I never knew there was a Grateful Dead Closet, but I was certainly in it. On more than one occasion, upon telling people that my parents started taking me to Dead shows once I hit the ripe old age of 12 or so, I've received the obligatory "Oh, that's why ..." mumbled statements and accompanying weird looks.
And Ed Cone! Who knew? Although the writing (speaking?) was certainly on the wall. He seemed like such a fine, upstanding member of society. Could it be that fans of this great band actually aren't all roaming, homeless hippies earning a living selling veggie burritos and bead necklaces in parking lots? I suppose it could just mean that some of them have moved on...or jumped onto the Phish tour, although even that has now come to a close. I guess I'll just hold out hope that a meaningful life can still be had, even with a frightening addiction to the song "Black Peter".
So I'm outed. iTunes tells me I'm currently at 252 songs, 25 albums, 30.2 hours, and 2.02 GB of music, far and away my largest single band collection. That's not even counting all the various concerts I've downloaded and burned over the years...
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