Hey, Man, A Useless Fat Drug-Addled Asshole Died 19 Years Ago

Wow, man, bummer, man.

Oh, man, wow, Bummer.

Bummer man, oh wow.

This is what's circulating all over Facebook...a link to Rolling Stone mourning the 19th Anniverary of the Great Dead Head's death.

Look, we can't mourn the fifth, tenth or twentieth anniversary of such a titan. We have to remind everyone EVERY fucking year that a druggie tub of shit who whined "truckin' truckin' truckin" all over the world...can't be so annoying anymore.

The tragedy of Jerry's death is that it didn't happen when he was 9. What did the Grateful Dead contribute to this planet? A few very shitty songs winking at the joys of cocaine and other dangerous drugs? The concept of lying around doing nothing for seven or eight hours, lying in mud and listening to a jam? Lying in jam and listening to mud?

For all the critical acclaim for Robert Hunter's forgettable lyrics, the Grateful Dead were just a collection of jerks who appealed to a vast cross-section of empty-skull jackasses...that could include redneck bikers and nerdy Jews...it could include college retards about to drop out, and a few clueless dropouts who needed something soft and pulpy to read Kerouac by.

The more I hear tributes to shit-heads like Garcia, the more irritated I become. It's one thing if you're into crappy late 60's and early 70's music. Yes. Emerson Lake and Palmer. And yes, I'm including Led Zep and Iron Butterfly (sue me). As long as you keep your mooning and moaning to yourselves, I really don't care. Just don't expect ME to salute, mourn or flick my lighter in memorium to your stupid false idols.

I'm not your convert. Don't come to me with a quivering lip and solemn eyes: "Jerry Garcia died 19 years ago..."

What am I supposed to do about it? He's DEAD. I'm grateful. FUCK OFF.