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

Tag: ernest hemingway

Garcias All The Way Down

walmart jerry

Oh, c’mon! I need to put my foot down.

“People who appreciate a good deal need a Garcia, too. I’m Wal-Mart Garcia.”

Nice how you put effort into the name.

“Don’t you creativity-shame me!”

Not a thing.

“I had a terrible education.”

Where’d you go to school?

“Brown.”

Sure. Get out.

[PDF] Li, Ernest Hemingway -

“I will tutor you, Wal-Mart Garcia.”

Fuck this shit.

“My lessons will be direct. We will write in the morning. We will do dangerous activities in the afternoon. Then, the drink.”

And you are?

“Manly Garcia.”

Sure.

[PDF] Pratchett starts process

“That man’s not half the Garcia I am, Wal-Mart Garcia.”

I don’t understand this storyline at all.

“Join with me, and we will wear hats.”

Terry Garcia?

“Oh, hello. Have we been introduced?”

Okay, that’s enough. Every white guy with a beard and a book or two to his name isn’t a Garcia.

frederick douglas

“Who are you calling white, sir?”

Shit.

“Garcias come in all colors, shapes, and sizes.”

One size, really.

“To deny that one is a Garcia is to deny one is a man!”

Fine, whatever: you’re a Garcia.

“Thank you.”

Name?

“Slavery Garcia.”

OH, COME ON.

“You have a problem with my name?”

A bit on the nose, isn’t it?

“Don’t tell me what my name is. Don’t tell me what to do. I was born a slave and I wrote a book. You’ve been white all your life. Where’s your book?”

FUCK YOU, FREDERICK DOUGLAS!

“FUCK YOU, WHITE BOY!”

Can we not do this?

He started it.

No. No, he didn’t There’s no “he.”

Yeah, sure.

Please stop doing this bit. It’s weird and no one likes it.

Some people like it.

They’re wrong to do so.

Audition

Okay, E.H.?

The Dead was a good band, fine and manly. They first met as volunteer firemen in the Boer War. That was a fine war: manly as all wars were, except the French-Indian War, which was some totally homo shit.

Okay, we’re fine with stretching the truth, but that’s just wrong.

But I look like your guitar player.

Thank you. Next: E.D.?

When Etna purrs

I tremble

Have not left my room

since I discovered the Archive

So, it’s just poetry and frilly blouses and your meals being brought to you, right?

Essentially.

Thank you, sweetie. Next: R.H.

The Dead were like my testicles: hairy and they knew how to swing, man. Check out this MONSTERLICKER–

You sound familiar.

–of a show from 2/15/70 in Philly, that I haven’t actually listened to yet, just pretty much picked at random and will bother you with P.S.’s about in the coming hours.

Ah, fuck it: it’s you. I thought Billy…?

Oh, hells yeah, he worked my sack: I’ll never play the harmonica again, but as it turns out, you can’t truly fire me.

Why not.

We are the same person. It’s just…it’s just that the fonts change, buddy.

Buddy?

Why won’t you play along?

Oh, I’m sorry, man.

You always–

–You’re right–

you do this–

I know.

And it’s why we can’t have fun, y’know?

So, let’s have fun!

I want to go skiing.

We’re gonna go skiing.

YOU KNOW I HATE SKIING!

OKAY, EVERYONE OUT OF THE POOL.