“Name?”
“Bronco Bobby Hardin.”
“Occupation?”
“Shooter.”
“What now?”
“Shooter.”
“That’s a job?”
“Yep.”
“What does it entail?”
“Shooting.”
“How’s the pay?”
“Depends on who you shoot.”
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Category: Uncategorized (Page 300 of 1031)
CELL PHONE NOISE
“C’mon, man. Just…just…c’mon, man. Yes, hello?”
“Ms. Haberman, are you a ninja? I know the law, which is why I don’t need a lawyer to make this phone call, and I know that you have to tell me you’re a ninja if you’re a ninja. There have been several attempts on the lives of me and my dog Laika, and most of those attempts were perpetrated by ninjae. The plural of ninja is ninjae.”
“Carter Page. Was wondering when you’d call.”
“I did not identify myself. How did you know it was me?”
“Just a guess.”
“I spoke with the Senate the other day. They were lovely people, but some of them believe the filthy lies that the media shits out of their face-assholes.”
“Face-assholes?”
“Journalists don’t have mouths. Below their oversized noses are recta. The plural of rectum is recta. They spew the night soil of falsehood, and the whores lap it up from the dirt. Society debases itself for your lies, Ms. Haberman.”
“Okee-dokee. Carter, have you been drinking?”
“My tap water has been poisoned with tiny robots.”
“Sure.”
“What do you see when you look at Mr. Trump? Can you see the gold shining in his eyes, too?”
“I don’t see that, no.”
“He is a great man! I am a little man, but he’s a great man. His hair is the size of Orion’s Belt, but shinier. I’m a little man and he’s a great man. I’m a pair of claws scuttling across the floors of silent seas. How many times do you wear socks? I wear socks once and then burn them. It’s a worthwhile expense to keep the ninjae from getting your DNA.”
“Uh-huh. You want to tell me about the testimony?”
“I plead the Fifth.”
“This is a phone call, Carter. You don’t need to plead the Fifth.”
“I still do, though. The plural of Fifth is Sixth.”
“It’s not. Carter, did you really suggest that Trump visit Moscow during the campaign?”
“Yes, of course. It’s the City of Lights.”
“It’s not.”
“I was working very hard on that project. I was getting my ducks in a row until I realized that the ducks were all secretly plotting against me, and I killed the ducks and ate the evidence. I don’t even like duck. I’m a turkey man.”
“Go on.”
“If Mr. Trump went to Moscow, then everything would fit. All the keys would turn purple. Do you understand? The keys would turn purple. I’m excited just thinking about it.”
“Me, too.”
“I told Mr. Sessions and Ms. Hope about everything I was doing. We Skyped a bunch of times, but the CIA kept stealing the internet.”
“And who was your contact in Russia?”
“I didn’t meet any Russians.”
“What?”
“I met all the Russians.”
“Jesus.”
“I also met the FBI. I met with them several times this year.”
“How many times?”
“I don’t remember. The FBI men were always wearing the same suits, so they blurred together. They asked so many questions, and none of the questions were purple at all. I think the FBI men may have been with the CIA. Or ninjae. There is also the possibility that they were ninjae working for the CIA. Which is, of course, the worst of all worlds.”
“Carter, are you seeing a psychiatrist?”
“I need a psychiatrist about as much as I need a lawyer.”
“Yes! Exactly! You need a psychiatrist and a lawyer.”
“I’m a turkey man.”
“Okay, I’m gonna hang up now.”
“I knew you were a ninja.”
DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE
What is this?
“Decided to try out being one of you hillbilly motherfuckers. It’s nice. I see why you’re all so fucking happy all the time. Listen to some bullshit song about your fucking truck. Eat some spaghetti with fucking ketchup on it. String up a n—-r.”
Please stop saying that word.
“I’m allowed to say n—-r. I’m a racist white motherfucker.”
Wow, does that not make any sense.
“C’mon, let’s say the fucking Pledge of Allegiance.”
No. It was Election Day today, Mr. Davis. You a regular voter?
“Fuck that. I ain’t down with democracy.”
You’re not down with democracy? Why not?
“All men are created equal. That’s the foundation of that shit, right?”
Yes.
“I ain’t fucking equal. I’m better than everybody. I should get a couple hundred votes. Any system gives Miles Davis and Steve Miller the same amount of votes is bullshit.”
You’re still mad about Steve Miller.
“Motherfucker, I’m still mad about everything I was ever mad about.”
Sure.
“But especially that no-playing motherfucker. I shared stages with the greatest fucking musicians on the planet and I gotta open for this teenybopper motherfucker? Yelling about ‘Somebody get me a cheeseburger.’ I’ll shove a cheeseburger up your fucking ass, motherfucker. Take some fucking music lessons.”
“Oh, great. You’re still here.”
“Who the fuck is that?”
“Mr Davis? I’m Amir Bar-Lev and this is my daughter Hamentashen.”
“I don’t give a fuck.”
“We’re big fans.”
“Course you are. I’m a fucking genius.”
“And it’s such an honor to meet you. Just such an honor.”
