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

Tag: kim jong un (Page 1 of 8)

Land Rover, Sea Ruler

“You’re a dick.”

What did I do now?

“All I wanted was to not be left out of the Murder Heist. You preyed upon my insecurity and sicced interdimensional–”


“–sex pirates on me. They came to my ranch, man!”

Not good.

“Well, they didn’t ‘come’ to the ranch. They just appeared out of nowhere.”

Right. They have omniships.

“Gave ’em a hell of a strategic advantage.”

When done right, no defense.

“So I had to flee.”

It doesn’t look like you’re fleeing very hard.

“I had an idea for a song.”

About what?




Expand your material.

“What sells is what sells.”

Answer the phone.

“Is it the monsters?”


“You’re on with John. Please don’t be the aliens who ate Iron Maiden.”

“Eat Maiden? No eat Maiden. Love Maiden. Up irons.”

“Oh, thank God it’s you.”

“Hot Dog Dick finally warm up to Kim Jong-Un. Now is best friends.”

“No, it’s just that you’re better than the alternative. Which is fucked up.”

“Everything fucked up this year. No laws with Claws, broham.”

“Whatever. What do you want? And why are you in a boat?

“No in boat. On boat.”

“Same thing.”

“Kim Jong-Un’s English is no idiomatic. Preposition confuse.”

“Move past it. Why the boat?”

“Look your right.”

“Goddammit, this is not the time for your foolishness. Do not invade California right now.”

“Have letter from Dotard. He say it okay.”

“I assure you it’s not.”

“Is most beautiful letter! I send! You see!”

“Please don’t send it to me.”

“Follow on Twitter.”

“I’m not gonna follow you on Twitter.”

“My posts rule.”

“Not following you.”

“Father invent memes.”


“What if I apologized?”

To me?

“Sure. Whoever. I’d like to be excused from this storyline, and I’ll debase myself to achieve that goal.”

Too late.

“What about cash?”

Cash might do it.

No Help On The Way

Stay inside.

“Dude, my backyard is the size of a county. And not one of those dinky suckers Back East. Like, a Texas county.”

Is that your dog?

“That is my dog.”

Is he a rescue?

“In a sense.”

What sense?

“In the sense that I rescued him from the breeder for three grand.”


“I just couldn’t love a common dog.”



You deserve this.

“I can’t help it if I live a moneyed life.”

You absolutely can.

“But I don’t wanna.”


Answer the phone, douche.

“You’re on with John.”

“Hot Dog Dick!”

“Ah, shit.”

“That your lunch?”

“No, that’s my dog.”

“Look delicious.”

“Jesus, that’s offensive. Are you dead yet?”

“Not having good week, Little Potato! Look at hair!”

“Kinda sad.”

“So sad! Surgery go bad. Turns out forbidding education was poor long-term strategy.”


“Same thing with being a 400 pound chainsmoker. Tough to maintain.”

“Don’t see a lot of 80-year old 400-pound chainsmokers”

“No. Also, sister probably bribe doctors to botch operation.”

“Almost definitely.”

“No look good for Kim Jong-Un. At least I go to Heaven.”

“You think you’re going to Heaven?”

“Father invent Heaven.”




“When he dies, will I have to take phone calls from his ghost?”

Almost definitely.


The Spice Of Life

Aw, buddy. You sad?

“Little bit.”

Spray that Pam on your dick and have a penis party.

“That sounds like a bad idea.”

Oh, no. Pam was made for dicks. That’s why they gave it a girl’s name.

“That can’t be true. Even if it is, I refuse to believe it.”

I’ve been rejecting reality a lot lately, too. How’s quarantine going?

“Ups and downs. I got lost yesterday.”

How do you get lost during quarantine?

“My house is fucking enormous.”


“There’s a sub-basement! I had no idea!”

What’s down there?

“Bowling alley. Wine cellar. And I think maybe a torture room.”

You think?

