Out of concern for my wellbeing, my buddy Dave alerted me to some sobering news: Deadheads are being murdered at an alarming rate.
I have thoughts.
First, the present-tense construction of the headline—”Why Are So Many Grateful Dead Fans Being Murdered”—is a bit misleading. We’re talking about cases dating back decades, after all.
Second, having witnessed for myself the “hippie bazaar” of Shakedown Street, I’m not at all surprised at the existence of a criminal element taking advantage of a rather disproportionate number of imprudent, wide-eyed innocents.
Third, since receiving Dave’s text, I’ve taken countermeasures. In addition to beginning an intense course of instruction in Krav Maga tonight, I’ve got the missus training in adaptive pistol combat—and, starting this weekend, half a dozen Dobermans will be patrolling the perimeter of my estate in four-hour shifts.
Because not listening to the Dead is simply not an option.
