The best thing about soda pop in glass bottles is that after you’ve quenched your thirst, you have a weapon.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: mickey hart (Page 17 of 71)
LOOK AT PHIL’S TUSHEE!
Stop it.
LOOK!
Knock it off.
Fat Phil had a phat ass.
This is unpleasant.
Well, for all but five years out of life, Phil has been rail-skinny and had no butt whatsoever.
True, but still.
If Phil’s body were a set list, then you would write it “legs>back.”
Right.
No butt.
We all got it.
But here he’s got a Heineken heinie.
And bearded Mickey.
Bearded Mickey is terrifying. Scariest of all Mickey’s iterations.
True.
You can’t be Mickzilla.
“Why not?”
I don’t know why exactly. You just can’t.
“Godzilla’s a Jew!”
He’s not.
“Kai Jew.”
Kaiju, Mickey. It’s a Japanese word.
“Godzilla doesn’t have a foreskin.”
He doesn’t have a dick! He’s a giant reptile, and he’s not even that: it’s a sweaty guy in a rubber suit.
“Regardless. I’ve already bought the Japanese girls.”
That’s Mothra.
“No.”
Yeah.
“All those movies kinda blend into one another.”
I agree, but you still need to stop what you’re doing.
“Can I still dose the Japanese girls?”
I assumed you already had.
“Oh, I have. I wasn’t asking permission. Legal question.”
Neither purchasing nor dosing humans is legal, Mickey. Stop doing both.
“Maybe. Gotta fill the hours somehow.”
Sure. Hey, Mick?
“Uh-huh?”
What’s that little wire on the underside of the bridge? Right by your head, the striped one?
“That?”
Yeah, that. The thing that looks like detonation cord.
…
“You’re observant.”
Goddammit, Mickey.
What is this?
“I’m having a midlife crisis.”
You’re planning on living to 140?
“You’re not?”
I repeat: what is this?
“Y’know how Neil Young likes model trains?”
Yeah.
“Fuck him. I’m going bigger.”
So this is a model? Of what?
“San Francisco. 1:32 scale.”
The whole thing?
“Every bit of it.”
That means it’ll be…1.5 square miles.
“Yeah, but only temporarily.”
…
Goddammit, Mickey, don’t destroy Mini-Francisco with the Little Big One.
“Too late not to. Already wired the explosive charges.”
You haven’t finished building the Golden Gate Bridge.
“Oh, we wired the explosive charges years ago.”
Ah.
“It’s an experiment! I want to see what will happen.”
Everyone’ll die.
“You weren’t listening to me: I want to see it.”
You’re bored, huh?
“Summer tour cannot come fast enough.”
Dammit, Mickey: you can’t play the Golden Gate Bridge.
“You can play anything if you don’t care what it sounds like.”
True, but it would tie up traffic.
“We’re going to oscillate all the cables at the same frequency.”
Tesla built that once. He called it a death ray.
“Tesla called everything he built a death ray.”
Yeah, but he got this one right. Please don’t turn a bridge into a feedback loop. It ends badly.
…
“I’m just bored.”
I know, buddy.
“Do you have Josh’s number?”
No.
“Because I’d like to do another Dead & Company tour.”
I bet.
“I mean: I was selling paintings in a mall in New Jersey last week, now I’m fucking around with erector sets.”
Next stop is model trains.
“Oh, Christ, I don’t want to be the old white guy into model trains.”
If it’s gonna happen, it’s gonna happen.
Mickey.
…
Mickey!
…
MICKEY!
“Are you talking to me?”
No. I was yelling at you.
“Well, can you wait until the song’s over? It’s very loud.”
Song’s been over for two minutes, Mick.
“What? Stop fucking around. We’re raging, man.”
…
What does the song sound like? Sing it.
“EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE.”
That’s one of my favorites.
“It’s playing in my head all the time.”
Great. Anything else you want to contribute?
“I dosed my hat.”
Sure.
Hey, Mickey. Whatcha doing?
“Celebrating Thanksgiving with my Indian friends.”
Nope.
“The other kind?”
Yup.
“Diwali!”
There ya go.
“Festival of lights.”
Very colorful.
“A celebration, or maybe an observation.”
Lasts a certain amount of time.
…
I have no idea what Diwali is.
“Me neither, but it’s an excuse to drum.”
Everything’s an excuse to drum with you, though.
“I likes what I likes.”
Mick?
“Yeah?”
Did you weld a turtle to your noisemaker?
“No.”
No?
“It’s a terrapin.”
Right.
You look terrible.
“Me or Steve Miller?”
You. Steve Miller looks like he’s about to start a fight at a Hooters.
“Okay. Fuck off.”
Why is your moob in your armpit?
“Parish!”
All right, I’m going.
…
You wanna talk about–
“PARISH!”
–the pants? Okay, okay.
Sorry, Enthusiasts: I got nothing. I’m laughing too hard. No one’s ever been this impressed by Mickey before, and I’m loving it so much. Enjoy it in its natural and un-annotated state
“I made art!”
Why do you look like Steven Seagal?
“Shirt collar.”
Yup.
“Art’s the best.”
What about drumming?
“I retract my last statement. But art’s pretty cool. I get up real early, dose all the animals on the property, and then I paint all morning. It’s like CrossFit for your brain.”
That doesn’t make sense, and you need to stop dosing animals.
“They like it.”
Do they?
“They’ve never said anything about it.”
Sure.
*Why have they not done Die Hard in a mall? There are many possibilities for both action and comedy that spring from that location. Someone hire me to write Die Hard in a mall, and my version will not star Mickey. (Unless that’s what you pay for.)
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