To celebrate my big 42nd birthday, its tough for me to even fathom my age, a camping trip to the most wonderful, bestest place on all this Earth: Spring River, just outside of Mammoth Springs Arkansas, the other Kansas.

Jerry Garcia, whose gentle voice and gleaming, chiming guitar lines embodied the psychedelic optimism of the Grateful Dead for three decades, died in his sleep yesterday at Serenity Knolls, a residential drug treatment center in Forest Knolls, Calif. He was 53.

A spokesman for the band, Dennis McNally, said the cause was a heart attack.

The guitarist had suffered serious health problems for a decade. In the 1960′s, he was known as Captain Trips, referring to his frequent use of LSD, and he struggled through the years with heroin addiction. He was hospitalized in 1986 in a diabetic coma, and in 1992 the group had to cancel tour dates when Mr. Garcia fell ill from exhaustion. In recent years he had tried to stop smoking and to lose weight.

The Grateful Dead, and Mr. Garcia as their most recognizable member, had come to represent the survival of 1960′s idealism. As news of his death spread, fans wept in the streets of San Francisco and the Internet was flooded with eulogies and reminiscences.

Within the music business, the Dead exemplified integrity in a sphere of hype and artifice; beyond, they symbolized a spirit of communal bliss, with free-wheeling, anything-can-happen music to bring together a community of tenacious fans, the Deadheads.

The band’s future is uncertain; the Dead had planned to record their newest songs in a studio for an album to be released next year.

The Grateful Dead were one of rock’s most beloved institutions. Formed in 1965, when a Bay Area jug band decided to switch to electric instruments, the Dead created an all-American fusion of bluegrass, blues, country, rhythm-and-blues, folk and rock, all laced with improvisation. The band never played a song the same way twice.

The Dead built their reputation on long, free-form concerts, going onstage without a set list and playing anything from original songs to rock oldies to extended experiments with feedback. The music could shift in any direction as it sought what the band and its fans called the “X factor”: spontaneous, revelatory stretches of music arrived at through practice and serendipity.

The Dead were one of the top bands in late-1960′s San Francisco, and unlike their hippie-era contemporaries, they continued to thrive, their essence unchanged and their popularity expanding. John Scher, chairman of Metropolitan Entertainment, which coordinates the band’s East Coast performances, said yesterday that the Grateful Dead “are unquestionably the highest-grossing band cumulatively in the history of the music business.”

He noted that the band in recent years played 85 to 110 shows annually. It set attendance records for every major arena in the New York area, as well as the Spectrum in Philadelphia and the Boston Garden.

The Dead’s fans savored the group’s unpredictability, seeing as many concerts as possible and sometimes following the band for a full-length tour. For most of the 1980′s and early 1990′s, the band toured stadiums and did not play to a single empty seat; some concerts sold out before they were advertised, purely through announcements in the Deadheads’ newsletter and on a telephone hotline. (The band had planned six concerts in late September at Madison Square Garden as part of a fall tour, but it is unclear if they will proceed.)

Unlike the vast majority of rock bands, the Dead focused on performing rather than recording. Even as a stadium attraction, the Grateful Dead were something like an old-time jug band, barnstorming a territory that stretched around the world.

Mr. Garcia was at the heart of the Dead’s music. His reedy voice was unassumingly sincere; his guitar tone was pristine and bell-like, as he spun long, leisurely lines with distinctive curlicues and downward slides. He wrote about half of the Dead’s own material, working primarily with the lyricist Robert Hunter, and many of his finest tunes — such as “Ripple,” “Touch of Grey,” “China Cat Sunflower” and “Uncle John’s Band” — sounded as natural as traditional songs. Mr. Garcia’s smiling, bearded face became an icon of a utopian 1960′s spirit.

Jerome John Garcia was born in San Francico on Aug. 1, 1942. His father was a professional musician, and he took piano lessons as a child. But he lost most of the third finger on his right hand in a childhood accident. When he was 15, he heard Chuck Berry and took up the electric guitar. After nine months in the Army, he turned to folk music, picking up the banjo and playing in bluegrass bands; he also studied at the San Francisco Art Institute. By 1964, he was in Mother McCree’s Uptown Jug Champions, which also included Bob Weir on guitar and Ron (Pigpen) McKernan on harmonica.

A year later, with Phil Lesh on bass and Bill Kreutzmann on drums, the band plugged in and became the Warlocks. At first, they worked as a bar band, playing blues six nights a week. The Warlocks soon changed their name to the Grateful Dead — a type of British folk ballad in which a human being helps a ghost find peace — after running across the phrase in a dictionary. They became the house band for Ken Kesey’s Acid Tests, the public LSD parties held before the drug was outlawed.

