Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: soup (page 1 of 3)

Christmas Squattings

“Put me down, man.”

I know that voice.

“It’s me, man.”

Soup? Are you living in Bill Walton’s comically oversized Christmas stocking?

“It’s cozy in here. And all the oranges I can eat, man.”

That’s good for your scurvy.

“My gums are the pinkest they’ve ever been, man.”

Does Bill Walton know you’re in there?

“Shit, yeah, man. I know Big Bill since forever, man. I used to live in his van.”

I remember that.

“Big Bill’s good people, man.”

He is. Merry Christmas, Soup.

“Back atcha. I’m glad we can finally say ‘Merry Christmas’ again, man.”

Oh, no. Don’t tell me you’re on that Fox News ‘War on Christmas’ bullshit.

“No, man. I meant since last December. You say ‘Merry Christmas’ for, like, eleven-and-a-half months out of the year, and people think you’re nuts, man.”

Never change, buddy.

“I only got one set of clothes, man.”

Fyre On The Mountain

What do you think the Fourth Wave of feminism is going to be?

Straight-up murdering men in their sleep.

I’m surprised that wasn’t the First Wave.

If men were women, they wouldn’t put up with men’s shit.

And if they were anteaters, they would know what they were having for lunch.



Is that you?





There’s maybe a million people I pray this isn’t.

Get it over with.


“TotD? It’s Benjy.”

Oh, hey, Benj. What’s up?

“Nothing, everything’s great. Listen, you got a minute and a Paypal account?”

Are you in jail?


What’s worse than jail?

“They hired me to run the Fyre Festival and it’s not working out.”

You’re in charge of that nightmare?

“I didn’t realize it would be this difficult.”

That’s gonna be the quote of the year, isn’t it? Why are you on top of an RV?

“The situation here has gotten a bit iffy.”


“None of this is my fault! Ja said he was taking care of things. I was just supposed to be the on-site manager for the weekend!”

This is your fault, Benj. Didn’t you do any due diligence on this thing? I’m reading reports that everyone but the customers knew this was going to be a disaster for weeks.

“Ja looked me in the eyes.”

Stop calling him Ja.

“He said, ‘Dog, we good. It’s gonna be lit.’ And, you know, that’s as good as a signature.”

It’s not.

“I’m gonna give you a little update on the action here: cannibalism is rampant.”


“These kids were not prepared for calamity. Everybody here grew up in a house with a three-car garage. The collapse of reason and teamwork was almost immediate. Remember the security footage from Event Horizon?”


“It was like that. Several influencers were ripped to shreds.”

Nothing of value was lost.

“I just hope Ja’s okay.”

Fuck Ja! He did this!

“Oh, shit, they got the boats.”


“The kids have commandeered the tenders and are attacking the yachts.”

That’s not good.

“They’re just ramming into them at full-speed. It’s like the Battle of Salamis, but everyone’s wearing Apple Watches.”

Benjy, you should get out of there.

“That’s why I’m calling. Send money.”


“Send Precarious.”

Maybe. You gonna be okay for a minute? Can you defend the RV?

“Oh, yeah. It’s not just me.”

No? Who else is there?

“Heeeey, man.”

Hey, Soup. Should’ve figured when I saw the RV.

“What time is Woody Hayes on, man?”

Benjy, I’ll get back to you.


Oh, yeah.

Pack Up Your Life Again

Be careful, Bill Walton. Leaving that van door open is an invitation for–

“Heeeeey, man.”

–Soup to show up. Hey, Soup.

“Oscar night glamour, man.”

You’re watching the Academy Awards?

“No, this is the night that my buddy Oscar comes over. He’s a snappy dresser, man.”

Sure. You’re living in Bill Walton’s van in 1978 now?

“Just for the weekend. I’ve been surfing these past few months, man.”


“Well, you know need a place that’s available, right? So I been staying at the White House on weekends, and Mar-A-Lago during the week, man.”

There is an open bed at those places at those times. Good thinking, Soup.

“Nothing gets by me, man.”

Steal Your Carapace

Hey, crab.

“Heeeeey, man.”


“I’m Soup’s cousin, man.”

What’s your name?

