Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: tesla

Einstein Disguised As Robin Hood With His Memories In A Frunk

Why are you here?

“You are a hurtful and bitter man.”

Be on tour. Go play arenas. Get blowjobs and buy sneakers. I deal with you when I have to. You’re like good-looking herpes.

“Thank you!”

All you heard was “good-looking,” right?

“Uh-huh.”

How’s your tour going?

“Dude, so awesome. No one’s called me Josh in weeks. Haven’t been dosed in a while. Oh, and the crowds? Hotter.”

I would imagine.

“No, you can’t. You cannot imagine how much more fuckable a John Mayer solo show crowd is than a Dead & Company show.”

I bet you got some Deadheads coming out now, though.

“Oh, yeah. Know how I know?”

Are they yelling out for Dark Star?

“They are. Every night. You know that Billy Joel song Leave A Tender Moment Alone?”

Sure.

“Well, Deadheads don’t do that. Deadheads see a tender moment, and they yell Dark Star. It’s like hippie Tourette’s.

I’m sure someone’s going to be offended by that.

“Hey, at least I didn’t say anything racist about my dick.”

True.

“The Dark Star thing has to stop. Can you tell people?”

No one takes my advice on anything ever.

“It’s fucking absurd. I tried to talk to one of them the other night.”

Oh, don’t do that.

“I learned my lesson. Guy shouts out Dark Star, so I say–calmly, reasonably–‘Hey, man, we don’t know that tune.'”

And?

“So, he yells ‘The chords are A and G! It’s in D minor!’ And I’m like, ‘Yeah, I know,’ but he cuts me off. ‘It’s a modal jam!'”

Got a music theory major in the crowd.

“Threw me off my game. I couldn’t make my faces for three or four solos.”

Three or four solos? So…half a song?

“Yeah.”

Good seeing you, Josh.

“Follow me on Instagram!”

God help me, i do.

Someone Done Stole Your Batt’ry

Are you wearing a tee-shirt with your own picture on it while autographing your own car?

“Looks like it.”

That’s a healthy level of self-regard even for a Rock Star.

“Well, you know how I’ve been looking for my bliss?”

You’ve mentioned it once or twice.

“Sure. Well, uh, I found my bliss. Turns out it’s me. I’m my own bliss.”

Awesome.

“The commute’s great.”

Sure. Why are you signing your car?

“Giving it away.”

Can I have it?

Not that kind of giving it away. Auction.”

Figures. Finally decided to get rid of the old girl?

“She’s acting up. The, uh, performance issues have intensified.”

How so?

“I don’t know how it got a hold of my credit cards, but it ordered itself new rims.”

Spinners?

“Spinners. And, you know: I’m not really a show-offy kind of guy.”

You’re wearing a tee-shirt with your own face on it.

“Maybe I’m just not a spinner guy.”

That’s understandable.

“That was bad, but the phone calls are unacceptable.”

Phone calls?

“The car has learned to imitate my voice.”

Like the T1000?

“Exactly. And it, uh, crank calls my friends and family. Little bastard fired New Brent the other day.”

That’s kinda funny.

“Funny to you. Because you didn’t have to spend an hour on the phone with a crying keyboardist.”

True. Thinking about what your new ride’s gonna be?

“Oh, yeah. Been looking at a 1985 Buick Grand National.”

What?

“Maybe importing a Skyline from Japan.”

Excuse me?

“I could dig the Vette out of the garage. Needs a little paint, tune-up. She’ll run good again. Or, you know, I could just get another Tesla so my sister-in-law–”

Lillian Monster.

“–doesn’t stab me in the face with a locally-sourced machete.”

Good point.

“I want the one with the fancy doors.”

Good choice. What’s Billy doing there?

“He wanted to get one last tugger in the backseat.”

Has he been getting tuggers in the backseat of your bar, Bobby?

“If you asked me that yesterday, I would’ve said ‘no.’ But things have come to light today.”

Billy told you?

“Yup.”

Did he tell you while he was getting a tugger in the backseat of your car?

“You bet.”

You should leave that off the auction website.

“Probably.”

Imminent, Front

The Tesla 3 was announced the other day; it’s more acoustic-based than the first two albums, but has the worst cover. It is also a go-cart built by a Communist, but hundreds of thousands ponied up the grand for the deposit, anyway.

This is what it looks like:

tesla 3

For all its novelty, the 3 looks like a Hyundai, except for the front of the car, which looks like a Ken doll’s genital area. I understand the impetus behind removing the grille–the car no longer needs to suck in air–but it seems like they forgot to finish the thought and design something to replace it. Perhaps it was on Elon Musk’s to-do list and then a rocket blew up and he meant to get to it: you know how life is.

And–like everything else in the world–the Tesla 3 has a Dead connection. In this article from Mashable–which is a word, I suppose–we learn that the line for these cars is simply uncuttable, as even Lillian Monster has to wait for one. This is the picture the article used:

Image- leilani.green

Looking past the Sunoco patch, which I’m sure was sewn onto the suit by accident, I couldn’t help but wonder why Lillian Monster looks so familiar.

[PDF] Ricky Bobby Returns!

Ah. There it is.

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