dead for a non-Deadhead. Maybe I'm really a Deadhead at heart. It's rare that a band comes along and there will never be another even remotely like them before or after, not to mention a band that carried its own community around with it...that could never be duplicated. If someone tries to tell you that the Dead are ancient history and aren't worth learning about, don't take that deal. Don't you let that deal go down. RIP Jerry, Donna, Keith, Pigpen, etc. The rest of y'all who are left...I hope you carry on forever. Happy Trails. Viva the Dead. Peace.