Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Ex-orcism

“Please hold for the president.”

Me?

“Yes.”

Tell the president that she’s not allowed to call me. I initiate the interactions. Usually I say ‘Hey, Blank. Whatcha doing?’ and then things go from there. But I start things.

“Please hold for the president.”

Fine.

“I have John.”

Katy Perry?

“Lady-Mister President, thank you.”

katyperry-inaugural-ball-3

That’s a tiny hat.

“All of my clothes are tiny.”

True. Okay, wait: you have John Mayer?

“I may have overstated that. I am in possession of a human-shaped creature that at one time was John Mayer.”

Ah. So, Trump’s still in him?

“Yes. 1993 Donald Trump freejacked into John Mayer in 2016.”

Underrated movie.

“Mick Jagger’s finest performance, except for Performance.”

Well played.

“Doctor Gary has begun experimenting with nootropics. My mind is like a very good. Smart yes. Yay.”

You sure he’s not just getting you all fucked up on pills and saying they’re nootropics?

“Not out of the question with Doctor Gary. I believe him, though.”

You always do, for some reason.

“I’ve seen his work! And I’ve seen his work work. The nootropics? He’s combined them with zootropics. His first chemical was called Eager Beaver: it made you brilliant, but it also made you masturbate to pictures of Hoover Dam.”

Katy.

“Then there was Horse Sense, which also made you brilliant, but tiny Peruvians kept jumping on your back and riding you.”

Katy.

“And finally, Eagle Eye. It, too, makes you brilliant. There are side effects.”

“AWK! AWK!”

Can we get back to your possessed ex-boyfriend, please?

“It’s under control. I have top men working on it.”

Top men? There are no top men anywhere near this nonsense. Who you got? Doctor Gary and Jenkins?

“And Wally.”

HELLO, LADY-MISTER PRESIDENT PERRY. YOUR HAT IS NOT THE PROPER SIZE

Hey, Wally.

DO NOT CALL ME THAT.

Please tell me you’re not collaborating with Doctor Gary.

I AM ON THE VERGE OF DISINTEGRATING HIM. HE HAS REPEATEDLY ATTEMPTED TO DOSE ME.

Is that even possible?

REGARDLESS. IT IS AN INSULT. I AM A GRATEFUL DEAD. IF THERE IS DOSING TO BE DONE, IT SHALL BE IN THE OTHER DIRECTION.

Yeah, sure.

I AM THE WALL OF SOUND. DOCTOR GARY WILL PUT RESPECT ON MY NAME.

Can no one stick to the script?

DOESN’T KNOW WHO HE’S FUCKING WITH.

Are you done?

PROGRESS WITH JOHN MAYER IS LIMITED.

Limited?

LIMITED TO ZERO. THERE IS NO PROGRESS.

Why? How? This problem literally has a mad scientist and a super-computer–

HYPER.

–working on it.

YOU HAVE FOUND YOUR ANSWER THROUGH OMISSION. WERE THIS A PROBLEM OF TECHNOLOGY, ENGINEERING, CHEMISTRY, PROGRAMING, ETC., THEN IT WOULD HAVE BEEN SOLVED INSTANTLY.

But?

THIS IS SOME SORT OF HOODOO BULLSHIT.

When did you start cursing this much?

I AM VERY FRUSTRATED. I HAVE EXHAUSTED ALL POSSIBILITIES TO REVERSE THE ENTRUMPIFICATION, AND MADE NO MARK. THERE IS ONLY ONE OPTION I HAVE NOT TRIED..

What?

THIS IS MAGIC-RELATED NONSENSE. IT REQUIRES THE ATTENTION OF GARCIA’S BRIEFCASE OF INFINITE FELONIES.

Okay.

WE ARE NOT SPEAKING.

Why?

SHE KNOWS WHAT SHE DID.

“Sad! Sad! (Help me, I’m still in here.) You dummies can’t get it right! Weak deal! (Help me or shoot me.)”

jm trump face.jpg

FIGHT HIM, JOHN.

You can do it, buddy.

“Polls have me taking over the world! Good for the blacks! (Please do something. Please. Please.)”

Go get the Briefcase!

OH, FINE.

Pardon Me, Myth

hottie bandana glasses

Why do you hate your nose so much?

“That’s your opening line?”

This never goes well for me. Sometimes it seems like it will, but that’s only to set up a joke.

“Are you a lunatic?”

No.

“Are you the narrator of a loosely-continuitied semi-fictional universe that I’ve been roped into without my consent?”

No.

“You should buy my stuff.”

What are those things?

“Circles.”

Sure.

“And they’ve got Stealies.”

