Thoughts On The Dead

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

Reunited And It Feels So Goat

“If you want one, I’ll get you one.”

I would have nowhere to wear a toppermost.

“Yeah. And I was just kidding. You’re not even supposed to know these exist.”

There’s a lot going on with that one.

“Summer Morning In The Fields?”

What now?

“All toppermosts have names. This one is Summer Morning In The Fields. I think it’s apropos. Fascinating story behind her.”

Her?

“All toppermosts are female.”

Sure.

“I had to travel to Japan to persuade a retired master tailor to create one last piece. His name was Hattori Hando.”

Hanzo?

“No. Hando. Completely different guy than the guy you’re thinking of.”

If you say so.

“He had retired to a fishing village outside Okinawa, where he ran a non-sushi bar.”

Non-sushi?

“He cooked the fish.”

Sure.

“Place smelled delicious.”

I’ll bet.

“No one knew his true identity. I bowed deeply, and then removed my overcoat to reveal one of his early masterpieces, Snowing On The Old People. He said nothing, and brought me some bass. I usually don’t like bass, but he poached it and it was just salty and creamy and I knew I should be eating my chicken breasts but I finished the whole plate. Oh my God, so yummy.”

I get it. Good fish.

“Hattori Hando sits down with me and we banter. So much tension.”

Sure.

“He asks me why I want a Hattori Hando toppermost.”

What’d you tell him?

“I said, ‘Because I want to look fancy.'”

That was it?

“It worked. He let me stay in his attic while he sewed. I spent my time practicing wearing clothes. At the end of a month, Hattori Hando came to me and we had a very Japanese ceremony. Like, if a layman saw it, he would totally know how Japanese it was. He presented the garment to me and said, “John Mayer, if you meet God while you are wearing this toppermost, then God will not know if it’s a robe or a kimono, but He’ll be pretty sure it isn’t a coat. You owe me like a trillion yen for the food and rent.’ It was a beautiful, spiritual moment.”

Uh-huh.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“I hate you.”

You’ve got every right.

“John Mayer, fashion is my passion.”

“Johnny!”

“I’m not gonna tell you again.”

“What do you know about goats?”

“Nothing.”

“There’s nothing to know! Very easy animal. Eats anything and won’t stop fucking. Goats are the opposite of pandas.”

“Why are we talking about goats? Why do you have a goat?”

“Why do WE have a goat!”

“Dammit, Benjy, did you buy a goat?”

“No! I invested in a goat. And I didn’t invest in just one. The key to goats is volume.”

How many goats do I now own?

“It’s gonna sound like a big number out of context.”

Benjy!

“2,000.”

Why?

“I told you: volume.”

Just because you keep saying it, doesn’t mean it makes sense.

“John, bubby, you can’t play your guitar forever. The concussions are adding up. These goats are our future.”

How do you make money off them?

“How do you not make money off them? Meat, milk, fur, odds and ends. Scrap cost alone is in the five figure region. And while they’re alive, you rent them out.”

“Rent them out?”

“To petting zoos. Children’s parties.”

“The lonely.”

“Godammit, Benjy.”

“What?”

“Am I a goat pimp now?”

“That’s such a small part of it. It’s barely even worth mentioning. And it’s an upscale clientele!”

“An upscale clientele of goatfuckers?”

“These are very successful men who grew up on farms and had formative experiences in barns. Don’t you judge them.”

“I will absolutely judge goatfuckers.”

“No offense, but that’s why Trump won.”

“Benjy, sell the goats.”

“You’re not seeing the upside here.”

“Sell the damn goats!”

“I’ll get rid of the motherfuckers.”

BANG!

GOAT DYING SOUND

“Oh, no.”

“I see you came back from the fucking dead. That’s good. I like that.”

“Not you.”

“Look how fucking sad I am.”

“Miles, you murdered me. I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“I like that toppermost.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s so sweet ofHEY wait a minute.”

“Get over here and take off your drawers and get freaky with yourself. Do it on top of the lion.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mr. Davis? Hi. My name is Benjy Eisen and I’m John’s manag–”

BANG!

flump

“Who the fuck did I just murder?”

“Benjy. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be fine.”

“Come back to me, John Mayer. I’m sorry I shot and killed you.”

“You didn’t just kill me, Miles. You killed our love.”

BROKENHEARTED GUITARIST RUNNING AWAY NOISE

Sorry it didn’t work out, Mr. Davis.

“Never know what’s gonna happen.”

That’s true. You might get back together.

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna stalk him.”

Please don’t stalk John Mayer, Miles Davis.

“I do what the fuck I want.”

I know.

5 Comments

  1. i saw that goat and one of those guys in chicago!

  2. What in God’s name is going on in that Miles picture?

    The painting(s) ? The lion, the couch covered with dry cleaning or a body wrapped in butcher paper? What the heck?

  3. It was just a matter of time, I suppose.

  4. Luther Von Baconson

    December 1, 2017 at 8:28 pm

    that Goat looks dosed

  5. Luther Von Baconson

    December 2, 2017 at 12:37 pm

    poor Miles

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