Thoughts On The Dead

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Tag: jenkins (Page 6 of 9)

Sell That Silver Mine

June 9, 2017 / / 1 Comment

“Jenkins!”

“Yes, sir?”

“I had an idea! Uber, but for Dead & Company posters.”

“That’s not an idea, sir.”

“What is it?”

“It’s a sentence, kinda.”

“Jenkins, I’m tired of this poster business. Let’s sell dope.”

“You want to get into the cannabis industry, sir?”

“Industry? God, no. I want to go to the bus station and deal crystal meth.”

“Why, sir?”

“I’m beginning to find respectability irksome, Jenkins. Let’s be scum.”

“I was an Eagle Scout, sir.”

“Wonderful. You’ll wear your uniform, and I can get more money for you.”

“Sir, you cannot sell meth and pimp me out at the bus station.”

“Why not?”

“First of all, because the bus station is Pretty Cleon’s territory.”

“Oh, good point. He’s a bad mother–”

“Shut your mouth, sir.”

“I’m just talking about Pretty Cleon.”

“And two: we need to get this poster done.”

“Where are they now? Butte?”

“No, sir.”

“Lake Titicaca?”

“No, sir”

“Sloppy Pussy, Georgia?’

“Not a place, sir. Dead & Company will be playing Boulder, Colorado.”

“Not much scenery in Colorado.”

“If you say so, sir.”

“Nothing but hippies and doomsday preppers. Lot of overlap between the two groups, honestly.”

“Yes, sir. The poster?”

“Jenkins, I want you to open up your mind as wide as possible.”

“Okay.”

“Wider.”

“How’s this?”

“Wider.”

“Now?”

“Too wide. I can see your childhood.”

“Sir, just get on with it.”

“An experiment, Jenkins! We shall engage in a grand experiment!”

“And that is?”

“Let’s see how much bullshit we can cram into the poster. Stuff everything we got in there, and then stuff in some more. Those bears should be pressed up against each other like soccer fans against a chain link fence.”

“I formally repudiate that last simile, sir.”

“Nope, you’re complicit.”

“Thank you, sir. What about perspectives?”

“I don’t trust the perspectives of ethnic people.”

“No, sir. On the poster.”

“Oh, every single perspective there is. It should be tough for your brain to process fully.”

“Fonts?”

“All of them.”

“Colors?”

“Yes.”

“I’ll call the boys in the art department.”

“Rather sexist of you, Jenkins.”

“You won’t hire any women, sir.”

“Oh, then that’s sexist of me. Carry on.”

Up, Up In The Air In My Acceptable Balloon

June 4, 2017 / / 2 Comments

“Jenkins!”

“I’m right here, sir. No need to yell.”

“No need to backhand you, either.”

“What?”

WHAP!

“Oh.”

“See what I did there?”

“Comedic misdirection. Delightful, sir. Well worth the slap.”

“Oh, grow a pair, Jenkins. Now, let’s get to the poster. Shoreline!”

“Shoreline, sir.”

“Iowa?”

“No.”

“Wyoming?”

“No, sir. Shoreline.”

“Afghanistan.”

“Now you’re just saying landlocked places, sir.”

“No Kabul shows this tour?”

“Maybe next summer.”

“Shame. Excellent Shakedown in Kabul. You can get anything.”

“I’d imagine, sir.”

“Literally anything. Weapons, slaves, drugs, veggie burritos. And no Nitrous Mafia.”

“You can’t get nitrous? I thought you said you could get anything.”

“Oh, you can get nitrous. I said there’s no Nitrous Mafia. Taliban executed them a few years ago.”

“I’m okay with that.”

“And their families.”

“Also okay with that. Sir, we need to get back on track.”

…

“Poster!”

“Yes, sir.”

“I have an idea for this one. Old-timey.”

“Okay. Any specific movement or style, sir?”

“Nope! Old-timey!”

“Yes, sir. Bear, turtle, or skeleton?”

“Bring me my decision-making darts, Jenkins.”

“Yes, sir.”

WHOOSH

THWUNK

“Turtle it is, sir. Any thoughts on the font?”

“Drippy.”

“Yes, sir. You do know there are two shows, right? Shouldn’t we make two posters?”

