Facebook wants to root out bad actors on its site. Fine, then, Good Will Hoodie at Facebook/AKA Zit Face Zuck should start with forcing Deadheads to take lie detector tests to figure out whether their fake news hippies or not.
Bernie Sanders, good senator or bad? Good. Wrong, Vermont’s state motto should be changed from the Green State to CBD Oil Only. Bernie Sanders couldn’t even make Vermont great for Potheads on vacation.
Ithaca College, good school or bad? Good. Wrong, Ithaca is Cornell’s retarded next door neighbor, who’s got 10,000 burnouts stuck in its head.
Grateful Dead masks, good or bad? Good. Wrong, suicide rates among kids post COVID strip your Dancing Bear mask of all campy appeal, far from centered Yogi.
Baby Boomer grandparent who went to Woodstock but never bothered to visit the Grand Canyon, after retiring to Scottsdale, Arizona 10 years ago, good hippie or bad hippie? Good. Wrong, Boomer in this instance is a fake news hippie. I don’t care if your Bob Dylan radio station on Pandora suggests otherwise.
Forced vax mandates, good or bad? Good. Wrong, then again you had no problem with the Merry Prankers spiking people’s drinks with acid without their consent, so as Hillary Hammer Time Cankles would say, “What difference does it make?” Challah, thank you very much.
We should abolish security pat downs at Grateful Dead cover band shows. Because frisking lost in time Deadheads for drugs is culturally biased against Bernie Bros who graduated from the University of Vermont bro.
Capital Police guy at the Capital Theatre pats me down before a show and takes out my zip lock bag with my weed edible in it. He says, “What’s this?” I said, “Melatonin gummies in case I want to sleep off a bad trip post COVID damage done man.” Security Guy says, “It’s not Melatonin. Besides, you don’t have to worry about that in New York state anymore.” I fire back with, “Then, why are you giving me a fake news panic attack about it? As if the weed edible I dropped prior didn’t already unmask my pot head eyes.” Challah, thank you very much.
I hate Deadheads who act like they’re on a 1st name basis with the band. Jerry shouldn’t have kept touring after his coma. Bobby won his battle against his dyslexia through visions of becoming Tom Cruise of the steel guitar during the acid tests in Palo Alto. Giving up drinking has done wonders for Phil’s complexion. Phil no longer looks like he’s been dropped in a vat of acid like the Toxic Avenger. Phil is modeling skin products for Korean Vogue now called Sunshine Booming. Or is the campaign on Instagram called, Face Off With Bukowski, during his drying out years in San Pedro, I forget man.
Deadhead girls are humorless bores to. A girl taps me on my shoulder from behind, yet it was more of a friendly grope and says, “You’re tall.” 2 seconds later she’s shaking her ass in my general direction, bumps up next to me and says, “You’re 6 feet 4, right?” I said, “Correct, it’s too bad ANTIFA doesn’t burn bras or else I’d have a birds eye view of your Flying Saucer tits.” She spun off to a safe space where the Deadhead name droppers never stop. So anywhere outside of my standing on the moon plane of existence really, as I thought 2 seconds later, I’d rather be at home with my record player and Alexa than with you.
1st set was more uneven than Chief Happiness Officers for CNN these days. During intermission, I strike up a conversation with a Deadhead from Long Island, who did so much name dropping, I’m surprised he didn’t cite John Mayer’s hair stylist. I still can’t get enough of social distancing, especially among name dropping Deadheads who never stop, from yenta breath country in Long Island no less, who act is if their concert adventures are the greatest stories ever told despite them being punch free musings from an unfunny sounding Paul Reiser. What a buzzkill laden trip this has been.