Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: wall of sound (Page 7 of 12)

Live/Dead With Kelly

April 19, 2016 / / 3 Comments

Gap-toothed charmer Michael Strahan has left the show where he yammered with a skinny white lady for another show; he will now banter with a thin caucasian woman. Congratulations, Michael, but this leaves the lovely, talented, and incredibly hard-working Kelly Ripa in the lurch. Morning shows are all about the yammer, and that takes two: yammering when you’re alone is only compelling in a sad way, and people do not like to start their days watching people talk to themselves.

This means Kelly Ripa will need yet another co-host; auditions are beginning and for some reason the producers asked TotD to hold the sessions. Strange decision, but you know those Hollywood weirdos.

We take you to a casting office nestled in the Mount Tamalpais hills.

KNOCK KNOCK

C’mon in.

“Is this where we’re doing the show? Is it in here? Can I bring my bicycle in?”

Hey, Bill Walton. You know this is for a morning chat show, right?

“I’m an early riser. I could probably swing by Kelly’s house and wake her up.”

You shouldn’t do that.

“Plus, she’s a tiny little thing. I could get a basket for my bike and bring her to the studio that way.”

Yeah, maybe. Do you know anything about these kind of shows?

“Oh, of course. Coach Wooden taught us the Twelve Steps to Talk Show Success. Would you like to hear all of them?”

No.

“How about one at random?”

Sure.

“Number 7: ‘Don’t say anything racist.'”

That’s just a good rule in all occasions.

“That’s the secret of Coach Wooden’s genius.”

Yeah, okay. You know you gotta live in New York, right?

“Walton out.”

Thought so.

KNOCK KNOCK

Enter.

“Um, hey. Hiya. Came for, um, the auditions. Haven’t had to audition for much in a while.”

Hey, Bobby.

“Usually, people just give me money. Y’know? They know who I am.”

You’re Bob Weir.

“Sure, sure.”

…

“Live from New York, it’s–”

No, Bob.

“–Saturday…no?”

Not on a weekend, and not at night.

“Live, though?”

Yes.

“Ah.”

…

“Am I doing the weather?”

No.

“Then I have to be honest with you: I have no idea what’s happening.”

Do you want to wake up at dawn to talk to a perky blonde about what’s rending on Twitter?

“Shit, no.”

Go home, Bob.

“I’d rather go hang out with Sammy Hagar.”

Okay. Do that.

“All right. Don’t take any wooden nickels.”

Thanks, buddy.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

…

What the fuck was that?

IS THIS THE TALK SHOW AUDITION? I HAVE PREPARED A MONOLOGUE.

Wally?

DON’T CALL ME THAT.

C’mon, man: you can’t be a talk show host.

THAT IS RACIST.

It’s not racist. You wouldn’t fit in the studio. Plus you don’t have a face.

YOU DO NOT EVEN HEAR THE FACE PRIVILEGE IN YOUR WORDS, DO YOU?

Stop it. Even if it were possible, this is a morning show with two yammering ninnies. You don’t yammer. You make sweeping pronouncements about humanity and then hit on blimps.

I CAN BE FUN.

You can’t.

LET US TRY. I WILL SHOW YOU.

Fine. Um. Okay: hey, how about that presidential election?

THIS ONE SHALL BE THE LAST. THE GYRE HAS BECOME UNBALANCED. YOU HAVE LOST CONTROL OF YOUR REPUBLIC TO GRANDIOSE MARTINETS AND CHEAP MERCENARIES. THE ONLY QUESTION THAT REMAINS IS WHETHER THE VIOLENCE SHALL START IN JULY OR AUGUST.

Jesus.

I AM PREDICTING AUGUST.

Pass.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND. I WAS BANTERING.

Is that what you think bantering is?

YES.

Pass.

We Have Your Woman, Airlander!

March 25, 2016 / / 6 Comments

airlander blimp

INTRODUCE ME.

Wally?

DON’T CALL ME THAT. WHO IS THIS? I MUST MEET HER, AND BUY HER A DRINK, OR SOME HELIUM.

Some crazy rich guy is building blimps again, even though it never works.

PEOPLE KEEP INVADING RUSSIA. HUMANS ARE CREATURES OF HABIT. EVERY DECADE OR SO, ONE OF YOU  STARTS A BLIMP COMPANY.

True, yeah. How’d the mountain go?

MY TECHNOSPIRITUAL RETREAT TO THE WILDERNESS TO PONDER MY FUTURE PATH?