“The floor is washable and slopes inward towards a drain. And y’know those metal circles that hang off walls and you hang chains through?”


“There are like a dozen of those.”

That’s a torture room.

“Probably. There were also several offices that appear to be in use. Like, there was a luke-warm cup of coffee on one of the desks.”

You should have a conversation with your realtor. All of this is stuff that’s supposed to be disclosed before escrow.

“I don’t think I’m gonna go down there again. The aboveground section of the house is enough, really.”

What if you want to bowl?

“Oh, there’s a bowling alley up here, too.”



Eat the rich.

“Yeah, yeah.”

“You’re on with John.”

“Little Potato! You spray Pam on dick today?”

“Everyone’s being gross. Hey, aren’t you dying or something?”

“Ha! Kim Jong-Un is healthy as Only Korean horse! You know how say ‘horse’ in Only Korean?”




“Is no bat! Is no worse than bat!”

“C’mon, man.”

“Many year, people eat horse. No problem. Bat? Immediate problem! Bat is bad lunch.”

“Great, whatever. What do you want?”

“Need favor.”

“I’m almost definitely gonna say ‘no,’ but what is it?”

“Let Kim Jong-Un borrow heart.”


“Fine, buy. I buy heart.”

“You cannot buy or borrow my heart. I need it. Why don’t you just yoink one from one of the millions of political prisoners you’re jailing?”

“Want heart knows how to play guitar.”

“Nope. Doesn’t make any sense.”

“Kim Jong-Un needs heart that shreds”

“Complete nonsense.”

“Heart with whammy bar.”




“When you heard that he was sick, did you get sad for him?”

A little.

“You were worried for the monster who enslaves, starves, and imprisons his population, and floods the world with meth, counterfeit money, and nuclear secrets, just because you think he’s a funny character for your little make-em-ups?”

Precisely that.

“Do you know you’re a terrible person?”

Oh, yeah.

“Well, at least there’s that.”


Objects That Float




Oh, you speak French?

“I’m a fucking hospital ship, assdick. I’m educated up to my tits.”

You sound aggrieved.

“It’s been 24 hours and there’s still utter fucking pandemonium here.”

The dinosaurs?

“Honestly, they’re not as disruptive as Joe Exotic.”

I thought he was helping.

“That man is the opposite of ‘helping.’ Everything the concept of ‘helping’ embodies? He’s the opposite of that. He’s broken into the pharmacy, turned the burn ward into a birthing suite for his mutant pets, and he’s fucking everything with a dick.”

That sounds like him.

“He is a goddamned chaos agent! He’s like Loki with a mullet!”


“Oh, who the fuck is this? Another one of your idiots sent to harry me to madness?”

No. It’s help.



“USNS Comfort speaking.”

“Hello, Boat Dick. Is Kim Jong-Un.”

“Ah, c’mon.”

“Check the drip”


“I drip so haaaaaaaard.”

“Are you talking about your coat?”

“Is bitchin’. Is soooooo bitchin’. Just buy. Kim Jong-Un declare Wilson’s Leather essential business. Try on many coat. This one most badass.”

“I have no time to discuss your clothes.”

“John Mayer always have time to talk about clothes.”

“Don’t care.”

“I call him Hot Dog Dick. He no like, but I no stop.”

“Please leave me alone.”

“Put Tiger King on phone.”





I’ll try.

“And you said that phone call was gonna be helpful!”

I lie a lot.

Barefoot In The Park With Bobby

“There are clans, right?”

“Not a dwarf, Bob.”

“Y’gotta have clans, otherwise no one knows where to mine. I know your people are big-time miners.”

“Never mined.”

“The Dead was supposed to do a couple shows in Svartalfheim, but the promoter turned out to be a flake.”

“I’m from Long Island, Bob. Y’know, we should really do a record together.”

“Sure, yeah. The last one took me 30 years, but I think this next sucker is just gonna flow. Decade, tops”

“I think we could do it faster than that. I usually work quick.”