WHAP!

“One poster it is, sir.”

“Quick learner, Jenkins.”

“I try, sir.”

Post-Minimalism

June 1, 2017 / / 2 Comments

“Jenkins!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Do you have the poster for the second night at the Hollywood Bowl?”

“I do, sir.”

“Oh, goody. Let’s see itJESUS, MY EYES!”

“There’s a lot going on.”

“It’s like a bar brawl raped a box of crayons.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad.”

“Mrs. Woods! Mrs. Woods! Come in here and look at this poster!”

“Yes, sir. This poster? It’s rather–”

THLUMP

“See!? She’s dead Are you happy, Jenkins?”

“That could have been a coincidence.”

“Send in an intern!”

“Yes, sir? Can I help you OH IT’S IN MY HEAD MOMMYMOMMY–”

THLUMP

“How many of your colleagues does the poster have to murder, Jenkins?”

“I get it, sir.”

“It’s like staring into Satan’s asshole.”

“I don’t know about that, sir.”

“Unwashed! Dirty devil ass, Jenkins. That’s what we have here.”

“It’s too late to have a new one made.”

“The Hollywood Bowl is on the side of the Hills facing away from the sign. Ugly AND wrong. Is that why you like it, Jenkins? Makes you think of your family?”

“There’s no need for insults, sir.”

“No insult. Just fact: everyone you’re related to has a face like a foot.”

“Sir, we’re off the point.”

…

“Poster!”

“Poster, sir.”

“Dreadful thing. Like watching a rainbow masturbate to Riefenstahl films.”

“Wildly over-the-top, sir.”

“Most people only know her from the Nazi stuff, but the woman had a way with light comedy. Have you even seen Wessen Strudel Ist Das?”

“I haven’t, sir.”

“Delightful. Starred Uli Knoblauch, the Weimar Republic’s Clark Gable. He was later executed for war crimes, but the man could wear the scheiße out of a tux.”

“Please let’s discuss anything other than Nazi cinema, sir.”

“Do you think Pinochet played pinochle?”

“The poster, sir.”

…

“Poster!”

“Yes, sir. Can we release it?”

“Release it? Hell, kick it out! 86 it!”

“Yes, sir.”

“Jenkins, there are shovels in the closet.”

“I’m not helping you bury Mrs. Woods and the intern, sir.”

“You’re not helping.”

“Good.”

“You’re doing it by yourself.”

“Yes, sir.”

The Bear Was Yellow, And The Bear Was Blue

June 1, 2017 / / 4 Comments

“Jenkins!”

“Yes, sir?”

“If I starred in homosexual pornography, I’d be named Rich Moisture.”

“Please stop masturbating to the weather report, sir.”

“Never! Now: the poster.”

“The poster.”

“Here’s what I’m thinking: everything.”

“Everything what, sir?”

“Every piece of Dead-related bullshit at once. Anything that’s ever been an album cover, or a lot shirt, or a tramp stamp. I knew a woman who had the entire first chapter of Gravity’s Rainbow tattooed on her lower back. Wasn’t that thoughtful?”

“Sir?’

“You could get educated and get off at the same time.”

“But you wouldn’t know how it ends.”

“It ends with stickiness, Jenkins.”

“Not the getting off. The book.”

“Ah. Post-modern nonsense. I’m a Hemingway man myself.”

“Ernest?”

“Mariel.”

“Sure. The poster, sir.”

“The poster! Everything, Jenkins. Like a bouillabaisse made out of intellectual properties.”

“Bears?”

“Bears.”

“Turtles?”

“Turtles.”

“Skeletons?”

“As many as you can fit on the page. Bone me up, Jenkins. Bone time. Gimme that bone, gotta have it.”

“I’m pretending to write this all down, sir.”

“Oh, and have one of the skeletons holding up Donald Trump’s bloody head.”

“Terrible idea, sir.”

“In what way?’

“Every way. Every single way.”

“Just for a goof.”

“It won’t end well, sir.”

“Well, whose bloody head should the skeleton hold up, then?”

“No one’s?”

“What about Garcia?”

…

“No, sir. The skeleton should not be holding up Jerry Garcia’s decapitated head on the poster for the Dead & Company show.”