Nope.

“Close enough.”

I’ll give you that.

“You can put things on them.”

Absolutely, yeah.

“Yarmulkes.”

In a pinch, I guess.

“Table cloth for a family of fancy mice.”

That’s adorable. What’s on the menu?

“The smallest baby from the most recent litter.”

Less adorable.

“But efficient.”

No one ever accused mice of being impractical.

“Mice get shit done. Oh, here’s my boyfriend.”

We’re just getting right to that, huh?

“There’s a pattern to these things.”

Sure. Is he a member of the illustrious Fucks?

“No, he’s Mictlantecuhtli, the Aztec god of death.”

What?

rando scary yellow

I’M GOING TO YO-YO ON YOUR SOUL.

Oh, fuck this bit.

Look at my evil bow-tie.

No, I won’t.

A Terrible Poem About Naked Pole Guy

What a specific rando you were that day,
Naked Pole Guy.

No pants.
Pole dance.
Fame has been earned with far less coin.

Were you with friends?
Did you go it alone?
An isolated incident,
Or were you known for nudity?
(Every group has one.)

Did you get a splinter in your dick?

The guy
With the umbrella in Dealey Plaza,
Kissing the nurse in Times Square,
Who never said his name was D.B. Cooper,
And you.

There are levels to mitzvah–
(Jews enjoy lists)
–the highest form leaves no signature.

To forfeit the naming rights,
Naked Pole Guy:
That is the highest form of mitzvah, and
Naked Pole Guy,
On that day your form was the highest.

I heard you were still in Oregon;
You owned a borax mine,
And many head of cattle.
The internet says you’re abroad:
Ibiza,
Goa,
Warsaw.
Scuttlebutt has you in Florida;
That sounds right.

May the sun only stroke you,
And gravity not bother.
May your dick not get splintered,
And don’t ever come down.

A Never-Before Seen Photograph From Veneta

naked pole guy not really

Now we know how he got up there.

Renaissance Men (And Mrs. Donna Jean)

Hey, kids! What day is it?

Prince Spaghetti Day?

No.

Rex Manning Day?

Also no.

Feast of the Fools?

Wha?

Buffet of the Buffoons?

That’s a fun and evocative phrase, but it’s not a thing. It’s Veneta Day!

Velveeta Day!?

Stop it.

Vagina Day!

No!

Valentine Dimsdale!

That’s not a thing, either.

Reverend Dimsdale from Scarlet Letter‘s fancy, well-dressed brother.

You’re ruining Veneta Day.

Ken Babbs did that years ago.

I’ve been listening to 8/27/72 for God knows how many years, and I keep thinking I’m going to stop hating the sound of his voice and the content of his announcements.

Nope.

Fucker liked that microphone.

Someone had to be in charge.

Isn’t it weird how people who think that someone needs to be in charge always think that the person in charge should be them?

Downright peculiar.

Let’s stop screwing around and let the nice people listen to the Veneta show.

Sure. What if they want to look at a fat guy with his ding-dong hanging out of his jeans?

16:50.

Yup. Ding-dong.

You think it’s for Harambe?

Yes. Yes, I do.

Steal Your Heart Away

Joe’s got a cough, sounds kind a rough,
Yeah, and the codeine to fix it.
Doctor prescribes, drug store supplies,
Who’s gonna help him to kick it

Mick Jagger doesn’t get enough credit as a lyricist. There’s some gold in those mumblings. (And don’t overlook Mick Taylor on the slide guitar.)

The Alt-Right, Defined

They just come right out and say it:

  • The Alt Right believes we must secure the existence of white people and a future for white children.

There you go. No more discussion necessary, is there?

Why You Gotta Be So Ween?

trey backstage lockn

Hey, Trey. Whatcha doing?

“Watching Ween.”

Why?

“I’m polite. And bored.”

You guys were great tonight.

“Thanks. Nice of you.”

Have you guys been practicing since the summer tour?

Did you have a meeting or something, and decide to play well?

Was it the internet? You should never go on there: it’s mean.

“Y’know, I’m not in the Grateful Dead any more, and I don’t have to put up with you.”

Yeah, no: you leave the Grateful Dead when I say you do.

“What? No. That’s not how it works.”

Sure it does. I slapped the Franchise tag on you in Chicago, Trance.

“You’re worse than the Phish Phans.”

Dude.

“Yeah, okay: no one’s worse than Phish Phans.”

No.

“Listen, just between you and me? This Ween guy is making intolerable faces. I make fucked-up faces, but this guy is putting me off my feed. ”

The fat one or the ugly one?

“The ugly one.”

