Thoughts On The Dead

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

Bruce Honsby & The Ginge #7

trey bruce bacjstage

“So, Mickey sent you a book about telepathic ants?”

“Bruce. Dude. You…have…ABSOLUTELY NO FUCKING IDEA what is going on with these hoopleheads and their books.”

“A lot?”

“Three UPS guys have had nervous breakdowns. Alone, Phil has sent me half-a-ton of literature.”

“Really?”

“And it’s all the same book.”

“That bullshit about aliens building the pyramids?”

“Bingo. Me and the kids built forts out of them and had Nerf battles.”

“So, you should thank Phil for that family moment, then.”

“Yeah. They grow up so fast.”

“Mickey send you anything else?”

“Y”know at the end of Oprah or Dr. Phil, when they ask if you want a printed transcript? And you wonder who would ever want such a thing?”

“Mickey?”

“Old episodes of Donahue. Like, ten years worth.”

“Bound?”

“Well-bound. Mickey had loved these things.”

“Look through ’em?”

“Little bit.”

“Learn anything?”

“The Cold War was much weirder than we remember it being.”

“Trey?”

“Yeah, Bruce?”

“Did Billy send anything?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Was it pornography? It was pornography. Pornography?”

“What he sent me was to pornography what pornography is to children’s cartoons. If you were aroused by it, you would have to immediately change your entire lifestyle and buy new clothes, one’s that didn’t stain easily. It was basically terrorporn. It was porn as a terroristic act: in a metaphorical sense, what Billy sent me was a collection of planes flying into boners and the boners collapsing and then a tribute concert to the boners that ended with Paul McCartney leading a super-jam.”

“So, more than triple-X.”

“At least 14 or 15 X’s. Plus, he sent me a few boxes of shit from his garage: broken leafblower, opened cans of paint, that kind of shit.”

“You could fix the leafblower, Trey.”

“We kinda hire a guy to do that, y’know? I really don’t need a leafblower. That weirdo fucking drummer of mine probably start taking twenty-minute solos on it, anyway.”

“Drummers.”

“Drummers.”

“Bobby send you any books?”

“He did not.”

“Yeah.”

“Bruce?”

“Yeah, Trey?”

“They send you any inspirational books?”

“No, they’re not worried about me.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

3 Comments

  1. This is all starting to sound allot like a recent set of circumstances, under which, I offered to edit a certain guy’s “book” about all the stuff that can kill you/us/them in our daily lives. He was a really, really, good sound engineer for a certain Popular Music Anti-Star that wrote about Husky Pee and the like. Do your own homework. I’m skirting the whole issue to avoid some mutant Ju-Ju landing on my lawn/roof/seemingly insignificant personal item.

    You don’t want these people inside of your head, Kiddies.

  2. Thanks Thoughts, that just made my day

  3. As one of my few sources of true happiness, this page needs to be updated a bit more frequently than it has of late. Chop chop! CIAO

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