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

Category: Uncategorized (Page 178 of 1031)

Relationships Are Tough

“YOU SEE THIS SHIT?”

Wha? Who is speaking?

“Me!”

Me who?

“Me!”

Oh, hey, Holly Bowling’s Hat.

“She treats me wrong. I can’t take much more of this.”

Settle down, HBH. She’s just wearing a fanciful topper for one night. You know you’re her main squeeze.

“She hits me.”

No, she doesn’t.

“She does. Believe women and hats.”

Holly Bowling does not beat you.

“I’m SO close to using gendered insults on the woman.”

Don’t do that.

“Rhymes with ‘stunt.'”

We all know what word you were talking about. There’s no need for it whatsoever.

“I will not be ignored.”

No one is ignoring you.

“Holly is!”

She’s not.

“Maybe we should go to couples therapy.”

Yeah, maybe.

Go To Washington

In case you ain’t on Twitter and missed it…

OR

Ali?

“You can call me Congresswoman.”

Cool, cool. Just, um, stay away from Billy.

“Which one’s that?”

Mustache.

“He already grabbed my tit.”

Yeah, he does that. You should also probably avoid Phil because he’s hammered.

“Is he the one behind me?”

Yeah.

“Also grabbed my tit.”

Uh-huh. The Dead are a bunch of tit-grabbing motherfuckers.

“They’re just so hairy.”

That, too.

A Partial Transcript Of Opening Day Of The 116th Congress

CAPITAL BUILDING – CHAMBER OF THE HOUSE OF REPRESENTATIVES 

“Order. Order. I call the House to order, please. Order. Hey, Gowdy, put the vodka away.”

“How about I stick it up your ass, McCarthy?”

“Jesus, man.”

“Jesus isn’t coming to Congress anymore. It’s just Muslims and Chinamen here now.”

“GOWDY!”

“Aw, kiss it.”

“Order! Order! I call the 116th Congress to order! Hey! Ted Lieu! You wanna put your pants back on, get off your desk, and stop doing the Fortnite dance?”

“I’m just so happy!”

“Everyone pipe down! Just settle, people, settle. We assemble here in this august hall to, for the 116th time since our nation’s founding, form a legislature, one of three equal branches of government that answer to the President. It is a fraught moment for our democracy, and I am reminded of something that the great Ronald Reagan said: The Democrats are traitors and should be executed on the Mall. I love Reagan. Named every dog I ever owned after that man.”

WHITE MEN CHEERING NOISE

“In the eight years Republicans have been in control of both houses of Congress, we’ve done wonderful things for our country. We’ve fought against Obamacare turning our families into Communists.”

WHITE MEN CHEERING NOISE

“We’ve rescued the economy from Obama’s regulations, which were racist.”

WHITE MEN CHEERING NOISE

“And for the past two years we’ve supported the greatest President this or any country has ever had, Donald J. Trump!”

WHITE MAN LOSING THEIR SHIT NOISE

“But we now find ourselves at the finale, and I will turn over the Speaker’s gavel to my distinguished colleague, and fellow Californian, Nancy Pelosi. But first: And nooooow the end is neeeeeear, and so I faaaace the final cuuuuurtain.

“Okay, just gimme the gavel, Kevin.”

“Fuck off, Nancy. I’m singing the whole song. My friend, I’ll say it cleeeeear, I’ll state my–“

“Just give it to me, jackass!”

“No!”

“Mine! Mine! Mine!”

TWO GROWN-UPS WRESTLING OVER A GAVEL NOISE

“Kick her in the puss!”

“WHO SAID THAT? Whoever said that just lost his office!”

78-YEAR-OLD WOMAN BODYSLAMMING A GUY FROM BAKERSFIELD NOISE

“As I was saying: welcome all legislators to the 116th Congress. For my first act as the new Speaker of the House, I would like to invite the props up here. Children. I meant I wanted to invite the children up here. C’mon, kids. Oh, so diverse. It looks like an old episode of Sesame Streetup in here. Wonderful. Where’s the disabled kid that’s gonna do the gaveling? Didn’t we get a cripple? Okay, next best thing: gimme an Arab kid. You. You, c’mere. Pound this gavel.”

