Thoughts On The Dead

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

It’s Bobbys All The Way Down


Y’know, most guys have never had a strange woman look at them like that.

“I’m not most guys.”


“Joined the circus at 16. Plus, you know: Neal Cassady taught me how to shave.”

You have been a rock star for 75.81% of your life.


Did the math.

“Do I win?”

I don’t think it’s a contest.

“Is now. Who’s got the greatest life percentage of rock-stardom? 75 percent is up there.”

It’s up there.

“I gotta be in first place.”

Could be. Wait, no: Stevie Wonder.

“Ah. He started real young.”

Little Stevie.

“Didn’t even take a summer to be a cowboy.”

I don’t think Stevie Wonder could have been a cowboy, Bobby.

“There were a lot of black cowboys.”

Very true. Not so many blind ones.

“You’d be surprised. I bunked next to a blind cowboy on the ranch, Patches.”


“Wore two eye-patches like a double pirate.”


“Lost both eyes in a poker game. Some guys shouldn’t gamble.”

How did he cowboy if he was blind?

“Poorly. If I’m honest. And, y’know, not to speak ill of the dead.”

He died?

“First day he was there, before lunch. Not a place for a blind man.”



Bobby, did you just “shh” me?

“No, no.”


“I think it’s the me on my shirt.”



Shut the fuck up, shirt! Who said you get a speaking part?

“Snake T-Shirt does!”

Leave him out of this!


Fuck you, shirt! Shirts don’t tell me what to do!




“Yes, attentive rando?”

“Is your shirt arguing with God?”

“Kinda. Are you familiar with the concept of semi-fictionality?”


  1. Is that Oates from Garfunkle and Oates?

  2. Those are poppies on his lapel, opiate epidemic has peaked when it hits Cowboy shirts.

  3. Bobby is trying to sneak out with two bags of swag, resolutely avoiding eye contact with with a security guard begging him to submit to a search.

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