“Bobby?”

“None of the Dead. Alive or deceased. No one, sir. No heads at all.”

“You just can’t have fun any more.”

“No, sir.”

“Thanks, Obama.”

Gotta Have A Plan

May 28, 2017 / / 2 Comments

“Jenkins!”

“Yes, sir?”

“Summertime, Jenkins.”

“Is that why you’re wearing the tank top, sir?”

“Good eye.”

“Thank you , sir.”

“Tour’s coming up, Jenkins. We need to get on the stick about this. So much to do! Webcasts to overcharge for, posters to half-ass. Skank to prime.”

“Sir?’

“Gotta prime the skank. Can’t just dive right in, unless your goal is chafing. Need to prime the skank. I invented that phrase.”

“Yeah, I think you actually did, sir.”

“I’m very creative. Jenkins, let’s talk posters.”

“Okay.”

“Can we get someone else to do it?”

“No, sir.”

“Are they completely necessary?”

“The Deadheads seem to enjoy them, sir.”

“Deadheads enjoy staring at their hands and not washing their anuses. We shouldn’t be listening to Deadheads.”

“But they’re the audience, sir.”

“Oh, can’t we get a new one? How about Republicans? They’ll buy anything.”

“We’re stuck with the Deadheads, sir.”

“We did nothing to deserve this, Jenkins. Well, I didn’t. You deserve everything you get.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Ugh. Posters.”

“Posters.”

“Have we sent the turtle jpegs to all the artists?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Bears?”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, what else is there to do?”

“Quite a bit, sir. Themes need to be thought of.”

“Jenkins, do you remember when I said you had a good eye?”

“I do, sir.”

“Blast it. Blast that eye.”

“Just the one, sir?”

“For now.”

“Themes, sir.”

“Oh, fine. Just tell me the city and I’ll give you the theme.”

“Las Vegas.”

“Gambling bullshit, and the bears.”

“Phoenix.”

“The sun, and also the bears.”

“Los Angeles.”

“Fake tits.”

“What about the bears?”

“Just take the bears as a given from now on, Jenkins.”

“Yes, sir. Salt Lake City.”

“Osmonds.”

“Can we do that, sir?’

“We’re semi-fictional, Jenkins: we can do whatever we want. Watch. Forrester! Forrester, come in here!”

“Yes, sir?”

BANG!

…

“You shot Forrester, sir.”

“And I won’t be punished for it. Look: his body’s gone.”

“Wow.”

“Like it never really happened.”

“Do his wife and kids still exist?”

“They’re my wife and kids now, Jenkins.”

“Osmonds?”

“Put the Osmonds on the Salt Lake City poster. All of them, too. Not just Donny and Marie. Jimmy, and Peanut, and Lil Yachty.”

“And the bears?”

BANG!

“Okay! Okay, the bears.”

“Good meeting, Jenkins.”

“Last thing, sir. Any idea for the font?”

“Find one that makes the word ‘Sunday’ look like ‘sundry.'”

“Yes, sir.”

“And send my new family in here.”

“Yes, sir.”

All Today’s News At Once

May 4, 2017 / / 3 Comments

“Jenkins!”

“Yes, Emperor Palpatine?”

“What the hell is going on?”

“The Galactic House of Representatives has voted to repeal and replace healthcare.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I’m supposed to be the Sith around here. They’re stealing my thunder.”

“Yes, sir.”

“All of it?”

“Almost, Emperor. No bacta tanks for people with pre-existing conditions.”

“That’s what bacta tanks are for! Pre-existing conditions! You don’t get in one if you’re feeling fine.”

“I agree, sir, but according to the new plan, you need to be injured while in the tank.”

“That makes no sense.”

“No, sir. Also, medical droids are to be reprogrammed 20% stupider.”

“That’s just wanton cruelty.”

“Yes, sir.”

“This is me saying this, Jenkins.”

“I fully understand the import, sir.”

“Killing younglings and blowing up planets is one thing, but healthcare is a right.”

“Not anymore, sir. Although, the bill is going to face serious opposition in the Senate.”

“I am the Senate.”

“That’s what I meant, sir.”

“When did these idiots come up with this plan?”

“Last two weeks, thereabouts?”

