Thoughts On The Dead

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

Live/Evil #9

Is…is that Emerson, Lake, and Palmer?

“Yeah. I don’t know which one’s which, though.”

Me, neither. All prog rockers look alike.

“White people, too.”

You always go there.

“White man’s got less ethnic variation in him than the black man. Africa’s big as a motherfucker, Europe’s the size of Delaware. Less places for the genes to wander. Look at Africans. You got dark-skinned motherfuckers, light-skinned motherfuckers, all kinds of noses and shit. White folks all the same shade of pale.”

I guess, maybe.

“These boys are okay. Trained fucking musicians. Can read. Familiar with my music. Most of those sissy motherfuckers ain’t shit, though. I pushed Cat Stevens down a flight of stairs once at a festival.”

Why?

“Principle.”

Wow. Hey, Mr. Davis? I just watched a great documentary about James Brown. Did you know him?

“Course I fucking knew James. Knew him for years. Used to call me up. We’d talk about business, I think.”

You think?

“Don’t tell no one, but I never understood a single fucking word that man ever said to me.”

He needed sub-titles.

“Sounded like a washing machine full of rocks. Country-ass motherfucker. Didn’t trust banks. Liked cash. Motherfucker would always have $20 fucking grand on him. Said to him, ‘You gonna get robbed one day.'”

What’d he say?

“How the fuck should I know? Told you I didn’t understand the mushmouthed motherfucker.”

“Ve get band back together.”

“Ah, not this motherfucker again.”

“Ve will play progressively. Call band PDELP.”

“Suck my dick. DPELP, if it’s anything, and it ain’t anything. You ain’t in my band.”

“Da. Bring fresh new sound of balalaika.”

“That’s a commie-guitar is what that is.”

“Is nyet commie-guitar. Balalaika.”

“Commie-guitar.”

“Balalaika.”

All right, gentlemen. Knock it off.

“Fuck you.”

“Da. Vhat Miles David said.”

“Don’t be on my side. You ain’t on my side.”

“Da. Am sideman. Or else.”

“Or else? You threatening me, motherfucker?  What you gonna do?”

thwip

thwip

thwip

FLUMP

FLUMP

FLUMP

“Motherfucker, did you just blowdart Emerson, Lake, and Palmer?”

“Da.”

“They dead?”

“Not if antidote is given in time.”

“Hey.”

“Vhat?”

“Not you, motherfucker. The other motherfucker.”

Me?

“Yeah. You. I don’t like this shit no more.”

You think I enjoy it?”

BANG!

Ah, shoot me. You’d do us both a favor.

“You on my list.”

I’m on my list, too.

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