Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
It is illegal to send TotD doobie or doobie-derived substances through the mail.
But it was also illegal to help escaped slaves in the antebellum South, or harbor fugitive Jews in Nazi Germany.
Are these illegalities similar w/r/t their relationship with morality? Maybe.
Is it imperative to break an unjust law? Perhaps.
How will history judge you? I cannot tell.
Stop this right now.
I’m just asking questions.
Go to bed.
Aw.
Hey, Holly Bowling. Whatcha laughing at?
“My hat just said the funniest thing.”
You two have a very close relationship.
“My hat is my Chewbacca.”
Great analogy. How’s it going with Ghost Light?
“Awesome. We have a whole bunch of gigs this summer. Hitting the festival circuit.”
Say hi to Woody Hayes for me.
“Oh, he’s a sweetheart when he stops soloing. The one you gotta watch out for is Chris Robinson. Luckily, you can smell him coming.”
What does Chris Robinson smell like?
“Exactly the aroma you’d imagine, but times ten. And there’s a citrus top-note.”
Fascinating.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Is that for me?”
It is.
“Is it someone terrible who’s gonna say terrible things, terribly?”
Yeah.
“I hate you and your little hobby.”
Me, too.
…
“Get jolly with Holly.”
“Hey, Asparagus Fingers.”
“Who is this?”
“Is Kim Jong-Un. Want hire Holly Bowling. Got job.”
“No. I’m not working for North Korea.”
“Only Korea.”
“It’s wrong and I’m pretty positive that it’s illegal.”
“Is no illegal if cops no see.”
“That’s not how treason works.”
“Treason such ugly word. Is job. You no capitalist, Asparagus Fingers?”
“Why are you calling me that?”
“Fingers long like asparagus. Freaky fingers. No have fingers like that in Only Korea.”
“Please stop.”
“Make Kim Jong-Un feel tense. In good way.”
“Ew.”
“You stick finger up Kim Jong-Un butt, massage nipple from inside.”
“That’s not how the human body works. And: ew.”
“I hire Holly Bowling. Very good money. Big money. Definitely not counterfeit money.”
“No.”
“Is job only you can do.”
“What?”
“Scientists invent Hat Bomb. You sneak into White House.”
“Hanging up now.”
“You have Tom Hamilton number?”
DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT
“Leave me out of your downward spiral.”
Maybe.
Hey. Humbert Humbert.
“I don’t get the reference.”
Don’t worry about it.
“Have you ever longed?”
I don’t want to have this conversation with you.
“Yearned?”
Or that one.
“Wanted to kidnap your two-decades-younger doppelganger and use sex magick to steal his dewiness?’
You don’t know any sex magick.
“I can make my penis disappear.”
Not a trick.
“Is this your card?”
SIX OF CLUBS DISPLAYING NOISE
No.
“What about this?”
AMERICAN EXPRESS TITANIUM CARD DISPLAYING NOISE
That’s not how card tricks work.
“I know. I just wanted to show you how rich I was.”
Josh–
“Don’t call me that.”
–if you wanna fuck the kid, fuck the kid. Honestly, a little bisexuality would do wonders for your career.
“Oh, no. I’d shoot straight to pansexuality.”
What’s the difference?
“None that I can tell, but pansexual sounds so much fancier.”
Leave Shawn Mendes alone. He has innocuous music to make.
“He just makes me feel so young. Mostly when I’m feeling him.”
Is this relationship consensual?
“Depends on how you define ‘consensual.’ If you mean ‘with sensuality,’ then it totally is.”
I meant: Are you sexually harassing Shawn Mendes?
“No. Yes. A little. Lemme put it this way: if we were on a sitcom together, I would have been fired weeks ago.”
Stop it.
“It’ll be fine.”
Do we need to have our little pre-Dead & Company tour talk again?
“No.”
If you get the Dead sucked into this #METOO thing, I will hunt you the fuck down, Meyers. We cannot have journalists digging into the Dead’s sexual histories.
“Dude, it’s cool. Everything’s cool.”
