Thoughts On The Dead

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

Kid Can’t Read At 17

Hey, Garcia. Whatcha doing?


You love that.

“It ain’t the pits.”

Did you pick out all the symbols for the fretboard?

“Kinda. I said ‘Put some bullshit on it,’ and Dougie ran with the concept.”

What does it all mean?

“I don’t speak hieroglyph, man. Ask an Egyptian.”

Oh, I know one. Hey, Oteil?

“You may call me Opteil.”

Like Ptolemy. Nice.

“The joke only works in print.”

Still, it’s a good one. Anyway, can you read hieroglyphics?

“Are you accusing a black man of being illiterate?”

HIEROGLYPHICS. Totally not an offensive question.

“I’m fucking with you.”

It’s just that I got Miles Davis calling me racist all the time now. I’m overly sensitive.

“Can’t have that. Worst part of racism is the temporary discomfort it causes white people.”

So true. So fucking true.

“Yes, I can read hieroglyphics.”

How’d you learn?

“Rosetta Stone.”


“I’m on fire tonight.”

You are. So, what does Wolf’s fretboard say?

“Huh. Lemme see.”



“Oh, sure.”



“It’s a recipe for spaghetti bolognese.”

Was not expecting that.

“Nope. Hey, what did the Ancient Egyptian student say to the spelling teacher?”


“How many birds in pharaoh?”

Killing it, man.

“I feel good in this outfit.”

It suits you.


  1. Oteil was indeed killing it tonight, it was good to hear him step out like that.

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