GAVEL POUNDING NOISE

“Good job. The Democratic Party will now begin breast-feeding. This year–”

“MIZ SPEAKER! Steven King from Iowa rises to make a point of order!”

“What is it, Steve?”

“I ain’t fond o’ Jews.”

“We know.”

“Wanted it on the record.”

“Good for you. Allow me to first thank my family, my hometown of San Francisco, the generosity of Israel and her supporters, and the Reverend Louis Farrakhan. I stand before you as the leader of a party united by not our race, gender, or religion, but by our beliefs. What those beliefs are is up for debate, but at least we’re not complete monsters propping up a deadly nitwit. Our agenda is aggressive and will focus on the American family. We will also expel Louis C. K. from the country. ”

“YOU’RE DOING GREAT, NANCE!”

“Not the right time, Mickey.”

“THANKS FOR THE SEATS!”

“Trying to give a speech here, buddy.”

“DO YOU KNOW THERE’S NO BEER GUY?”

“Shh! The Democratic Party has a long and storied history, even if we don’t like telling long stories about that history before the late 60’s. We are the party of inclusion, and now I believe that it is the Democratic Party that can be called, in Ronald Reagan’s phrase, the Big Tent.”

WHISKEY BOTTLE BEING BROKEN OVER A DESK AND WAVED THREATENINGLY NOISE

“You keep Dutch’s name outta your whore mouth!”

“Sit down, King!”

“I’ll carve you up, lady.”

“Take your fat ass back to Long Island.”

BELLIGERENT BIGOT BEING WRESTLED TO THE GROUND NOISE

“As I was saying, this Congress must work together. All of its members are welcome in my office at any time. Except for the 21 dead motherfuckers who voted against me for Speaker. There’s a reason I’m still in charge, dipshits. If I was a man, they’d talk about me like they talk about Rayburn. I’m gonna rip the skin off your bodies. You’re never gonna see it coming.”

“Rise to speak, Madam Speaker!”

“What are you doing here, Senator Cruz? This is the House.”

“My new beard told me I needed to speak up during this occasion. I have here in my possession color photographs of Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez engaged in sexual activity.”

“What?”

“These photos have recently emerged. They depict Miss Ocasio-Cortez when she was in high school. She is kissing a boy. The kiss in what’s referred to as the ‘French’ style, meaning there is a lingual component to the interaction. And if you look at this picture right here, you’ll notice the boy’s right hand. He is clearly going for tit.”

“Senator Cruz.”

“I’ve gone for plenty of tit, and I can tell you flat-out: that boy’s going for tit. See how all the muscles in his forearm are tensed up? That’s your tell.”

“Senator Cruz.”

“And if we can extrapolate from the wanton and randy expression on Miss Ocasio-Cortez’ face, she was gonna give up the tit. That’s what kind of woman we’re dealing with here, Madame Speaker. Just giving up the tit left and right.”

“I have masturbated to these photos.”

“OUT! Out! Go back to your cloakroom and reenact Eyes Wide Shut or whatever it is you pompous weirdos do over there on your side of the building. Go!”

POSSIBLE ALIEN BEING ESCORTED, MASTURBATING, OFF OF THE HOUSE FLOOR NOISE

“Okay, let’s just wrap this up. Any one of you says the ‘I’ word in public, and I use your skull as a toilet. Let’s go call some donors!”

Answer This Question Without Research*

“You got any floss?”

“I don’t, Mickey.”

“Matchbook?”

“Sorry.”

“Got about a pound of half-smoke caught in here. You ever been to Ben’s?”

“The hot dog place? I don’t believe I have.”

“The best dogs in the world. And it’s one of the oldest black-owned establishments in the city, so–”

“You probably should have stopped talking before the ‘so.'”

“–I can always get a drum circle going.”

“Ah. I was correct.”

“Beer here!”

“Beer here!”

“Mickey, you’re yelling at Adam Schiff.”