“Quick question: Shouldn’t they be Beastie Men by now?”

“I don’t really–”


“I gotta get this.”

“If it’s Kim Jong-Un, please don’t put me on the phone with him again. I’m pretty sure I’m on a watch list now. And it wasn’t fun talking to him.”

“He got sexual?”

“From the hop. He was sexual from the hop.”

“He does that. Gimme a sec.”

“Weir here.”

“Everything gone pear-shape, Hairy Garcia.”

“Never understood that expresion. Pears are, uh, delicious. When I see a pear, I’m thinking of health and refreshment and flavor. Don’t see why looking like one is a bad thing.”

“You done?”

“Go ahead.”

“Remember how I cure coronavirus?”


“I no cure coronavirus.”


“Vaccine have side effect. Baaaaaaad side effect.”

“Got yourself a zombie outbreak, do ya?”

“Big time, Hairy Garcia. And everyone here was hungry before becoming zombie, so it worse than can imagine. Everyone is eat everyone. Is real bummer scene.”

“You should probably self-isolate.”

“I good. You know panic room?”

“I’ve heard of ’em.”

“I got panic mountain. Whole inside scooped out. Is no bad. Got Netflix.”

“You’re just gonna have to wait this one out.”

“Send magic dwarf. He be so impressed with what I do to mountain.”

“Ask him yourself.”

Bouncing ‘Round The Room

Hey, Trey. Whatcha doing?

“Following the advice of doctors and scientists. Keeping my feet on the ground here.”

Good for you.

“I got my guitars, my computer, a little fridge with various yogurts and imported fruit juices.”

Trey, you don’t have to stay in your room. Just your house.

“Never be too careful. I’m gonna stay in here. Nice ceiling above me. Feet on the ground.”

This is about New Year’s, isn’t it?


It was a fluky scene. You’re not self-quarantining because of corona, are you? You’ve been in there all year, right?

“But look how clean I’ve kept it! You’d expect the place to be much grodier, but I keep to a chore schedule.”

This is not healthy, buddy. I think you may have a touch of the post-traum.

“Joe doesn’t believe in PTSD.”


“Since I locked myself in here, I have become a Joe Rogan podcast superfan.”

Okay, that’s it. You have to get out of there.


“I have to take this. It might be Goose.”

You’re talking to Goose?

“I’m mentoring them. You know the Big Brother program?”


“Like that, but with jam bands. Gimme a sec.”

“Say hey, it’s Trey.”

“Ginger Garcia! Is Kim Jong-Un. We never met but have many mutual friends.”

“The actual Kim Jong-Un?”

“One of kind, baby. You listen now. Long story short: Clone Jerry ate itself. Need someone to solo for whole song when Grateful Dead announce I cure coronavirus. You come Only Korea and play.”


“I no do exposition again. Is beneath dignity of man with nukes.”

“Whatever it is, I pass. There’s no international travel now, anyway.”

“I want here, you get here. Is no problem.”

“Still gonna pass.”

“Kim Jong-Un sweeten deal. Send sex slave.”

“Holy shit, do not send me a sex slave.”

“You can pay her. That makes her no sex slave, just whore you own.”

“Not better!”

“She knows so many trick. Weird trick. Butthole has secret knowledge. Butthole very gnostic.”

“Don’t send me anyone.”

“Give her to you when you get here.”


On The Mountain

“…and, uh, that’s where the term ‘lollygagging’ comes from.”

“I didn’t know that, Bob, but I asked you about your watch.”

“It’s a computer. Just about everything is these days. Your watch is a computer, your phone is a computer. They’re coming for our cats and dogs next, I betcha.”

“We already put microchips in them.”

“There you go, Gimli.”


“I gotta take this. It might be my watch.”


“Weir here.”

“Hairy! Other drummer tell you about gig?”

