Thoughts On The Dead

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

Bush, Bucks


What are you, a deer?

“You been talking to that asshole rhino?”

Excuse me?

“Owes me fifty bucks. Been ducking me.”

How does a rhino duck someone?

“Okay, he hasn’t been ducking me. He just stands there and doesn’t pay me back.”


“Can’t really threaten him.”

There would be no possible follow-through.


Why does he owe you fifty bucks?



“What do you think, we all just stand around all day waiting for white people to come and look at us? We have lives.”

Sorry. Listen, again: what are you?


Is that African for “deer?”

“I’m not a deer.”

You absolutely are a deer. You are a foreign deer. Your antlers are the wrong shape, but still you are a deer.

“First of all, I am in the antelope family.”

Wasn’t debating that. Antelope are deer. Deer that jump. You’re all deer. If I had a car, you’d run in front of it.

“You’re a racist.”

And you have a cloven hoof: the Bible expressly tells me to be a dick to you.

“Eat my ass.”


1 Comment

  1. Dear….

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