Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: vladimir putin (page 1 of 4)

Some Girls I Give All My Bread To

Were you drinking in the car?

“Snorting cocaine, too, motherfucker. Shut the fuck up.”

Where you coming from?

“Gig. Fucking Canada. Weird little motherfuckers up here. Chipper. I don’t like Canada. Too much like America.”

A lot of people like Canada for that very reason.

“Fuck ’em. I gotta cross a border, I wanna see some foreign shit. Japan. Those Chinamen in Japan are some foreign-ass motherfuckers. Don’t do nothing right.”

Wow.

“The women are fine. Quiet. I like that. Small feet. I ain’t got a foot thing, but they got small fucking feet. Good for dancing with so you don’t step on ’em. Italian bitches got big feet. And they ain’t quiet. Italian bitch knows how to cook. Food you recognize, too. None of that weird Japan food. Japanese bitch liable to just throw a live squid at your face.”

I don’t think they would.

“German bitches cost too much to feed. Always fucking hungry. Like wolverines with big titties.”

This is like the worst cover of Some Girls I’ve ever heard.

“South American women got that something. See, there was a lot of mixing going on down there. Conquistadors and Indians and shit. Plus it’s real hot, so everybody’s half-naked all the fucking time. The South American respects the ass. White man fears fat asses. The white man thinks he isn’t man enough to make that ass do what he says. This is why all your movie star bitches got no asses. The white man teaches his white children to fear the ass.”

How much cocaine did you have?

“English bitches all like getting pissed on.”

Can we talk about literally anything else?

“Vhat about Russian vomen?”

“Ah, not this motherfucker again.”

“Russian voman is best voman. She cut down tree in morning, plow field in afternoon, ride on boner at night. Is best woman.”

“Russian bitches got fat ankles.”

“Da. Is sexy.”

“No, it ain’t.”

“Da. Fat ankles good for standing in line for radishes. Provide sturdy base. Hot.”

“You motherfuckers ought to burn your whole country down and start the fuck over.”

“Nyet. Ve are awesome. Okay. Ve play My Funny Valentine.”

“Fuck you.”

“In C.”

“Figures you only like the white keys.”

“Putin is nyet racist. Have had many negros assassinated.”

Guys, guys. Let’s keep it down.

“You got a fucking ending for this shit?”

“He nyet have punchline. Vas going to let us bicker pointlessly.”

Putin’s right, Mr. Davis.

“Motherfucker. Typical.”

“Da. Is typical.”

I know.

Live/Evil #9

Is…is that Emerson, Lake, and Palmer?

“Yeah. I don’t know which one’s which, though.”

Me, neither. All prog rockers look alike.

“White people, too.”

You always go there.

“White man’s got less ethnic variation in him than the black man. Africa’s big as a motherfucker, Europe’s the size of Delaware. Less places for the genes to wander. Look at Africans. You got dark-skinned motherfuckers, light-skinned motherfuckers, all kinds of noses and shit. White folks all the same shade of pale.”

I guess, maybe.

“These boys are okay. Trained fucking musicians. Can read. Familiar with my music. Most of those sissy motherfuckers ain’t shit, though. I pushed Cat Stevens down a flight of stairs once at a festival.”

Why?

“Principle.”

Wow. Hey, Mr. Davis? I just watched a great documentary about James Brown. Did you know him?

“Course I fucking knew James. Knew him for years. Used to call me up. We’d talk about business, I think.”

You think?

“Don’t tell no one, but I never understood a single fucking word that man ever said to me.”

He needed sub-titles.

“Sounded like a washing machine full of rocks. Country-ass motherfucker. Didn’t trust banks. Liked cash. Motherfucker would always have $20 fucking grand on him. Said to him, ‘You gonna get robbed one day.'”

What’d he say?

“How the fuck should I know? Told you I didn’t understand the mushmouthed motherfucker.”

“Ve get band back together.”

“Ah, not this motherfucker again.”

“Ve will play progressively. Call band PDELP.”

“Suck my dick. DPELP, if it’s anything, and it ain’t anything. You ain’t in my band.”

“Da. Bring fresh new sound of balalaika.”