“Last thing Mickey told me was that he thought he was gonna throw up. And then he threw up.”

“He weak link in chain.”

“He was that night, yeah.”

“Kim Jong-Un discover cure for corona. I announce. Big concert. Grateful Dead play.”

“There is no Grateful Dead without the Big Guy.”

“I clone.”

“Don’t do that.”

“Already done. Made many mistakes along way. Created many abominations.”

“Did they run amok?”

“So amok! Never seen this much amok! Have three heads and skin inside-out, but still murdering everyone in sight!”

“Yup, that’s what happens. Movies wouldn’t lie to us.”

“We work out kink. Now we got a working Jerry. So you come. Hairy Garcia get cranky man and sex weirdo and other drummer. Come to Only Korea and play with Clone Jerry.”

“Like usual, I’m gonna pass.”

“You suck. Ask Gimli for Red Hot Chili Pepper number.”

“I’ll just put him on with you.”

I Know My Momma’s Proud Of Me

Hey, Mickey. Whatcha doing?

“I’m creating magic by using the building itself as a drum. Or I’m trying to find the bathroom. Maybe both!”

Should you be touching everything right now?

“I don’t have any charges pending.”

Not that. The coronavirus.

“Oh, yuck. Mexican swill. Never touch the stuff. I only drink Kahlúa.”


“Yeah, until you get enough Kahlúa in me.”

Not you. I mean: You drink that shit straight? It’s like fermented Yoo-Hoo.

“Nectar of the gods. Perfect for a hot day.”

I disagree strongly. And getting back to my original point: What are you doing about the coronavirus?

“And I made it clear I thought you were talking about beer. What’s going on with the corona-whatsis?”

Have you really not heard about the global pandemic?

“Billy sent me a text telling me to be careful, but I thought he was talking about the clap.”

The coronavirus is a newly-introduced pathogen that originated in Wuhan, China, and has now spread around the globe at alarming speed. It is highly infectious, and lethal to a troublingly high percentage of old folks and people with underlying conditions.

“Besides you and me, who knows about this?”

Everyone, Mickey. Literally everyone knows about the coronavirus.

“I’ve been so busy.”


“Drumming, yeah.”


“I should take this. It might be about percussion.”


“Howdy. You’re on the Hartline.”

“Which one this?”


“Which Grateful Dead this? The drummer or the other drummer?”

“Oh. I’m the other drummer.”

“Close enough. Kim Jong-Un cure coronavirus. Also learn how do root canal, but that not important. Coronavirus is main thrust of conversation.”

“Man, everyone keeps talking about this corona thing. Or maybe I’m just noticing it more. You ever heard about the 23 conspiracy?”

“Quiet, other drummer. Kim Jong-Un announce discovery to the world at big concert. Dead reunite.”

“I dunno, man. There’s a lot of hurt feelings, plus there’s legal shit.”

“Fifty million dollar each. Cash.”

“It’s a ‘yes’ from me. That kind of offer would elicit a ‘yes’ from me. Any chance we could do it at Levi’s Stadium? Very convenient to my house.”

“We do in Only Korea.”

“You got Kahlúa there?”

“Can get.”

“I’m in.”


Tiger Beat

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Airing ’em out.”

I see that.

“Dunno if you can tell, but I made these shorts myself.”


“Oh, yeah. I was, uh, inspired by Karl Lagerfeld. Sure, he’s big time, but he gets behind the sewing machine and does his own stitching.”

You were wearing those when you made them, weren’t you?


Karl Lagerfeld doesn’t do that.

“What about Hedi Slimane?”

You shouldn’t know who these people are. What’s wrong with Brent?

“Sometimes, he’s a demon.”

Okay. Man, your legs are furry.

“Girls dig ’em. I’ve, uh, always said: Next to a guitar, a pair of hairy thighs are the best things for getting dates.”

I don’t think you’ve always said that.

“Something in the vicinity.”