CELL PHONE NOISE
Who is that? I did not make that happen.
“I get calls from people who aren’t homicidal dictators, y’know.”
Okay. Who is it?
“Ronan Farrow.”
Goddamn you, Josh Meyers.
Hey now.
Hey now.
I’d like to compare a black person to an ape.
Oh, you shouldn’t.
But I reeeeeeeeeeeeeally want to.
Then go to it. I’m not in charge around here. All I’m saying is: you shouldn’t.
But what about the First Amendment?
This has as much to do with the First Amendment as it does with the Seventeenth Amendment.
The direct election of Senators?
Did you look that up?
I know my amendments, broham.
CONSTITUTIONAL HIGH FIVE SOUND
But, seriously, don’t compare black people to apes. Or monkeys. Any primate, really.
Why can’t I?
Again, dumbass: you can. But you shouldn’t.
Why not?
Should we just skip past the argument about being a decent person?
Yes.
Okay. You shouldn’t call black people monkeys because you’ll get fired. From, like, everywhere. From jizz-mopper all the way up to teevee star: if you compare black people to monkeys, you will lose your job.
But–
If you bring up the First Amendment or “free speech” again, I’m gonna rip your fucking lips off.
—what about…that’s just rude.
It is. I stand by my threat.
Then why is it okay to compare President Trump to an orangutan?
Because Basketball Head is, ostensibly, white. And white people haven’t been dehumanized specifically by calling them apes and monkeys for at least 400 years.
That’s ridiculous! It’s like there’s two different sets of rules! One for white people and one for blacks!
…
It’s getting hard to publicly admit that I know you.
What?
Listen, man: call anyone anything you want. But be prepared to face the consequences.
Consequences? Oh, no. I’m a white man. We don’t do those.
The times, they are a-changing.
What if I’m not comparing black people to apes, but comparing them to the characters in Planet of the Apes?
The characters in Planet of the Apes were apes! The movie wasn’t called Planet of the Actors in Ape Makeup.
What about Roddy McDowall?
What about him?
Can I compare black people to Roddy McDowall?
If the black person is a beloved member of the Hollywood community whose homosexuality is an open secret and throws legendary dinner parties, then: yes.
Well, what animals can I compare black people to?
Llamas.
Okay.
Cuttlefish.
Weird, but okay.
Or you could come up with an insult that’s specific to the person without bringing race (or looks) into it. You know, based on an individual’s behaviors, attitudes, and actions.
Oh, that sounds exhausting.
It does, doesn’t it?
“Good morning, everyone. I’d like to thank you for coming and bringing those great Starbucks attitudes. I think we’re gonna have ourselves a grande ol’ time today.”
POLITE SILENCE NOISE
“Okay, then. So. We’re all here because of the incident in Philadelphia a few weeks ago when two black men had the cops called on for sitting in the shop while not ordering anything. Now, that speaks to bias and profiling and–quite frankly–racism, and we’re just not gonna have that at Starbucks. Let’s get started with some role-playing.”
“My safe word is pumpkin!”
“Not that kind of role-playing, ma’am, but thank you. Maybe you can help me out. What’s your name?”
“Becky.”
“Of course it is. Now, Becky, let’s pretend a black man walks into your Starbucks.”
“How black?”
“Oh, I already don’t like where this is going.”
“A Gumbel or a Migo?”
“Doesn’t matter. We’re going to treat everyone the same. Black man walks into the Starbucks and you…”
“Tell him Popeye’s is down the street and beg him not to hurt me.”
“Wow. Just…wow.”
“That response is why Trump won.”
“Okay, let me ask someone else. Um, you?”
“Yes?”
“Name, please?”
“Sean.”
“Of course it is. Sean, a black man walks into your Starbucks. What do you do?”
“Call the cops.”
“Why!?”
“Because several of the other customers have started attacking him. I work in the South Boston Starbucks.”
“Huh. Yeah, okay. Good instinct.”
“I mean, they got their own Starbucks. Why they gotta come into ours? Dunkin’s better, anyway.”
