This review is not just a recap of last night but the whole run at Dickís. When Trey took the stage the look in his eyes will be forever stained in my brain, he had a pure unfiltered desire to get his rage on in universally cosmic proportions. The first chord of CTB was set at a voltage that could knock down an elephant; Iím no expert, but Iíd say it was on par with a poor manís nuclear bomb Ė maybe one or two kilotons. It was like phish decided before the show that the best way to end the summer tour was to deploy a Kodiak bear infected with rabies to fight a bunch of rabid, down syndrome badgers. The only way you could get the equivalent of the energy of this run would be to tie yourself to your carís radiator and do 70 mph in first gear. Mikeís bass slaps were producing massive fireballs and brain-trauma-inducing concussive shockwaves. The way Page was tickling the keys gave me a boner large enough to play badminton or maybe hang wind chimes from it. Fishman was soaring among the milk way making it rain down jellybeans. These shows changed my whole perspective on life; now I find it socially acceptable to drink whiskey mixed with cough syrup for breakfast. Right around the encore, I was so enchanted by the music I was about to hump a squirrel that had crawled on the lawn; luckily for me phish didnít come back for a 2nd encore or I might not be typing this still a virgin to trans-species sex. FREE MEATBALLS! Thanks Phish.