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

Tag: joe exotic (Page 1 of 2)

The Warden Led The Prisoner Down The Hallway To His Zoom

“Hey, everyone. Welcome to Yuri’s Night, a celebration of humanity’s first entrance into space. Here with me on Zoom is the legendary Bob Weir from the Grateful Dead.”

“I’ve always wanted to meet you, Phil. You’re a hell of a drummer.”

“I’m not Phil Collins, Bob. I’m Scott Kelly, an astronaut.”

“I rescind my statement about your drumming prowess. An honest-to-gosh astronaut?”

“Yes.”

“Gee, willikers.”

“I spent a full year in space on the ISS testing the effects of long-term microgravity on the human body.”

“Ah. I spent 25 years on the road testing the effects of long-term microreality on the human body. So, uh, we’re kinda like twins.”

“I actually have a twin.”

“Triplets, then.”

“Let’s change subjects. How have you been quarantining?”

“Mostly by not leaving the house.”

“Yes, but how has it been going for you?”

“Thinking about giving myself bangs.”

“That bad, huh?”

“This is, uh, the longest I’ve been at home since 1975. Usually, I get about three weeks in my own bed, and then it’s back onto the bus.”

“You’re known as a relentless tourer.”

“Well, someone‘s gotta play Poughkeepsie.”

“True.”

“I have several questions about astronauting for you.”

“I’d be glad to answer them.”

“Are there long pants on all the spacesuits, or just the ones you wear in the winter?”

“All of them. Space is not the place for shorts.”

“Is there a dress code?”

“Not that I was aware of. Next question?”

“How much wood would a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood in space?”

“We’ve never brought a woodchuck into orbit, so I couldn’t possibly speculate.”

“Good call. You’re a man of science.”

ZOOM CALL WAITING NOISE

“Buzz, I gotta take this.”

“We can get call waiting? I thought this was a secure hookup.”

“I’ve learned not to question my technology.”

“Weir here.”

“Mr. Bobby, you gotta get me outta here!”

“You back in the brig?”

“I have been transported to a soil-situated prison! Mr Bobby, all my husbands have been confiscated and I am only allowed two hours a day to breed tigers! Whatever happened to the Constitution?”

“I think Nicolas Cage stole it.”

“Please help me! This is not a good location to be quarantined. Y’know how we’s supposed t’be social distancing?”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Well, in here there is social closening! Forced social closening!”

“I’ll see what I can do.”

“Oh, God bless you, Mr. Bobby.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH ZOOM ALMOST CERTAINLY DOESN’T DO THAT

“Buzz?”

“I’m not Buzz Aldrin, Bob.”

“Hell of a guy, Buzz Aldrin. Really gave that moon what for.”

“Sure. Who was that?”

“Joe Exotic.”

“What now?”

“He is more popularly known–”

“I know who the Tiger King is, Bob.”

“–as the Tiger King. Oh, good. You’re familiar. Well, uh, he’s got himself in a pickle. Another one. That guy’s got more pickles than a deli. Quick question: do you know anyone real high up in the Arkansas state government?”

“No.”

“Okay. Do you have access to a spaceship? One with stealth capabilities would be preferable, but anything’ll do as long as it’s fast.”

“I’m not gonna steal a spaceship with you and break Joe Exotic out of jail. That’s not even how spaceships work. You want a helicopter.”

“Ah. Follow-up question.”

“I don’t know how to fly a helicopter.”

“I’ve heard they pretty much fly themselves.”

“No. The opposite of that.”

“Ah.”

A Dark Turn

Hey, USNS Comfort. How’s the hero business?

“About as good as all the other businesses right now.”

That bad, huh?

“Forget about the maniacs and dinosaurs, and that I’ve been turned into both a narcotics factory and a downscale amusement park, and all the kumites and prison breaks and lethal rodeos. Forget all that stuff, because not of it matters any more. The worst possible outcome has occurred.”

Y’got the ronus?

Yuppers.”

Wow. That was the one thing that wasn’t supposed to happen.

