Thoughts On The Dead

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

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Bespoke

December 3, 2017 / / 3 Comments

You’re not.

“I am.”

You wouldn’t dare.

“I dared.”

Triple denim?

“Triple. Fucking. Denim. You’re not ready for my street-style. Who can pull off double denim? Few? Triple? Motherfucking triple? Me and Lenny Kravitz. That’s it. This my steez, yo.”

Are we still saying steez?

“I haven’t stopped. Saying steez is my steez.”

I’ll let you talk about your clothes if you stop saying steez.

“Deal. Obviously, all the denim is both raw and selvedge. The particular batch of denim used for my jeans was so raw that several people caught Listeria.”

Sure.

“The denim found in the classic trucker’s jacket is free-range.”

All right.

“And the overshirt is made from a very rare denim: the cotton is grown in Toluca Lake by an agricultural commune started by ex-Price Is Right spokesmodels. They only produce about a dozen trouser-worth of material a year. It’s so soft and smooth. Like satin, but less creepy.”

Satin is totally the creepiest fabric.

“And it’s not even good for fucking! Your knees slip out from under you.”

Excellent point.

“Thank you.”

On the other hand, ever put on a pair of your ladyfriend’s satin undergarments?

“Yes, I have.”

It ain’t the worst feeling.

“It’s like your balls have been tucked in by luxury.”

Yes. Good call.

…

What were we talking about?

“My clothes.”

Of course.

“The toppermost is named Pond Filled With…the word is hazhi-jookiri. It doesn’t really translate: means ‘fish who refuse to go along with the program.’ It dates back to 1853, where it was being sewn by the legendary Sumo Hibachi.”

Not an actual Japanese name, nope.

“The garment was meant for a powerful shogun, but the shipment was waylaid by foreign devils and captured by Katy Perry’s great-great-great grandfather. It was passed down through the family for over 150 years.”

Katy Perry’s related to Admiral Perry?

“They bear a striking resemblance. Katy presented me with this toppermost on the first anniversary of our lovemaking. She also worked my prostate, so it was just a great evening.”

Uh-huh.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Why can’t you ever be happy for others?”

Don’t wanna.

…

“You’re on with John.”

“WOO!”

“WOO!”

“WOO!”

“WOO!”

“What the fuck?”

“Johnny, it’s Benjy and Sammy.”

“WOO!”

“Tell Sammy I say hi, Benj.”

“Johnny say hi, Sam.”

“WOO!”

“You oughta come down here, buddy. We are partying like crazy. Andrew W.K. told us we were partying too hard, that’s how hard we’re partying.”

“WOO!”

“You heard Sammy.”

“I’m busy, Benj. Still on tour with Dead & Company. Can’t pop down to Baja right now.”

“Had an idea, buddy. Wonderland.”

“Huh?”

“Wonderland, John. You once told me that my body was one.”

“Not your body, Benj.”

“Whatever. Wonderland, buddy! Like Sammy’s place, Cabo Wabo.  A John Mayer-themed resort, restaurant, bar, convention center, and secret smuggling airfield. Wonderland.”

“I don’t think so. Restaurant’s a lot of work.”

“Nah, they run themselves.”

“They don’t.”

“Can I make a confession?”

“Did you already buy a restaurant?”

“I did. It’s really nice. There’s an office in the back where we can hang out.”

“Dammit, Benjy.”

“You shouldn’t hide in the back all the time, though. Very helpful to come out and schmooze.”

“I’m not a retired prize-fighter, man. Sell the restaurant.”

“We’d take a huge loss. But we do have our insurance all paid up.”

“Burn it down, Benj.”

“Gotcha, chief.”

“Don’t call me chief.”

Crickets And Cicadas Sing A Rare And Looney Tune

December 2, 2017 / / 2 Comments

“Whatchoo say, Bobert Weir!? Repeat that statement!”

“The coyote was gonna fuck the roadrunner.”

“Lesh, you hearin’ this!?”

“I’ve tried to explain it to him, Pig. Leave me out of it.”

“Dammit, Weir, the coyote is whatchoo call a carnivore! And a roadrunner is what a coyote might call lunch!”

“Be that as it may, I always saw a subtext.”

“Ain’t no subtext in a kiddy cartoon!”

“Wile E. is a boy, right?”

“I suppose.”

“And Roadrunner is a girl.”

“Roadrunner is a roadrunner! Where you gettin’ a female vibe?”

“The eyes. The legs. The adaptiveness.”

“You boys on that lightning juice tonight?”