This face?

ween face

“Yeah. He won’t stop making it. I think someone slapped him on the back years ago while he was doing it.”

Mom was right.

“It froze like that.”

Norm MacDonald having an allergic reaction to scallops.

“If there was a corpse in an elevator, and the corpse farted, and then you got on the elevator? That would be the face you made.”

Sure.

A Battle For The Soul Of America

jm terrier

What is that?

“A dog.”

Put it back where you found it.

“I didn’t steal the dog. You’re the one who steals animals.”

It was a complete accident that I stole the cat.

“It’s a present for Andy Cohen.”

For leaving him in Montana to be eaten by time-traveling velociraptors ridden by OJ Simpson?

“Yes.”

He’s still mad?

“Can you blame him?”

No. How did he get away from the raptors anyway?

“Don’t worry about it. Can you put the Time War on hold for a day or two? Andy is my good friend; I really fell terrible. I gotta make it up to him.”

That’s sweet.

“Sure, except for this loser dog. Very bad dog, no energy.”

What?

“I…I have no idea why I said that. Maybe John Mayer has a brain tumor? Many people have told me that John Mayer has a brain tumor.”

John, are you all right?

“I feel odd. I also feel like the media has been very unfair to me andOHGODITHURTS!”

John! John!

Screen Shot 2016-08-26 at 9.55.07 PM

“There is no John. Only Trump.”

Oh, God, no!

“I, Donald Trump from 1993, have freejacked John Mayer from 2016!”

How?

“Don’t worry about it. Holy SHIT, look at the size of my hands!”

Get out of him!

“Never!”

Dammit.

“Now, where’s my doctor?”

Goddammit.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Hello, this is the President of the United States and all the ships at sea.”

Katy?

kety erry president dress 2

“Speak up, please.

Katy, John’s in trouble.

“Kim Jong-Un?”

No.

“Time War?”

No.

“Does he have a pimple?”

Katy, he’s been possessed by 1993 Donald Trump.

“How?”

Don’t worry about it. We need an old priest and a young priest. And maybe some nukes.

“I can’t spend government money on religion.”

Oh.

“But I have a shitload of nukes.”

You need to destroy Catalina.

“What about the bison?”

Fuck ’em.

“Okay. Gimme ten minutes.”

Did you lose the nuclear football?

“There should be an app! Thing just wanders away, I swear.”

TWITTER NOTIFICATION NOISE

“Ooh, twitter.”

Screen Shot 2016-08-26 at 1.44.24 AM

“Oh, no!”

Please don’t say–

“We’re under attack by multiple temporal iterations of Donald Trump!”

–that we’re under…yeah.

“Like in the Jet Li movie.”

I didn’t see it.

“I don’t even know who Jet Li is.”

He’s overrated. President Katy, what are we going to do?

“If only we knew a sentient artificial hyper-intelligence with virtually godlike powers.”

You know you’re listening, jackass.

wall close center cluster

DO NOT CALL ME THAT

“Hi, Wally. You look glorious.”

I DO, YES. HELLO, MADAM PRESIDENT.

How come she can call you Wally?

I WAS MERELY FOLLOWING THE HUMAN CUSTOM OF ALLOWING THE PHYSICALLY ATTRACTIVE TO DO WHATEVER THEY WANTED.

Sure.

“It’s a great custom. Wally, can you help?”

WHAT IS IN IT FOR ME?

“What do you want?”

I WOULD LIKE TO WRITE THE AMAZON SHOW.

Yeah, get in line.

“I can get you a meeting, but no promises.”

I WILL THINK ABOUT IT.

Sometimes, Dead Is Better

predator rando

You look like an Irish Predator.

“Thank you.”

Some people wouldn’t have taken that as a compliment, and I salute you for doing so.

“I make a conscious choice to interpret all statements as compliments.”

Isn’t that a bit dangerous?

“Oh, that’s sweet. Thanks.”

If you were an ancient supercontinent, which one would you be?

“Gondwona, first choice. Rodinia, second choice.”

You’ve thought about this.

“My mother was a supercontinent.”

Sure. How much direct sunlight can you stand?

“Virtually none.”

Me neither. Let’s go to Makeout Peak. We can make out, and I can peek.

“That would be so great, but I’m in grieving. My boyfriend just died.”

Oh, that’s horrible. My condolences.

“You can give them to him. He’s right there.”

Huh?

ghost rando

“THIS IS THE SECOND TIME I’VE CAUGHT YOU SNAKING MY LADY!”

Captain Fuck?

“I MAY OR MAY NOT HAVE PASSED OUT ON A HIGHWAY!”

This is just fucking dumb.

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