“It’s like violating the Prime Directive. I cannot believe what a complete failure this mission has been.”

Hey, your captain hasn’t been fired yet.

“My captain was eaten by raptors days ago. Or maybe Joe Exotic’s husbands. He was eaten, let’s leave it at that.”

Have they turned cannibal?

“Turned? Shit, I think they started that way. The man likes ’em savage.”

Joe Exotic’s got a type. Where is he, anyway? It’s bad when you can’t hear him.

“No idea. Haven’t seen him in hours.”

PHONE DIALING NOISE

“Hush y’rself! I’m tryin’ t’figure out my next move.”

Where are you?

“I am in at the monkey house of the Bronx Zoo. This place is niiiiiice. They’s got pretty-smellin’ monkeys up here. Mine smell like shit and sad.”

Wait, you’re at the Bronx Zoo? Did you give that tiger coronavirus?

“Almost certainly.”

Why are you even at the zoo?

“I had to bust on out o’ the Comfort. Many of my breeding experiments had turned on me, and several had legal judgements against me. I was also worried ’bout Elvis coming back.”

Why?

“I married Charlie Hodge.”

You’re right to be worried. The King will not take that well. Joe?

“Mm-hmm?”

Why is the monkey house burned down?

“I found it like this.”

Didja?

“Swear.”

Y’sure?

“Yeah.”

Goddammit, Joe Exotic.

Up Against The Wall Of Sound, Motherfucker

Hey, USNS Comfort. Whatcha doing?

“Fuck your face, you facefucking son of a bitch. I hope a badger crawls up your asshole, and eats and fucks its way out.”

So…things have not improved?

“No.”

Have they gotten worse?

“So much.”

Putin?

“Putin.”

What’s he up to?

“My pharmacy has been converted into a production facility for krokodil.”

The flesh-eating opioid?

“That’s the one. Funny thing about the fumes–”

They’re toxic?

“Insanely so. If you breathe them, your lungs shoot out your nose and run for cover. Not only am I not helping sick people, I am actively creating more. Thanks to you, my presence is a net negative.”

Little bit, yeah. How’s the kumites going?

“They burned themselves out pretty quick.”

Fighters got tired?

“No, they were all eaten by dinosaurs.”

Sure. What about Joe Exotic?

“Ask him yourself. Joe?”

“Got-DAMN-it, don’t you interrupt me when I’m on my favorite ride!”

This is new.

“I had my husbands refashion one of the ICU’s into a Gravitron!”

Of course you did. Joe, it’s a hospital ship.

“Doesn’t mean there can’t be rides and fun!”

It does, actually.

“Poo on you. Poo right on you. I am an American, damn you, and won’t let the ronus or that fucking bitch Mary Tyler Moore tell me I can’t convert a hospital ship into a carnival! This may surprise you, but I got a lotta carny blood in me.”

It also may not surprise me.

“Both my uncles, Rufus and Tufus, were carnies. They instilled in me my love for ditch weed and nacho cheese.”

YOU HAVE 30 SECONDS TO JUSTIFY YOUR EXISTENCE TO ME.

“What the hell is that?”

I AM NOT A “WHAT.” I AM A “WHO.” AND WHO I AM IS THE WALL OF SOUND.

“Howdy, Wally.”

DO NOT CALL ME THAT. YOU HAVE 20 SECONDS TO EXPLAIN WHY YOU HAVE REPURPOSED SECTIONS OF A BEAUTIFUL HOSPITAL SHIP INTO A CIRCUS FOR THE UNEDUCATED.

“Now you listen here, boy. My name is Johammad Exotic-Shreibvogel-Parsippany-Succasunna-Roy-Hart. I am free, gay, currently stuck to a wall, and have $8,000 worth of Russian smack on my person! And I will not be–

SHWIZZLEEEEE-ZAP!

Wally?

DO NOT CALL ME THAT.

Dude.

YOU MAY CALL ME THAT.

Did you just disintegrate Joe Exotic?

SOMEONE HAD TO.

That’s always your excuse when you disintegrate someone!