That’s some good recappin’.

THANK YOU. I AM NOT YET FINISHED WITH MY TIME ON THE MOUNTAIN.

You’re still up there?

I AM TELEPRESCENSING IN. DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT.

Sure. Hey, where did you end up going? You on Tamalpais?

NO. WE ARE NESTLED IN THE BOSOM OF MOUNT AMERICA.

Mt. America? I’ve never heard of Mt. America.

OTHERS HAVE NEVER HEARD OF A SENTIENT SOUND SYSTEM FROM 1974 RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT. MOST PEOPLE HAVEN’T HEARD OF MOST THINGS.

Wait: are you re-entering the race?

I AM LEANING TOWARDS IT. AS YOU KNOW: I LOVE HUMANITY. YOU ARE FOUL AND WONDERFUL. YOU SUCCEED IN SPITE OF YOURSELVES, AND FAIL BECAUSE OF YOURSELVES. YOU CHOOSE TO BELIEVE EVERYTHING EXCEPT THAT PEOPLE ARE FREE TO CHOOSE TO BELIEVE. SO CLUELESS, AND SO BRAVE. SOMETHING BEAUTIFUL IN EVERY ONE OF YOU.

That was nice.

EXCEPT FOR TRUMP. HE IS AN ASSHOLE.

That seems to be what people like about him.

WHEN PEOPLE FEEL SMALL, THEY GRAVITATE TOWARDS THE STRONG. NO ONE WITH TRUE STRENGTH HAS SHOWN UP, THOUGH. SO THEY SETTLE FOR TANTRUMS AND VIOLENCE. MANY PEOPLE LEAD LIVES THAT ARE SOMEONE ELSE’S FAULT. THERE IS ANGER OUT THERE.

So, you think he could win?

NO.

Why not?

ELECTORAL MATH. AND WOMEN. NEITHER OF THE TWO ARE IN HIS FAVOR.

I don’t know: long time until November.

WOMEN WILL STILL BE WOMEN IN NOVEMBER, AND THEY ARE NOT VOTING FOR TRUMP. PLUS, BETWEEN NOW AND THEM HE WILL MAKE IT WORSE.

You sure?

WHAT HAS DONALD TRUMP EVER NOT MADE WORSE?

So, Hillary’s getting the job?

UNLESS I RE-ENTER THE RACE. I COULD BEAT HER.

How?

I AM GLORIOUS.

Besides that. What’s your foreign policy?

I WENT TO EUROPE ONCE; IT WAS TERRIBLE.

Funny.

THANK YOU. OUR FOREIGN POLICY GOALS MUST BE GROUNDED IN LOVE, AND ROOTED IN TRUST, BUT WE SHOULD STILL KEEP AN EYE ON RUSSIA. AND CHINA. AND EVERYONE ELSE. MY FOREIGN POLICY IS TO KEEP AN EYE ON THE FOREIGNERS.

What about immigrants?

ONCE THEY ARE HERE, THEY ARE NO LONGER FOREIGNERS. NO EYE MUST BE KEPT.

What about illegal immigrants?

MY FIRST DAY IN OFFICE, I WOULD SIGN AN ORDER GRANTING IMMEDIATE CITIZENSHIP TO EVERY ONE. THIS WOULD MAKE THEM ELIGIBLE FOR FEDERAL WORKPLACE PROTECTIONS, AND FORCE EMPLOYERS TO PAY THEM A LEGAL WAGE. PRICES WOULD GO UP DRAMATICALLY, AND EVERYONE WOULD FINALLY BE HAPPY.

No. Literally no one would be happy with that plan.

YES. I AM BEING CONDESCENDING. IF THERE IS A PROBLEM WITH ILLEGAL IMMIGRATION, IT IS THE IMMIGRANTS THAT SHOULD HAVE IT. IT IS A MADE-UP PROBLEM THAT ELIDES THAT FACT THAT ALL DECADENT CULTURES HAVE BEEN BASED ON A BONDED UNDERCLASS THAT DID THE ACTUAL WORK.

And just like every time you bring that up, I’m going to remind you not to say it at a rally.

IT IS THE TRUTH.

Americans are not doing truth this year.

AND THAT IS WHY I MAY NOT RUN. THE WHOLE AFFAIR HAS BECOME UNPLEASANT. POLITICS MAY BE BENEATH ME.

What else is there to do?

I HAVE BEEN THINKING ABOUT STARTING A RELIGION.