“Two weeks!? For a healthcare plan for the whole galaxy?”

“To be fair, sir, it’s easy to come up with a healthcare plan if you don’t put any healthcare in it.”

“Good point, Jenkins.”

“The first page is just one sentence: And now, you will die.”

“THEY’RE STEALING MY LINES!”

“Egregious all around, sir.”

“Jenkins?”

“Emperor?”

“Execute…Order 92.”

“You want tacos?”

“That’s Order 71, dummy.”

“There are a lot of Orders, sir. Why don’t you just tell me what you want.”

“Because it’s more fun my way. Order 92!”

“Buy you a Houston Astros throwback jersey?”

“That’s Order 3, moron.”

“Why would that be so high up?”

“Concentrate!”

“Sorry, sir.”

“I’m this close to shooting lightning bolts at you.”

“Yes, sir. I will execute Order 92. I will, to the best of my ability, faithfully execute Order 92, which is a great Order, one of the best, and in fact it is my honor to be trusted with this very, very, very–”

“Murder the Galactic House of Representatives, Jenkins.”

“–important…yes, sir, I can do that. Thank you for the opportunity. Sir?

“Oh, what is it?”

“What about the representatives that didn’t vote to repeal?”

“What about ‘Murder the Galactic House of Representatives’ didn’t you understand?”

“Yes, sir. Can I borrow the Death Star?”

“The keys are in my cape.”

“You want anything while I’m out?”

“Frappucino. You know how I like it.”

“Frappucino with extra whipped cream, murder the House. Got it. Be back soon.”

“And a Rice Krispie treat.”

“Yes, sir.”

Andrew Jackson: Psychic President

May 1, 2017 / / 1 Comment

“Jenkins!”

“Yes, President Jackson?”

“Someone needs to go to Austria in 70 years and buy a man named Adolf’s paintings!”

“Sir, are you having another psychic moment?’

“So hard!”

“Austria, paintings. Got it. Anything else?”

“Never count the Patriots out unless they’re playing the Giants.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Me, neither. These psychic powers are vague and unreliable. Wait! Who’s Franz Ferdinand?”

“Sounds like a foreigner.”

“We must protect him!”

“I’ll get right on it, sir.”

“Someone’s going to do something terrible to the Cherokee!”

“Who?”

“I can’t see. Someone. Definitely someone. Damn these psychic powers of mine!”

“Damn them, sir.”

“Jenkins, you will make sure to burn all of these notes when I die, right? The future must never know that I, Andrew Jackson, had abilities belong the ken of mere mortals.”

“No one will find out, sir. Of course, we’ll have to include your powers and predictions in the Presidential Book of Secrets.”

“Oh, of course, but I’m not worried about that. Presidents can keep secrets.”

“I’m sure, sir.”

If Only We Had Been Warned

April 17, 2017 / / 3 Comments

 

“General, I have to protest.”

“On what grounds, Jenkins?”

“Sanity. Precedent. The warnings of fiction.”

“None of those are acceptable grounds now that the Trump Doctrine is in effect.”

“And what is the Trump Doctrine, sir?”

“We’re the bad guy now.”

“Put very succinctly, sir.”

“Hence, the deathbots. Look at him. Majestic. Go make friends, Jenkins.”

“Sir, I’m not getting anywhere near that thing.”

“Poppycock! He’s your new partner. I reassigned you both to the Military Police.”

“That’s not how the Army works, sir.”

“I’ll give you first choice: do you want to be the loose cannon or the uptight one?”

“Sir, I do not want to be in any sort of buddy-cop situation with the armed robot.”

“Jesse Owens didn’t karate kick Hitler so you could refuse to partner up with a robot, Jenkins.”

“I’m just going to pivot to a new topic, sir, and it is this: why have you given the robot guns?”

“He kept dropping the machetes.”

“Ah.”

“Then they fitted him with a grenade launcher.”

“Is that what happened to the Motor Pool?”

“Can’t make an omelette without blowing up a few jeeps, Jenkins. The pistols seem to be working out.”

“How does it know who to shoot?”

“How does anyone know who to shoot, Jenkins? You just get a feeling in your gut.”

“Yes, sir, but this is a robot. It doesn’t have a gut.”