The Dead lived communally in San Francisco and played many free concerts, soon working their way up to the city’s ballrooms and the Fillmore West. The band signed a contract with MGM Records in 1966, but its efforts were shelved. In 1967, the Dead signed with Warner Brothers, and while their first albums sold modestly, their reputation spread. From the beginning, when the band was financed by the LSD chemist Stanley Owsley, the Dead were known for the latest in sound systems as well as for their music. The group performed at the Monterey Pop Festival in 1967 and at Woodstock in 1969.

By 1970, the Grateful Dead had made five extraordinary albums in a row: “Anthem of the Sun” in 1968, “Aoxomoxoa” in 1969 and “Live Dead,” “Workingman’s Dead” and “American Beauty” in 1970. Its 1971 live album, “Grateful Dead,” became its first million-seller, and it continued to play to larger and larger audiences. In 1973, it was one of the three groups (with the Allman Brothers Band and the Band) to perform for half a million people at Watkins Glen, N.Y.

Mr. Garcia also worked outside the Grateful Dead, as a musician and a producer. He recorded with the Jefferson Airplane and Crosby, Stills, Nash and Young; he produced the first album by the New Riders of the Purple Sage, adding parts on an instrument he was just learning, the pedal steel guitar.

Outside the Dead, Mr. Garcia pursued some of the styles that were tucked into the Dead’s music. In the early 1970′s, he played jazz-rock with the keyboardist Merl Saunders and bluegrass with a group called Old and in the Way; he also recorded his first album as a leader in 1971, playing rock songs tinged with country. Through the years, he toured (between Grateful Dead tours) with his own band, and he collaborated with musicians including the keyboardist Howard Wales and the mandolinist David Grisman.

His most recent recording, released in 1993, was an album of children’s music, “Not for Kids Only.” In another recent project, Mr. Garcia designed a line of neckties that was sold at Macy’s and other stores.

Yet most of his time was devoted to the Grateful Dead. While the band had touched on funk and jazz, and had incorporated some of the new sounds made available through synthesizer technology, its music remained immediately recognizable, with a folksy, homespun tone that belied the size of its audiences. Grateful Dead concerts are among least overbearing in current rock; the band’s customized sound systems emphasize clarity and warmth, not sheer volume. Through the years, the Dead’s tour circuit expanded, including a 1978 series of shows at the Great Pyramid in Egypt; the band toured with Bob Dylan in 1987, a collaboration that resulted in a live album. The band weathered the deaths of Mr. McKernan in 1973 as well as the deaths of two of its keyboardists, Keith Godchaux and Brent Mydland.

Since the 1970′s, the band has attracted a significant following of Deadheads, which expanded further in the 1980′s as the sons and daughters of baby boomers embraced the band as a symbol of 1960′s pleasures and hopes. The Dead made an effort to treat their fans well. Unlike many bands, the Dead encouraged their fans to tape their concerts, even providing a place near the sound engineer’s booth for fans to set up microphones and tape recorders. They also kept ticket prices low and maintained contact with fans through the newsletter, a hotline and, more recently, electronic mail. In return the Dead have held on to what is probably the longest-lasting mass following in rock history.

In tie-dyed clothes and bare feet, dancing in the aisles, the Dead’s audiences revived the wardrobe, and perhaps some of the hopefulness, of the Summer of Love. In an interview for Joe Smith’s book “Off the Record” (1988), Mr. Garcia said, “To the kids today, the Grateful Dead represents America: the spirit of being able to go out and have an adventure.”

He is survived by his third wife, Deborah Koons Garcia, and by four daughters: Heather, Annabelle, Teresa and Keelin, all of Marin County.

I left the hotel today for some recreational adventures, you know, to discover the real Mexico without the tourists, without the Americanized (USA) versions of what the world is supposed to look like, without the glamorous and sterilized appeasement to keep the all mighty dollar flowing. After all, regardless of what anybody tells you, it is always about the dollar. To many people will tell you that its not, they love what they do, they would do it anyway, they would never do anything that didn’t make them happy, especially including work.

I am one of those people that absolutely love what I do, but at the end of the month I have bills to pay. So where as some of us do love our jobs, we all still need the electricity on, food on the table, gas in the tank and perhaps a bit of savings. A former employer once told me they sought after only those persons who wanted to work for the passion involved, and wouldn’t even consider hiring anyone looking more for the money. I thought to myself that’s all well and good, but here you are meanwhile withdrawing close to a thousand dollars nearly everyday. He shopped at the very best stores, went out to dinner at very pricey restaurants and drove a car which was worth more than some peoples homes.