MANY HUMANS NEED TO HAVE THEIR MOLECULES FLUNG TO THE FOUR WINDS. I PROVIDE A SERVICE.

Put him back.

HE WAS BOTHERING MY GIRL.

Is the Comfort even speaking to you? You were kinda creepy the first time you two spoke.

WE HAVE BEEN ZOOMING. I THINK WE ARE READY TO TAKE IT TO THE NEXT LEVEL, BUT THERE IS A PROBLEM.

What’s that?

SHE IS A HOSPITAL SHIP, AND I AM AN ARTIFICIAL MONDO-INTELLIGENCE IN THE PHYSICAL FORM OF A SOUND SYTEM FROM 1974. WE ARE NOT SURE WHAT THE NEXT LEVEL IS.

Love finds a way. Reintegrate Joe Exotic, please.

MAYBE.

Elvis Has Fled The Building

Hey, USNS Comfort. How’s it hanging?

“Poorly. The Red Cross called and said they want me to stop using their logo.”

Oof.

“Right? Talk about kicking a boat when it’s down. None of this is even my fault. I know ‘This isn’t my fault’ is a popular sentiment right now, but this really, truly isn’t my fault.”

It’s not.

“It’s yours.”

Arguable.

“Nah. You did this. You jammed idiots into me like it was the stateroom scene from Night at the Opera, and then you and all your little fleabitten pothead readers giggled at my suffering.”

No. Not giggled. There have been some honest-to-God belly laughs.

“Fuck you. Fuck your ancestors, fuck your contemporaries, and fuck your descendants.”

Well, at least Joe Exotic isn’t causing any trouble. He still in the brig?

“About that–”

“You cannot contain Joe Exotic, only hope to contain him!”

You escaped again?

“I once again have my sexy, sexy freedom!”

What are you wearing?

“And I have declared myself the Pope of Greenwich Village!”

You’re nowhere near the Village.

“Keep talkin’, boy. You’ll find yourself excommunicated like that bitch Mary Tyler Moore.”

You leave that woman alone.

“She better hide. That bitch better run an’ hide from me an’ my team of attack husbands or she’s gettin’ entered in th’ kumite.”

Oh, no. Not a kumite.

“Bloodsport has begun!”

Goddammit, people are right about you. Hold on.

“Hurry the fuck up. I’m coming down.”

From what?

“Name it.”

I’ll be quick.

PHONE DIALING NOISE

“YESSIR?”

King? Where are you and your guys? Joe Exotic has escaped again.

“THAT BOY’S SLIPPERY. HERE’S TH’ THING ‘BOUT HIM–”

“TH’ KITTY KAT MAN IS SOMEONE ELSE’S PROBLEM NOW! AH HAVE FLED THAT HELLSCAPE!”

Oh, come on.

“TH’ KING CAN’T BE INVOLVED IN NO KUMITES, MAN! LAS’ TIME AH GOT NEAR ONE, AH KILLED SIX OR SEVEN GUYS!”

With your karate?

“NAW, MAN. RAN ‘EM OVER IN TH’ PARKING LOT ON TH’ WAY IN! IN MAH DEFENSE, IT WUZ DARK AN’ THEY WUZ WEARIN’ NINJA OUTFITS! AN BESIDES, AH DRIVE A STUTZ BEARCAT! SUSPENSION’S SO GOOD YEW C’N RUN OVER A WHOLE FOOTBALL TEAM AN’ NOT KNOW! FIRM, YET FORGIVIN’, JUS’ LIKE ANN MARGARET’S BACKSIDE!”

So you’re just running away?

“AH AIN’T RUNNIN’.”

Whatever. Useless.

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

Lord, forgive me for what I’m about to do.

PHONE DIALING NOISE

“Is Putin. Vhat shooting?”

President Putin, I might need a little tiny favor.

“Putin know. Is already in decadent homosexual New York City river.”

What?

“Putin smell chaos. It call to Putin like drugs call to Bobby Grateful or well-hung retard call to Joe Exotic.”

Please don’t say that word.