“That’s a commie-guitar is what that is.”

“Is nyet commie-guitar. Balalaika.”

“Commie-guitar.”

“Balalaika.”

All right, gentlemen. Knock it off.

“Fuck you.”

“Da. Vhat Miles David said.”

“Don’t be on my side. You ain’t on my side.”

“Da. Am sideman. Or else.”

“Or else? You threatening me, motherfucker?  What you gonna do?”

thwip

thwip

thwip

FLUMP

FLUMP

FLUMP

“Motherfucker, did you just blowdart Emerson, Lake, and Palmer?”

“Da.”

“They dead?”

“Not if antidote is given in time.”

“Hey.”

“Vhat?”

“Not you, motherfucker. The other motherfucker.”

Me?

“Yeah. You. I don’t like this shit no more.”

You think I enjoy it?”

BANG!

Ah, shoot me. You’d do us both a favor.

“You on my list.”

I’m on my list, too.

In A Semi-Fictional Way

“You ever been this cool, motherfucker?”

Nope. Not even close.

“I’m like this always.”

You are.

“Many of the problems I’ve had with white people stem from this. White man sees me, and he’s threatened. Knows he can’t walk like me, knows he can’t dress like me. This threatens him. Then he sees the white bitches wanting to fuck me, and this angers him. Plus, most white men are homosexuals, so they also want to fuck me. I fuck the white man’s head up.”

Mr. Davis, did you ever pay the National Anthem before a game?

“Why asking me that? You in the CIA?”

I am not in the–

“Most white men are homosexuals and in the CIA.”

Uh-huh. Not in the CIA.

“What the fuck you asking about the anthem for?”

There’s a kerfuffle about it when I live.

“You just say ‘kerfuffle’ to Miles fucking Davis?”

Yeah.

“You know I’m gonna shoot at you, right?”

Also yeah.

BANG!

I deserved that.

“Ain’t never played that shit. What, you mean stand on the fucking pitcher’s mound and play that dumb-ass song? Nah, fuck that shit. Mets asked once.”

You turned them down?

“Yeah. And the next time I saw Cleon Jones, I punched the motherfucker.”

You know Cleon Jones?

“Everybody knows Jonesy. Outgoing motherfucker.”

RUSSIAN PIANO NOISES

“Who the fuck is that playing that shit?”

“Is your piano player.”

“You ain’t my piano player, motherfucker! Where’s Herbie?”

“Herbie Hancock have accident. Very sad. Fell on upside-down lawnmower. Tragedy. Now I piano player.”

“Stop playing that fucking piano.”

“Putin nyet play Fender Rhodes.”

“That’s not what I meant, motherfucker!”

“Putin solo.”

DICTATORIAL SOLOING NOISE

“We’re in B-flat, motherfucker!”

“Putin play free.”

“Not on my fucking stage.”

“Kiss ass, Miles David.”

“What the fuck did you say to me?”

“HEY! Gentlemen!”

“Not okay, boys! We are NOT going to fight here”

“Who the fuck are these motherfuckers?”

“Putin know skinny man. Owns restaurant I invade several time.”

“Eyes up here, fellows.”

“Look how disappointed Phil and I are in you.”

“VERY!”

“If you’re not gonna play nice, then we’ll separate you.”

“Who the fuck are these motherfuckers?”

“Maybe they vill have accident.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“Putin make call.”

Dark Magus

I had a watch like that.

“Mine cost $800, motherfucker.”

Mine didn’t.

“Checkmate. You ever stay in your house for five years having freaky sex and doing cocaine?”

No.

“It’s worth trying. I had a good time. White women would bring me money. I liked that. They would do things on one another, and that interested me. Taking a lot of pills at the time. Think I killed a maid.”

You think you killed a maid?

“I told you, motherfucker: I was taking a lot of pills.”

You did tell me that.

“Place got messy, but I didn’t care. A Jewish fellow bought me a piano to try to get me to play again.”

That was nice of him.

“I think I killed him, too.”

You really did have a dark period.

“Couldn’t handle the music business no more. Too many people using their Jewishness on me.”