“Hey, the other Jewish asshole.”
Me?
“Yeah. You see how your cousin treats me?”
He’s not my cousin. We’re not all related.
“He’s respectful. Doesn’t bitch about my language and ask me stupid fucking questions and make me talk to Russian dictators.”
And he’s a great director. You should let him do a movie about you.
“They already did one. It was fucking bullshit. Only good thing about it was they didn’t cast no light-skinned motherfucker to play me. Other than that, nothing good about it. Motherfucker wants to make a movie about me, he gotta make a pornographic film. Show off my fucking.”
You do see his kid standing there, right?
“Gotta shoot that shit in 70mm. I stroke long.”
Can we be done here?
“Go get me another Seven & Seven.”
Yes, sir.
The song’s called Hello, Hooray; it’s a goody and maybe tonight deserves a little big of hoopla. Maybe tonight’s the night the wave began to roll back. Maybe not, but who can tell the future?
If you’re getting your news from me–AND YOU FUCKING SHOULDN’T–here’s how it stands:
- Democratic wins in the Virginia and New Jersey (FUCKING A RIGHT) gubernatorial races.
- Dems take back the VA House of Delegates, including seating the nation’s first transgender politician.
- A ballot measure to expand Medicaid passed by huge numbers in Maine.
Also, Bill DiBlasio was reelected Mayor of New York City, but fuck that over-tall goober.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=0P5qPaVAtic
Yeah, I’ve posted it before. Sue me.
In ascending order of awesomeness:
- Keyboardist’s hot pink camouflage bandana.
- Tina’s leather pants.
- BAREFOOT WHITE GUY OUT OF NOWHERE!
- Tina.
Go exercise your damn franchise.
Hey, Phil. Whatcha doing?
“Collecting knobs.”
I can see that.
HELLO THERE.
Wally, I’m talking to Phil.
“I don’t wanna talk to you.”
DO NOT CALL ME THAT. LOOK AT MY BEAUTY AND POWER.
How’d you get out of Little Aleppo?
I AM NOT INSTALLED INTO THE TAHITIAN FOR 20 YEARS AFTER THIS PHOTO WAS TAKEN.
That is true, actually.
CONTINUITY IS SO IMPORTANT.
It is.
I THOROUGHLY ENJOY MY RETIREMENT, BUT IT IS QUITE PLEASANT TO BE PERFORMING THE TASK I WAS DESIGNED FOR. MOSTLY.
Mostly?
SEASTONES.
Sure.
“Hey!”
SEASTONES IS JIVE AND YOU KNOW IT.
“You can be replaced, y’know.”
I AM REPLACED SEVERAL MONTHS FROM NOW WHEN THE ACCUMULATED COST OF CARTING ME AROUND BECOMES A BURDEN AND THE BAND BREAKS UP.
“We get back together.”
IT IS NEVER THE SAME.
“There are a lot of high points coming up in the Dead’s career.”
I AM THE HIGH POINT. I AM GLORIOUS.
“Hey, jackass, can you take Robby the Robot back to whenever he’s hiding out now?”
If I moved any of him, the union would have my ass.
“I hate this shit.”
PLAY ONE OF YOUR BOMBS. THEY TICKLE.
“Goddammit.”
- Son of a Son of a Lost Sailor.
- Cheeseburger in Paradise Waits.
- Why don’t we Get Phil Drunk and Screw?
- A Prankster Looks at Forty.
- Something Something Margaritaville.
- I don’t know any other Jimmy Buffet songs.
- Wait.
- The one about the volcano; I kinda like that one.
The windows are now open at Offtrack Betting on the Dead (OtBotD); all currencies are accepted, and barter-style wagers can be discussed. (If you wanna bet your car, you can bet your car. If you wanna bet a cookbook you masturbated on, then you cannot do that unless it’s a first-edition Escoffier or something where the value of the book outweighs the distaste over the jiz.) Odds posted are liable to change before post time, and all bets are final.
- References a Vietnam movie while in Vietnam – EVEN MONEY.
- Godzilla impression – 10 to 1.
- Mothra impression – 20 to 1.
- King Ghidorah impression – 100 to 1.
- Attempts to spell “Seoul;” succeeds – 50 to 1.
- Attempts to spell “Seoul;” fails – 30 to 1.
- Lectures foreign leader abut the history of their country – 5 to 2.
- “Fake news” – 3 to 7.
- “You people” – EVEN MONEY.
- Claims that you can find better _____ food in New York City – 5 to 1.
- That handshake thing – 3 to 1. (You forgot about that fucking handshake thing, didn’t you?)
- John McCain joke in Hanoi – 2 to 1.
- Extemporaneous statements in which it is crystal clear he does not know what country he is in – 4 to 1.
- Jet lag-induced three a.m. tweetstorm consisting entirely of glowering selfies with the caption “I am being Strong for you! Asia!” – 9 to 1.
- Starts WWIII – 6 to 1.
- Hand slapped away by Melania – 2 to 1.
- Embarrasses all of us some more like the goofy-faced dumbfuck that he is – NOT ACCEPTING WAGERS.
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