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

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Beam Me Up, Mickey

One of these days, Mickey and Bill Walton are going to have a Dead shirt-off, and I don’t think both of them will survive the ordeal.

OR

In Donald Trump’s dreams, his hands are the size of Bill Walton’s. (Holy shit, look at those paws.)

OR

What’s the doohickey? Bottom right on the near side of the Beam. It looks like a coin slot. Does the Beam take quarters? If someone is playing the Beam and you put your quarter down, do you get next?

OR

Is Mickey about to perform? Or–and this is my guess–has he begun wearing those sweatbands at all times?

He Wore White Carnations Tucked Into His Shirt

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Being young and handsome.”

Multi-tasking.

“It was tough at first, sure. But, you know, your brain works it out.”

If you say so.

“This Kushner kid has a lot on his plate.”

GodDAMN it, why do you know that?

“Billy’s been using the Time Sheath to join the Alt-Right.”

Shit.

“He keeps calling Phil a cuck.”

And what does Phil do?

“Stands there wondering what a ‘cuck’ is.”

Why can’t you guys stop routing the internet from the future into your present?

“Well, you know: we’re a traveling band.”

You’re not a time-traveling band.

“Some nights we are.”

Yeah, okay, but only metaphorically.

“And isn’t the Time Sheath really a metaphor?”

No. It’s a working time machine.

“And isn’t time a metaphor?”

Also no.

“What about ‘no?’ Isn’t ‘no’ a metaphor?”

You’ve also been using the Time Sheath to score future doobie, haven’t you?

“It’s a lot better.”

Not the point, Bobby.

“And, you know: vaping. We don’t have that now. It’s an entire mode of phase transition unavailable to our time period. Does that seem fair?”

Yes, it is perfectly fair that people don’t get to have things that haven’t been invented yet.

“But what if those people have Time Sheaths?”

Ah, fuck it. Just try not to be recognized.

“Who would recognize me in 2017? I don’t have a beard.”

True.

Thoughts On The Rock & Roll Hall Of Whatever

The Rock & Roll Hall of Fame induction ceremony is tonight, and no matter what you’re doing, it’s better than having any part of that unctuous ego-orgy. Fuck off, R&RHoF, fuck off for forever and a day; take your precious Stratocasters in their security-glass sarcophagi with you; dump it all in Lake Erie and let it float away until someone needs to make another documentary.

No one loves you, Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. They just use you for the sales bump. Money’s on the dresser.

Anyway, they’ve run through all the deserving artists (not really) and now we’re left with an evening whose highlight may or may not be Steve Perry’s presence. Which–if you’re keeping score–does not count as a highlight in any reality except the one where you are wrongly accused of murdering a Girl Scout troop and Steve Perry is your alibi. In that reality, Steve Perry showing up is the biggest highlight of your life. In this one? Not impressive.

Here’s this year’s class; I will try my hardest not to do the “BUT THESE BANDS AREN’T IN” bullshit. None of this matters and it’s all offensive to anyone with an IQ high enough to spell “IQ.”

ELO ELO? Ugh. Meh. Nah. Psh. ELO was basically Beatles fan fiction with a disco beat. Jeff Lynne was also the weakest link in the Traveling Wilburys. One shining moment: soundtrack of Boogie Nights.

Joan Baez The first whispers of a Baez comeback/rethink are in the offing, and let me put a stop to it toot fucking sweet: Joan Baez sucks. Her voice is like a clumsy surgeon’s scalpel, and she appears humorless. (At least in her material. FoTotD David Browne recently interviewed her for Rolling Stone and she sounded tolerable, but it’s not the Sixties any more and I hate the fucking Sixties and the fucking Baby Boomers and they can all suck my balls and someone get a Time Sheath and send Joan Baez back to Woodstock so she can lecture people some more.)

Journey New rule: if you replace the lead singer with someone who used to cosplay as the lead singer, then you can’t be in the Rock & Roll Hall of Fame. Sure, there’s been a 20-year-long chain of Fake Jerrys in the Dead, but…

Huh.

Realize you had an indefensible point halfway through the sentence?

Little bit.

Kadlicek.

Yup.

Wanna apologize to Journey?

No. Fuck Journey.

Acknowledge you were wrong, though.

No. Fuck you.

Oh, I’m looking forward to the light and life you’re going to share with the world this evening. What a fine mood you wear.

Bite me.