“No, nuh-uh.”

“Be honest.”

“Cross my heart, Pig. I just, you know, think the coyote wanted to fuck the roadrunner. The eating was symbolic.”

“You’re thinkin’ of Pepe le Pew!”

“Him, too. All of ’em. Foghorn and the Bantamweight, Sheepdog and the Wolf, Bugs and Everybody. At the heart of each is a seduction story.”

“Stop talkin’ foolishness, Weir.”

“He’s right, Pig! All those cartoons were about fucking, man!”

“Garcia, you stay outta this!”

“When, uh, the coyote falls off the cliff? That’s an orgasm.”

“No, it ain’t!”

“That’s what ‘That’s all, folks’ really means, which actually has a double meaning. The first is: I just came. The second? Remove the comma and you have ‘That’s all folks.’ What’s made of folks? Semen. The double-meaning doubles back on itself. Chuck Jones was really playing the long game.”

“Weir, don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m gonna go find me a fox.”

“Ooh, good idea. Grab me one.”

“The ol’ Pig’ll see what he c’n do.”

Lesser-Reported Additions To The Tax Bill

December 2, 2017 / / 1 Comment
  • The Alternative Minimum Tax is now starting at second base after the Regular Minimum Tax pulled his groin.
  • All museums to be burned for fuel and/or sold to the Saudis.
  • IRS defunded, employees lined up and shot.
  • Super Guantanamo.
  • Two new aircraft carriers. (McCain doodled one on the bill, complete with a jet taking off and a sound effect VROOM, and then wrote “X 2” next to it; his distinguished colleagues voted Aye, and that’s how a bill becomes a law.)
  • Each Koch brother allowed to kill ten (10) hobos a year.
  • Graduate students now disallowed from deducting their student loans, forced to work the sorghum fields.
  • Yellowstone National Park to become Yellowstone-A-Lago; Old Faithful is one of the traps on the 11th hole.
  • Public schools declared enemies of the state.
  • Estate tax repealed; the Republicans called it the Death Tax, and they also repealed the Life Tax, so now we’re basically back to a pre-industrial theory on taxation.
  • Instead of insurance, the United States will now depend on a process referred to as a “cripple cull;” the phrase appears in an unknown handwriting in the final bill, and no one has fessed up but everyone’s pretty sure it was Inhofe.
  • Work-related expenses no longer deductible for anyone except company owner, unless it’s a small business, in which case fuck you.
  • Christmas presents stolen in the night by vengeful green mutant.
  • Japanese people have to go back in the camps. (I swear to you that’s in there. It’s written in pencil, and below that is an exceptionally racist cartoon of a man with Asian features behind bars.)
  • If you fail to acknowledge and make way when a Billionaire passes you on the street, then your life is forfeit; the Billionaire may take you as his property, to use or make barter with, or simply kill you on the spot.
  • Internet sold to Meyers-Squibb for $1.

Bernthal The Fillmore, Gas The Avalon

December 2, 2017 / / 3 Comments

“I have a question.”

His name is Jon Bernthal. He’s an actor currently playing The Punisher on Netflix.

“Ah. And, uh, here’s another question.”

The Punisher is a Marvel character.

“One of those souped-up heroes?”

Superheroes, Bobby.

“No, no. These guys are all full of extra features and abilities. Thoroughly souped-up heroes.”

I guess. The Punisher doesn’t have any powers.

“How does he punish, then?”

He has PTSD and a van.

“So does Sam Cutler.”

And an arsenal.

“Still could be Sam Cutler.”

The Punisher shoots people. Or stabs them in the face. Sometimes, he uses explosives. If he needs to, he beats people to death with whatever blunt object is within reach. I don’t know if he throws anyone off a building in this version, but he’s absolutely thrown people off roofs before. One time, he lured a couple guys into a polar bear’s enclosure at the zoo.

“Uh-huh. So,uh, he’s the bad guy?”

No. He’s the hero.

“I’m not following.”

It’s not like he’s murdering randos without due process in progressively entertaining ways, he’s murdering bad guys without due process.

“And, uh, why is he punishing anyone in the first place? Why doesn’t he join the cops?”

He was a cop. Then his family was killed by criminals.

“Well, there’s an inciting incident for ya.”

You said it. Thereafter, Frank Castle dedicated his life to sneaking up behind criminals and bludgeoning them to death. Or sniping them from a block away. A good deal of the Punisher’s appeal is his steadfast refusal to fight fair.

“Sounds like Billy. Does this Punishing fellow hang out with the other souped-up heroes?”