“Well, I suppose the nerds will whip up something. Looters?”

“Looters, sir?”

“It could shoot looters, I suppose.”

“Or the super-advanced robots could help in some way.”

“Not as cool.”

“Sir, this is terrible idea.”

“You’re frightened of the future, Jenkins!”

“If this is the future, then: yes. Yes, I am afraid of this future.”

“Well, you’ll be out of a job. No more need for soldiers.”

“Then there won’t be any need for generals, either.”

“No robot could do what I do, Jenkins!”

“What do you do, sir?”

“Tell the robots who to shoot.”

“Ah.”

“Technically, I tell the nerds who tell the robots. Chain of command, Jenkins. That’s what the military is. Generals, nerds, robots. That’s the order.”

“Just like the Roman Legions, sir.”

“Stuff your sass in your shorts. This is a brave new world. Can you imagine what one of these babies would do in Afghanistan?”

“Require a three-person maintenance team and malfunction the second the weather got bad?”

“You’re a pessimist, Jenkins. And they require four-person maintenance teams.”

“Sir, why don’t we just those four people guns?”

“Because then who would fix the robot?”

“We wouldn’t need the robot.”

“Jenkins, you just don’t get it.”

“No, sir.”

The Daily Recounting 4/11/17

April 12, 2017 / / 0 Comments

“Mr. Madison?’

“What is it, Jenkins? I told you not to bother me while I’m writing the Constitution.”

“It’s about that, sir.”

“This better not be that parliament talk again.”

“Why not? Maybe we don’t need a president.”

“We can’t have a parliamentary system because that requires you be able to call elections at any time, and America’s too big and spread out for that.”

“I don’t know if that argument makes sense.”

“Who’s the Founding Father here?”

“You are.”

“That’s right, I am. So stop bugging me. We decided on three branches.”

“Okay, but maybe the executive branch is more of a mascot to the other branches?”

“No, Jenkins.”

“How about this: make the Supreme Court in charge of the military.”

“What? That’s absurd.”

“Or me. Make me in charge of the military. Literally anyone but the president.”

“Stop it.”

“Fine. What if there’s an escape hatch clause?”

“What are you blathering on about?”

“An escape hatch clause. Like, if it turns out that the president is a deranged and irrational grifter who watches teevee all day and only trusts his immediate family?”

“Teevee?”

“Forget I said teevee. Concentrate on the other stuff.”

“Jenkins, have you not read the document? The executive may declare no war without the legislature’s vote.”

“Declare war, sure. But he could start one on his own.”

“Are you smoking opium again?”

“No.”

“We should later.”

“Okay. What about money?”

“I’m not giving you any more. You just buy candy.”

“No, sir. What about the president’s money?”

“The man’s salary shall be $25,000, Jenkins.”

“Yes, sir. But what about a ban on making any profit outside the office while one occupies it?”

“No, no. Should General Washington sell his farm?”

“Well, that’s one thing, but what if General Washington licensed his name to hotels in China?”

“You’re talking gibberish again, Jenkins.”

“Just add one line. Just one. ‘The president is not allowed to use Twitter.’ One line, Mr. Madison, please.”

“Jenkins, are you possessed by a demon?”

“Probably not, sir.”

“The document has been framed. We’re done. No more additions. You have no faith in the wisdom of the common man, nor in the wisdom of those who have created this government.”

“Yes, sir. How much did you pay for me?”

“Fifty dollars. You were expensive.”

“I’m sure the Constitution is just fine, sir.”

“No one asked you.”

“Yes, sir.”

Shake The Hand That Wore The Hat

April 8, 2017 / / 3 Comments

“Jenkins!”

“Sir?”

“What the hell kind of hat is this?”

“It’s an Uncle Sam hat, sir.”

“I don’t see it.”

“That is most definitely an Uncle Sam hat.”

“Just doesn’t say ‘America’ to me.”

“The stripes? The colors?”

“Nope. Nope.”

…

“What if I stuck a little flag on it?”

“Perfect! Then you’ll say ‘That’s an American hat.’ Wait. You were talking about an American flag, right?”

“What other kind is there, sir?”

“Hot damn, I like that answer, Jenkins.”

“I knew you would, sir.”

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