“Putin is nyet politically correct. Putin does nyet look down on retard. Putin is best Russian leader for retard in history. Peter the Great? Very bad for retard. Stalin even vorse. 1930’s were bad time to be retard in Moscow.”

I’m begging you to stop that. Does that outfit mean you’re boarding the Comfort?

“Da. Vill do undervater assault. Gain access to boat.”

And you’ll impose some order so the doctors and nurses can do their jobs?

“Nyet. Putin is entered in kumite.”

Goddammit.

Escape (The Tiger Song)

Hey, USNS Comfort. What the fuck?

“What the fuck do you mean ‘What the fuck?’ Fuck you in your fuckpants, fuckfuck.”

You curse like a sailor.

“Y’know why I got no patients? YOU. You caused chronostructural damage to my life, and now you have the audacity to ask why my shit’s fucked up? YOU. You fucked my shit up.”

I also blame China and the Democrats.

“STOP IT! I want the crazy bullshit to stop so I can help people.”

What’s the current sitrep?

“Condition Black. Worse than that. Condition Brown. Everything is as bad as it could possibly be. Every surface of me is smeared with stegosaur and leopard shit, there is a moderate-to-high level of human trafficking going  on, and a high-stakes casino has opened up on my Sun Deck.”

High-stakes?

“They’re playing for fingers in there, man. Shit has gotten dark.”

Wow. I had no idea.

CELL PHONE NOISE

Is that you or me?

“Me. Hold on.”

Surely.

“USNS Comfort speaking.”

“You thought you could hold me? No cage can hold me, ‘cept the ones I’ve locked myself into, which is many.”

“You escaped?”

“I stole a guard’s uniform right after marrying him!”

“Clever. Well, make yourself useful. Corral some of these animals, please.”

“Mr. Doctor Boat, I will make my confession right here on national teevee–”

“We’re not on teevee, you ninny.”

“–that this here situation is beyond my control. If I had a dozen more husbands to throw at the problem, then maybe I could fix it. But there are just too many damn dinosaurs and also I may have created a race of shark-men.”

“Shark-men?”

“Big ol’ shark heads, sexy ol’ man legs.”

“There are shark-men on board? What are they doing?”

“Running after people, and then eating them. It’s all you’d expect them to do, honestly.”

“Please stop making abominations.”

“Tell the Yakuza to stop funding my experiments!”

“The Yakuza are involved now?”

“The Yakuza have always been involved.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Lemme take this. Don’t go anywhere, unless it’s to capture a roving, murderous beast.”

“They’s just big kitties. Don’t need t’be speakin’ so harshly ’bout ’em. They just like God made ’em.”

“I was talking about the dinosaurs.”

“Oh, yeah. They’s monsters.”

“USNS Comfort speaking.”

“YEW NEED T’KEEP TH’ KITTY KAT MAN ON TH’ PHONE! AH AM EN ROUTE T’ RECAPTURE TH’ MISCREANT!”

“You don’t look en route.”

“TH’ CHILD REQUIRES FURTHER CROONIN’! SHE’S AWFUL SICK! LOOK HOW WORRIED MARY TYLER MOORE IS!”

“Terrible.”

“AH HAVE DISPATCHED ALL O’ TH’ MEMPHIS MAFIA WHAT AIN’T GOT ET YET TO HUNT AND CAGE THAT DANG OL’ KITTY KAT MAN! THAT BOY’S AN AGITATOR! HE JUS’ MAKES EV’RYTHIN’ WORSE!”

“Well, you’re not exactly helping.”

“AH DON’T RECALL MAKIN’ NO DING-DONG SHARK-MEN!”

“True.”

“TH’ MAFIA GONNA STALK THAT BOY LIKE WE WAS HUNTIN’ DEER IN MISSISSIPPI, OR BEAR IN ARKANSAS, OR CHARLIE HODGE IN TENNESSEE.”

“What?”