“Bisque, man.”

Makes sense. Wait. How are you Soup’s cousin?

“He’s adopted. Don’t tell him, man.”

I won’t. Why are you living in a skull?

“Got thrown out of the mason jar I was staying in, man. Then there was a thermos. Had a sweet setup in a head gasket from a Pontiac, but the skull is just tits, man.”

Girl crabs like it?

“Crabs don’t work that way. I’m protected from predators, man.”

Good deal. So what’s next?

“Summer Tour starts pretty soon, so I’ll hook up with Soup and we’ll hit the highway, man.”

You should stay in the skull for tour.

“Duh, man.”

The High Seas



“Heeey, man.”

Are you living in Phil’s sign?

“Roomier than it looks, man. Nice view, too.”

Of the Nissan dealership?

“They got some nice cars, man.”

Do you enjoy it in there?

“It’s perfect except for one thing: I got a little phobia, man.”


“Drowning, man.”

We’re done.

He’s The One They Call Doctor Feelgood

trump doctor

Hey, Doctor Harold Bornstein, author of that absurd note on Donald Trump’s health. Whatcha doing?

“Heeeey, man.”

Goddammit, Soup.

“What do you think I do between tours, man?”

You’re a doctor?

“Yeah, man.”

A doctor for people?

“Only rich people, but yeah, man.

And you’re Donald Trump’s physician?

“I can’t talk about my patients, man. But, yeah, I am.”

Do you have any explanation for that letter?

“I was fuckin’ around, man.”


“And there might be a reality show or something in it. You got Andy Cohen’s number, man?”

Sure. How’s your prescribing hand feeling?

“You need something, man?”

Need? No.

“Same difference. Plus I got a closet full of samples, man.”

This is turning out better than one would have thought.

“I’m Dr. Soup, man.”

The Old Man And The Soup

Image result for hippie boat

“I got a fish, man! It’s big! And it’s Jesus, I think. Maybe I’m Jesus. Somebody’s Jesus, man.”

This is dumb.

“I’m gonna describe it in short sentences, man.”

Whose idea was this?

“Yours, man.”

You should have stopped me.

“Not the way this works, man.”

Holy shit, does that thing not look sea-worthy.

“It’s resting on the ground, man. This is more of a puddle than a body of water, man.”

Good idea.

Soups I Do Not Fear

  • Pre-cooked soup.
  • Post-cooked soup that has been sitting on the counter at room temperature for many, many hours.
  • Aloe vera soup.
  • Gazpacho.
  • Vicchisoisee.
  • Vichyswahz.
  • Vickilawrence.
  • Vicissitudesumppump.
  • Fuck it, you know what I mean: the cold French bullshit.
  • Soupy Sales.
  • Soup that is more than a mile from me.
  • New York newscasting legend Soup Simmons.
  • Summertime borscht. (An aside: “Summertime Borscht” is a great name for a secondary character in my new crime novel.)

Soup Has Turned On Me

foot burn.jpg

“What’d I do, man?”

Not you. The tasty liquid meal.

“Oh, right. That stuff, man. Never get near it, man.”


“Doesn’t know what it is, man. Food or beverage? Make up your mind, man.”

That makes both perfect sense and no sense whatsoever.

“I’m Soup, man.”

We Made Doody In My Chevy Van, And That’s All Right With Me

van soup jerry head




“Behind you, man.”

YAAH! Jesus, you snuck up on me. Hey, Soup.

“Heeeey, man.”

I didn’t hear you.

“I walk like a panther, man.”

Why aren’t you in there?

“That thing? Nah, you know: it’s a bit on the nose, man.”


“Also, man, between you and me? I’m going a little soft, man. I’ve had enough of living in other people’s vans. Just other people’s tour buses these days, man.”

Or the occasional high-end recreational vehicle.

“The Earthroamer? It’s a bit pooped, man.”


“Yeah, man. Real shame. That thing’s a beauty and people treated it like a bocce court, man. Billy locked himself in it and gave himself the stomach flu on purpose. You can’t just air the place out after that, man.”

Dead & Company are finished for the summer. What are you doing now?

“Olympics, man.”

Of course.

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