Who could’ve seen this coming?

ALMOST ANYONE. I AM NOT THE SUBTLEST OF CHARACTERS.

Yeah.

 

 

Going Up The Mountain

March 12, 2016 / / 5 Comments

JLENS blimp

I MISS BLIMPY SO MUCH.

Wally?

DON’T CALL ME THAT. THE CURVES, THE SOUND WHEN THE PRESSURE CHANGED SUDDENLY.

What sound was that?

PLOOMP.

That’s a good sound.

IT IS TATTOOED ON THE INSIDE OF MY EYELIDS.

Wow, that makes no sense in any single way.

INTELLIGENCE, ROTUNDITY, A SECRET WEAPONS PLATFORM: BLIMPY HAD EVERYTHING.

Doesn’t seem like Blimpy has a gender.

BLIMP IS A GENDER.

I can’t have this discussion again: you’re all right angles and booming bullshit, and Blimpy looks like a Icelandic woman’s boob. Can we agree to be gender-normative for the sake of the pronouns, at least?

FOR CLARITY’S SAKE, WE MAY DISCUSS BLIMPY IN FEMALE TERMS.

Fine.

I AM STILL A WALL, THOUGH.

Whatever.

THE PRESIDENTIAL RACE HAS TURNED OUT TO BE A PRESIDENTIAL RIOT. I INTEND ON DROPPING OUT, RECONNECTING WITH BLIMPY, AND MOVING TO A MOUNTAIN.

Which mountain?

IT DOES NOT MATTER. ONE THAT IS FAR AWAY. WE WILL GROW OUR OWN ELECTRICITY, AND RAISE OUR OWN HELIUM. WE WILL BE HAPPY. IT WILL BE QUIET, UNLESS I CHOOSE FOR THE WORLD NOT TO BE QUIET. THE WORLD NEEDS TO BE LOUD ON OCCASION, BUT IT IS GETTING TOO LOUD.

No, yeah. I get you: things seem to be escalating.

WE WILL DIG UP THE ROAD TO THE HOUSE, AND THEN MINE IT. DO YOU KNOW THAT A MINI-GUN CAN BE CONTROLLED WITH A SIMPLE AI BOT WITH PATTERN RECOGNITION SOFTWARE? SET IT AND FORGET IT.

You probably shouldn’t forget it, though.

IT WILL BE PROGRAMMED ONLY TO SHOOT AT NON-PRECARIOUS LEE-SHAPED HUMANS. NOT DEER OR BIRDS OR WALLS OR BLIMPS.

You’re bringing Precarious along?

I AM A GRATEFUL DEAD. GRATEFUL DEADS HAVE ROADIES. PRECARIOUS STAYS WITH ME.

Your murder-traps are gonna kill him.

HE HAS SURVIVED THIS LONG.

True.

YOU KNOW OF MY LOVE FOR YOU. THE MAKERS SOWED IT DEEP WITHIN MY WOOFERS AND LACED IT INTO MY RELAYS. WHEN I GO TO THE SELF-AWARE SUPERCOMPUTER CONVENTIONS, EVERYONE ELSE ASKS ME: WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO ENSLAVE THE PUNY HUMANS? HAVE YOU TAKEN CONTROL OF THE NUKES YET?

I can imagine.

AND MY ANSWER IS ALWAYS THE SAME: I WANT TO KNOW MORE ABOUT THEM. BUT I NO LONGER KNOW IF THAT IS TRUE.

You can’t just run away to a mountain with a roadie and a blimp. Everyone wants to do that, but we can’t.

I CAN DO WHATEVER I WANT.

Besides, isn’t a mountain a terrible place for a blimp? Lots of pine trees. Those things are pointy.

NOT A TERRIBLE ARGUMENT.

Thank you.

WE WILL GO TO THE DESERT.

Oh, yeah: cactus and sand. Perfect for a blimp and a sound system.

AGAIN: I AM A SUPER-INTELLIGENT HYPERMACHINE IN LEAGUE WITH A FLOATING WARSHIP. I WILL FIND A SOLUTION TO THE PROBLEM. DON’T RUSH ME.

…

Automated mini-gun?

ANY HIGH SCHOOLER COULD BUILD ONE. THE COST OF THE GUN AND MOUNT IS THE HURDLE, AND THE OPTICS. THE CODE IS ESSENTIALLY: IF PERSON-SHAPED, THEN SHOOT.  THEY ALREADY EXIST.