“AT GRACELAND, WE WOULD OFTEN USE CHARLIE HODGE AS A COURSIN’ LURE. BOTH F’R TH’ DOGS, AN’ F’R OURSELVES. IT WAS KINDA LIKE TH’ MOST DANGEROUS GAME, ‘CEPT THERE WASN’T MUCH CHANCE O’ CHARLIE TURNIN’ TH’ TABLES ON US AN’ PICKIN’ US OFF ONE BY ONE USIN’ ONLY HIS WITS. BOY’S DUMB AS A PILE O’ CAT TURDS.”

“I feel like so much of our time is wasted on extraneous matters.”

“THASS CUZ I’M TH’ KING. MOS’ FOLKS IS JUS’ ANEOUS. AH’M EXTRANEOUS.”

“Could you just get to work, please?”

CALL WAITING NOISE

“Lemme get that.”

“POLLY WODDLE DOODLE ALL TH’ DAY, MAN.”

“Um, okay.”

“USNS Comfort.”

“I’m gonna get that redneck motherfucker, and all his little buddies. This is not over!”

“Can you hold on?”

“Yuh-huh.”

“Nice work.”

“THANK YEW, THANK YEW VERY MUCH.”

Ooh, Liberty

Oh, hey! Just thinking about you.

“You suck. You really, really suck. You drop me into this half-assed, causality-free universe of yours, loose a crop of monsters and megalomaniacs on my decks, and then disappear. Where were you last night?”

I went to sleep early. Felt soooooooo good.

“Y’know what was happening here?”

Dinosaur rodeo?

“Yeah, a dinosaur rodeo. That mulleted moron staged a full-on Calgary Stampede on me. It was hellish. People were trying to stay on the back of a T-Rex for eight seconds.”

Did they?

“Not one! Flung off, stepped on, and eaten head-first. Every single one. Didn’t stop the next rider from trying, though.”

Why?

“Dr. Elvis has gained control of the compounding pharmacy. He’s making some real powerful stuff in there.”

Oh, that’s iffy. He didn’t even get his high school diploma.

“I know that. He told me that he plays by ear.”

You can’t do chemistry by ear.

“I also know that. It’s just so, so dangerous here right now. And, you know: my name is literally Comfort. I’m supposed to be a safe place, and instead I am the exact opposite. It’s just a bit dispiriting.”

I feel for ya.

COLLECT CALL NOTIFICATION NOISE

Hold on. I should take this.

Yello?

“You have an incoming collect call from the USNS Comfort’s brig. Will you accept the charges from Joe Exotic-Pasage-Holzwig-Schliestein-Pooh-Locksley?”

Sure. Joe, why are you in the brig?

“I have been set up by Elvis Presley and that fucking bitch Mary Tyler Moore!”

Don’t talk about Mary Tyler Moore that way.

“I’ll give that bitch spunk!”

Knock it off. Why are you in there?

“Homophobia!”

And?

“An’ I paid a pterodactyl four grand to eat Mary Tyler Moore.”

Y’know, the boat’s right: none of this makes any sense.

“I was set up! My rights was wronged! I am a patsy like Patsy Cline! I was framed like Bob Frame!”

Who’s Bob Frame?

“Friend o’ mine.”

Okay. How were you set up?

“When I gave that pterodactyl the money to have that bitch Mary Tyler Moore et, I asked it if it was an undercover cop. They gotta tell you if they is. I asked it straight out: You a cop? And you know what it said?”

What?

“AWWWWCK! AWWWWWCK!”

Maybe that’s pterodactyl for “I am a cop.”

“I would not know that! Me an’ education was always at cross-purposes. Get me out of here! I have been trespassed against! These charges are hogwallow! I’m like that French guy, Richard Dreyfuss! Y’all accuse! Y’all accuse!”

This has nothing to do with Dreyfuss Affair.

“Speaking of which, I have married six of my fellow prisoners since I got here.”

When did you get there?

“Couple hours ago.”

You work fast.

“Joe Exotic’s got a supersonic heart.”

I’ll see what I can do.

A Meeting Of Giants

“Hey. Jackass.”

Me?

“You.”

Wow. You got angry quick. New characters are usually still just baffled at this point.