Pearl Jam Ten was good, Vs. was great, and Vitalogy, No Code, and Binaural had their moments, plus I really dug the album they made backing up Neil Young. Here, check this out:

(There’s an official video, but trust me: you don’t want to watch it.)

So, yeah, okay, fine, whatever. Good job, Pearl Jam.

Tupac Shakur Tupac was Trixie’s high school friend, so I am glad for him.

Yes Yes is the only band more ridiculous than the Dead, and the only one on this list other than Pearl Jam that TotD has seen live: holy shit, was it excruciating. It was the Union tour, and Yes fans will remember the Union tour as the tour when every human being who had ever been in Yes was onstage at the same time: 20 or 30 deeply unpleasant-looking pale men waiting for their turns to solo.

Why did they do this? Well, there were two Yeses at the time: the Chris Squire/Buggles/Trevor Rabin version (which owned the name), and the version with Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, and Howe (who performed under the imaginative name of Anderson, Bruford, Wakeman, and Howe). The two factions kept suing each other and cannibalizing each other’s ticket sales, so the record company mushed them together and threw them out on the road.

Did you miss the part about the Buggles? The guys who did Video Killed the Radio Star? Yeah, the Buggles were in Yes for a while. Swear to God. The only backstory with comparable complexity belongs to Cable from the X-Men, and that involves both time travel and alternate dimensions.

Fun fact: Rick Wakeman has joined and quit Yes five times, and he bought himself a new cape to mark each occasion.

Nile Rodgers Go look at this motherfucker’s credits. I dare you. Plus, he produced this:

So, there ya go.

Let’s Hear From The Pundits

“My God, he’s the most presidential president that ever presidented.” – Fareed Zakaria, after Trump blows up a school.

“I salute you, you sexy genius.” – Matt Lauer, after Trump gets through a speech someone else wrote for him.

“Why aren’t we making room on Mount Rushmore?” – Van Jones, after Trump kills a hundred people in retaliation for someone killing 50.

“Christ, I want that man’s cock in my mouth.” – Chris Cilliza, after Trump sees a picture of a dead child and immediately pushes the “Kill Shit” button without asking anyone if he should.

“The only thing more beautiful than missiles slamming into unarmed foreigners is our president. I want his cock in my mouth, too.” – Brian Williams, after Trump maybe starts WWIII on a whim.

Donald Trump’s Remarks From 4/6/17

“Good evening my fellow Americans, and also all the haters and losers. On Tuesday, President Assad of Syria launched very, very horrible weapons at his own people, chemical weapons, horrible. Normal bombs are bad, but now we’re talking about the chemical. Bad stuff! I couldn’t believe it when I saw it on Fox. They showed the worst pictures, just the worst, of very beautiful babies who are not allowed in America because they are Radical Islamic Terrorists.

“Obama killed those babies. By being weak and cowardly with Assad, Obama killed the babies. Maybe he gave some of the babies to John Podesta, I don’t know. Anyway, I’m very proud to announce the launching of 60 Trump Missiles towards the airfield where the chemical was from. Or the factory where it was made. Or something. I didn’t get into the little shit, that’s why I hire generals.

“Oh, right. I also call on the international community, who are deadbeats and pussies, to aid us in bringing down Assad.

“Let us now bow our heads and pray.

“American Jesus, hear us. You are so great. So, so great. Thank you for making me president during this crisis, and not Hillary Clinton. She worships the devil, Jesus. Guide our cruise missiles, Jesus. We ask for peace and harmony and blah bah blah.

“All right, amen, enough with the God crap. They told me I’m not supposed to take questions, but I’m going to.

“Maggie?

“Those tweets were strategic, Maggie. Once again, the disgraceful media which lies and should be stabbed in the face lies about me. You are pushing a narrative. A narrative! “Trump sent out tweets arguing against attacking Syria.” Wrong! I was being strategic. I’m very, very good at the strategic. I wrote those to confuse Assad. Didn’t want him to know my strategy. That makes me strategic.

“No, I won’t stop saying ‘strategic.’ I’m the president and I’ll say whatever I want.

“Yes, this has been a long time in planning. Almost 36 hours. Honestly: war? Not that tough. Shoot this, blow up that. Most people don’t give me credit for being a warrior, but I am. I went to military school, and I was voted ‘Most Military’ four years straight. Great with the military. We had the best plan going into this, a real wonderful plan, just great. My son-in-law Jared also helped with the plan. Great plan.

“Alan?