“And then your instinct failed you. Someone else. Any volunteers? Yes, you.”
“I greet them by saying ‘Welcome to Starbucks’ and smile.”
“Excellent! What’s your name?”
“Chad.”
“Sure. Now, Chad, what if the black man doesn’t order anything right away?”
“He just sits down?”
“Yuh-huh.”
“Like a person?”
“Stop talking. You don’t get to talk for the rest of the day. You over there. What’s your name?”
“Snowy.”
“Are there any people of color here?”
“White’s a color.”
“WHITE’S A HUE!”
…
“I apologize. I shouldn’t have yelled. So, uh, Snowy: a black man walks into your store, sits down, and doesn’t order anything. What do you do?”
“I dial 9, then 1, and then wait.”
“No.”
“I pretend to be cleaning the next table and stare at him to make sure he isn’t committing crime.”
“Also no.”
“I remind him that Starbucks doesn’t just serve coffee, and that perhaps we have something else that may be more to his liking.”
“Um. Maybe? What would you say?”
“I would say, ‘Sir, can I get you a grape soda?'”
“Absolutely not. Someone else, please. You, in the back.”
“Hi, I’m also Becky.”
“How many women here are named Becky?”
UNANIMOUS FEMALE HAND-RAISING NOISE
“Figures. Okay, Becky, what would you do. Black guy is sitting at the table. Not bothering anyone. What do you do?”
“I assume he’s a rapper or an athlete.”
“No! Someone else. You, in the goofy clothes.”
“Well, I would ask him if he’s seen my new, ironic video for my single.”
“What are you doing here, John Mayer?”
“I just wanted a latte. I didn’t know you were–”
“Out! Get out!”
JOHN MAYER LEAVING A STARBUCKS NOISE
“You. What’s your name?”
“Alan.”
“Alan, same situation. Black guy at the table. Minding his own business. Playing with his phone or reading the paper or whatever. What do you do?”
“Just give him all the money out of the register and don’t be a hero.”
“Okay, we’re done.”
“Unicorn frappuccinos for everyone!”
WHITE PEOPLE CHEERING NOISE
Goddammit, Garcia.
“Oh, what is it now, man?”
The cell phone.
“Where?”
Bottom left corner of the photo. Above the can of fork and below the aspirin bottle.
“Oh, that cell phone.”
At least put it in your pocket.
“I’m expecting a call. Me and Weir are going to see Deadpool.”
I never should’ve given a Time Sheath to you people.
“Well, duh, man.”
I almost forgot about the worst part. It wasn’t anything that occurred in Scruffy: A Gooba Dooba or whatever the fuck that Star Wars bullshit I’ve already half-forgotten; it was during the trailers. Look at this bullshit.
LOOK AT IT, GODDAMN YOU.
Not the guy with the eyes trying to escape from their sockets and the dental prosthesis. And not “Brian,” who actually looks pretty good. Nor should you be looking at Roger, even though he didn’t own that shirt in 1975.
See it?
Got it yet?
WHY THE FUCK IS JOHN DEACON SINGING IN THE STUDIO? John Deacon didn’t sing. They set a mic up onstage so he could pretend to sing because John Deacon has an ego like the rest of us, but Deacy NEVER sang in the studio.
This is why Philip Roth is dead. This shit right here. Kiss my sweaty dick, Queen movie.
“General, it’s not gonna happen.”
“Jenkins, the hatch is Captain America’s shield! What could possibly go wrong?”
“I could drown.”
“Well, obviously. I meant besides that.”
“There are no other worries in a submarine, sir.”
“Oh, pish-posh. There’s nothing but terror in a tube. Violent decompression. Tortuous recompression. You might get Jonahed.”
“I don’t think a whale would eat that, sir.”
“Never pretend to know the mind of fish, Jenkins.”
“Mammals, sir.”
“We are, aren’t we? Fine and hairy and half of us have teats.”
“No, sir. Whales are mammals.”