Uh-huh.

“Exhausting. That’s all the music business is: Jew magic.”

Please stop.

“Black man and the Jew are natural allies, but Jews don’t see it that way. Look in the mirror and think they’re white. This makes them side with their oppressor. Changing their names and shit. Had an accountant try to introduce himself to me as Mr. Adams. I said, ‘Motherfucker, your middle name’s Adam. Your last name’s Boogershmitz or some bullshit. I see your hair, motherfucker.’ That angers me. Even if I could pass for a white man, I fucking wouldn’t. I would feel dirty inside.”

You’re a man of principle, Mr. Davis.

“I got principle like a motherfucker, yeah.”

“Now you have new rhythm section, Miles David.”

“Who the fuck is that?”

“Is Putin. Am jazzbo.”

“You can’t be in my band, motherfucker.”

“Da. Putin is in Third Great Quintet.”

“Go fuck yourself, Boris. And what the fuck is that thing with the bass?”

“Is Crazy Ivan. Is so funky.”

“Fuck him, too.”

“WAAAAAAAH!”

“Vhy you make Crazy Ivan cry?”

“Because fuck him, that’s why.”

“Stop being ungrateful, Miles David.”

“Fuck this. I’m going back in my house for another five years.”

“You can nyet go to house. Ve have gig at Plugged Nickel.”

“Take that ugly motherfucker and play it yourfuckingself.”

“WAAAAAAAH!”

“Nyet cry, Ivan. He lie. You beautiful.”

“No, you ain’t.”

“WAAAAAAAH!”

“Ve are now enemy, Miles David.”

“Suck my dick, bitch.”

Every Breath You Take

You’re up early.

“Nah, fucker. Up late.”

What’s happened to you?

“Vacation Trixie is a fucking hellcat, bro. I’m raging.”

You’re taking a hike with your mom.

“It’s a family-oriented rage.”

How was the after-party?

“Party was wild. It was really a Jerry Tribute.”

Nitrous room?

“Nitrous room. I stay away from that shit, though.”

Good choice.

“I stuck with shrooms and cognac.”

Is that a good combination?

“It’s an active combination. Lotta things going on at once.”

Okay.

“Poured a little out for dad.”

That’s sweet.

“Then I lit a mattress on fire for him.”

Sweet in a different way, but still sweet.

“Ow. Someone’s flashing a light in my eyes from over there.”

Where?

“There!”

Are you pointing?

“Yes.”

Well, Trix, this is a dialogue-based form. I just can’t–

“Go and take care of it, dipshit.”

Yes, ma’am. Hey!

“Vhat?”

Oh, this is creepy.

“Is personal now. Putin develop feelings for Trixie Grateful.”

Dude, you back the fuck off.

“All is fair in love and var.”

That’s kind of your motto, isn’t it?

“Da. In Russian, but: da.”

Stay away from Trixie.

“Putin vill take her like Crimea.”

None of this is okay.

“I vill voo her.”

Voo?

“Nyet. Voo. I vill voo her. Putin vill pitch his voo.”

Ah.

“Do nyet make fun of accent.”

What could you possibly have to offer Trixie?

“Poland.”

You don’t have Poland.

“Give Putin two years.”

She doesn’t want Poland.

“Dacha on Black Sea.”

Not her thing.

“Condo in Trump Tower.”

Definitely not her thing.

“Maybe Putin send dick pic.”

Yeah, try that. I bet she’ll go for it.

“You think?”

Uh-huh.

“Putin vill take selfie of Russian meat. Must go fluff and…vhat is light flashing over there?”

Where?

“Ve should nyet repeat this joke.”

True.

“Putin see.”

“Kim see you, Snowball Dick.”

Goddammit.

I’m not okay with this.

“Hello, Fatty.”

“Hello, Baldy. See you found shirt.”

“Vhen you are not great big fatso, you valk around vithout shirt.”

“Keep up talk. After nuke America, maybe nuke you.”

“Kim Jong-Un went too far. Apologize.”

“Spaceeba. Vhy you here?”

“Jerry Tribute. Warren Haynes there, then I there.”

