Thoughts On The Dead

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

A Twist Truly No One Saw Coming

John Mayer (left), high school chum of James Blake (USA, right), turns out to cheer Blake on in his first-round match against Nicolas Kiefer (GER). Blake advanced to the second round of the 2005 Mercedes-Benz Cup at the Los Angeles Tennis Center in Westwood, California, on July 26, 2005, when Kiefer retired during the first set with resporatory problems.
Who is that? You got yourself a lama?

“This is James Blake.”

The British weenie?

“You’re thinking of James Blunt.”

Weenie.

“Tennis player.”

Same thing. Not a manly sport, no matter how many words David Foster Wallace wrote about it.

“Can we talk, please?”

Is it about the thing where I control the universe and use my infinite power simply to annoy you?

“Yes.”

Later. How’s your face?

“Shimmery and fresh. You know what the key is?”

Besides thousand-dollar soap?

“Obviously. It’s about switching it up, like changing workouts in the gym. You have to confuse your face.”

My face is confused right now.

“When your skin doesn’t know what to do, it defaults to gleaming and peachy.”

Says who?

“I’ll give you an example. Today, I was doing the afternoon cleanse, and–”

Wait, wait, wait. Hold on. How many times a day do you perform this ritual?

“Five.”

Please don’t bring–

“Like Muslims pray five times a day.”

–the Muslims into this.

“In a way, my face is my Allah.”

“I thought the phone would–”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“You’ll die alone and obscure.”

And you’ll die alone and famous. That’s a tie.

“Fuck you.”

Pick up the phone.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Fuck you.”

Why do you even carry a phone at this point? You know I’m going to do this.

“What if there’s a family emergency, or I need to buy something online, which is also an emergency?”

CELL PHONE NOISE

Pick it up. It’s not Kim Jong-Un and it’s not Katy and it’s not Taylor.

“Promise?”

Does my word mean anything to you?

“No.”

So, let’s just get on with it and accept the inevitable and pick up the phone.

“What should I tell James Blake?”

Who?

“The guy I’m standing with.”

Dude, I elevated him from rando status because the picture’s caption said he was your high school buddy. I cannot begin to enumerate the lack of fucks I have for anything involving tennis. Just pick up the phone. You’ll like this one.

“He’s a real nice guy.”

Fuck him. Pick up the phone.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Hello?”

“Hello? Yes, hello? Is, uh…am I could I be speaking, um, is this John Mayer?”

“Maybe.”

“Bro, we haven’t met, but everyone says we’d totally fuckin’ hit it off, man.”

“Oh, motherfucker.”

Image result for ryan lochte

“I need a ride.”

“No.”

“Bro, help a bro out. I fucked up.”

“You were trying to score coke.”

“Jeah!”

“Don’t say your catch phrase at me, jackass.”

“Jorry.”

“What the hell is wrong with you, bro? Should’ve played it cool. Why would you even go out in Rio?”

“Skank.”

“Dude, Brazilian skank is a different skank than American skank. It’s like their coffee: it’s way too strong for us to handle.”

“Jeah.”

“I told you to stop that, you wet dipshit.”

“John, bro: bro. Bro? Fuckin’ bro.”

“I understand what you’re saying, but I’m still gonna pass.”

“Dude, please!”

“Why do you need a ride? That makes no sense. You got out of Brazil, and they grabbed your idiot buddies. Who, by the way, would not be in this mess if you hadn’t opened up your mouth on TV. You’re back in America. Why would you need a ride anywhere?”

“Right, see: I didn’t go to America. I was scared, man! I just got on the first plane that was leaving, and it landed some place really fucked up.”

“Ryan, who gave you my number”

“It me, Hot Dog Dick!”

“Dammit.”

kim jong un pool swimmers

“We got big-time American moron dolphin! Gonna breed him. Win every Olympic ever.”

“Kim Jong-Un, give back Ryan Lochte!”

“No! He mine now!”

“Unleeeeess.”

“Motherfucker.”

“What in it for me, Josh Meyer? We go Vegas?”

“I do not negotiate with terrorists.”

“Ryan Lochte power Only Korean submarines.”

“How would that even work?”

“Tie boat to him.”

“Yeah, maybe. Still, though: give him back. This will end badly.”

“Ryan Lochte property of Only Korea now. I adopt him. Make him niece.”

“What?”

“Then I hug Ryan Lochte and squeeze him and I will name him George.”

“God, this has gotten weird.”

“This is Kim Jong-Untimatum! Josh Meyer hang out or Ryan Lochte my prisoner forever.”

“Lemme call the president.”

“Tell Katy call me on Apple Hat.”

“No.”

“Father invent Ryan Lochte.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

1 Comment

  1. Kasturba looks positively radiant.

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