What is with you and wrists?
“Wrist doesn’t get enough respect It’s the gateway to the arm.”
“Wrist, ankle. Not enough credit. Joints are important. Couldn’t play guitar without a wrist. Hell, you need two.”
“What’s going on at the Riot Olympics?”
“I know what I said.”
It’s a mess.
“Well, you know: the Dead was always a bit of a mess.”
Different level of mess. Dead was a house with a baby in it; Rio is like a house with a hoarder in it. And–frightening as this is to say–you guys were more competent.
“The majority of us were reasonably on time, and reasonably sober.”
And the crowds are turning on the athletes. Brazil is a bit fucked at the moment, and the Olympics are stealing hundreds of millions from them, and John and Jane Speedo are turning their ire on table tennis players and swimmers and such.
“Not a great look. How’s the basketball team doing?”
“Aren’t they staying on a yacht anchored offshore?”
Yeah. Not a bad idea, actually. They’re on–
CELL PHONE NOISE
“That must be you. My hat ran out of power..”
CELL PHONE NOISE
“If it’s Kim Jong-Un, don’t tell him I’m here. Don’t tell him I’m not here, either. Don’t mention me, is the point.”
“Little Boy Dick!”
Don’t call me that.
“I call you what I want. Father invent nicknames.”
“No. He invent concept.”
Leave me alone.
“I have NBA players.”
That is not the NBA players’ yacht.
“Yes. I kidnap players. Just like Space Jam.”
No, you didn’t.
“I ransom. Give back players if Josh Meyer come hang out. Summer of Skank.”
Everyone needs to stop saying that, but you need to stop saying that the most.
“Meyer hang out, players go back. Most players go back.”
You don’t have the American basketball team.
“Yes. Look. Carmelo Anthony.”
Stop it. That’s Dennis Rodman.
Stop being racist.
“Father invent Carmelo Anthony.”
Oh, quit it.
“Let me talk to Bobby.”
“Put Wally on phone.”
DO NOT CALL ME THAT, AND I DON’T WANT TO TALK TO YOU, EITHER.
You heard the sound system.
“You guys suck.”