“That’s not a fair question, Alan. I want to talk about the wonderful missiles I just launched and you want to bring up Russia, which is a hoax. The entire Russia story was made up by Susan Rice, who is a very bad black. So many great blacks in this country–Ben Carson, my good friend Don King–but the government gets nothing but evil blacks. I’ll say it because I have no time for political correctness now that I’ve started a war. Evil blacks.

“That reminds me. We were very, very, very careful not to hit civilians during this strike, but if any civilians die, it’s Obama’s fault.

“Marty?

“Steve Bannon was taken off the National Security Council because he did the job he was there to do, which was watch Michael Flynn, even though Michael Flynn did nothing wrong and didn’t need anyone to watch him. Mission accomplished. A lot of people on the Council were coming up to me, “Mr. President, Steve Bannon is too good at National Security and he’s making us look bad.” Many people said that.

“Kelly?

“Good question, Kelly, and your cans look phenomenal. Assad will step down. How? It’s gonna happen. Don’t worry about how. This will end well. Jared was very, very confident that all of this would end well. Unless Obama sabotages us, then this will end with Assad out of power and also we’ll have a better trade deal with China. Trust me.

“Okay, God bless America and me.”

Dog, Bone

Well, hello there! What’s your name? What is it?

“It’s Billy, jackass.”

Not you. The dog.

“That’s Killer. I didn’t fix him, so watch out: he might fuck ya.”

Like father, like son.

“He pounds dog ass, man. You should see him. I get inspired.”

Ew.

“Sometimes, I hook up bitches for both of us. Get a tandem-fuck going. Weird, though.”

What?

“I do it doggy-style a lot, but Killer never does it Billy-style.”

Probably just being passive-aggressive.

“The breed is known for that He’s a Shanghai Appetizer.”

That is not a dog breed, but it is racist. I see you got an Apple Watch like everyone else.

“Yeah it’s the tits. It’s a phone you can wear on your wrist.”

Are pockets that inconvenient?

“I’m naked a lot.”

Sure.

“I got an app on this thing that hooks up to Killer’s shock collar.”

A shock collar? Why?

“I like shocking shit.”

Okay. You’re terrible, but you have your reasons.

“Watch this.”

Dog didn’t move.

“Shock collar’s around my balls.”

You said it was Killer’s.

“It belongs to him, like, legally. But it is wrapped around my scrotum.”

Why?

“I like it.”

Jesus, Billy.

“It’s sexy and refreshing. Like a nap combined with a tugger. Not as good as the peanut butter trick, though.”

Do not make your dog lick peanut butter off your genitals.

“That’s disgusting. I make skank lick it off.”

Oh, that’s fine.

“Killer licks the peanut butter off the skank. He’s straight. But, you know, we get our fuck on.”

These conversations never turns out well.

Mister Clean Is The Man

Hey, Enthusiasts! It’s spring!

For, like, two weeks already.

In my defense, there aren’t four seasons in Florida. There’s six months of “almost too hot.” and six months of “far too fucking hot Jesus Christ my balls are epoxied to my thigh with sweat .” Spring and autumn don’t happen here. Or winter. Florida is just varying degrees of summer.

So what brings about this realization that the civilized world has entered spring?

News reports. Pictures of cherry blossoms. Also, it’s 93 degrees and 50% humidity out there; last week, it was lovely. Something’s changed.

Climate Change?

Did you not hear me when I said “Florida?” Every summer is like this. Remember when all the Avengers were fighting at the airport and Paul Rudd got real big?

Sure.

Like being up his ass. That is what Florida is like from April to October. Hot and so, so, so sticky.

Did you begin this post with a point or is this one of those times you just started typing?

Point.

Yay.

Spring cleaning time, Enthusiasts! I have had–for what seems like weeks now–some tabs open on my desktop that I meant to have something interesting to say about. Failing that, something funny. Failing that, I figured I could half-ass a dialogue or a list or something. (Loyal readers will know that TotD is the reigning champ of half-assing dialogues and lists.)

But, Jesus, I’m beaten. I got nothing. Here we go:

Someone’s selling a speaker cabinet that Phil that Phil supposedly used for the Europe ’72 tour. The back looks like this:

The front looks like the front of a speaker cabinet. I told you: I got nothing. Wait. I got something.

Get the hell out of there.

“Heeeey, man.”

Soup, why are you living in Phil’s speaker cabinet from 1972?

“You heard of the Tiny House movement, man?”

Yeah.

“I win, man.”

And so on.

