Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: katy tur

Hello, Dolly

In an interview with BBC News, the 14th Dalai Lama expressed controversial views on a female successor, while speaking on topics that range from President Trump to Brexit.

The Tibetan religious leader told BBC’s South Asian correspondent Rajini Vaidyanathan that “if female Dalai Lama comes, then she should be more attractive,” otherwise, “people, I think prefer, not see her, that face.”

Vaidyanathan questioned the basis of his comments and asked, “It’s about who we are inside, isn’t it?” The Dalai Lama replied, “Yes, I think both.”

These statements are a reiteration of his past comments back in a 2015 interview with BBC journalist Clive Myrie, stating that a prerequisite for a female Dalai Lama would be physical appeal, or else she would be of “not much use.” – Buzzfeed News, 6/28/19

“Your Holiness, thank you for speaking with me today.”

“You’re an everyday treat for me, Katy. Get up nine hours before dawn, don’t drink any coffee, meditate, hang out with Richard Gere, watch Katy Tur Live. I am a fan.”

“Wow. That’s incredible. I’m honored. Blown away.”

“You should always wear the glasses. The glasses kill me. They’re my thing.”

“Okay. Your Holiness, recently you’ve made comments suggesting that the next Dalai could be a woman, as long as she was beautiful.”


“What did you mean by that?”

“Beautiful? You know: good face, plump where she should be, legs without a lot of weird pockmarks and divots. A fox.”

“A fox?”

“Absolutely. You can’t have an uggo as Dalai Lama. It’s in the rules.”

“There are rules?”

“Oh, yeah. Tons of ’em. Cant do PCP: that’s a rule. Not allowed to ride in the same helicopter as the Panchen Lama: that’s another rule. And if you’re a Dolly Lama, you’ve gotta be smoking.”

“Dolly Lama?”

“That is the proper spelling for a female Dalai Lama.”

“You’re making all of this up.”

“Oh, no. All in the rules.”

“May I see these rules?”


“Why not?”

“They’re in Tibetan.”

“Your Holiness, I simply don’t understand what someone’s physical appearance has to do with their ability to fulfill a spiritual role.”

“Oh, c’mon, Katy. No one wants to sit through a sermon from a Two. You wanna bring in the followers, you need at least an Eight. At least. And she needs to be an Eight with a gimmick, like mammoth cans or something. Maybe a wonky eye, but it looks cute on her. Listen, I’ve talked to Tibetans. I’m out there on the streets reading the temperature of the crowd. And they just won’t accept a Dolly Lama who doesn’t make you pop a chubby. Maybe a semi.”

“I’m shocked by these comments.”

“Y’know who’d be great is that Margot Robbie chick. God, she’s so fucking hot. I wanna stick a straw up her ass and suck out her hot doody. She’s so hot I wanna throw her out of a plane.”

“Your Holiness.”

“Or Rhianna. Rhianna could totally be Dolly Lama. Shit, she’s hot. I wanna do to her face what Chris Brown did, but with my dick.”

“Your Holiness!”

“God hates ugly chicks, Katy. That is one of the core tenets of Buddhism.”

“It most certainly is not.”

“Core tenet”

“You’re terrible.”

“Oh, yeah. You’ve never read about me? I’m the worst.”

A Partial Transcript Of Joe Biden’s MSNBC Interview, 6/20/19

“Welcome back to Katy Tur Live on MSNBC. We’re sitting with former Vice-President and current Presidential candidate Joe Biden. Thank you for speaking with us, Mr Vice-President.”

“Call me Joe and sit on my lap.”

“Mr. Vice-President, your campaign seems to keep hitting bumps in the road. You’re markedly centrist in a field that favors progessives, and you’re forever tottering right at the edge of out-of-touch. Also, you’re mildly inappropriate in a way that, while demeaning and disrespectful, isn’t born from malice. The actual President is a straight-up sex criminal, but you being handsy is eliminating.”

“You’re not getting on my lap?”

“It’s that sort of thing, sir.”

“Katy, do you know what retail politics is? It means getting it done in the streets, and moving it forward on the floor. And, in the end, it’s about connecting. It’s that human thing, Katy. I met a woman in Ames, she said her name was Megatron. That didn’t sound right, but I didn’t challenge her. That’s not retail politics. Apparently, everyone in her community was addicted to opiates, including the community itself. The localized concept of community, I suppose. It, uh, “woke up” is what Megatron said, and then it hungered. This is not what Americans were promised, Katy.”

“No, sir.”

“I hugged her. Megatron. I clasped her tight to my chest, and I could feel my chest hairs rustle as her big boobies pressed against them.”


“It’s a compliment!”

“Mr, Vice-President, let’s move on. Your latest controversy stems from your statements about working with United States Senators who were openly segregationist.”

“Well, hey, racists need roads, too. And wars needed voting for. When it came to the black stuff, I went the other way. And, you know, there was a lot of black stuff with those guys. I guess nowadays you’d call it urban stuff. Whatever you called it, they hated the coloreds. And, you know, back then everyone hated the gays and Jews. There was a lot of common ground in the old days.”

“Many within your party have taken offense at these remarks.”

