The Eve Of On Sales Creates Added Paranoia


Dead Heads everywhere are practicing their typing skills and sharpening their eyes in hopes of reading confusing security images and typing words like “asickim adTechni” in order to breakthrough the often times impenetrable uterus of life and death known as Ticketmaster. People are gathered at the starting line of CID Entertainment’s website in greater numbers than the New York Marathon begging for a chance to take it right in the leather cheerio by the corporate scalper masquerading as an “Entertainment Enhancement Specialist”. While waiting by his computer at the CID Website since February 3rd, dental floss tycoon Frank said, “Don’t fool yourself… It’s goin right up your poop chute!” Frank was hoping to score a Golden Road package and attend with his Uncle Remus whose fro is finally full grown. Others are hoping to score the more modest Workingman’s Dead package which ensures you’ll have lousy seats but a clean hotel.

Those of us with hundreds upon hundreds of shows under our belt remember when the “entertainment enhancements” included sticky purple buds and only Dead Heads had them. Nowadays they’re roasting the high grade cheeba at Justin Bieber concerts. Boy band shows once provided fireworks by the abundance of seeds exploding as cheap mexican dirt weed that was readily available in the parking lot was huffed by the stiffs in attendance. Over the next 24-48 hours, the kids you sold overpriced Mexican weed to decades ago will be selling you overpriced concert packages.

According to our internet specialist here at The Official Home Of Unofficial Grateful Dead News, The announcement of the 50th Anniversary shows have instantly and singlehandedly cured over 30,000 men of their porn addictions literally overnight. Nights that were once spent staring mindlessly at erotica while chopping more wood than a lumberjack with a new axe are now spent complaining like old jewish grandmothers when there’s a draft in the house. The pent up frustration is now expressing itself in endless posts across multiple message boards about everything that’s wrong with everything The Dead has done and are doing, about everything that’s happened in the world since August 9, 1995. Somehow, people with opinions that stink worse than a Port-a-John made of Limburger cheese are under the impression that we all want to hear from them now that they’re no longer spending their nights dedicated to self gratification.

While many are busy complaining about not getting their money orders back in time for the internet sale date, I have one thing to say, Did you plan on rubbing your cash against the screen if tickets came up? Maybe your were planning on using a debit card after you deposited your cash back into the bank? Either way, if you don’t have a credit card you can use until you receive your refunded money orders within the next week or so, it’s not The Dead’s fault that you’re a complete and total spun out and financially irresponsible wreck, it’s your own damn fault. Rest assured, nobody wants to hear from you either…

As the quest for tickets comes to a massive head over the next few days, you can be guaranteed that there definitely won’t be a shortage of whining and complaining. Intermittently as I type this report I have 16 browsers open and am hitting refresh on all of them every minute or so. 17 year old kids, that type random security codes really fast, will become gangster like scalpers starting shortly after noon on Saturday thanks to StubHub. StubHub is solely responsible for training a generation of prepubescent kids how to be the Playahs they always dreamed of being! Like getting an internet degree for Virtual Thugness! If we were all very smart, we’d let the scalpers buy all of the tickets on Saturday and then ignore tickets altogether until June. By then we could buy them back at half price. It’s too late and we’re too far down the rabbit hole though… One way or another this darkness got to give…

With Love That Never Ends,


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Grateful Dean


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