Brent’s daughter, Jennifer Mydland, made her performing debut the other day in her dad’s hometown of Lafayette, California. She’s got a lovely voice, and she had two of the longhairs that hang around TXR as her band.

She sounded like this:

I hate to end this cheery section on a sour note, but I have to upbraid JamBase for burying the lede of this story.

SHAKEY ZIMMERMAN. There’s a name that brings home the bacon and then sexually satisfies the bacon. You lead off the first paragraph with that, JamBase. Maybe that’s your subhead, even: LOCAL MAN HAS AWESOME NAME. I expect more from you, JamBase. Don’t be like Live4LiveMusic.

Rock Scene! was a magazine that came out sporadically in the 70’s; the best I can figure out is that it was New York’s version of Creem. The great Lisa Robinson (whose book There Goes Gravity is one of the better Rock Books ever written) and her husband ran it; he was a producer for Lou Reed and Vladimir Putin’s favorite band, The Flaming Groovies. The covers were colored, and glossy, but the pages instead were newsprint and the pictures–and kids bought these things for the pictures–were black and white. The magazine folded in ’83. It doesn’t even have a Wikipedia page.

But never underestimate the Rock Nerd. Some kind soul found the whole run, all 54, and scanned ’em into the cyber for everyone to look at. You should look. Why won’t you look?

Stop hassling people.

I need to pump up my clickthroughs.

hrong

hrong

hroNGANGANGANGANGANG

SHLARFRRRR

SPOSHsplishsplishsplish

dribble

Did you just cut your leg off with a chainsaw and exsanguinate?

Yup.

The thing about the clickthroughs?

Yup.

Can I please talk about the magazine that no one remembers from 40 years ago?

You can.

Go check it out, Enthusiasts, if just for the uncut hit of 70’s weirdness. Look at this bullshit:

(I guarantee you that when Gene read these reviews, he thought they were good.)

Plus the site is well-designed, and you leaf through the pages with a very satisfying FLICK sound.

This has not been on my desktop for long, but now I am getting rid of everything, and so you should read this article about Alligator (the guitar, not the song or reptile) by the great Jesse Jarnow. The only question I have is this:

Alligators have teeth. Sure, they also have claws, but the claws aren’t the star of the show. Teeth are the headliners. If we were playing a word-association game and I said “alligator,” you would say “teeth.” If you said “claws,” I would be like, “Shit, this motherfucker’s crazy.”

It saddens me to say this, but I now must now take anything the great Jesse Jarnow tells me about reptiles with a grain of salt. 2017 is about losing your innocence.

Stop being weird.

He is deliberately emphasizing the wrong part of an alligator!

I swear you only write so you can come up with sentences no one’s said before.

Oh, anyone can do that. The trick’s making them make sense.

You’re stalling because you don’t want to talk about the commercial real estate guys.

Ugh. The first real estate deal ever made in New York was when the Dutch bought the place from the Manhasset. We are told that the price was $24 worth of beads. What is not mentioned are the broker’s fee and hidden charges that brought the real amount up to 40 bucks. Since then, one of New York’s primary economic drivers has been trading parts of itself to itself. Sometimes other countries will come and buy parts of New York–the Japanese in the 1980’s, the Chinese now–but mostly the city sells itself to itself.

Like any business, there is glamour. You could sell a condo to Doctors Oz or Phil. But most of it the dreariest slog you can imagine: negotiating 30-year leases on office buildings in Long Island City; selling warehouses in Bayhurst. Someone has to do the due diligence on a dental building in Staten Island. Not gonna be me.

And, apparently, some of these guys (they’re all guys) listen to the Dead. One of them listens to the Dead and loves Trump, but I don’t think we can blame all commercial real estate guys for the lunatic beliefs of a fringe few. Still, though: maybe we should stop letting them in the country for a while. Just until we know what’s going on.

And now I am clean, reborn; pure again in the eyes of the Christ.

You shut several internet pages.

PURE IN THE CHRIST.

I hate you so.

Even A Piano Player Can Shake Hands

“Jerry, wow. It’s such an honor to meet you. I’m a huge fan.”

“Great, great. Where’s my meatball sub?”

“Excuse me?”

“You’re not the kid with the meatball sub?”

“No. I’m Bruce Hornsby.”

“That means what to me?”

“I sing the piano songs on the radio.”

“We’re circling around the point here.”

“The meatball sub.”

“I have my mouth all fixed for it.”

“Do you want me to run and get you a sandwich?”

