Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: bill clinton

Rob, Bob, Bill, Hill

“Bobby Ace! How yew doin’, hoss?”

“Doing well, Mr. President.”

“Lemme ask yew a question, Bob.”

“All right.”

“Where’s the puss?”

“Uh, sir, your wife is right there.”

“Oh, man, it’s okay. Me an’ Hill got an arrangement.”

“Yeah? What’s that, sir?”

“I do whatever the hell I want all the time, and she faces the consequences.”


“Billy here?”

“You know our drummer?”

“Shit, yeah. Me an’ Big Bad Bill got a common interest.”


“Skank, yeah. That boy is a hound. Love Billy the K. Good people. You know that whole ‘triangulating’ bullshit we was all on about?”


“Billy came up with that. ‘Cept it wasn’t ’bout no politics.”

“Was it about skank?”

“It was, it was. Skank got three usable holes, y’know.”

“I’ve heard that.”

“Hey, Bill. Bobby! So nice to see you again.”

“Oh, hello, Mrs. Clinton.”

“Can I trouble you for a quick favor?”

“I already donated to your foundation.”

“Not that. You got the Time Sheath?”

“Maybe. Why?”

“I just want to peek ahead a couple decades. See how it all turns out.”

“You don’t want that.”

“Do you have the Time Sheath or not?”


Technically, She Does Outrank Them

“Hey, Dubbs.”

“Yeah, BO?”

“Don’t call me that. Your dad okay?”

“Honestly? Not in the slightest. It’s pretty much a Weekend at Bernie’s-type situation now.”

“He’s, uhhhh, a great American. Fought for his country in the war. A lifetime of public service. A great man.”

“Yeah, I love my dad.”

“Can he, uhhhh, hear us?”

“His hearing comes and goes. Lemme see. DADDY! DADDY!”

“Nope, nothin’.”

“Pity. Rather talk to him than Preachasaurus over here.”

“We should stop invitin’ Carter to these things, man. Brings the whole ambulance of the room down.”

“The what?”

“You know: how everything’s feeling. The mood. The ambulance.”

“Never change, Dubbs.”

“Know what I just noticed, Barry?”

“Don’t call me that either.”

“Look at all o’ us sittin’ here. Straight backs. Smilin’. You imagine if You-Know-Who was here?”

“Yup. Man sits like he’s a gargoyle taking a shit.”

“It’s the posture I picture Elvis assuming in the hours before he checked into the Heartbreak Hotel. Readin’ one o’ his astrology books.”

“Sure, sure. I see him as the Elephant Man trying to blow himself.”

“No, they fired the guy who was tryin’ to do that.”


“Seriously, Dubbs, what the hell are we gonna do?”

“I gave a hard-hitting speech the other day.”

“Heard that. Very good. Direct. Sober. To the point without being personal. Quality speech.”

“You think it’ll help?”


“Dang. What if I get on Twitter? Roast him up a l’il bit?”

“Jesus, Dubbs, we’re trying to save the country from chaos and embarrassment. How does an ex-president and the current president getting into a Twitter beef help in any way?”



“I’m gonna memes him. Memes the crap out o’ him. He’s gonna see my memes and be like, ‘Whaaaa?’ an’ then I’m jus’ gonna throw more memes at him.”



“Holy shit, do not call me that. What is a meme?”

“Memes. Ends in a ‘S.'”

“You have no idea what memes are, do you?”

“Is it an acronym?”

“Hey! You boys talkin’ pussy over there?”

“No, Bill.”

“No, Bill.”

“Okay. Tell me when that’s the topic.”

“Sure, Bill.”

“Sure, Bill.”

“That, uhhh, man has run out of fucks.”

“Hillary losin’ the election freed him. He’s more viagra than president now. You hear about the fuck-planes?”

“Yup. And the fuck-boats.”

“Uh-huh. You name the terrain, Billy’s fuckin’ on it. I heard he’s gettin’ hisself a fuck-snowcat.”

“Like one of those research vehicles with treads that they use in Antartica?”



“Wants to fuck in it.”

“He’s enjoying his golden years.”

“Different strokes f’r different folks. I like painting. He likes fuck-planes.”

“God bless America.”

“You said it.”

“So, listen: I love Lady Gaga an’ all, but–”

“She won’t return my calls.”

“–we couldn’t get Beyoncé?”

“Leave it alone, man.”

“Gotcha, hoss.”

Fire Wardrobe





“Please hold for the President.”

“Oh, what now? An hour, please. Just an hour. Give me one hour without your hectoring, haranguing, holier-than thou tone.”

“You forgot ‘haughty.’Where are ya, Hillary?

“Plane back to New York with Bill.”

“Philly, huh?”

“It was great. Thank you, Mr. President. Such a high note to end the campaign on.”

“Ah! Funny you should use those words. You got the teevee on, Hill?”

“My eyes hurt.”

“My head hurts. Turn on CNN.”


“You gotta be shitting me.”

“What the fuck, Hillary? Just, just: what the fuck? I am an educated and eloquent man, dammit, and all I have left for you is ‘what the fuck?’ You have reduced me, Hillary, you decade-long albatross around my neck.”

“Why is she a Nazi?”

“Good question! That is a good fucking question, Hill! Why is Lady Gaga dressed as a Nazi?”