“Nonsense. Far too wet to be mammals. And stop distracting me, you puzzleheaded mump.”
“Yes, sir.”
“This is the next step in technology, Jenkins.”
“Yes, but the step is backwards.”
“Flabbergast! She’s modern as all get-out. Look at those ropes. Used to be that you couldn’t get ropes in that color. Rope used to be rope-colored. It’s a brave new world, Jenkins.”
“I see the rope, sir.”
“Or cable. Or wire. Or whatever the hell they call a rope on a boat. You know boat people: everything needs to have a different name to confuse the landlubber.”
“Yes, sir. The toilet is the head, and so forth.”
“I’ll call the damned toilet anything I want! They can’t shame me for landlubbing. I lub land, Jenkins!”
“You’re renowned for your lub, sir. But that does bring up a question.”
“I go in raw, or I don’t go in at all.”
“Different question, sir.”
“Shoot.”
“We’re in the Army, sir. Aren’t submarines more of a Navy thing?”
“Yes, but so is furtive homosexuality and I don’t let that stop me.”
“It just doesn’t look safe, sir.”
“There’s two floaties, Jenkins!”
“Yes, sir.”
“TWO!”
“You’ve spared no expense.”
“R & D stole every part in the thing. You know R & D, right?”
“Rudy and Dave built this?”
“Those two are my boys, Jenkins. Not like you, you whiny wienie. I tell R&D to make me a submarine, they do it. And they don’t even have to ask whether the hatch should be Captain America’s shield. They just know that’s what I want. Love those two. I’d replace you with them in a second.”
“Why don’t you, sir?”
“Oh, you know why, you simpering nonny! I can’t have a drug addict and a pervert as my Jenkins! Especially since they keep switching back and forth. It’s just confusing keeping track of which one’s which that week. So I’m stuck with you.”
“Thank you, sir. I have another question.”
“Pirogi.”
“My question wasn’t about lunch, but I’ll make a note of your preference.”
“Wonderful dumplings, but you wouldn’t want them building your submarine.”
“No, sir.”
“The Polish.”
“I know the offensive joke to which you’re referring, sir.”
“Screen doors!”
“There’s the punchline. Sir, what are we going to do with this thing?”
“Submarinate.”
“Uh-huh. Why and when and where?”
“Our enemies need killing, Jenkins. Death from the depths! That’s why and as for when and where…how about Afghanistan?”
“Landlocked, sir. Very dry country.”
“Are we still in Iraq?”
“Yes.”
“There.”
“Okay.”
“What about Iran?”
“Not yet.”
“Not there. Oh, oh! The border! We could use the Sea Cock at the border.”
“You named it?”
“After my cock, Jenkins.”
“Your call your cock ‘Cock?'”
“I believe in straightforward relations with my inferiors. I give him orders. ‘Cock, rouse yourself!’ And then when I’m done with my mission, ‘Cock, resume your tumescence!’ I like that. Everyone knows where they stand.”
“I’m not getting in the Sea Cock, sir.”
“You’ll love it, Jenkins. You’ll see fish.”
“It’s covered in rust.”
“No, not rust. Nanites.”
“Nanites, sir?”
“That’s what R&D told me.”
“I thought so.”
FUN FACT: Parish isn’t trying to look threatening. He just looks threatening. It’s like Resting Bitch Face, but with a bat.
OR
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Stepping into the bucket, looks like.”
Gotta stride towards the pitcher. And keep your elbows up.
“Oh, yeah. 90% of baseball is keeping your elbows up.”
You guys should get a team together now.
“Like, in 2018?”
Yeah.
“Huh. Yeah, no. We tried playing what’s left of Journey in 2016, and everyone was on the ground after an inning-and-a-half. Knees, backs, you name it. Neil Schon required light defibrillation.”
Wow.
“Time, you know, marches on.”
OR
SHOCKING FACT: The Dead went to the sporting-goods store and bought a cheap backstop like normal people instead of having Alembic custom-build them one out of carbon fiber.
© 2026 Thoughts On The Dead
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
Recent Comments