“Gee, could ya? Here’s a twenty. Get yourself something, too, and keep the change.”

“Um, okay.”

“Great. Be back in under a half hour and you can join the band when Brent dies.”

“What?”

“Nothing. Hurry.”

Homosexuality: An FAQ

What is homosexuality?

Something you try in summer camp. And college. Once or twice in your thirties, but that’s it.

Please don’t start being weird this early.

At the basest definition, homosexuality is erotic behavior between two similarly-sexed members of the same species.

Same species? There can’t be interspecies homosexuality?

No.

Why not?

Because I said so, and if the raccoonfuckers out there have a problem with it, then they can leave a comment. Homosexuals have enough problems without being lumped in with farm pervs.

We’re straying from the topic.

We tend to do that.

You said “species.” This implies homosexuality is widespread within the animal kingdom.

And you inferred it. Good job. Sure, yeah: animals are gay as shit. Slapping their weird dicks together, rubbing their scary cooters on each other.

Why?

They like it.

Sure. Which animal is the gayest?

Gibbon.

Least gay?

Anteater.

So: humans can also be homosexuals?

Wow, do you sound like a Martian when you say shit like that.

I am not a Martian.

You know when I say “Martian,” I refer to all alien species. I’m using the word as a bit of a synecdoche.

Not from any planet other than Earth.

Earth’s awesome.

The best.

The best? How could you know that unless you have something to compare it to?

Please stop accusing me of things.

Got my eye on you, Mork. Yes, humans can be homosexuals.

Always?

I don’t understand. Like, are homosexuals always homosexuals? Yes, except for some people who are only gay during full moons. They are called werehomosexuals.

I meant: has there always been homosexuality within the human experience? History and all that hooey.

Yes and no. People have always been getting it on, but “homosexuality” as a concept in western civilization has only been around for 150 years or so. German guy thought it up.

What? How do you invent homosexuality?

You don’t. But this guy–Ulrichs–argued that it wasn’t that people did gay stuff, but that some people were gay. Intrinsically so. He took the descriptor off the act and put it on the actor. He wrote a very influential book.

What was it called?

Research on the Riddle of Man-Manly Love.

I’m guessing that’s a poor translation.

Poor? It’s perfect. Now, Ulrichs didn’t invent the term “homosexual,” but he really was what could be called the first gay rights activist.

How’d it work out for him?

Germany criminalized sodomy the year after he wrote his book.

That was fast.

Efficient fuckers.

Sodomy?

Buttfucking. Or buttfucking in the mouth. Whichever, but not man-on-lady buttfucking. I mean: that was frowned upon, but sodomy laws are always aimed at gays.

Have there been many sodomy laws?

So many. Guess when they started. Just guess.

Was it immediately after the Roman Empire turned Christian?

It totally was.

Wow. Why was the Church so against sodomy?

Because they felt guilty about doing it themselves. And it’s a good method of control, but mostly the psychological stuff: the One True Church is gayer than Epcot Center.

Epcot Center’s gay?

Married his longtime boyfriend Universal Studios last year.

Good for them. So, governments have been officially anti-homosexual for almost 2,000 years?

Yup.

You almost have to admire the tenacity.

I’m not going to. Fuck ’em all forever for what they did to people.

You’re holding a grudge against the Visigoths?

As should all right-thinking people.

Can we talk about America?

I love talking about America.

We’ve noticed. What is the history of homosexuality in America?

One morning, Lewis turned to Clark and said–

Stop that.

–“Open up those golden gates. California, here I come!” Then Pocahontas ate Lewis’ ass while he got his fuck on.

None of that is true.

No. The levels of hygiene necessary to eat ass would not have been available on the frontier.

No wet-wipes. Be serious.

The Puritans were not fans of the gay lifestyle.

I am shocked.

They didn’t even want you touching your own dick, let alone the dick of some stranger you met on Bucklr.

Bucklr?

Dating app for gay puritans.

Sure. Let’s move forward in time.

Turn of the century saw two things: first American gay rights activist, and the first vice raids on gay establishments.

Who was the first American gay rights activist?

Emma Goldman.

From the Statue of Liberty?

The very one.

I don’t believe you. Next, you’ll tell me that Helen Keller was a Communist.

All true.

Raids?

There was no internet. You wanted to get laid, you had to leave your house. You went to a bar or a bathhouse, but they were all illegal and run by criminals and the cops could come bursting in any minute. You’d be arrested just for being in the place.