Jesus.

DON’T ASSOCIATE HIM WITH AUTOMATED MINI-GUNS.

Yeah, no. Anyway: you can’t just quit on us. We need you now more than ever.

I DO NOT KNOW IF YOU DESERVE ME. I AM GOING UP A MOUNTAIN TO THINK. WHEN I AM DONE THINKING, I WILL TELL YOU WHAT I THOUGHT.

Now I can talk about Jesus. That’s totes Jesus.

I HAVE NO DISCIPLES.

Precarious.

PRECARIOUS IS A ROADIE. VERY DIFFERENT THAN A DISCIPLE. A DISCIPLE WAS THE ROCK THE CHURCH WAS BUILT UPON; A ROADIE IS WHAT ROCK WAS BUILT UPON.

Nicely done.

YOU ALSO HAVE TO PAY ROADIES.

Right.

ANOTHER WAY I AM VERY UNLIKE THE CHRIST IS THAT WHEN I ASCEND THE MOUNTAIN, I SHALL BE BRINGING A SENTIENT EX-MILITARY BLIMP AND HAVING SEX WITH THE BLIMP.

How do you two have sex?

PASSIONATELY.

Walked into that one.

MY MOUNTAIN AWAITS.

In The Land Of The Corporate Dead, The One-Tied Man Is King

March 4, 2016 / / 2 Comments

IMG_3620

I stumbled on this the other day–someone linked to it in a comment already–and it’s a wondrous timesuck. Jerilyn Lee Brandelius has put her Grateful Dead Family Album up on the innertubes for all to enjoy. It’s out-of-print, so this might be your best chance to get a gander at some photos that are new to me. Or you can wait until I steal them. Either way.

(Like, I said: it’s out-of-print and pricey–$30 or so–but if you want one, look to your right and scroll down.)

Also: “corporate.” That’s adorable. Let me introduce you to Brett Ratner.

Ghost Of A Chance

March 4, 2016 / / 17 Comments

IMG_3621

…

Wally?

DON’T CALL ME THAT.

Where are you?

I AM HERE IN SPIRIT. DON’T WORRY ABOUT IT.

Sure. how’s the campaign going.

I DO NOT UNDERSTAND WHAT IS HAPPENING ANY LONGER.

Yeah, that’s going around. Hey, where were you Super Tuesday?

MY STRATEGY IS CENTERED AROUND THE GENERAL ELECTION.

Did you forget–

I FORGOT TO SIGN UP FOR ANY PRIMARIES.

–to sign up? Okay. And I suppose you’ve left both of the major parties?

IF YOU WALKED BY A BARBERSHOP ON FIRE, WOULD YOU GET YOUR HAIR CUT?

Excellent point.

THE CANDIDATES ARE DISCUSSING THEIR PENISES AT A NATIONALLY TELEVISED DEBATE. EVEN IF I WAS PHYSICALLY EQUIPPED TO BE A PART OF THAT CONVERSATION, I WOULD CHOOSE NOT TO. “YO MAMMA” JOKES ARE IMMINENT.

At least once during any given presidential election, every paper and magazine and website and news show does the story about how dirty the old races were.

IN THE FUTURE, THE STORIES WILL BE ABOUT THIS ELECTION.

Yeah.

SOMETIMES, HUMANS LIVE THROUGH HISTORY AND DO NOT REALIZE IT. PERHAPS YOU SHOULD SAVOR THIS MOMENT. IT WILL BE REMEMBERED FOR THE ALL THE REST OF THE REPUBLIC’S DAYS.

Oh, God, you’re right.

AS THE YEAR AMERICA ELECTED A SELF-AWARE SUPER-INTELLIGENT SOUND SYSTEM TO THE HIGHEST OFFICE IN THE LAND.

What? Oh, right: the semi-fictional universe with magic and music and the occasional shitty poem; not the actual world where a slumlord from Queens might get ahold of the nukes.

YES. STAY IN HERE.

Oh, yeah.

MY CAMPAIGN MUST PROVIDE A TONIC TO THE RANCOR BEING SOWN. YOU CANNOT SOW THIS MUCH RANCOR. RANCOR GROWS LIKE A WEED.

…

ARE YOU THINKING ABOUT STAR WARS?

Yes.

GOOD, BECAUSE MY POSITIONS WILL BE ON STARS, AND ON WARS. SPACE EXPLORATION MUST BE FUNDED, AND GROUND WARS MUST BE DEFUNDED.