“I don’t give a shit what the kid’s name is. I just need a brewski.”

“There’s no beer guy here.”

“I have to go to the concession stand? Sure. You want nachos?”

“Yes, please.”

“Hey! Tony Bennett! You want nachos?”

“Oh, that’s sweet of ya, Mick. Such a good kid. What a wonderful and generous offer to make, but I’m gonna take a rain check on that delicious Mexican treat. The dairy isn’t good for my throat or my hairpiece.”

“Beer?’

“Two, please.”

 

 

*Is that Tony’s wife or grandchild?

Some Get Lei’d, Some Get Screwed

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Same ol’ shit.”

This one of those VIP gigs?

“Oh, yeah. Amazing how much folks’ll pay to get close enough to smell Don Was.”

What does he smell like?

“Weed and annuities.”

Sure. Hey, Billy.

“Ass! Look at all these suckers!”

They’re fans, Billy.

“Rich dumbfucks is what they are. We’re just gonna play the same songs tonight.”

But they get an experience.

“They sure will. I farted on the canapes.”

Great. Hey, Don Was.

“GRRRRR.”

Are those Yeezys?

“GRRRRR.”

Awesome.

Gunn & Hart, Private Dicks

“I just wanna tell you again how much I appreciate you bringing me to the game, Bill.”

“And I just want to tell you once more that I am not Bill Walton, and this is not a basketball game.”

“You’re old, white, and tall.”

“Those points notwithstanding, Mick. I’m Tim Gunn.”

“Very cool name. Are you a punker?”

“No. It’s my rel name. I’m on television.”

“Like Elvira?”

“Sort of.”

“That woman’s got some sweater-meat.”

“Mickey, please.”

“Could feed a family of six for a whole winter.”

“This is not the appropriate venue for that kind of talk.”

“There’s swastikas all over the chairs and I can’t talk titty?”

“Oh, that is an unfortunate pattern.”

“Right?”

I’ll Buy You A House At Zuma Beach

Statistically, joining a choogly-type band is a poor financial decision. Ninety-nine out of a hundred choogly-type musicians live on their girlfriend’s couch, or in Holly Bowling’s Hat, wherein she lets rooms for itinerant bass players. But that hundredth fucker does nicely for himself.

Billy has purchased himself a little chunk of heaven, and a share of the road outside, too. He’s on a private street with a Jesus Freak screenwriter and a redneck who shoots animals on teevee, and that’s the start of your Hollywood novel right there. Practically writes itself.  Anyway, the house cost five million, but it looks like this..

…and it sits nestled into the crumbly hills of Malibu. It is in the very Malibuiest part of Malibu, actually.

Point Duma is Malibu’s nipple. It’s where all the Friends live, and the cops drive Kelsey Grammar home, and you can borrow a cup of gluten-free sugar from your neighbor, P!nk. Surely, this all will fall into the sea one day soon, but until then, you can say with complete honesty, “Martin Sheen’s place is right down the street.”

And that, Enthusiasts, is the American Dream.

C’mon (Up), Everybody!

Everybody’s favorite fun game: Spot The Fret-Eeze.

OR

Cipollina was the only one from that whole Summer of Love batch that actually looked like a Rock Star.

OR

Lee Oskar’s harmonibelt is not worse than John Popper’s harmonoliers. It’s not better, either.

OR

Precarious?

“Yo.”

Is everyone allowed on stage? There’s all sorts of randos creeping in from the corners.

“Uh-huh.”

Why?

“Modified work stoppage.”

You’re on strike?

“Nope. Just forgetting to do certain parts of the job. Like keeping randos off the stage.”

Why?

“Band and crew aren’t getting along. I don’t even remember the exact reasons. Started at a softball game, and Kidd crashed Mickey’s car, and then Phil liked this chick but Ramrod threw up on her. It’ll be good for us. Relationship’s gotta be re-balanced every now and again.”

Sure. How long until the randos start wandering out and hugging Garcia?

“It’s already happened. Why you think he’s ducking back there by the drum kit?”

Sure.

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