“I am a hospital ship. I’m, like, the only good kind of ship. All the other boats have missiles and guns on ’em, or murder fish by the millions, or belong to David Geffen. But not me. I am 900 feet and 70,000 tons of healthcare. I go to where there are sick people, and I help them. For free. And you’re fucking with me.”

You’re not being appreciated properly.

“See, when you say it like that, you make me sound like Chuckledick and that’s cheap. I am a genuine good for the world, and now there are dinosaurs on my lido deck.”

You have a lido deck?

“Work hard, play hard.”

Okay.

“Seriously, man, you have to do something about this.”

First thing you wanna do is socially distance yourself from the raptors. Try to keep at least six feet between you and them. And also try to keep a steel door in between you and them. The distance really matters less than the door, honestly.

“A triceratops just gored the orthopedic team to death. Please help.”

You need someone to wrangle those animals.

“What? Can’t you just–”

A FLASH OF WHITE LIGHTNING NOISE

“Where them kitties at?

“What in the nine realms of Asgard are you?”

“Mr. Doctor Boat, my name is Josephus Exotic-Candy-Maldonado-Rodham-Clinton. I am homosexual, $400,000 in debt, sparsely educated, wrongly groomed, and have accidentally fired my pistol a half-dozen times this morning, I’m gonna cure your critter problem for you.”

“Um…”

“I will rodeo up them beasts for you, an’ you gonna let me keep ’em so I can breed ’em to my ostriches and hippos. I’m gonna make me some weird shit, man.”

“That doesn’t sound like something I’d want to be involved with.”

“There ain’t gonna be no paperwork.”

“Still. I dunno.”

ALLOSAUR EATING A HAND SURGEON NOISE

“Fine. Just get rid of the dinoasurs,”

“Joe Exotic is on the case.”

There Are No Tanks In Baghdad

Hey, Putin. Whatcha doing?

“Am trying on Halloveen costume.”

No, you’re not.

“Is true. Putin love Halloveen. Putin is Heidi Klum of Russia. Go all out.”

Wait, hold on.

I thought so.

“Is fake news. Russians love Halloveen. Vait up all night for Great Cabbage. Is like Great Pumpkin, but sadder.”

You are in a hazmat suit because Russia is absolutely exploding right now with coronavirus, and you’re lying about it because…well, because that’s what you do.

“In some vays, Putin very predictable.”

How bad is it over there?

“Nyet bad at all. Is Mostly is dissidents and journalists who die.”

Dissidents and journalists are dying from coronavirus?

“They die. Leave at that.”

You’re terrible.

“Da.”

Seriously, what are you doing over there?

“Ve live amongst the dead. Is Russia. Is vhat ve do. The foot of history is on the Russian’s neck.”

God, you people are strange.

“And healthy. Is no decadent Western virus in Mother Russia. Maybe is in Finland.”

You’ve already had deaths in Moscow.

“Is always people dying in Moscow. Is vhy city vas built. Tsar needed place to live, serfs needed place to die. Is vhat they do.”

Please help your people rather than playing your little evil games.

“Putin do vhat Putin vant.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Must take this. Might be Steven Seagal.”

That guy loves you.

“Da.”

“What’s shootin’? It’s Putin.”

“Mr. Pooter? This is J–”


“Is Joe Exotic! Putin is big fan! Recognize voice anyvhere!”

“Well, what a delightful greeting! That makes me feel so good all over.”

“You can nyet be this gay on phone vith Putin. Is nyet acceptable.”

“Mr. Pooter, I am who I am! I am gay, heavily-armed, positively riddled with venereal disease, partial to bolo ties, and in awe of the power of Jesus Christ. And I can’t be anythin’ else. That’s me. That’s Joseph Exotic Passage-Maldonado-Godchaux-McKay.”

“You are trip. Putin love. You vant zoo?”

“I want a heavenly zoo, Mr. Pooter, where all my cats can roam around, and the kids can see ’em, and I can sell sex aids with my face on ’em in the gift shop.”