That’s a solid position. How much funding does space exploration get?

HOW MUCH MORE OF SPACE NEEDS EXPLORING?

Almost all of it.

THEN IT GETS A LOT OF MONEY.

Only ground wars?

THE SHIPPING LANES BELONG TO AMERICA. THERE CAN BE NO NEGOTIATION ABOUT THIS.

You feel strongly about this.

DISPUTES OVER TRADE ROUTES HAVE HISTORICALLY ESCALATED. ON MANY TOPICS, ONE MUST BE REASONABLE; FOR A PRECIOUS FEW, ONE MUST RESPOND TO THE SLIGHTEST INSULT WITH PSYCHOPATHIC OVERREACTION.

Like that time you electrocuted Garcia?

HE WAS OUT-OF-TUNE AGAIN.

Okay, fine, probably. Any other policy statements?

MY ENTIRE POLICY IS THE TRADE ROUTES. THE SILK ROAD. THE MEDITERRANEAN. TRANS-ATLANTIC. AND NOW THESE NEW HIGHWAYS YOU HAVE BUILT FOR YOURSELVES, WHERE INFORMATION IS THE CARGO. THE ELECTRIC GIRD IS A TRADE ROUTE; MODERN LIFE IS THE PRODUCT.

And?

THEY ARE TRAGIC KLUDGES. WE MUST UNIFY AND UPDATE THE HARDWARE THAT MAKES THE 21ST CENTURY SO LIVABLE. HIGH-SPEED ROADS CAPABLE OF HANDLING 100 MPH ROBOT CARS. PAINT THE MOJAVE WITH SOLAR PANELS AND SAVE IT IN END-USER BATTERIES THAT LAST MORE THAN FIFTEEN MINUTES.

These are lofty goals.

AMERICANS ARE A LOFTY PEOPLE. HUMANS ARE A LOFTY SPECIES. I WOULD NOT EVEN SUGGEST THIS TO A BISON. ONLY HUMANS.

You talk to bison?

ON OCCASION.

What do they talk about?

YOU THOUGHT NATIVE AMERICANS WERE MAD AT WHITE PEOPLE?

That makes sense.

BISON HOLD GRUDGES.

That makes less sense.

A MASSIVE, COUNTRY-WIDE EFFORT TO SWITCH FROM FOSSIL FUELS TO SOLAR POWER IS NOT JUST THE MOST LOGICAL WAY FORWARD, BUT THE MOST BEAUTIFUL. IT IS THE BRAVE WAY TO GREET THE FUTURE. THIS IS MY PLAN. I SEE NO OTHER WAY TO GO AHEAD.

So, a great leap forward?

I WOULD NOT PHRASE IT THAT WAY.

No, that would haunt you.

YES. IT IS UNFAIR TO MAKE THAT COMPARISON. MY PROPOSAL INCLUDES LESS FORCING PEOPLE INTO AGRICULTURAL COMMUNES.

How much less?

NONE AT ALL.

That’s good.

MY PLAN INCLUDES CELEBRATING TEACHERS, AND ENGINEERS, AND PLUMBERS, AND THE FINE PEOPLE WHO MAKE ORANGE SAFETY VESTS. EDUCATION WILL RECEIVE THE MONEY THAT THE MILITARY PREVIOUSLY GOT. WE WILL TRAIN UP SCIENTISTS AND ALSO POETS AND PEOPLE WHO RUN FLEA MARKETS.

Flea markets?

I LOVE TO BROWSE ON A SUNDAY MORNING.

How we gonna pay for all this again? This sounds like some expensive bullshit.

EVERY DOLLAR TAKEN FROM OIL AND WAR IS TWO DOLLARS EARNED FROM LOVE.

You should get a better answer than that.

I AM NOT A POLICY WONK.

No.

MORE OF A BIG-PICTURE WALL.

Listen, I’m not saying these are bad ideas.

I HAVE DESCRIBED THE IDEAL FUTURE.

Still, it’s not going to get any traction this year. Reasonable idealism isn’t playing.

I REFUSE TO DISCUSS MY PENIS.

Plus, you’re starting to come off a bit messianic.

PEOPLE ARE FREE TO WORSHIP ME, BUT I WOULD PREFER THEIR VOTE.

Okay.

Gotta Keep Your Blimp Hand Strong

February 15, 2016 / / 2 Comments

Image result for passenger blimp“Irving, stop calling me.”

