Be It Resolved

New Year’s! That one day when all seven billion of us celebrate together, except for the six billion that don’t.

TotD brings you a collection of resolutions made over the years by the Dead. Few know–mostly because of the duplicitous forces of Big Dead. You’ll not see this information printed ANYWHERE GOOD MEN O’ CHRISTENDOM DO GATH’R!

Gotten into the fine champagne a bit early, huh?

How can you deny my mighty truth? Big Dead is LAUGHING AT US. It’s all right there: their arrogance, their condescension…do you know what “Lemieux” means?

No.

“The best.” THE BEST! He’s just putting it right out there! And you know what “David” means, right?

No.

It’s an Aramaic word that means “I hold the secrets of a lineup-fluid improvisational combo that specialized in jazzy boogy-woogy kinda nonsense and committing feloniesand you can’t have them, so suck on my great white northern balls and eat my poutine–fucking EAT IT UP–and America is the worst country on the continent (and, you know: Mexico, so that’s a high fucking bar to clear) and if I saw an eagle, I would eat it because Canada is the best and I am the.”

Fuck you so much.

So, then…with the last name meaning “the best,” you just–

Shut up.

–put the whole phrase together.

…

And you get, “I hold the secrets–

I was on your side for this one, but if you repeat that, I’ll hurt you.

Anycow…loyal readers will remember that I was kidnapped and taken to the Vault by DL and Sir Nicholas von Merriweather, MLS. (They will also remember that I forgot to finish that particular thread of weirdness and libel, but I won’t hold it against them.)

TotD managed to penetrate the hidden room of the Vault: the super-secret, highly-secured inner sanctum: The Oy Ge-Vault. Over the coming year, we’ll be exploring these finds. As a taste, here are various resolutions made by the Grateful Dead over the years:

  • The band resolved to top the Wall of Sound by building the Vehicle Assembly Building of Sound, a PA system so massive that it contained its own weather systems.
  • Give Lenny Hart another chance.
  • No more balloons for Bobby. He lets them go, and then he cries right in front of the groupies.
  • Stop sneaking into Vince’s hotel room dressed as the grim reaper while he’s sleeping. He’s not even frightened anymore, just despondent. This resolution was mostly Mickey, but everyone had done it at least once, even Garcia, accidentally. (He was wearing a hoodie and just wandered into the wrong room.)
  • Discuss with Phil the difference between “friend of mine” and “friend of ours,” re: Ned Lagin.
  • Eat.
  • Pray.
  • Love.
  • Shower. (That one’s a Keith special.)
  • Remove the ditto machine from Billy’s room, or at least get him to stop printing The Daily Dickpuncher, a bi-weekly memo of what’s going on in Billy’s life, head, heart, and hotel room, complete with disturbingly graphic details of things he had to done to, in , or on people. For example, after a show in Los Angeles, Billy ran into some pornographic actresses, which meant everyone else had to wake up to a blotchy mimeograph stapled to their door containing  the phrase “professionally capacious rectum” and that’s not how to greet the day.
  • Break it off with Bobby. (Mrs. Donna Jean only.)
  • Tell Bobby how I really feel. (Mickey only.)
  • Keep being Bobby. (Bobby.)
  • Not kill Bobby. (Garcia only.)
  • Kill Bobby. (Phil.)
  • Ricky Bobby. (Will Ferrell.)
  • This year, let’s just open the phone book with our eyes closed and pick a manager at random. It can’t go any worse than it already has with the Friends and Family system we’ve been using, can it?
  • Play somewhere  else like Egypt. Ideas thrown around were: Stonehenge, Paperhenge, Scissorhenge, Gamehenge, Times Square, Time Square (that is the nexus of realities accesible only through Time Sheath tech: keep up, man!), the Forest Moon of Endor, the Dark Side of the Forest Moon of Endor, the Forest Whitaker of Endor, the actual Moon, Why don’t we do the show right here?, the Great Wall of China, the Pretty Good Wall of Colombia, the Unmemorable Hedge of Wales, Sneaky Pete’s Used Mattress Emporium on Rte. 275, up your mother’s butt, my mother’s butt? yeah, your–and then the brainstorming session came to a sudden, violent, entirely predictable conclusion.
  • Bobby thought they should resolve to switch to a zer0-calorie sweetener for their coffee, and he phrased it as “switching from sugaree to sweet-and-lowee,” and Billy just lost his fucking mind.