Thoughts On The Dead

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

Going To The Chapel

You should be wearing goggles.

“Is this even about the Dead anymore?”

I’ll ask the questions here. Is this even about the Dead anymore?

“In spirit. Anarchic form, recurring themes of death and resurrection, loose relationship with punctuality.”

What about not in spirit?

“You don’t do as many of those ‘the Dead go to a golf course’ things you used to.”

I did a lot of them. Is this the only reality?

“The only one that matters. All those deep thinkers are gonna tell you about parallel worlds and the trimensional helix, and then they’re gonna give you phenomenology and the head-in-a-jar hooha, but if you fall off your bad motor scooter you will skin your knee.”

The only true reality is the dangerous one?

“On some days. Let me make it easier for you: reality is a grammatical construct; it’s the subject, and you’re the object.”

That didn’t make it easier at all.

“Reality is that which you cannot opt out of. ”

That was easy. What happens after you die?

“The funeral.”

Is there an afterlife?

“Yes, but you’d rather go to the after-party.”

Open bar?

“The openest.”

Why do we strive to achieve in the face of certain death?

“Boredom.”

Don’t suppose it’s any use asking you out.

“I’m getting married.”

Right. Who’s the lucky groom?

“I’m marrying a manda.”

Amanda?

“No. A manda.”

Huh?

“YOU GOT ANY BAMBOO OR PORN, BROTHER?”

Ah. A human/panda hybrid. A manda.

“BUT I FUCK LIKE A PUMA!”

Nope, no more. This bit is absolutely forbidden from now on.

1 Comment

  1. Brent?

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