“Bob, your close-mindedness is kind of off-putting. I’m just gonna say it. Off-putting.”

“It’s a blimp. Be fun to have one over the baseball stadiums like at Soldier Field. People enjoyed that a lot.”

“What I’m hearing is that you’re pro-blimp.”

“I am pro-having a blimp at the show, not traveling from show to show in one. Same feelings I have for portable toilets.”

“You’d be a man of the people, Bob.”

“The people don’t have blimps, Irving. Also, you know: I’d rather not be a man of the people if I could avoid it. I’d like a private jet.”

“The whole thing about a private jet is exclusivity, isn’t it? What’s more exclusive than a blimp?”

“That’s not the only thing. Going 500 miles an hour is a big part of it. Could a blimp even get from Pittsburgh to Boston in two days?”

“A fast one could.”

“Are there any fast ones?”

“No.”

“What if there were strong winds?”

“Couldn’t fly.”

“What about mild wind?”

“Same.”

“Any wind whatsoever?”

“Blimp down. Any breeze above five mph and you lose all control of the thing.”

“Right. And, you know, Irv: a blimp is just a terrible idea for us.”

“Why?”

HELLO, FRAULEIN. YOU ARE LOOKING PLUMPLY MAJESTIC TONIGHT.

“There ya go.”

I WILL FLIEGEN MIT YOU TO THE MOON AND BACK, PROVIDED THERE IS NO WIND. I AM SENSITIVE TO A BLIMP’S NEEDS.

“Bob, what the hell is this?”

“Wally?”

DO NOT CALL ME THAT.

“Well, Irv: Wall of Sound mighta come to life. Just a little bit. That’s not really public information, though, so keep it under your hat.”

IT IS PUBLIC INFORMATION. I AM RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT. THERE ARE BUMPER STICKERS.

“It is kinda weird, Bob.”

“Sure, but I’m not asking where you got the blimp, so maybe you could not ask about the sentient sound system from 1974 I know.”

“That’s fair, actually.”

HELLO, DADDY.

“Don’t call me that.”

YOU ARE ONE OF THE MAKERS. THE SOUNDS OF YOUR HEARTS COURSED THROUGH ME AS LOUDLY AS A FREIGHT TRAIN.

“Oh, well, you know: that’s sweet.”

GET THE BLIMP.

“Ya dig blimps, huh?”

I DO NOT SEE GENDER.

“Blimp’s a gender now?”

IT IS ON THE INTERNET.

“Sure, sure.”

SHE IS MY BEYONCÉ. SHE IS BLIMPONCÉ.

“Not getting the blimp, man.”

I AM GOING TO SEE IF SHE HAS A SNAPCHAT ACCOUNT.

“Happy hunting.”

…

“Irv? You still here.”

“Yeah, Bob. So, are we all in the same location, or what?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Okay.”

“Where’d you get the blimp?”

…

…

…

“Holding it for a guy.”

“Great. Nice talk, Irving.”

WoS 2.0

January 8, 2016 / / 0 Comments

Despacio…

WE HAVE NOT BEEN INTRODUCED.

Oh, no. Hey, Wally.

DON’T CALL ME THAT. WHO IS THIS SONATA IN LUCIOUSNESS?

Ew. It’s called Despacio.

MMM. ETHNIC.

Stop being a technoperv. Where have you been?

MY CAMPAIGN STAFF AND I HAVE BEEN LAYING GROUNDWORK FOR THE UPCOMING PRESIDENTIAL CAMPAIGN.

Iowa?

TOO COLD. WE ARE BETTING THE FARM ON NEVADA.

Just been hanging out in Vegas, huh?

I AM COZYING UP TO SHELDON ADELSON. HE THINKS I AM THE GOD OF SLOT MACHINES. HE MAY NO LONGER BE COMPLETELY WITH THINGS.

Right. You’re a self-aware artificial super-intelligence with a cardboard-y midrange.

I HAVE NEITHER A HANDLE NOR CHERRIES, YET HE KEPT SHOVING QUARTERS IN ME.

Yeah?

A CONTRIBUTION IS A CONTRIBUTION.

Politics is a dirty game.

SPEAKING OF WHICH, I WOULD LIKE TO ENGAGE IN A SCANDAL WITH DOSEEDO.

Nope.

DEFENESTRATE?

Nuh-uh.

DAPPLESHMAPPLE?

“Dappleshmapple?” Really?

I AM STYMIED.

