Thoughts On The Dead

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

A Cake For Phil (And Fuck The Yankees)

“Where’s my hat?”

“What hat?”

“You got Weir a cowboy hat.”

“He thinks he’s a cowboy.”

“I could be a cowboy. What are you saying, Shapiro? I couldn’t be a cowboy?”

“You could be a cowboy.”

“There drugs in this cake?”

“It’s just cake.”

“Jesus, man. No hat, no drugs. Hell of a birthday.”

“I’ve never seen you wear a hat before.”

“You’ve never seen my asshole, either, but you know I have one.”

“That’s not a great analogy.”

“Go get me a cowboy hat and a cake made out of drugs.”

“It’s midnight in Port Chester. I can’t get either of those things.”

“What’s with the turtle?”

“On the cake?”

“Yeah.”

“Terrapin. You know: the Dead, turtles.”

“I know what it is. I want to know why you’re using my IP without paying me.”

“The dancing turtles do not belong to you.”

“Jim Irsay bought them for me.”

“Phil, I don’t think so.”

“You owe me money.”

“I’m paying you for the shows.”

“No, I’m giving you a portion of the money I make from the shows to set things up.”

“Hurtful.”

“Not hurtful. Hurtful would be telling you that you did a great job in Superbad.”

“Enjoy your cake, Phil.”

“How can I without a cowboy hat or drugs?”

2 Comments

  1. Luther Von Baconson

    March 18, 2017 at 11:23 am

    Man, Phil’s got some good Terrapin going on. That neck. And Shappy? Frogs & Skeeters puffing out their necks.

  2. SmokingLeather

    March 21, 2017 at 3:17 am

    Let me just say, if you can’t find enough drugs to fill a cake at midnight in Port Chester when Phil is in town, you are not trying.

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