“Am burned out on Varren Haynes.”

“No talk bad about Warren.”

“Is enough vith him.”

“War-dog is man!”

SHUT UP the both of you. I need you out of America right now.

“Nyet.”

“Here to stay, Yankee Noodle.”

Growing Season

Young lady.

“Kiss my ass. It’s the after-party.”

What about after the after-party?

“Then it’s the hotel lobby.”

Nice.

“The concert was fun, but it was a bit much. It’s always a bit much.”

Deadheads can be like that.

“Motherfuckers wanna hug up on a girl.”

You should bring Parish.

“He gets overprotective. Just starts bopping wooks on the head with his giant fist.”

Like Little Bunny Foo-Foo?

“Just like that, except with concussions.”

Looks like good doobie.

“What’s my last name, bitch?”

I’m sure it’s good doobie.

“Better. You need to recognize.”

Have you been drinking?

“Yes.”

Okay, then. Wait. Why are you in the Chicago Four Seasons if the show was in Colorado?

“Putin had it brought here.”

What?

“Turns out he’s awesome. That guy can get shit done. Good people.”

Putin is totally not good people.

“Did you know he was in the Flaming Groovies?”

Uh-huh. Excuse me. Vladimir!

“Da?”

What are you doing?

“Looking for Guam.”

That’s a map of Russia.

“Guam historically part of Russia.”

Stop that. Why are you making friends with the Garcia family?

“Putin is friendly.”

No, you most certainly are not.

“Trixie Grateful is vonderful conversationalist. Ve share love of old school hip hop.”

Not true.

“EPMD very underrated.”

That is true, but stop this.

“Putin vill get kompromat on Trixie Grateful. From there, Putin use her to influence Bernie Bros.”

Just say blackmail. You’re speaking English.

“Putin say vhat Putin vant.”

What kind of thing are you going to hold over Trixie?

“Have video of her smoking marijuanas.”

And?

“And vhat? In Russia, this is enough to send you to gulag.”

You don’t have gulags any more.

“Suuuuuure, ve don’t.”

Well, in America, that’s either legal or a hundred-buck fine. And being caught smoking pot is not going to harm Trixie’s reputation. She’s literally a hippie princess.

“Putin vill figure out vay to make Trixie Grateful Russian asset.”

This is an odd storyline, Vlad.

“Is vhat is.”

Gets Cold In The Mountains

Stay away from the one on the right.

“Mountain Girl?”

My right.

“Oh. Yeah, no problem. Trixie’s a beautiful woman, but I’m a happily married man.”

How old’s the kid now?

“Going on three.”

Teaching him how to play yet?

“Of course! Dead’s gonna need a new bass player in a couple decades.”

The music’s never gonna stop, is it?

“Nope. Hey, uh, I thought you were taking care of that guy.”

Which guy?

“You know which guy.”

Goddammit.

“You vill take care of Putin?”

I’m gonna chase your Commie ass back to the Caucuses.

“Putin do nothing wrong. Is vitch hunt.”

No witch hunt, no witch hunt.

“Leave Putin alone. Is time for…how you say in English? Covfefe?”

Coffee.

“You see vhat Putin did?”

Yes.

“Putin love coffee. Best part of vaking up is having your enemies murdered. And also Folger’s.”

Get away from Red Rocks.

“Red Rocks is historically part of Russia.”

Totally isn’t.

“Many Russian citizens here being oppressed by jam bands. Putin liberate.”

The only thing you liberate is other people’s money.

“Use money to buy giant hats. You like hat?”

No!

“You like hat?”

No.

“You like hat?”

Yeah, fine, it’s a cool hat.

“And jacket?”

Jacket’s pretty cool, too.

“Putin vins again.”

I hate you.

“Da.”

Dyer, Wolf

You love that hat.

“It’s growing on me. Maybe I’ve been a hat guy all my life and not known it.”

I don’t think so.

“So many lost years.”

I really don’t think so.

“Um, so, tell me something.”

Sure.

“Josh always been blond?”

Only his hairdresser knows for sure.

“Ah.”

I think he’s having a mid-life crisis.