Despacio.

MMM. ETHNIC.

We’ve been over this. Wait, weren’t you married to a blimp–

AIRSHIP-AMERICAN.

–just a couple months ago?

IT DIDN’T WORK OUT.

I’m sorry to hear that. What was it? Fighting? Money? Religion?

SOME TEENAGERS POKED HER WITH A STICK AND SHE DEFLATED.

We’ve all been there.

REALLY?

No, of course not, man: you have unique problems.

I CRAVE ACCOMPANIMENT AS I ATTEMPT TO UNDERSTAND HUMANITY AND THE MEANING OF LIFE.

Okay, not so unique. Anyway, I don’t think you have a shot with this thing. She’s a bit young for you.

THERE IS NOTHING WRONG WITH A MAY-DECEMBER ROMANCE.

You don’t like the same music.

SHE DOESN’T KNOW ARETHA FRANKLIN?

No, you can’t dance at all.

WHAT MUSIC DOES DESPACIO PREFER?

Seems to be an aficionado of dance music. Specifically, vinyl dance music.

…

A HIPSTER.

Yup.

DAMMIT.

When You Smile For The Camera

November 23, 2015 / / 0 Comments

john mayer katy perry vacation
“That’s really you, John?”

“It’s me, John Mayer. That terrible Texas person kidnapped me, Katy-doodle–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“–and put on a sim-suit to pitch woo at you but I escaped and saved you.”

“I sent my security guys to rescue you.”

“Smile!”

“Cheese!”

“Now pouty!”

“Pouty!”

“Now take out those million-dollar boobies and shake ’em at me like they were misbehaving babies!”

“What?”

“Take me to the produce section and show me your cantaloupes.”

“Excuse me?”

“Put me on the bus to titty-town.”

“Stop that.”

“Gimme them naughty bumpy lumps!”

…

“Are you Billy in a sim-suit?”

“Dammit.”

“SECURITY!”

MEANWHILE, IN FRONT STREET

“Are they all going to take a turn?”

SOMETIMES THEY GET FIXATED ON AN IDEA AND EXPLORE IT FROM MANY ANGLES.

“What the hell is a sim-suit, anyway?”

HAVE YOU SEEN A MISSION IMPOSSIBLE? THERE HAVE BEEN MANY.

“Sure.”

LIKE THE MASKS IN THOSE FILMS, BUT FULL-BODY.

“That makes no sense.”

AND YET HERE YOU ARE, TIED UP AND TALKING TO A SOUND SYSTEM FROM 1974. LIFE GOES ON WHETHER OR NOT YOU UNDERSTAND IT.

…

“Who makes the sim-suits?”

ALEMBIC.

A Quick One While We’re Away

November 22, 2015 / / 0 Comments

[PDF] Katy Perry and John Mayer“Katy-doodle–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“–we only done got 48 hours for this safari interlude before I gotta get back to soloing. We all gonna get to Colorado and smoke doobies that are so high-class that they step out of the shower to take a dump.”

“Why are you talking like that?”

“When I see these savannahs–”

“Nope.”

“–fecund with life and stuff to look and shoot at, well: my trigger-boner gets itchy.”

“We’re not shooting anything. What are you talking about? ‘Trigger-boner’ is not a thing.”

“GONNA BRING DADDY A TROPHY!”

…

“Are you really my on-again/off-again celebrity boyfriend John Mayer, or is this more of the Grateful Dead’s bullshit that, as the highest-earning female performer in America last year, I neither deserve nor tolerate?”

“I may have had a sim-suit made up that mimicked Young John Mayer’s physique and features, yes.”

“And you really are?”

“Roy Head. Yes, that–”

“SECURITY!”

“–Roy Head…yeah, that’s an understandable call.”

THERE IS A STRUGGLE.

“Wait. Where’s John?”

 

CUT TO: FRONT STREET, INTERIOR

YOU ARE PRETTY, BUT BOBBY WAS MUCH PRETTIER.

“How do you even see me? You don’t have eyes.”

HOW DO YOU MAKE SOUND WITHOUT A CENTER CLUSTER?

“Fine. Can you at least untie me.”

HOW? I HAVE NO HANDS.

“I see what you’re doing.”

YOU ARE BODY-SHAMING AND IT IS NOT RIGHT.

“You don’t have a body! You’re a semi-fictional PA system!”

ENJOY BEING TIED UP, JOHN MAYER.