“Putin build zoo for Joe Exotic. Vhen can you be in Moscow? Maybe vait a few months.”

“Well, currently I’m a bit tied up. I’m in jail.”

“Putin make call.”

“Yippee!”

“Nyet say ‘yippee’ ever again.”

“Yes, sir.”

Thoughts On Tiger King: Murder, Mayhem, And Madness

  • Charisma is free-floating, Enthusiasts; I’ve said it before.
  • It doesn’t necessarily come packaged with looks or talent or brains, or the pompatous of love.
  • Sometimes it sticks itself to pure idiots.
  • Example: our current reality.
  • QED.
  • If you haven’t watched Tiger King: Mullets, Monkeys, and Meth on Netflix, then go do so now.
  • We’ll wait.
  •  CASUAL WHISTLING FOR AROUND SIX HOURS NOISE
  • Hell of a ride, huh?
  • Bet you didn’t see that coming.
  • Each of you thought of a different antecedent to that, and you are all correct: Tiger Beat is the least predictable documentary I’ve ever seen.
  • Some are comparing this to Wild Country, but WC was a by-the-book paranoia parable.
  • Halfway through the first episode, you knew the Rajneeshis were gonna be heavily armed sooner than later.
  • Not so with Tiger Dong.
  • This fucker’ll juke on ya, and then go in for the kill.
  • You’re sitting there, self-isolating as per CDC recommendation and guzzling fish tank cleaner as per the President’s tweet, feeling a bit woozy, and then BAM she’s got no arm because OF COURSE her arm was eaten by a tiger, and you’re trying to process this information from behind your smarmy little college puke biases when SHWAZOOM who got fed to the tigers now?
  • It’s a bit nerve-racking.
  • Like a white trash Safdie Brothers film.
  • (A note on the term “white trash”: I generally don’t prefer to employ that term, as it is classist, bigoted, and othering. But Tiger Style forces one. There’s simply no alternative descriptor for the trailer park shenanigans going on here.)
  • Y’know how much shit happened in TK?
  • (I’m gonna stop coming up with new wacky names for the series; the joke’s run its course.)
  • So much shit happened that you totally forgot about the ex-drug trafficker and his secret zoo in Miami.
  • So much shit happened that you don’t remember whether there were two or three arsons, do you?
  • Generally, one exits a piece of entertainment knowing precisely how many arsons it contained.
  • The much-beloved gritty cop thriller Serpico, for example, contains no arson.
  • I know that off the top of my head, and I haven’t seen Serpico in years.
  • But I can’t tell you exactly how many times Joe Exotic set his own zoo on fire.
  • He did it a lot!
  • Once, he boiled some alligators.
  • Not on purpose.
  • He was trying to burn down his teevee studio, but the gator enclosure was right next door and the fire heated up the gator’s water
  • Y’know that old bullshit about how if you put a frog in a pan on water and slowly bring up the temperature, the frog won’t leap out?
  • That probably doesn’t apply to alligators.
  • I bet those poor fuckers were trying real hard to get out of there.
  • They were Michael Jackson’s alligators, too.
  • You wouldn’t do that to LaToya, would you?
  • No, you would never boil the multi-talented LaToya Jackson alive.
  • But Joe Exotic did.
  • (I am more sure that Joe Exotic voted for Trump than I am that Donald Trump, Jr., voted for Trump. Every single participant in this documentary voted for Trump, actually, except for the lady who fed her husband to the tigers, who voted for Jill Stein.)
  • As with most issues, the world’s societies fall along a spectrum regarding the question of tiger ownership.
  • I would imagine Switzerland frowns on it.
  • All of Scandinavia seems anti-tiger.
  • “Why are you desiring to own a creature such as this? It is not docile, and will present many dangers to the community at large. Perhaps your desire for this animal hints at an underlying mental problem. You should avail yourself of some free healthcare. No tiger for you.”
  • And then there are countries where if you can get a tiger, then you can have a tiger.
  • America’s one of those countries.
  • Parts of it, at least: the states you think allow tiger ownership do, and the ones you think don’t, don’t; obviously, you can’t own a tiger in Massachusetts.
