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

Month: August 2014 (Page 2 of 7)

Two-For-One Day At Big-Dicked Sheila's

billy boby phil yay mickey

Oh, Bobby. We’ll get to you.

Mickey has stolen Billy’s mustache in the photo above, but been nice enough to leave him (Billy) one of his (Mickey’s) shirts (Dead). Billy looks odd without the lip-mongoose: where does he hide his secrets and dreams?

Phil is trying out a new thing where he shows the crowd his package while dropping a Phil Bomb; he calls it ‘the Presidential Suite” and Jill told him she liked it but she was lying.

Seriously, Mickey: give Billy his mustache back.

Is that corn behind them?

And finally: Bobert Herbert Walker Weir. The amount of photos of you in which one cannot decide what the worst thing is, is astonishing. It’s the goofy-bastard version of DiMaggio’s hitting streak.

You found, for example, the one thing that doesn’t go with the color white. Besides jeans, obviously. White jeans are for premature ejaculators and spokespeople for terrorist organizations.

Also, the fact that you and Phil have THE EXACT SAME HAIRCUT is kinda freaking me out over here.

Also also: rape whistle.

The Caper We Go, The Codder We Get

Think fast: does the disco arrangement of Dancing in the Streets start with the chorus or the verse?

If it took you a second, then you’re in good company: the band didn’t know, either. And, true to form, they made the bold decision to (seemingly deliberately) never learn the answer, instead choosing to have several people singing one version and several people singing the other every single time they played the song.

It wasn’t even a technical/rehearsal thing, like when they fucked up Slipknot!: that song was geniuinely tough.

This could have been solved with one group-text. 

Also, the rest of the song–and the show–is decent: 10/27/79 in Cape Cod.

Mickey And The Micktones

mickey hart band holy shit hat We’ll leave the best for last, but let’s agree up front that this is the worst-looking group of people ever assembled. This is the Avengers of No, Thank You.

Actually: what is the best? I came into this thinking “Obviously, Mickey cosplaying as a Cuban-American orthodontist out for his monthly session of playing dominos and talking about his dick in Spanish will be the highlight of this photo.” It’s what any reasonable person would assume. Also: the crazy fucker is standing like a superhero for some reason.

But that back row is eclipsing our Mick, isn’t it? Apparently, Alan Moore is in Mickey’s combo now, along with Christopher Lloyd from Cuckoo’s Nest. So, the guy in the middle–though far too large–might be thought of as semi-normal, but take a long look: that guy’s got opinions on craft beer and all sorts of things and he’s going to share them. The three of them together, though: it’s like a rock opera version of The Hills Have Eyes.

For fun on the weekends, the back row swaps medications.

The black lady and the two white guys aren’t traumatizing, but are they aware they’re in the same band?

And then there’s Slightly Larger Gary Coleman over there. He got the memo about “everybody wear black but Mickey, who will wear fuschia; he was at the meeting where Mickey tried on hats in front of everyone; and he still said, “it’s Sweatshirt Saturday and that’s all there is to it.”

An Open Letter To Billy And Mickey

billy mickey old hawaii

Listen, you crazy fucks: you’re not allowed to die, either.

However, as both of you have lived your entire lives in ways that would have killed normal men a dozen times over, I can offer no advice on how to accomplish your task.

Keep on keepin’ on, I suppose.

Sincerely,

TotD

Please stop doing this: it’s weird.

I’ll stop when Mickey stops wearing espadrilles.

Oh, he is, isn’t he? Dammit, Mickey.

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