“Hail Mary appeal to Trump voters?”

“Yeah, jokes. Tell jokes right now. Look at the screen again.”


“Still laughing, Hillary?”

“Goddammit. ”

“The only way this could be worse is if ‘stronger’ were in German. And who chose that shade of blue? Jesus, I have to do everything.”

“Hill, why is Madonna dressed like a Nazi?”

“Read your book, Bill. Mr President, I’ll make a call.”

“No, no. I’ll do it. If you handle it, she’s liable to wind up wearing something worse.”

“What’s worse than a Nazi uniform?”

“If anyone could figure it out, it’s you. I’ll take care of–”


“Hill, I’ll call you back. Y’know what? I’ll won’t return this call, but we’ll pick it up when I call you for the next disaster in an hour.”

“Looking forward to it, Mr. Presi–”


“How’d you get in here?”

TOPSHOT - Russian President Vladimir Putin (L) meets with his US counterpart Barack Obama on the sidelines of the G20 Leaders Summit in Hangzhou on September 5, 2016. / AFP PHOTO / SPUTNIK / ALEXEI DRUZHININALEXEI DRUZHININ/AFP/Getty Images

“I am Russian bear. Bear is very sneaky.”

“No, it’s not. Bears make a ton of noise.”

“Maybe obnoxious Yankee bear. Russian bear silent.”

“Nonsense. Wanna know what’s silent? Eagle. No sound at all.”

“No. You are thinking of owl.”

“Vladimir, I don’t have time to argue about the relative volume of woodland creatures. I’ve got an election to take care of.”

“Da. Me, too.”

“I’m gonna quote from a great American right now, and say that if I see you peek your little head up over there in the fucking slightest today, then we’re gonna have a problem.”

“Maybe we already have problem.”

“You’re the one with the problem.”

“No problem. You are problem.”

“Everyone needs to stop it with that bit. Listen, gulag-face: keep your greasy Cossack mitts out of the election. Last warning.”

“What in it for me?”


“Make me offer.”

“The United States does not negotiate with terrorists.”

Hamilton tickets.”


Center, Left



Oh, get the fuck out of there.

“Stole the Time Sheath.”

And used it for this?

“Been drinking.”


“Hey, look: the Secret Serv–”




(Unless otherwise noted, all the ‘shops are done by Spencer from the Comments Section, and you should either thank or excoriate him, depending on your reaction to what he’s created.)

Bill And Benjy (Variations)

bill walton benjy giants

“You’re not an Asian lady, but you couldn’t play professional basketball, either. Not because of the Judaism, though: NBA’s a wildly inclusive place. Lot of great Jewish players. Kareem Abdul Jabbar, for example.”

“Are you sure about that, Bill?”

“Oh, yeah. When he converted to Islam, he marked the wrong box on the form. Checked off ‘Jew’ instead of ‘Muslim.’ No one noticed for a few years. Kareem scored around 5,000 points as a Jew, legally speaking.”

“There’s a form?”

“What’s happening, Benjy? How’s the Summer of Skank going?”

“It’s getting skanky.”

“Well, hence the name.”

“No, skankier than that. Like: the level of skank we started at? We have surpassed that by orders of magnitude at this point. We might be reaching skankuration.”

“That’s skanky.”


“What’s caused the escalation?”

“Billy discovered the internet.”

“Oh, the internet is maybe 65% pure skank.”

“Access to skank is unfettered. He’s meeting girls online now.”



“Oh, that’s no good.”

“Getting great stories out of it, though. Billy invited a local roller-derby team over the other night to watch the Olympics. They gave him a 4×400 Relay.”

“Was his boner the baton?”


“He does that every Olympics.”

“Got almost enough material for the book, and then I concentrate on the new Reed Mathis-led Classical Dance Music project, Electric Beethoven, whose debut album is available September 30.”

“Don’t you plug at me, young man.”

“A man has a right to plug, Bill Walton.”

“You two nitwits got a title for the book yet?”

“Couple options: Easy Skanking: Crazy Nights, Hazy Days, and Sticky Bellies on Tour with Dead & Company and other stories.”


The Shawskank Redemption.”


A Boner’s-Eye View of America.”


Summer of Skank: Goin’ In Dry.”


Summer of Skank: That’s Not My Thermometer.”

“I know that joke.”

Summer of Skank: Mission to Moscow.”

“I’m walking over there now, Benjy

“Okay, Bill. Can I have my hat back?”


Someone Watch Bill


There are an infinite number of jokes one might make about the above tableaux, but I’ll forswear them for now in order to tell you why this story is dopey, and obviously written by someone from Washington who doesn’t know how the show business industry works.

Campaign documents reveal that Hillary Clinton’s campaign paid Katy Perry (or, actually, her production company “Katy Purry”) $200,000 for headlining some campaign appearances. There is outrage from the quarters that outrage comes from. Both the BernieBros and the BernieBronies said things on Twitter that they would never say in public.

The article fails to make clear whether there were full-on performances by Katy Perry; if there were, I’m shocked that Clinton only got charged two hundred grand. On the other hand, if Katy just showed up in a tight dress and said some stuff, then that is: A, some outlandish bullshit; and B, good work, Katy. Get that money, girl.

%d bloggers like this: