Disclaimer: The conversation that follows is a complete work of fiction. These events never took place. It's all a bunch of malarkey, and not one bit of it is true, not one iota, nada, nothing, nil, zilch zero. The intent is neither malicious, judicious, nor nutritious. In fact, the author is completely talking out of his ass. He has been talking out of his ass ever since he escaped from the mental health ward of Bellevue Hospital. He is a sad little boy who finds chards of joy in fooling others. Do not pay attention to him, and above all else, do not feed him.

Peace,
Brian

On October 27th Phil Lesh and Friends played a concert in Las Vegas. On October 28th Bob Weir and Ratdog played a concert in Las Vegas. Coincidence? I think not. How could these two estranged former band mates be drawn to the same city on consecutive days? The answer is simple: Wayne Newton.

Unbeknownst to most of us, Wayne Newton is a huge Deadhead. I'm told that his concert medley of Sugaree>Danke Schon>Wharf Rat is quite the showstopper. Wayne has been longing for a Grateful Dead reunion ever since he missed The Other Ones' 1998 appearance in Vegas. Apparently, he was scheduled to be a guest vocalist on the breakout of Cream Puff War, but unfortunately Wayne got stomach poisoning after "too many phatty goo balls."

Still reeling over missing his big chance to perform with his idols, Wayne secretly orchestrated a surprise meeting between Phil Lesh and Bob Weir on the afternoon of October 28th. After persuading the bands' promoters to unknowingly book Vegas shows on consecutive days, Wayne secretly invited both Phil and Bob to meet him at roulette wheel #3 in the Mandalay Bay Casino.

Thankfully, this conversation was taped in stealth by Herb Alremedy. Herb was not prepared for this meeting, and he did not have his proper taping gear with him. Thinking quickly, he stole a miniature Dictaphone tape recorder from the wealthy gentleman gambling next to him. Herb immediately straightened-out two paperclips, and after laying several pennies on top of them, he formed a wire by soldering the metal together under the flame of three lighters. One end of the Jerry-rigged wire was connected in the external mic slot of the tape recorder, and the other end was soldered to a needle connected to a small paper cone, which Herb fashioned out of a David Cassidy-Live! flyer. Utilizing his origami skills, Herb folded the paper-cone microphone into a flower, which he wore in his lapel. Herb exercised extreme restraint and committed a major sacrifice in his moral standards by recording on analog, but he had no choice. Herb understood the historical significance of this conversation, so he was willing to suffer under the shackles of analog tape, and for that he is to be commended. Nevertheless, the tape sucks balls. I can't stand the hiss, and the equalization is way off. Herb did a horrible job at capturing the sound of the room, the bass is very muddy, and that classic FOB crisp high-end is nowhere to be found. In addition, the extraneous crowd noise makes this one of the worst audience recordings of all time.

Regardless, I was willing to suffer through these impurities to transcribe the following dialogue of this secret meeting:

Voice ONE: What are you doing here?

Voice TWO: I'm not talking to you. What are you doing here?

ONE: I came here to.gamble.

TWO: It figures. You just can't get enough green in those pockets, huh?

ONE: Oh come on. Don't tell me you hate money now.

TWO: Money is for mortals.

Voice THREE: Well it looks like someone has come to his senses, huh?

TWO: What in God's name are you doing here?

THREE: C'mon. We're both here for the same reason-investment opportunities!

TWO: What?

THREE: I wonder how much money they could get for this place. Think about it.

ONE: You know the real estate market is on the rise nationwide.

THREE: We could sell the vault to Microsoft and then invest all of our money in a Grateful Dead-themed casino, which we would then sell-off in five years, turning incredible profits!

ONE: I'm cool with it as long as the waitresses can't wear tie-dye. I think Izod shirts and Birkenstocks would be classy.

THREE: Yeah, that would go great with A Rhythm Devils logo-emblazoned baseball cap.

TWO: Do you guys think of anything besides money?

THREE: Listen Steve Martin, you don't call the shots anymore.

TWO: Oh well pardon me, Mr. Venture Capitalist. By the way, do you know who stole my high school yearbooks and put them on E-bay?

THREE: Don't start pointing your finger at me, you Communist!

TWO: I know you are, but what am I?

ONE Whoa, now ease up Odessa. Ease up and take it slow. I have an idea. Why don't we all pick a number to bet on? If it hits, we can put all of these bad feelings behind us and get back together.

TWO: I'm not into this gambling stuff.

ONE: Hello? Welcome to the world buddy, you're in a casino! We're here to make money.

THREE: Why don't we just pick a color? I say black.

TWO: Just like your heart.

THREE: Actually, I was thinking of.

(Tape Flip)

THREE: .and that's the last time I'll ever touch a goat there!

ONE This conversation has gone on far too long. I'm bored.

If anyone needs me, I'll be at the buffet by the cheese tray.

(Sound of the makeshift microphone being hit by a glowstick.)

VINCE WELNICK: Hey guys, can I play too?

ONE, TWO and THREE: NO!

THREE: I told you to stay in your cage until I give you permission to come out!

WAYNE NEWTON: Gentlemen, it's great to see you here! Have you guys patched things up yet?

ONE You know we've agreed to.

VOICE OF IRATE MAN: Hey, you little punk. You stole my tape recorder! I'M GONNA KILL YOU!

(Sound of Herb being pummeled.)

(Assorted blood-curdling screams.)

(End of tape.)

Herb wussed-out and couldn't complete the recording, so the remainder of this conversation will remain shrouded in mystery. He was able to redeem himself to some degree by removing the miniature cassette from the Dictaphone before the irate man broke Herb's left clavicle.

The lineage for this tape is Origami Paper-Cone Microphone>sewing needle>half-assed soldered wire>Dictaphone (unknown brand).