I do believe that people should be paid what they are worth and I do believe their skills should be rewarded, but this person was living handsomely as he paid his employees pennies. I was always told how valuable of an asset I was to the corporation, but my weekly paycheck was barely enough to meet my monthly bills. He tried to keep us in check by keeping the fear that at any minute our paychecks could disappear at any minute. There was always stories about a new guy he met that is just itching for a job. The loyalty my fellow staff members and I was unquestionable, but his loyalty was derived from how much work he could get out of us for how little pay. Our reviews for pay-raises came once a year and I will never forget how hard I worked for them that year.

I continuously was told how I went above and beyond what was expected. The praises came in every day. I took the business from virtual mom and pop status to International Mega-Stardom. Every day leading right into review time I was ranked the best among the best. You’re going to go far, stick with us, blah, blah blah. The company originally promised me a large salary and loads of benefits, however, since the office I was taking over was situated in a repressed area of the country, what I was currently making as a floor manager (the lowest on the scale in New Jersey) far exceeded anything anyone made in West Virginia, where they were transferring me to. I took it as an opportunity to prove my value and just how much I believed in what I was doing, after all I was a team player. Back then I had so much loyalty for the companies I worked for that I put them before everything else including myself.

I’ll never forget that fateful day when the national manager of the company came into town to review my performance over the past year. Exceeded all expectations! I was given the task to get the companies largest office, missing every company goal, failing miserably, a 250 seat facility operating with 25 employees turned around. I had one year to do it or the office would be shuttered. The owners brother personally told me that he didn’t believe I could do it. Not only did I do it, but it was completely overhauled and we excelled in every area within three months. I was operating with 500 employees and if you weren’t there at least 2o minutes early you would lose your seat for the shift. Where we used to have 2 shifts we took it up to 4 shifts and operated 17 hours a day. It was an amazing turn-around and I was awarded Manager of the Year out of 60 other offices. I was expecting a raise that spoke of my achievements. Needless to say that when the National Manager said their were certain changes in the industry that were proposed before congress that might hurt the industry if passed I knew there was going to be a BIG disappointment.

The national manager told me how I was going to be compared to all the other managers pay in the region and my pay would commensurate with the average of this region. The very same region that was struggling with the same managers that had not only failed in their offices, but were the very same ones who had previously ran my office into the ground. I was in for a HUGE shock! I was told with the current deductions in pay that all the other managers had received in the same position I was in that my pay far exceeded ever other manager. So you’re telling me I’m not going to get a raise, not based on the merits of my work, but based on the margin of error (the bell curve) of every sorry excuse of a manager that you hired and trained, that has nothing at all to do with me whatsoever? His answer threw me for a loop especially considering by this point I was not going to get a raise. Well no JunkyFungus, I’m afraid you are making to much money for your position in this region and I am going to have to deduct a percentage of your pay to bring you into fair standards of other managers in the same region.

That wasn’t the only smack in the face that day though. I guess when he saw my jaw drop, my fist clinch so hard, knuckles turning white, my nails digging into my palm cutting into my skin, drawing blood, he felt obligated to say that I was still considered amongst the best paid in the area. All I had to do to remind me why my pay was still awesome in this area was to drive into town and take a look around to see how others were living and the disparity of how they lived and what they earned to my own pay. I left that job and last I heard that office was closed within a year after my departure and just last week all the managers who put loyalty towards the company first, even before their own selves were fired. From what I understand the owners sold out and the company wanted young fresh talent to take the company even further. I think its important to always remember that the company will always try and sell you the dream. Its the big-picture you’re after. Its the reward at the end that drive you forward. It should never be about your paycheck, anyone working for their paycheck is at the wrong job.

I’ll never forget that day when I was told to go check out how others were living, because in fact it did teach me something worth incredible value. First and foremost be loyal to yourself, but even more important you should love what you do, but never settle for the absolute nonsense that the owners of these companies are working because they love what they do and would do it even if it didn’t make them rich. If that was the case why are they becoming rich off all your effort and toil and not turning around and providing the proper means for you to earn a living. It always seems very funny that they are making so much money and yet their employees live in squalor all the while being sold the dream. The dream that always seems a bit out of reach. The dream that does not provide the family with enough food to eat, enough money to take the family to paradise when paradise is right down the street. They tell you to love your job and be happy at what you do, but pay them pennies. I’ve seen Cancun today, I’ve seen the huts where families of 7 sleep with dirt floors. Both mother and father and any children old enough all work because they LOVE what they do, bringing home their weekly earnings rarely enough to make it through a few days let alone the week. I hear those that tell you to keep working hard all the while withdrawing thousands a day. Times are tough, don’t work for the money, work because its your passion. I am bewildered how if its passion that drives you how can you allow those that are so poor to be in your employ?