“Screw ’em. I’m the only one running who’s worked with Nazis before, and I can work with ’em again. See, what’s missing in Washington these days is civility. Used to be that Senators would sexually claim Pages. An elaborate system of trading and borrowing of the young flesh began; it was as much a beloved tradition as the Candy Desk. Pages would die a lot, but their parents were given excellent jobs. Ambassadorships, stuff like that”


“Everyone would know each other. Really know each other, the whole government. Nothing brings men closer than sharing boys, or girls, or maybe going to the shooting range. Capitol Police have a range in the basement, and they let us use the machine guns. Big fun. And, so, conservatives and liberals and Democrats and Republicans can get around the little things and just be together. Sex with young people. Guns, That’s America, Katy, and that’s what the American people want.”


“Don’t get me wrong, now: these guys were racist as hell, and I am not okay with that. When they would start in with their jokes, I would only stay for the first couple minutes. And you didn’t want to get too drunk with ’em. A little drunk was real fun, but they would get all riled up when they got real juiced. The black security guards would step out of sight when they got like that. It was for the best. Kept the peace.”

“Some would say that “the best” would have been the Senators curbing their openly racist behavior.”

“Some would. But you take away Strom Thurmond’s racism, and what does he have left? Katy, again: I’m talking about retail politics. Herman Talmadge was made out of racism. Once saw him beat a Mexican kid half-to-death with a cafeteria tray. I’ll teach you to be Mexican! he kept yelling. Mashed potatoes flying everywhere. Hell of a scene, but there was cordiality between colleagues.”

“Sure, but–”

“If Jesse Helms was such a racist, then why didn’t he ever call me the N-word?”

“Because it would make no sense?”

“That’s right, Katy! It would make no sense. You leave the racism outside the office and you make your deals at the gown-up table. What you have is two positions, right? This is the essence of politics, and of life. You got two positions. Our side says Everybody’s equal, and their side says But not the blacks, and so what you need to do is compromise. You compromise. And, sometimes, you lose a battle to win the war.”


“Jesse and Strom, people forget this or maybe just don’t know it about them, but: they were only politically racist. Face-to-face? Polite as hell to every black they saw. Always said Please and Thank you. Jesse loved the little ones. He’d pull a quarter out from behind their ears, and rub on their heads for luck. Who’s your Momma? he’d yell at the kids. Deaf as a donkey. Do you know who yo’ Daddy is? He’d yell at the kids. Loved ’em. Got a lot done, Strom Thurmond.”

“Strom Thurmond was virulently racist, and quite open about the fact.”

“Yes, Katy, but he was nice to me.”

“We’re gonna take a commercial break.”

“You getting on my lap?”





The Grateful Dead: A Temporal Appreciation

Dear The Grateful Dead,

Hi. How are you? Hell of a baseball season, huh? Okay, enough pleasantries.

Thank you, The Grateful Dead, for not existing concurrently with the internet. I know that the internet technically existed when you were around, but there were nine people on it at the time, and two of them were Penn Jillette. (He was much fatter then.) What I mean is…


…you know, how we have it nowadays in 2018. The “ruining the world” internet. The “okay, now we hate that guy” internet. The “you should have done it this way” internet. The “hey, remember that shitty thing you said 16 years ago” internet. The instant-feedback web where everyone’s opinion is equally valid and every putz with a camera phone is either Edward Murrow or Ernie Kovacs.

Thank you, The Grateful Dead, for packing it in before #couchtour was a thing. There’s another band just like you, The Grateful Dead, and they’re extant. Extant as fuck, as a matter of fact: playing some of the best shows of their lives, but their fans–basically Deadheads with a higher tolerance for shitty lyrics and fewer options as far as tee-shirt iconography goes–don’t seem to be aware of the fact.

O, the whining (from the gentiles)! Oy, the kvetching (from the Jews)! Hey, I’m Katy Tur (from Katy Tur)! They played this song last week, the fans tweet angrily. They haven’t played this song in years, the other fans post on Facebook. One point oh, two point oh, fuck point off: they won’t stop yelling and, far worse, making the same joke over and over.

So, thank you, The Grateful Dead, for taking place in an era bereft of real-time reviews, next day podcasts, and digital fucking petitions. (Because if you think Deadheads in 1982 wouldn’t have started up a “BRING BACK DARK STAR” petition, then you should go and read someone else’s site; you’re too naive to be here.)

Rock Star Richard

Bright-Eyed Katy

“Pretty lady is pretty, Trey.”

“She is, Page, but she’s more than just a pretty lady. She’s a big-time reporter.”


“She’s not secretly Superman, Page.”

“Oh, right, right. Okay.”


“No, Page. All reporters are not secretly Superman. I don’t know who told you that, but they were messing with you.”

“Is she Spider-Man?”

“She has no super-powers at all, buddy. Although, she put up with Keith Olbermann’s bullshit for a few years, so maybe she does.”


“Big media joke, pal. Don’t worry about it.”

“What does she do?”

“Katy? Well, she covered the Trump campaign for NBC.”

“He is bad!”

“He is, buddy.”

“I don’t like him!”

“I’m with you.”

“He is orange! Presidents should be black!”

“Could not agree more, man.”

“Trump should not be around Katy. He will chain her up and make her wear a metal bikini.”

“She’s safe now, Pagey. She’s with us.”

“Okay. I like her better than Jake Tapper.”

“Everyone does.”


“Yeah, buddy?”

“What doughnut is it?”

“We’re not doing that anymore.”