The St. Louis Blues. The Grateful Dead. The Big Lebowski.
I observed this unholy trinity on the rear window of a car in Alton, Illinois today.
Not being a fan of the Blues has given me pariah status with more than a few of my friends and neighbors in St. Louis. That’s hardly a concern for me.
My appreciation for the Grateful Dead is limited to liking a few songs and loving the way the band treated their fans.
Anything related to the Big Lebowski is squarely in my wheelhouse. If you’re a true fan, you’ll know this scene by heart. “Let me explain something to you. Um, I am not Mr. Lebowski. You’re Mr. Lebowski. I’m the Dude. So that’s what you call me. You know, that or, uh, His Dudeness, or uh, Duder, or El Duderino if you’re not into the whole brevity thing.”