Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: terrapin crossroads (Page 1 of 11)

Alligator, Noonday Lunch Rush

March 4, 2020 / / 3 Comments

Hey, Phil. Whatcha doing?

“What does it look I’m doing, cockbreath?”

Posing with Alligator.

“I’m amazed you got it on the first try. Tell me something honestly: How old were you when you were fully toilet-trained? 15, 16?”

I was the normal age.

“Horseshit. You were a pants-pooping little son of a bitch. I can read your aura. It’s brown.”

This aggression is completely unnecessary.

“Will you stop bothering me, and including me in your dumb scenarios?”

No.

“Then the aggression shall continue unabated.”

Okay. Are you putting any precautions into place at TXR regarding the coronavirus?

“Hell, yeah. A busboy sneezed yesterday, so we had to handle that.”

How did you handle it?

“I handed Jill the gun and left the room.”

Anything else?

“No more rare burgers. Everything’s well-done.”

I don’t know if that will help. What else?

“Ross James has been shaved.”

You made Ross James shave his beard?

“Ross James has been shaved.”

I’ll leave it alone.

“For the best.”

The Forces Tear From The X-Axis

February 22, 2020 / / 2 Comments

“Goddammit, you little prick! What did you do?”

The picture’s just turned a little. I can–

“You can fuck up! That’s all! You can fuck up and massage your crotch, that’s all you’re good for.”

No need for that, Phil.

“The whole restaurant’s 90 degrees off! The oil from the deep fryer spilled on three of the Busboys!”

Oh, no. Are they okay?

“Jill shot them.”

Why?

“We’re running a business here, dickface. No room in the budget for skin grafts.”

“DAAAAAAD!? WHY IS THE WALL THE FLOOR NOW?”

“Oh, great. Are you happy? You scared Grahame!”

I can fix this.

“They should’ve fixed your mother, suckjob.”

In Which Phil Meets A Hat

February 5, 2020 / / 2 Comments

“Psst! Hey, Longshanks!”

“Excuse me, young lady?”

“Not her. Me. Up here.”

…

“Huge fan.”

“I’m not talking to a goddamned hat.”

“This is your place, right? Could you rustle me up a hoagie?”

“You don’t even have a mouth.”

“I got a huge mouth. I got a sexy mouth.”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?”

“Stick a hoagie in my huge, sexy mouth, Phil.”

…

“Hey! Jackass.”

Me?

“Yeah. Listen: if you’re not even gonna try to make any sense, then leave me out of your bullshit.”

I was trying.

“Nah. This is weird and half-assed even for this place. Get your shit together.”

Sorry, Phil.

Turtle Club

January 31, 2020 / / 2 Comments

“Missed you, pal.”

“Goddammit, Mydland, is that still you in there?”

“Don’t you cos-shame me.”

“Not a thing.”

“My feelings are valid! I’ve done a lot of work in therapy to get to this point, and I will not be dismissed.”

“When did you start going to therapy?”

“Couple years after I died.”

“All right.”

“You know I’m naked in here, right?’

“Jesus fucking Christ.”

“The breeze shoots right through the fur. It’s sensual.”

“GRAHAME!”

“Yes, Pop?”

“Uncle Brent is leaving.”

“Oh, okay. Goodbye, Uncle Brent.”

“I MEANT YOU SHOULD ESCORT HIM OFF THE PREMISES!”

“Oh! Okay, yeah, gotcha.”

Philactery

December 22, 2019 / / 0 Comments

Hey, Phil. Whatcha doing?

“Well, goddammit, if anyone should know what this is, it’s you.”

Very aggressive.

“I’m not the one who won’t shut up about being a Jew.”

You’re not a Jew.

“I am Jew-ish.”

True. The Grateful Dead were Righteous among Nations.

“No idea what that means.”

What genre of music is Jewiest?

“Hmm. Jam bands or whatever they’re called, that’s probably first. Wait, no. What’s that crap with the clarinet?”

Klezmer.

“Very Jew-y.”

True. Did the Grateful Dead ever celebrate Hanukkah?

“Well, we all tried to ball chicks named Stacy Rosenberg around this time of year. And the Road Crew used to spin the Dreidel.”

Really?

“Only when they lost their deck of cards, but it happened.”

Happy Hanukkah, Phil.

“It won’t be that happy if I can’t sell these vegan latkes. There’s, like, no margin.”

Happy Birth, Jay

December 8, 2019 / / 1 Comment

“Happy birthday, Jay.”

“Aw, man, thanks. Phil, this is so nice of you to–”

“Eight bucks.”

“–do, and…what now?”

“Cake is eight bucks a slice. Pony up, longhair.”

“But it’s my birthday.”

“I’m running a restaurant here, camerafucker. No free cake.”

“Okay. Eight bucks?”

“Mm-hm. And two more for the candle.”

“Two bucks for a candle?”

“It’s vegan.”

Kim, Chi(ld)

October 23, 2019 / / 2 Comments

Oh, so that’s what Grahame looks like under his beard.

