Now here’s the weird part: the vast majority of these crowds were not wheezy old dudes (like the band are). They were bona fide young people. Since re-forming sans Jerry, the Dead have grossed $50 million. We have no problem with the Dead making money. In fact, some of us here like old Dead records. We do have a problem with these children of boomers treading fucking water by listening to the same exact songs their parents did in the same exact way.



When Jerry died, there were people on Haight Street who were literally dropping to their knees and screaming “JERRRRYYYYY. NOOOO!” at the sky like when the first Kim Jong Il died. Only North Koreans are all completely fucking insane and these guys on Haight Street were our age. What gives?

Hippie culture is ME culture. It’s all about decorating yourself and thinking about yourself and doing lots of acid so you can get introspective and think about yourself. It’s like you’re living on the planet you.



A Dead show is all about scalpers selling tickets to people with mall-bought peace signs and crystals on their necks, the worst weed imaginable at the highest price ever, and gnarled OG Dead fans trying to fuck 17-year-old hippie girls (they probably know their mom and dad from the old days).



It’s OK to lobotomize yourself with drugs if you’re really fucking smart and talking to other people is way too boring. But when you’re taking massive amounts of acid on a nightly basis just so you can find yet another 20-minute guitar solo interesting, you might want to take a long look in the mirror.



The whole merry-pranksters and psychedelic-clowns shit is just a feeble excuse to act like a toddler again.



Dead parking lots are rampant with people hawking lame wares and services.



The best part is that overalls chick there will not only be sitting still for HOURS while the Grace Slick wannabe plays with her hair, but she also probably paid her to do it.