Deadheads are a special breed. Without them we wouldn’t have half the stereotypes about recreational drug users. So I guess they’re good for something. But not much. I wish someone would do an FBI profile on deadheads. Why are they so enthusiastic about something so mundane? Why are they so resistant to closed toe shoes and basic grooming? Do they ever get tired of 17 minute songs? And what is the obsession with conforming to such a large group of non-conformists?
You can imagine the fireworks that ensued last Friday when two Garcia Disciples connected eyes at the local dive bar. One donned tie-dye dancing bear socks wrapped in his favorite pair of Tevas. The other was wearing a hemp bracelet with a ‘Dead bead woven into it. Subtle but enough to alert fellow members of their clan. They would spend the next 90 minutes trading opinions on live renditions that took place before either of them were born. The enthusiasm rivaled that of two Phish fans having the exact same conversation. Everyone at the bar was glad they sequestered themselves into their own booth. But it lead me to think. Where the hell is all this clothing coming from?
Never has there been a group with so much merchandise attributed to them. I have to say, the ability to market an actual dead guy for the last 30 years has been really impressive. You’re hard pressed to find a Subaru without a dancing bear sticker or a clothing company that hasn’t done a Grateful Dead collaboration. From Hawaiian shirts to ski goggles, those hippies have left their mark on everything. And for what? A group of guys without shoes on playing guitar to a crowd of guys without shoes on. (Don’t even think about stealing that one, Seinfeld). Sponging off a dead visionary is quite lucrative if done correctly I suppose. Courtney Love really missed an opportunity when you think about it.
I’ll leave you with one of the best bumper stickers I’ve ever seen.
Jerry’s dead, Phish sucks, Get a job.
-publius
The Huck 