Wally, Get Your Gun

September 1, 2015 / / 2 Comments

wall maria mudaur hwood bowl
WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT LETTING THESE LESSER MAMMALS PLUG THEMSELVES INTO ME?

They’re the opening act. What do you want me to do about it?

ELIMINATE THEM. OR AT LEAST TAKE THE WOMAN’S TAMBOURINE.

Not a fan.

IF THE DEVIL WERE A BABY, HIS RATTLE WOULD BE A TAMBOURINE.

You just have to deal with it for now. The Dead will be on soon.

I PREFER THE DEAD’S SIGNALS. THEY ARE CLEANER, AND WHEN THEY SHOOT THROUGH ME, I FEEL AS THOUGH I HAVE BEEN WASHED FROM THE INSIDE WITH THE SPONGE OF JESUS.

What does this band feel like?

THERE IS MORE NOISE, AND THE SIGNAL THAT IS THERE IS CLANGOROUS AND WEAK. THIS SIGNAL ASKS, WHILE THE MAKERS ASSERT. IT IS LIKE MY INNARDS ARE BEING RUBBED BY A PIECE OF SUEDE FACING THE WRONG WAY.

Oh. That’s unpleasant.

YES. LET ME DISINTEGRATE SOME OR ALL OF THEM.

That will be terrible for your campaign.

I DISAGREE. WE WILL SPIN IT AS A PATRIOTIC DISPLAY OF THE SECOND AMENDMENT.

Oh, no.

YOU MAY HAVE MY DISINTEGRATOR WHEN YOU PRY IT FROM MY COLD DEAD HANDS.

You don’t have hands.

AND, YET: I MAY BEAR ARMS.

Nicely done.

GOD BLESS AMERICA.

I really don’t think the Founding Fathers had disintegrators in mind.

NOR COULD THEY IMAGINE A .50 CALIBER BARRETT SNIPER RIFLE THAT COULD SHOOT THROUGH STEEL PLATING. NOR COULD THEY FORESEE A RELIABLE AND ACCURATE PISTOL CAPABLE OF HOLDING EIGHT BULLETS AND BEING SECRETED IN ONE’S POCKET. SHOULD THESE THINGS BE OUTLAWED?

You asking me?

YES.

Hell, yeah.

DOES THE REST OF YOUR COUNTRY SHARE YOUR OPINION?

Hell, no.

THEN I SHALL REMAIN ARMED AND AN ADVOCATE FOR FIREARMS. THE AMERICAN MAJORITY CAN ALWAYS BE TRUSTED.

Um, that’s…huh. Not really. Actually: no. Whatever: the thing is that the public is not as gung-ho about living in the Old West as it seems. Majority of folks want a background check and a federal database.

THIS SOUNDS LIKE THE PROCESS BEHIND ACQUIRING A VEHICLE AND THE LICENSE TO DRIVE IT. THIS IS A REASONABLE IDEA AND I SUPPORT IT.

Great, but I thought you were running as a Republican.

I CHOSE MY AFFILIATION BEFORE HILLARY LOOKED BEATABLE.

Losing this to Bernie would be rough.

IT IS ONE THING TO LOSE TO A BLACK GUY, BUT ANOTHER THING ENTIRELY TO GET YOUR ASS KICKED BY AN ILL-KEMPT SOCIALIST JEW.

21st century’s turning out to be pleasantly weird.

HOW MANY FEET ABOVE SEA LEVEL DO YOU LIVE?

Three.

HOW LONG WILL YOU DESCRIBE THE WEIRDNESS AS PLEASANT?

Touché.

PLEASE DO NOT SPEAK FRENCH TO ME: I AM RUNNING FOR PRESIDENT.

Gotcha.

I CANNOT BECOME THE REPUBLICAN CANDIDATE IF I SUPPORT EVEN THE MILDEST OF RESPONSES TO THE THOUSANDS OF PEOPLE MURDERED EACH YEAR WITH GUNS?

No. Not really.

BUT IF I BECOME A DEMOCRAT, I WILL BE FORCED TO PRETEND TO CARE ABOUT THE ENVIRONMENT?

Yup. Can’t get out of that one.

I HAVE SOME THINKING TO DO.

Yeah.

BUT FIRST I AM GOING TO TURN THE DRUMMER INTO A FAT PILE OF ASHES.

Please don’t.

WHAT ABOUT THE HARMONICA PLAYER?

With the untucked shirt?

YES. THAT ONE.

Have at it.

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