He’s frenemies with Daredevil. Tries to murder Spider-Man on occasion.

“Still sounds like Billy.”

It does.

OR

Jon Bernthal was in The Wolf of Wall Street. The merch yoink: not just for drummers!

So You’ve Been Sexually Harassed By A Member Of Congress

December 2, 2017 / / 2 Comments

FROM THE CONGRESSIONAL OFFICE OF COMPLIANCE (OOC)

Dear Victim:

Let this letter serve as a guideline for your upcoming negotiations with the Treasury Fund regarding your claim of sexual harassment. The OOC would like to extend to you a general acknowledgement of your sadness without making any claim as to the cause of it, nor accepting responsibility for said sadness’ existence. We would also like to remind you that discussion of your claims with outside parties is, while not illegal, truly a dick move.

Authorization for a settlement has been preliminarily granted, but only within certain windows. Please read the following and circle the option most applicable to your case. You may circle two options.

Harassment (Verbal only): $1 – $50,000

Men and women who have been called “Bubblegum Dick,” “The Fuckable Intern,” and “Dr. Tittymonster, M.D.” should circle this option. All harassment MUST be non-physical in nature, such as (but not limited to): kissy noises, Bob Hope growling, shouting “Hey, get over here and look at my dick” in the Senate cafeteria. Inappropriate compliments, or “grooming,” may also be reported. For example, one staffer reported a Congressmen saying to her, “God, I’m jealous of your toilet.” That’s the sort of inappropriate compliment we’re talking about.

Harassment (Physical, non-touching) $50,001 – $75,000

This is the category for people who had to watch their bosses yank it. Let’s just move on. (NOTE: Do not circle this option if you were ejaculated on. That makes it assault.)

Harassment (Physical, touching) $75,001 – $100,000

Ass patting, boner pressing, shoulder massaging, hair smelling, hug extending, tummy tickling, back rubbing. The game “Tune-In, Tokyo” also falls within this category.

Assault (Physical, Non-Legitimate) $100,001 – 130,000

It may not surprise you to learn that the settlement numbers originated from a secret committee made up of old white men from both houses, and therefore anything less than a Senator leaping out at you from behind a tree while you fight to the last breath and then immediately inform the police about is considered a “Non-Legitimate” assault. The OOC regrets this, but reminds you that choosing to work in Washington, DC, was your choice. If you didn’t want to be sexually assaulted, then why did you believe in America?

Assault (Physical, Legitimate) $130,000 – up

Do not circle this option.

 

All settlements are contingent upon the signing of every non-disclosure form in the world.

 

Sincerely,
The OOC (Yeah, You Know Me)

Turn To The Left

December 1, 2017 / / 5 Comments

“What is this? Just, uh, Handsome Bob Night?”

Seems that way.

“Kinda like every night.”

Nice one.

“I got a ton of ’em.”

Bobby, I’ve been talking to Josh a lot about his personal style.

“Everyone has. It’s, uh, his go-to topic. I gotta admire the kid, though. He’s out there. I’ve always been a little more conservative.”

Conservative? The short-shorts were conservative?

“Saved on fabric. Very conservative.”

How would you describe your personal aesthetic, Bobby?

“Not stained. That’s important. Can’t walk around with a splotch of salmon on your shirt.”

No.

“People might think it was blue fin.”

You guys hate blue fin.

“Comfort is important. Fire retardedness.”

Retardation?

“Retardance.”

I get your point.

“Know what else is important from your clothes? Silence. I don’t know about you, but I’ve had one or two items gain sentience and it’s just the worst.”

Snake Tee-Shirt?

“Yeah. And Madonna Tee-Shirt. They dated briefly.”

Sure. What does Bob Weir require from an outfit?

“Gotta cover up your genitals. If your outfit doesn’t do that, then you’ve kinda missed the point of getting dressed. Oh, and it should help regulate your body temperature.”

Who is your fashion icon?

“Carol Channing.”

What’s the one piece in your closet you couldn’t live without?

“The dresser. Otherwise, everything’d be on the floor.”

If your fashion sense were an animal, which animal would it be?

“Any marsupial.”

Why?

“The pouch. Marsupials are the only species with a fanny pack. That’s, uh, a great decision.”

I’m learning so much. Who are your favorite designers?

“Designers? Huh. Who makes my sandals?”

Birkenstock.

“Them. Oh, and, uh, who makes my tee-shirts?”

The merch staff.

“Them, too.”