Why?

Because some people will be as cruel as they are allowed to be.

That makes me sad.

It fucking should.

Things are better now, though.

So much. This is the best time to be a member of the LGBT community. Or maybe two years ago. Right now is a little worse than two years ago, but things are much better for a general definition of now. Ancient Greece was pretty good, but we have medicine and cartoons.

LGBT?

L is for Lesbian.

We haven’t mentioned lesbians.

It’s okay. They’re used to it.

I don’t understand.

Lesbians are the most ignored demographic in society. They always get subsumed by the G in the initialism, which is for Gay, and they resent it deeply.

You would think gays and lesbians would get along.

Only if you didn’t know anything about humans, Martian.

Not a Martian.

I suppose you think poor people all band together and fight The Man instead of forming gangs and fighting each other. People fuck whoever’s closest; people fight whoever’s closest.

Could be. What about B?

Bisexual.

Right. They’ll fuck anything.

No. That’s offensive and just plain wrong. Bisexuals will not fuck anything. They’ll fuck anyone.

Big difference.

There is. You were insinuating that bisexuals were rubbing up against lampposts and shit.

Explain bisexuality.

I can’t, but Alfred Kinsey did. Well, he halfway did. Kinsey said that an individual’s sexual preference fell somewhere on a scale from one to six. Completely heterosexual with a visceral revulsion to  homosexual acts would be a one; vice versa would be a six.

Why one to six?

I don’t know. That’s the dumb part. Makes more sense if you think of the Bell Curve.

I’m picturing a Bell Curve.

All natural human behavior and attributes can be plotted on a Bell Curve. Height, weight, acuity of vision: small number to either extreme with the majority regressing to the mean. Sexuality, too. Some folks are pathologically gay, some are clinically straight, and most everybody else is in the middle.

So why are there so few bisexuals?

Society frowns upon it, and people are taught it’s wrong.

You’re giving too much weight to culture. We’re talking about primal urges here. Sexual desire is not programmed by society.

Oh, shut the fuck up. Tell that to the guy with the boner for the chick with the ashtray implanted in her lip. Sexual behavior is human behavior and therefore highly dependent on context. Nature demands we get boners–and ladyboners–but culture decides what we get them to.

So your theory is that the great mass of humanity is bisexual by nature, but straight because of society.

It is, yes.

Do you have any evidence whatsoever?

I don’t, no.

Moving on. Is homosexuality genetic?

Possibly. Some think so.

Could it be learned, or influenced by outside factors?

Maybe. Others think so.

Who’s right?

Probably both sides. It might be a genotype/phenotype thing. Raise LeBron James in North Korea and he’s not 6’7″. Linking behavior and mindset to genes is a tricky business, and usually reductive and half-right at best. Besides, genes only want two things: to not die, and to make copies of themselves. From that point of view, homosexuality looks like a terrible strategy. On the other hand, a lot of genes keep you from reproducing.

You seem dismissive of the genetic theory.

I’m dismissive of any theory positing a one-to-one relationship between genes and behavior that entirely discounts culture. Humans aren’t a pile of DNA acting on instinct. We’re the product of our environments. There’s no such thing as a “pure” human, untouched by the soiled hands of society. Children have been raised like that, brought up without any human contact, and they weren’t pure. They were broken. Culture tells us how to eat, sleep, work, and fuck. It tells us how to go crazy: psychological disorders that exist in one culture don’t exist in the next. Schizophrenics all hear voices, but they say different things in different countries. Culture is everything.

Okay. Anything else you don’t like about the theory?

Yes. It stigmatizes homosexuality. To say that it’s purely genetic is to imply that no one would choose such a thing; it turns homosexuality into a chronic condition.

What does the T stand for?

Transgendered. It’s a whole thing. Skip it for now.

Last question.

Shoot.

Why are there so many homosexuals in show business?

The dental plan.

Sure.

A Terrible Poem About A Spotlight

It is a Super Trouper
It doesn’t turn on
It powers up
fweeeeeeeeEEEEOOOOO
And then light

Over here
Over here
Teddy pay attention asshole
On me
Tighter
Tighter
Now out real wide
Back in
At my waist
Right there that’s it leave it don’t touch it
Where’s the fucking band?

Soundcheck next and
Then the kids
fweeeeeeeeEEEEOOOOO
There they are
I told you they’d be here
Right there in the spotlight

By the end of the night
It will be too hot to touch

OR

Is that guy holding up a giant dildo?

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