If ever you don’t believe there are those who work for so little, a whole lot less that you do, take a vacation to paradise on Earth like Cancun. Drive to the areas that tourists are encouraged to never see. Your eyes will open up to just how some people really do live. and yes most of these people are very happy. Not happy because they love what they do, they are happy because they have integrity and honor and family and most importantly they have faith. There are some very good companies and people out there making the world a better place. These are not the companies that make the world better for their customers by indenturing those that work for them, they empower those that work for them so that they may empower the customers. A cycle of progressive forward thinkers willing to share not only the opportunity to make money, but actually sharing the money. If you want to see poverty go see it so that you can build a better world by empowering others to make a better world. Take the lessons you learn so that we can together make a better world and provide not only words of opportunity but actual opportunity.

My friend just informed me this morning that the company I write about here is officially closed and the owners have been indicted on a Federal Indictment and face 200 years in prison and one-hundred million dollars in fines and penalties and the government is also seeking millions in restitution back to their customers. I went to some poor parts of Cancun today, not to remind me of how great things are for me, but to remind me as long as one person struggles to survive in this world, we all have an opportunity to make the world a better place. What we chose to do with that opportunity is what we will be remembered as, as people. What will you do?

I decided its high-time to pimp out the Beemer so I spent a small bundle today on some features. I bought me the manual on Amazon for about $50 with the two day delivery option which was still cheaper than buying it from Pelican. I got a brake light switch from eBay and some serious goodies from Pelican. Maybe I’ll take some pictures when I’m done and post them…

The other day in the mall I was searching for the perfect present for a “friend.” I ended up in Victoria’s Secretes looking for those cheeky shorts. It never even crossed my mind that I should be embarrassed about being in there. There are a lot of babes that shop in there and then on the other hand, there are women who have no right in spandex, let alone cheeky shorts. By all things Pink and Squishy may the God of all things bad and corrupt strike down those who who would break this universal Karmic Law and infest their pubic hairs with green fungus. Let’s get this straight, I am not talking about the fungus of a Junky, but that fungus you might only find in a fatties crotch. Disgusting!

OK back to the pleasantries of the babes of Victoria’s Secrets. I was in the mall doing some last minute shopping and asked a friend if he wanted to head over to Vicky’s. I was surprised that he said he felt intimidated by the store. I certainly can feel his anxiousness as I have approach anxiety more often than I like to admit. The good news, at least for me, is that I actually found a valuable lesson to be learned here. Now something like walking into a frilly girly-girl store like VS, is not a big deal at all to me. To my friends walking up to a babe and gaming here is not a big deal to them either.

The lesson is, why should life be anything less than fun? Like who cares if you’re approaching a babe, just do it, get out there, smile and have fun doing everything. The passionate man, who is confident does not fail. He sees an opportunity to move forward and enjoy every interaction as its the most important one of his life. He radiates with knowledge, willing to share, to learn, to experience. I am that passionate man and you can be too.

I was a bit unsure of what type of panties my friend wanted so I asked the lady if she had boy shorts. She took me over to a pair of daisy duke shorts and I was like eheh! OK so that’s what I was sure they would be called, so we looked in another place. I explained they were lacy, satiny, sexy and almost like a thong but really accentuated my chicks fine little butt. Oh you need the other side of the store. I was thinking we were in the Pink section, so now I need to go to the other side! Holy wow, if the other side was more racy than this side than this only proves that most women want more sex than men. There is a GOD!

She passes me off the Britney, a really cute blond, but aren’t they all cute at VS. OK I will admit, what in fucks sake is the idea to dress them up in all black? I mean in my vision of a good business plan would be to dress them up like school girls in plaid shorts, just a little to short and white shirts with just a tad few buttons buttoned. Perfect and sexy, innocent, sweet, but saucy on the inside. The world would be a much better place with me behind the wheel.