I have told all of you to stop using the Time Sheath to bring your cell phones back to the 70’s.

“You have definitely told us that. Gonna take this.”


“Weir here.”

“Where Hairy Garcia? Kim Jong-Un call Hairy Garcia.”

“This is he. I think.”

“Where is degenerate drug beard?”

“What year is it when you are?”

“Juche 109.”

“Ah. I’m in Juche 68.”

“Good year. Disco so hot that year. What wrong with New Brent?”

“That’s not New Brent, it’s Old Brent. No, wait. That’s Brent Brent. Sometimes, he’s a demon.”

“Classic Brent Brent. So like him.”

“The man is easily anticipated.”

“You get kids I send you? How many survive trip?”

“I have received no children.”

“No. This terrible. Kim Jong-Un is embarrassed. Promise best friend Hairy Garcia wonderful gift, but is no gift. I lose face. Must make it up to you.”

“How about one of those giant hats?”

“I send sick people.”

“I don’t want any of them.”

“No contagious! Just dying! You can do whatever to them! They gonna die, anyway!”

“Hard, hard, hard pass.”

“Maybe you make movie. Use as stuntmen. Can actually set on fire.”


“Put in catapult.”

“Y’know, I really hate to be rude, but I’m hanging up.”


“Excuse me.”

Yes, Bobby?

“I don’t put my foot down a lot around here, but I’m gonna have to on this one.”

You don’t wanna talk to Kim Jong-Un anymore?

“The guy’s a bad egg.”

You’re right.



(With thanks to every Enthusiasts favorite (non-Lambert) host of the Grateful Dead Radio Hour, David Gans, for providing the photo from his personal collection. Not the one of Kim Jong-Un; the shot of Bobby and Brent.)

He’s Come To Take His Children Home

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Same thing as always. Playing my tunes, wearing my hat, letting my toes breathe.”

You’re a man of consistency.

“It’s like the song goes: Keep on truckin’.”

That line actually isn’t in Truckin’.

“I was talking about a different song.”

Ah. Listen: you did the right thing postponing the Wolf Bros shows. Folks were disappointed, but I think they understood why you did it.

“Well, yeah. I talked to several doctors. And then I talked to far more healers, shamans, and women dressed like Stevie Nicks with unplaceable accents. They were all in agreement.”

Good. Absolutely the correct call.

“Folks don’t remember Typhoid Mary fondly.”

No. Maybe you could do a webcast or something from TRI Studios or Sweetwater.

“Probably gonna happen. I’m already bored as shit, and that’s, uh, bad for my headspace. My shoulder starts hurting when I get bored.”

That’s no good.


“I gotta answer that. It might be Matt Busch. I’ve had him driving around Marin looking for Purell for the past 14 hours.”

Has he found any?

“No. He would’ve stopped looking.”


“Weir here.”

“Hairy Garcia! Is your boy, Dr. Love!”

“Alistair Love or Hortence Love? Or Phoebe? Huh. I know quite a few  people named Dr. Love.”

“Not real name. Is Kim Jong-Un. They call Dr. Love.”


“Got love you’re thinking of.”

“If you insist.”

“You want children? They clean. No corona.”

“We’re, uh, all set on kids over here, but thanks.”

“You take for two week. No like, you send back. Or drown. Whatever. I give you Only Korean children as gift.”

“No, I’m all right. The two I have now are expensive enough.”

“They small. Very little food. Or you no feed. Whatever.”

“I would definitely feed them.”

“But you no have to.”

“Noted. Please don’t send me any kids. Don’t you usually bother Young Josh?”

“He no fun. Jessica Simpson book get in his head. I think he got yips.”

“Women, right?”

“Good idea, Hairy Garcia. I murder Jessica Simpson to make Hot Dog Dick happy.”

“You wouldn’t think your statement would make sense, and yet it did.”

“High-context statement.”


“I call back. Children there in week.”

“Don’t send me–”


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