Bring Me The Head Of Jerry Garcia
Someone stole the late Grateful Dead leader's master-bathroom toilet from a California driveway.
Garcia's salmon-colored toilet was the subject of a legal battle before it was finally moved to Sonoma, to await shipment to a Canadian casino.
It's unclear if the toilet was swiped by a wayward Deadhead or a thief remodeling a bathroom. Police have no suspects or leads.
No doubt pissed off at the potential loss of its $2,550 investment, Goldenpalace.com, infamous for plunking down 25 grand for Bill Shatner's kidney stones, is offering a $250 reward for the return of the commode.
My second thought (I won't share the first) at reading this story was, "Wait, didn't someone write a song, way back when, called 'Bring Me The Head Of Jerry Garcia'?" (That title, in turn, brings to mind the 1974 Sam Peckinpah movie Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia, but I'm not going to digress that far. Classic Peckinpah, though, and if you like that sort of thing--which, at one time, I did--you should see it.)
Anyway, sure enough, my mind--which these days can't seem to retain half of the names of my kindergartner's classmates' mommies for more than a minute or two--had recalled correctly: Archie Brown and the Bucks had indeed recorded such a song in the mid-'80s.
Bring me the head of Jerry Garcia
He plays guitar like diarrhea
He's dumb as a doorknob and a ton overweight
That's why they call him the dreadful grate
He can't fingerpick because his hand's incomplete
He needs two drummers just to find the beat
His words are as solid as a cloud of smoke
If that guy is deep, then I'm the pope!
Bring me the head
Bring me the head
Bring me the head of Jerry Garcia
Bring me the head
Bring me the head
Bring me the head of Jerry Garcia
Dead!...Head!...Dead!...Head!...Dead!
Bring me the head of the Grateful Dead
His fans think the sixties are a tire retread
From Frisco to Red Rocks, from N.Y. to Wembley
They dance around in circles like a Moonie assembly
They eat lots of reds and vitamin C
They drink cheap wine laced with LSD
They drop and snort but without any luck
Because whatever they're on - the Dead still suck!
Bring me the head
Bring me the head
Bring me the head of Jerry Garcia
Bring me the head
Bring me the head
Bring me the head of Jerry Garcia
Dead!...Head!...Dead!...Head!...Dead!
Now, I actually liked the Dead well enough and hold no animus toward the band's fans. But these lyrics do have a certain charm, don't you think?
I can't recall why I would have known about this song, given my musical proclivities at the time, except that I wasn't too many years away from my college radio days and still had friends deeply involved in that scene.
In any case, news story and song alike sure gave me a good laugh today, when I'm so far behind that my entire week's schedule is probably already in the, well, crapper.
Ah, well, I will get by; I will survive.
Garcia's salmon-colored toilet was the subject of a legal battle before it was finally moved to Sonoma, to await shipment to a Canadian casino.
It's unclear if the toilet was swiped by a wayward Deadhead or a thief remodeling a bathroom. Police have no suspects or leads.
No doubt pissed off at the potential loss of its $2,550 investment, Goldenpalace.com, infamous for plunking down 25 grand for Bill Shatner's kidney stones, is offering a $250 reward for the return of the commode.
My second thought (I won't share the first) at reading this story was, "Wait, didn't someone write a song, way back when, called 'Bring Me The Head Of Jerry Garcia'?" (That title, in turn, brings to mind the 1974 Sam Peckinpah movie Bring Me the Head of Alfredo Garcia, but I'm not going to digress that far. Classic Peckinpah, though, and if you like that sort of thing--which, at one time, I did--you should see it.)
Anyway, sure enough, my mind--which these days can't seem to retain half of the names of my kindergartner's classmates' mommies for more than a minute or two--had recalled correctly: Archie Brown and the Bucks had indeed recorded such a song in the mid-'80s.
Bring me the head of Jerry Garcia
He plays guitar like diarrhea
He's dumb as a doorknob and a ton overweight
That's why they call him the dreadful grate
He can't fingerpick because his hand's incomplete
He needs two drummers just to find the beat
His words are as solid as a cloud of smoke
If that guy is deep, then I'm the pope!
Bring me the head
Bring me the head
Bring me the head of Jerry Garcia
Bring me the head
Bring me the head
Bring me the head of Jerry Garcia
Dead!...Head!...Dead!...Head!...Dead!
Bring me the head of the Grateful Dead
His fans think the sixties are a tire retread
From Frisco to Red Rocks, from N.Y. to Wembley
They dance around in circles like a Moonie assembly
They eat lots of reds and vitamin C
They drink cheap wine laced with LSD
They drop and snort but without any luck
Because whatever they're on - the Dead still suck!
Bring me the head
Bring me the head
Bring me the head of Jerry Garcia
Bring me the head
Bring me the head
Bring me the head of Jerry Garcia
Dead!...Head!...Dead!...Head!...Dead!
Now, I actually liked the Dead well enough and hold no animus toward the band's fans. But these lyrics do have a certain charm, don't you think?
I can't recall why I would have known about this song, given my musical proclivities at the time, except that I wasn't too many years away from my college radio days and still had friends deeply involved in that scene.
In any case, news story and song alike sure gave me a good laugh today, when I'm so far behind that my entire week's schedule is probably already in the, well, crapper.
Ah, well, I will get by; I will survive.
