“I’m a cowboy.”
No, you can’t think you’re a cowboy. Bobby thinks he’s a cowboy. That’s his thing.
“Wow, man: what a hater you are. Not even gonna congratulate me?”
Did you buy a new watch?
“On the gig.”
Good for you. You practicing?
“Oh, yeah. Nothing but. Listening to shows and playing guitar and reading Hitler’s speeches.”
“It is worth learning German. Lot of nuance in his arguments that just get boiled down to “the Jews did it.'”
This is weird stuff coming from you, John Mayer.
“It is weird that in this actual interview you’re doing with me, rock and comedy’s John Mayer, I’m expressing these kind of fringe and offensive opnions, but: there you go. Also: Team Cosby.”
This is so strange, you must admit.
“I also must admit to drifting from town to town in the suburban summer nights, hopping fences and shitting in pools.”
You monster! Poor children need public pools!
“I need to do it! For my boners!”
Wait. You mean–
“Yes: John Mayer can only achieve an erection by taking a dump in someone else’s pool. Preferably off the diving board, but I’m not picky.”
Does Katy know about this?
“Oh, yeah. She’s into pool-play now.”
“She hates that Taylor Swift, y’know.”
“I banged that Taylor Swift, y’know.”
“Fucked her so hard a song popped out.”
“You wanna see my Confederate Flag tattoo? The stars are swastikas.”
OKAY. That’s enough.