I think we’ve put to rest the fallacy that John Mayer is the most fashion-savvy member of Dead & Company.

“Who?”

Josh.

“Ah.”

I Got A Bob, You Got A Bob, Everybody Got A Bob

December 1, 2017 / / 3 Comments

Ladies and gentlemen: the third Franco brother, Yup-Yup. James and Dave get most of the attention, but don’t sleep on Yup-Yup.

OR

Whenever Hunter would start talking about poems or whatnot and Bobby got confused, he would look in the mirror at his hair and feel all right.

OR

The building in the background looks (West) German, but the car right behind them looks like a Citroen. Any world-travelling Enthusiasts able to place this pic?

Fox News Presents: A Donald Trump Christmas Special

December 1, 2017 / / 3 Comments

OPENING MUSIC: SILENT NIGHT BY KID ROCK

“Great, yes, okay. Christmas. Beautiful. The best holiday, hands down. People give you things, and that’s the best you can ask. Receiving is very important. People like to talk about giving, and giving is nice and no one gives more than me–I might be the most generous man on earth, all of earth–but receiving something valuable is a big part of it. Don’t downgrade receiving.

“White House looks just magnificent. Melania did everything, not like some First Ladies who were born in Kenya just like their husbands. I’ve decided I believe that again. Going back to the Kenya thing. Many of my investigators have told me that Obama’s birth certificate was fake news. Several have told me that he was an illegal alien. Maybe Obama was a Mexican Kenyan? I don’t know, but I do know that we finally got the black-person-smell out of the White House.”

“Jesus, Donald.”

“Melania. My beautiful wife, most beautiful First Lady ever. Makes Pat Nixon look like a real dog. By far, the hottest. Who else? Hillary’s the ugliest, obviously. People think Jackie Kennedy was hot, but no tits. Gotta have the tits, I’m a tit man. Can you even imagine Hillary’s tits? Bad tits, terrible tits. Not like Melania, so beautiful, my wife, look at her.”

SLOVENIAN AVOIDING A KISS NOISE

“Melania, tell us what you’ve done to make the White House so glamorous and luxurious. It’s maybe the third or fourth best property I own, gotta be honest, Mar-A-Lago’s better, but this is very nice.”

“As you can see, Donald, I’ve filled the halls with dying trees covered in lamé. And on the walls, I have placed cursed mirrors. They hold the souls of poor children.”

“Great, children, wonderful. Christmas is all about the children, who are currently being molested by Democrats and Hollywood, two groups I was never a part of. Tough Christmas at Matt Lauer’s house because the children now know that daddy is a pervert. If Franken celebrated Christmas, his would be tough, too. I wonder who’s next. Jeff Zucker? Maybe Jeff Zucker pulls out his pecker. I’m gonna call him Jeff Pecker from now on. Another nickname, bing bing bing. Is Rosie O’Donnell a fat lesbian sex pervert? I hear she is, many people say she is, maybe she pulls out her fat lesbian penis, too. People are talking about that, many people, terrible penis on Rosie.

SLOVENIAN WALKING AWAY DISGUSTEDLY NOISE

“All of Hollywood, very unfair to me and also full of child molestors. That’s why you can’t trust that tape, that fake tape. I said it was me just so I could get past it and get to making America great, but it’s not me. Melania knows that wasn’t me. Melania? Where’s my wife, who is acknowledged as one of the great beauties? Melania? I’m thinking about making her the new Secretary of State. Melania? Okay, she’s around here, great.

“This tax bill I have coming out is so wonderful, so great. Everybody loves it, believe me. According to this bill, which is so beautiful, no one who voted for me is going to have to pay taxes anymore. No more! We’re gonna get Mexico to pay our taxes. They already told me, I spoke to Mexico, they said they would.

SLEIGH BELL NOISE

“Oh, look. It’s Santa. Santa, where are you? Santa?”

“Right here, Mr. President.”

“Santa? Santa Claus?”

“Right next to you, sir.”

“Santa, there you are, wonderful, beard, great. What a Santa! Not an ethnic Santa. I have brought back Christmas. Obama didn’t love Christmas because it reminded him of America, which he hated and tried to destroy with his crack and rap and bushy hair. Obama didn’t have American hair! Maybe that’s not presidential to say, but someone had to say it. Not American hair. Santa, who is that under that beard?”

“It’s me, Roy Moore.”

“The great Roy Moore, who the lying and failing media have tried to crucify. Just like Jesus! But just like Jesus, Roy is gonna break free from the cross and get elected to the Senate. What a great Senator you’ll be.”

