He does note that “only by avoiding actual Deadheads was I able to become a Deadhead” and that his latent Deadheadism “causes my girlfriend to worry that at a certain point of saturation, she’ll come home from work to find me reeking of patchouli oil, clad in vibrant pajama bottoms and a tank top decorated with capering bears, my dilated pupils being the only reason I haven’t yet found something to juggle.” A deeply frightening cautionary tale.