I tell Britney what I’m looking for and then notice she’s carrying a bag. I neg her about it, something I call a neg stack. I basically neg the hell out of hired guns, until they either do good work, or are just about to cry.  I get them s fired up to do good for this amazingly picky customer, who is confident and passionate. They do everything to appease me. When finally they do something OK and they are at their breaking point, the Kino wrap of my arm around their waste is so easy. I pull them in, they rest their head on my shoulder and I say, OK, you’re going to make it. I like you, because you try harder than those other girls. Man they eat it up. I get numbers and more off hired guns than any other set I open. Golden:~)

Anyway, Briteny worked out pretty well and worked hard to appease me. It just makes it that much easier to neg her harder when she messes up. Finally after much describing these panties on my behalf a light-bulb went off and she was like OH you mean Cheeky’s. Ummm like sure. So there they are and its exactly what my friend wears. OK yeah that’s them and there’s a sale going on. Buy two get one free. I love sales, especially when women’s panties are ridiculously priced. $16 a pair of panties!

Britney asks me her size and here we are at another road block. Of course I know her size, but life is fun, so I say hmm let me see and start to look around at chicks. She sees me and is like well is she my size? I’m like no, she is really skinny. She gets a crossed look on her face, and believe me Britney was far from fat. I crack a smile and she punches me in the arm, well it was more like a girly slap. I have her eating out of my hand.

Next roadblock: She’s laying them out side, by side asking what I think and I’m at a loss. I’m like totally undecided and ask Britney if maybe she can model them. She laughs and says that VS, doesn’t allow them too. OK who said we have to do it here. She says, almost in a whisper, like she was being bad, what about your girlfriend? I say, girlfriend, like I’m a bit shocked. Oh no, these are for my grandma. OK now she is laughing.

I get another bright-fun idea and actually say, ooh I know. I crumple up a pair and toss it on the floor and say oh that’s much better. I like those. Britney says, Oh no you just didn’t! Two blond girls behind me see this and are laughing loud. I start crumpling and tossing, No to that, yes to that, before you know it the two girls behind me are helping. Britney and them are taking them and spinning on there fingers and I end up with panties tossed in my face and on the floor. It was very fun.

Sometimes just a small shift in how you think is all it takes. I went to have fun and everything else fell into place.

I was driving down this country back road, outside of Roanoke VA, and on the side of the road, sitting on a hill there was this old farmhouse. It was white, with the wrap around porch and rocking chairs. It was really neat and just reminded you of that country farm-house feel, especially since that is exactly what it was. It had the barb wire fence on those old wood posts with cows and sheep and duckies. A lake and it was on a hill over looking fields and fields of crops.

I decided it would just be un-American if I didn’t stop and say hi. So I turned off the Garmin GPS and followed a winding country road until I found that house. Of course it was about 20 minutes out of my way, but it was America and I was on a road trip. I pulled my BMW up the winding gravel road up the the house. I was sure Pa would be coming out with a shotgun any minute. When I got up the the house it was America, I had arrived.

Ma and Pa, or Mr and Mrs Jones came on out the house to take a gander at what the road had dragged in to their part of the world. They were much younger than I though. I expected them to be about 50 or older, but they were about my age. Hard-working early risers, fearing Jesus and loving life. Good people and happy to see me and chat about life in the country.

I didn’t talk politics or religion, I only was there because I liked their home. When I told them I was SteveO and on a road trip to discover the truth they were at ease. I’m not looking for the truth out there, but looking for the truth in me. We talked for about an hour and then once again I was on my way.

This is America and I am SteveO

I guess I was pretty tired last night. I ordered some hot wings, when I got into the motel and then proceeded to fall asleep. Apparently the guy knocked on my door for about 15 minutes before leaving. I woke up a little while ago and noticed Jasmin called me too. She texted me and left a message. Oh well.

So I’m showered and ready to head out. I’ll fill the car up here and then drive the 7 hours to Baltimore.

If I get time I’ll update along the road.

I just stopped at Bristol VA. The trip was pretty uneventful so far. I thought maybe I was cursed and this trip would fail, but here I am. I stopped at a gas station and wouldn’t you know it they were out of gas. Then I lost my little rubber nose piece thing to my Oakley’s. I found it, lost it again, and then found it again.

Other than a few weird events everything is A-OK. I’m going out to explore the town.

Today I am taking my road trip up the East coast and already things are weird. The package of mones that were sent to me on Friday for Monday delivery are stuck in Ohio. OK so yeah I was a little displeased at DHL, but had Mickaelia reroute them to MD. I sent them to my brothers house.

Camera and GPS, Jasmin was supposed to send on Friday never arrived. Just found out DHL never showed up to pick them up. I headed off to Wally-World and bought myself a Garmin GPS. $300 Blamo!

It’s pouring out too today. Thundering and lightning, but that can’t stop the SteveO from his road trip. No itinerary and no plans, just a wide open road, a BMW, a sandwich and a man on a journey.

I’ll blog about it on the way. Going to take a shower now.

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