Thoughts On The Dead

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

Simply Amazing

I don’t understand what I’m looking at here. Walk me through your trousers, Bobby.

“They were sold to me as a set of drapes.”

They are flabbergasting.

“Comfortable as all get out.”

“Get out” is a good phrase to use. You should get out of those pants.

“They’re not so bad.”

Not if you made them yourself on a desert island.

“First you attack Snake Tee-Shirt. Then you attack Giant Curtain Pants–”

Don’t anthropomorphize the pants!

“–and you know, man: I gotta live with ’em. Stop riling up my clothes.”

Sorry.

“It’s all right.”

Cool. Hey, Phil.

“You see Weir’s pants?”

How could I miss them?

“I can hear you two.”

“I know.”

Yeah, we know.

Oh, God, you’re wearing your fanny pack, too.

“We’re through for the night.”

Okay.

4 Comments

  1. If you wore those and stood just exactly perfectly, it would feel like you weren’t wearing any pants at all.

  2. I feel like he was drawn by a 6th grader who hasn’t figured out legs yet and was only really interested in the guitar and beard

  3. Luther Von Baconson

    February 10, 2017 at 7:35 pm

    you got the bubblin’ shits hot enough to scald a churn? those are the pants you need.

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