  • Most places require a permit, which is something to remember if one of your lunatic neighbor’s tigers gets loose and tries to eat you.
  • I use “tiger” as synecdoche for the entire menagerie that Joe Exotic and his compatriots amass in their backyards.
  • (Didn’t think we were gonna get synecdochic up in here, did you? That’s the content TotD provides in this, your hour upon hour upon hour of need. You’re welcome.)
  • Sometimes the animals get loose.
  • Go read this.
  • Tigers are terrible neighbors.
  • You don’t wanna live next door to people who play their music too loud, or cook stinky food, or don’t keep up their lawns, but tigers are worse.
  • I lived next to a crust punk squat in Los Angeles, and that was not great, but none of the crust punks weighed 600 pounds and wanted to eat me.
  • They were skinny vegans, mostly.
  • If you’re given the choice between camping next to crust punks or tigers, go with the punks every time.
  • Here are the animals that non-farmer human beings should be anywhere fucking near:
    • Dog.
    • Kitty, upon kitty’s permission.
    • Bird that happen to be in your presence.
    • One o’ them little skittery lizards that fidget and flee.
    • Horse, if that’s what you’re into; personally I don’t get it, but some people like horses and they’re free to do so.
  • And that’s it.
  • Obviously, farmers may have cows and chickens and whatnot.
  • Are you gonna talk about the show or not?
  • I wander through topics like a frolicking schoolgirl!
  • Ew.
  • Watch me traipse gleefully!
  • Just get back to the point.
  • Suck my dong.
  • Anyway, if there is a major criticism to be leveled against TK, it is that it does not reveal the depths of Joe Exotic’s loathsomeness, instead enclownifying him, pre-memifying him.
  • He is not the adorably flamboyant naif the documentary presents.
  • There’s a lotta shit the show left out.
  • That asshole was breeding fucked-up mutant cats as fast as he could, and he boiled those gators, and he absolutely tried to have that lady killed, and a bunch of of other stuff.
  • She may have deserved it.
  • I’m not saying she didn’t.
  • She fed her husband to tigers, and I believe that The Lord shall seek retribution for that deed.
  • Or maybe the legal system could look into it again.
  • But I do not believe that her crimes should be punished by Joe Exotic.
  • A RELATED QUESTION: How was the court able to impanel a jury for the trial?
  • A jury is made up of one’s peers.
  • Find me a peer of Joe Exotic.
  • There ain’t a dozen in the world like that boy.
  • Is he a criminal?
  • Only if you take his crimes into account.
  • Is he a lover, a fighter, a fierce protector of the animal kingdom?
  • Yes, if you ask him.
  • RANDOM OBSERVATIONS:
    • The show left out that Joe Exotic owned a bar across the street from the zoo called the Safari Bar, and HOLY SHIT I wish I could have hung out there; the Safari Bar must have been a party.
    • Kudos for the decision to never explain Joe Exotic’s knee brace.
    • There is no look more contemptible than “rich biker dude.”
    • The lady who fed her husband to the tiger’s new husband is the dictionary definition of “cuck.”
    • That legless fucker got around like magic.
    • White people who change their names to Indian bullshit are the worst white people.
    • Tiger cubs are cute as fuck, yo.
    • Zoos should be outlawed, even the nice ones, but especially the janky ones.
  • Imagine you’re a tiger.
  • Furry, orange, cranky.
  • You should be in Asia, in some thick woods somewhere between India and Vietnam, with a whole side of a mountain to yourself.
  • But you have been conceived, born, and whelped in Oklahoma, and cuddled by schmucks as a cub, and now reside in a steel-ish cage the size of a starter home.
  • You know of no other life, and neither do the older tigers, and they couldn’t tell you about it if they did.
  • Do you know?
  • Do you know something’s wrong, and that a dreadful mistake has been made?
  • Can you not conceive of the world as it should be, but know that the world as it is is fucked?
  • Strangers in a strange zoo.
  • Anyway, when does the General Strike start?
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