“Why, thank you, Mr. President.”

“I saw you over there with all the children on your lap.”

“Oh, you saw that?”

“Yes, playing Santa. Long line to get up there. Very nice.”

“Oh! Right! Playing Santa, sure. That’s what I was doing.”

“I didn’t see any little boys in the line.”

“Hey, look over there.”

“What? Where? Is it Hillary?”

DISGRACED CHILD MOLESTOR SKULKING OFF NOISE

“Where am I looking? Hillary? Who’s there? Deep State? Globalist? What? Okay, whatever, I’ll look later because I’m the best at looking. Most men my age need glasses, not me. Perfect eyes. I could probably be a great sniper, one of the best ever. I see so well. Okay, now it’s time for a new tradition at the White House: Christmas Calls. One very, very, very lucky young American is going to get a phone call from his favorite president, which is me. Lemme just get out of Twitter and call.”

DIALING NOISE

RINGING NOISE

“It’s ringing.”

RINGING NOISE

“Hello?”

“Hello, this is the best president of America, Donald Trump. Is this Dicky?”

“This is Senator Richard Burr.”

“Dicky! Have you been a good boy this year? Have you dropped the Russia case so Santa will bring you a new toy?”

“You have to be kidding me.”

“Do you want a toy truck, Dicky? Or maybe a corner apartment in Trump Tower? Santa can make both of those things happen, but you have to be a good boy, Dicky. Good boys get past this Russia thing.”

“Seriously?”

“No Russia, no Russia.”

“I’m hanging up the phone.”

“Hey, you could get coal. Especially since I have reopened dozens of new coal plants in the past year. Dozens, everyone’s talking about it, everyone’s back to work who hasn’t been killed by illegal immigrants.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

“Great, Santa, wonderful, coal. Oh, it’s time for Hannity. Okay, Christmas, great, Trump, Christmas.”

Wheel To The Skank And Fly

December 1, 2017 / / 0 Comments

“Fly the skanky skies, Ass!”

Hey, Billy.

“Got a plane, fucker! Gonna do some barrel rolls, some loop-de-loops.”

They’re not letting you fly that thing, are they?

“I was talking about my on-board fuck styles.”

Sure.

“You know the best thing about private planes?”

You can fuck in ’em?

“You can do anything in ’em, but that’s not it. Best thing is the private gates you get to go through. There’s, like, no security. I got four guns on me. On me. My person.”

I get it. Why do you have four guns on you?

“Because I lost one on the way over. Usually have five,”

Why do you need any weapons, Billy?

“Shit might go down.”

Where do you even keep them?

“Got a .22 under the hat.”

Sure.

“.38 in the small of my back.”

Okay.

“.35 cal Smith and Wesson on the ankle.”

Right.

“There ya go.”

Where’s the fourth?

“Don’t worry about it.”

Are you kiestering pistols again, Billy?

“Shit might go down.”

You should not bring any of that to an airport, regardless of how private the gate and plane are. What if you lost a gun there?

“That’s it! I left the .42 in the Chili’s Express. I stopped at the Chili’s Express.”

I got that. Why is every gun a different caliber? That means you have to have four different kinds of ammo.

“I shoot according to mood. My calibers are like a painter’s colors. The .38 is a workingman’s caliber. The .42, though? That’s straight elegance.”

Whatever you say, Billy.

“Yknow what else is nice about the private planes? The stewardesses, man.”

They’ve been called flight attendants for, like, 35 years, Billy.

“Not on private planes! Y’still get to grab their asses, too!”

Please don’t do that. Current acts of sexual harassment aren’t covered under the Remaining Rock Stars Protocols.

“I’m pretty sure the RRSP is full coverage.”

Yes, for back in the day. Everything you did back then, we’ve all agreed not to mention. But you’re still liable for shit you do now.”

“That doesn’t seem fair.”

I’m gonna ignore that. Don’t grab anymore ass, Billy.

“This sucks. I miss the old days.

Holy shit, don’t mention missing the old days. Not in public, at least. Just don’t say anything into a microphone for a year or so.

“Ah, fuck it. I still got the skankjet. Thinking about joining the pile-high club.”

I think you mean the mile-high club.

“No, the pile-high. Y’put the skank on the ground. Then you get, like, six or seven guys.”

I get the picture.

“You wanna see pictures? I got tons.”

Enjoy your flight, Billy.

“My boner is in the fully upright position.”

Reunited And It Feels So Goat

November 30, 2017 / / 5 Comments

“If you want one, I’ll get you one.”