“It’s not Grahame, you numbskull.”

Who is it?

“Ah, I dunno. One of those teen guitar prodigies that comes along every couple years. I think he plays the blues, maybe.”

You think?

“Just judging by the hat.”

Sure. You jam with him?

“Maybe when he gets his braces off.”

Okay.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Oh, thank God. I can ignore you.”

…

“Terrapin Crossroads, home of the all-you-can-eat vegan shrimp platter. Phil speaking.”

“Philbert!”

“Ah, shit.”

“That Baby Levon? Grow up so fast.”

“No, it’s not Baby Levon. What do you want?”

“Slasher there? He no pick up phone.”

“Who the hell is ‘Slasher?'”

“Has hair. Top hat. Used to no wear shirt, but now wear shirt.”

“Oh, Slash. Yeah, no. He’s not here.”

“No biggie. You get liver I send?”

“Yes, and you need to stop sending them. Where are you even getting all these human livers?”

“Only Korean politics very serious game.”

“Jesus.”

“See people on horses behind me? Are back-up organs. Always bring with.”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Tell Jill Kim Jong-Un say hi.”

“No.”

Phillo, Sophist

April 21, 2019 / / 1 Comment

Hey, Phil. Reading to the kids?

“Gosh, you’re observant.”

Don’t say anything, but I think that little boy in the middle has one of those aging diseases.

“That’s Guberman, jackass. He’s my keyboardist.”

Is this how you pay your band? With stories?

“I’m this close to 86’ing you from TXR.”

But I was looking forward to Psychic Night with Evidential Medium Cindy Kaza. I have some important questions for my father.

“Like what?”

Where he left the remote, for starters. It’s been ten years and we still can’t find it.

“Go away.”

“Have you considered ze locus of power within zis discourse? Also, would you consider peeing on me?”

“Who is that?”

“C’est moi.”

“Oh, go away, Mike. No one understands a goddamned word you say.”

“Oui. Zis is because you are all–‘ow you say?–doofuses. Zis is correct? Doofus?”

“Escargot away.”

“Non! We shall discuss ‘ow schizophrenia is a conspiracy of ze ‘eterosexuals. And zen we shall fist each other.”

“Dammit, man, there are children here!”

“I shall fist ze bearded one.”

…

“HEY!”

Me?

“Oh, yeah. You. Don’t come around here any more and don’t bring any more perverted philosophers.”

But Lacan wanted to see Moonalice.

“OUT!”

Why Is This Jam Different Than Any Other Jam?

April 20, 2019 / / 0 Comments

“Good evening, ticketholders, and welcome to Terrapin Crossroads’ annual seder dinner. Since Passover happens to fall on 4/20 this year, we’ll be combining the two celebrations with a very special meal and haggadah. We’re calling it the haggadoobie. Rabbi, would you like to lead us in the prayer over the edibles?”

“Not a rabbi, Phil. I’m Ross James.”

“You do look rabbinical.”

“It’s just the beard. Half the guys in here look like me.”

“Fine, fine, I’ll do it myself. I don’t actually know Hebrew, so bear with me. Ahem.”

Barack Obama Illinois
And-a hey-ho melon something something
A chair, Miss Ivana, Bar Mitzvah Dave
I gotta lick shells.
Passover.

“That was great. I did a hell of a job. And with no rehearsal! Okay, how about the Four Questions? Rabbi?”

“Still not a rabbi, Phil.”

“Again, I will take care of this. Okee-dokee, remember everyone: we’re combining the seder with 4/20. Everyone got it?”

“They remember the premise, Phil.”

“Y’know, you’re awful talkative for someone who isn’t a rabbi.”

“Sorry.”

“If I may continue. Where did I leave the paper with the questions? Did anyone see it? Ross? Did I leave it in my coat? And those were the Four Questions. Now it’s time for the children to find the afikomen.”

“Here I am!”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s me, haredi yoga instructor Afi Komen.”

“This has gotten a bit surreal.”

“I’d like you to meet my wife. She doesn’t have a name.”

“Why not?”

“We treat our women like shit.”

“Happy Passover.”

“And a bitchin’ 4/20 to you, boychik.”

We’re In For A Long, Bumpy Ride

February 21, 2019 / / 1 Comment

“Who did this, boy?”

“I don’t know, Dad.”

“DON’T LIE TO ME! I know it was one of your little hoodlum friends. Was it Fat Mommy?”

“I don’t know anyone named–”

“Was it Sleazy Kevin?”

“Again, I know no one with that–”

“Dog Dick? What about Dog Dick?”

“I have no friends called–”

“What about Rufio?”

“He was a Lost Boy, Pop.”

“Don’t you ‘Pop’ me. I’ll pop you right in the beard.”

“Dad, none of my friends grafitti’d the wall.”

“Are you in a gang?”

“No.”

“Tell me, boy. You’re a Baseball Fury, aren’t you?”

“I regret teaching you and mom how to work the Netflix.”

“I have regrets, too, boy.”

“Aw.”

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