“Could be. I notice he’s been driving around in sports cars and sleeping with women half his age.”

He’s always done that.

“I used to.”

Sure.

“One more thing.”

Yeah?

“Why are there reindeer backstage?”

Reindeer?

“Putin is Santa now.”

What the hell have you done with Santa?

“Santa make problem. Now is no Santa, so is no problem.”

You’re a monster.

“Keep talking and you vill get polonium in your stocking.”

Why is there a lake backstage at Red Rocks?

“Do nyet vorry about it.”

Okay. Listen, Putin: get out of there. No one wants you at the Jerry Tribute.

“Vant to hear Bird Song. This is my jam.”

Stop it.

“Leave Putin alone. Am on vacation. Putin chilling like villain.”

You are the villain.

“Da. Now I steal Bobby Grateful’s hat.”

I’m cool with that.

Putting The Red In Red Rocks

“Y’know, Mrs. Adams-Girl-Kesey-Garcia, I just introduced a proprietary strain of weed under my own brand.”

“Really?

“Yeah. Very exciting. Do you know anything about growing weed?”

“You’re adorable.”

“What did I say?”

“Nothing, junior. Hey, who is that guy?”

“The shirtless one in the river over there? He looks familiar”

“Getting a bad vibe off him.”

“I’ll check him out.”

“Would you?”

“Course. Hey! Can I help you?’

“Nyet need help.”

“Putin catch fish.”

“Are you supposed to be here?”

“Putin go vhere Putin vant.”

“Can I see your pass?”

“Pecs are pass.”

“They’re not.”

“You are nyet in charge, Black Phil.”

“Do not call me that. And where’d you get a river from?”

“Bring vith me.”

“You can do that?”

“Da. Is most beautiful river in world. Many people say this.”

“Whatever. You’re bothering MG, and you’ve got to go.”

“Vhat!? You are 69’ing Putin?”

“86. You mean 86’ing.”

“Ah. English nyet idiomatic.”

“It’s pretty good, man. Lot better than my Russian.”

“Spaceeba. Vould you like to learn Russian vord?”

“Sure.”

“Vord is kompromat.

“Ooh, that sounds neat. What does it mean?”

“Come back to hotel and Putin show you.”

“Okay.”

“OTEIL! Go back in the dressing room!’

“Aww, Mountain Girl, I was playing with my new friend.”

“Now, mister!”

“Okay.”

“And YOU!”

“Vhat? Putin do nothing, Voman of Mountains.”

“Go! Get out of here before I take my shoe off!”

“But I vas fish–”

“NOW!”

“Da, ma’am.”

Gatecrashers At The Pipes Of Dawn

Hello, Trixie. You’ve gone pinkish.

“I need you to be honest with me: are you going to show up at my house one day?”

Am I invited?

“No. Not at all.”

Then I will not.

“Promise?”

I don’t have the follow-through to be a stalker.

“I’ll take it.”

This is a very sweet picture.

“I know, right? Jerry’s girls. All eight of us.”

Your dad loved him his guitars.

“When I was a kid and went to my friends’ houses, I would think it was weird that their dads didn’t sit there playing scales while they were talking to us.”

This is Red Rocks for the big concert?

“Yeah! Bobby’s here and Oteil and John Mayer and Warren and Melvin. My whole family. It’s been great, really great.”

I’m very happy to hear that.

“Except for that guy.”

Which guy?

“The shirtless guy right over there. No one knows how he got backstage, but he won’t leave.”

Lemme handle it. Hey!

“Shto?”

Oh, fuck.

“Do nyet be harshing Putin’s mellow. Putin is on vacay.”

Get away from the Garcias.

“Do Garcias write about me?”

No.

“Then they are in no danger. Putin have very stressful year. Tired of so much vinning. Must relax.”

You don’t have to do it at Red Rocks during a Jerry Garcia tribute concert.

“Could nyet get Baker’s Dozen tickets.”

I find that hard to believe.

“Putin nyet up to anything. Have James Patterson novel. Vill read by pool.”

You’re up to something.

“This is how Putin gets groove back.”

I’m watching you.

“And me, you.”

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