I would have nowhere to wear a toppermost.

“Yeah. And I was just kidding. You’re not even supposed to know these exist.”

There’s a lot going on with that one.

“Summer Morning In The Fields?”

What now?

“All toppermosts have names. This one is Summer Morning In The Fields. I think it’s apropos. Fascinating story behind her.”

Her?

“All toppermosts are female.”

Sure.

“I had to travel to Japan to persuade a retired master tailor to create one last piece. His name was Hattori Hando.”

Hanzo?

“No. Hando. Completely different guy than the guy you’re thinking of.”

If you say so.

“He had retired to a fishing village outside Okinawa, where he ran a non-sushi bar.”

Non-sushi?

“He cooked the fish.”

Sure.

“Place smelled delicious.”

I’ll bet.

“No one knew his true identity. I bowed deeply, and then removed my overcoat to reveal one of his early masterpieces, Snowing On The Old People. He said nothing, and brought me some bass. I usually don’t like bass, but he poached it and it was just salty and creamy and I knew I should be eating my chicken breasts but I finished the whole plate. Oh my God, so yummy.”

I get it. Good fish.

“Hattori Hando sits down with me and we banter. So much tension.”

Sure.

“He asks me why I want a Hattori Hando toppermost.”

What’d you tell him?

“I said, ‘Because I want to look fancy.'”

That was it?

“It worked. He let me stay in his attic while he sewed. I spent my time practicing wearing clothes. At the end of a month, Hattori Hando came to me and we had a very Japanese ceremony. Like, if a layman saw it, he would totally know how Japanese it was. He presented the garment to me and said, “John Mayer, if you meet God while you are wearing this toppermost, then God will not know if it’s a robe or a kimono, but He’ll be pretty sure it isn’t a coat. You owe me like a trillion yen for the food and rent.’ It was a beautiful, spiritual moment.”

Uh-huh.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“I hate you.”

You’ve got every right.

…

“John Mayer, fashion is my passion.”

“Johnny!”

“I’m not gonna tell you again.”

“What do you know about goats?”

“Nothing.”

“There’s nothing to know! Very easy animal. Eats anything and won’t stop fucking. Goats are the opposite of pandas.”

“Why are we talking about goats? Why do you have a goat?”

“Why do WE have a goat!”

“Dammit, Benjy, did you buy a goat?”

“No! I invested in a goat. And I didn’t invest in just one. The key to goats is volume.”

How many goats do I now own?

“It’s gonna sound like a big number out of context.”

Benjy!

“2,000.”

Why?

“I told you: volume.”

Just because you keep saying it, doesn’t mean it makes sense.

“John, bubby, you can’t play your guitar forever. The concussions are adding up. These goats are our future.”

How do you make money off them?

“How do you not make money off them? Meat, milk, fur, odds and ends. Scrap cost alone is in the five figure region. And while they’re alive, you rent them out.”

“Rent them out?”

“To petting zoos. Children’s parties.”

…

“The lonely.”

“Godammit, Benjy.”

“What?”

“Am I a goat pimp now?”

“That’s such a small part of it. It’s barely even worth mentioning. And it’s an upscale clientele!”

“An upscale clientele of goatfuckers?”

“These are very successful men who grew up on farms and had formative experiences in barns. Don’t you judge them.”

“I will absolutely judge goatfuckers.”

“No offense, but that’s why Trump won.”

“Benjy, sell the goats.”

“You’re not seeing the upside here.”

“Sell the damn goats!”

“I’ll get rid of the motherfuckers.”

BANG!

GOAT DYING SOUND

“Oh, no.”

“I see you came back from the fucking dead. That’s good. I like that.”

“Not you.”

“Look how fucking sad I am.”

“Miles, you murdered me. I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“I like that toppermost.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s so sweet ofHEY wait a minute.”

“Get over here and take off your drawers and get freaky with yourself. Do it on top of the lion.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mr. Davis? Hi. My name is Benjy Eisen and I’m John’s manag–”

BANG!

flump

“Who the fuck did I just murder?”

“Benjy. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be fine.”

“Come back to me, John Mayer. I’m sorry I shot and killed you.”

“You didn’t just kill me, Miles. You killed our love.”

BROKENHEARTED GUITARIST RUNNING AWAY NOISE

Sorry it didn’t work out, Mr. Davis.

“Never know what’s gonna happen.”

That’s true. You might get back together.

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna stalk him.”

Please don’t stalk John Mayer, Miles Davis.

“I do what the fuck I want.”

I know.

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