More of the scenery from Phil and Friend’s Sunday Funday BBQ, and there are two things to point out: one, those are Sukkot tents, and, in a massive misunderstanding of Jewish law, Phil has been making the busboys poop out there for a week; and two, I am in favor of mandatory burkas for everyone except the redhead.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Month: September 2015 (Page 1 of 14)
From one of TotD’s many spies and field agents comes this panoramic shot from the Terrapin Crossroads BBQ, which is a lot swankier than I imagined: I pictured one of the Lesh boys working a Weber grill in the parking lot, but TXR’s a class establishment.
Also, the man on the left is now the Official Spirit Animal™ of TotD.
Enthusiasts, I am happy to report that “everything is okay” with Phil. In case you were wondering why I put that phrase is quotes, it’s because I am actually quoting from a guy who knows a guy who told him a thing about another guy.
It’s called motherfucking journalism, kids.
Complexfunk is why we can’t have nice things.
It’s tough to see, but Bill Walton is wearing a t-shirt with his own picture on it.
Mickey was overheard as saying, “How have I not been doing this for twenty years?”
This Super Bowl halftime pipe dream won’t go away: people are now providing us with listicles about why the Dead (Or What’s Left Of ‘Em) should appear at this year’s big game.
In hopes of putting this folly to an end, TotD now presents 10 Reasons Why the Dead Playing the Super Bowl Is a Terrible Idea:
- For fuck’s sake, we still doing this bullshit?
- Just no.
- I mean: c’mon.
- Seriously: come the fuck on.
- How do you so thoroughly miss the point of a band?
- THAT YOU PROFESS TO LOVE?
- The NFL does not pay performers; in fact, the acts cover their own production costs.
- That fact alone is enough to end the discussion, as is the fact that Garcia died twenty years ago.
- Speaking of Garcia: you can get away with many shenanigans while uttering the sacred mantra “It’s what Garcia would have wanted,” but this shenanigan is not one of them; Garcia would not have played the halftime show and we all know it.
- Please just stop with this right now.
You’re welcome.
I hope everything’s all right with our buddy Reddy Kilowatt; if he needs any more organs, I would happily sneak up behind Benjy with some chloroform and duct tape.
“Hey! Narrator man!”
Excuse me?
“Got a question fer ya!”
You guys are not allowed to beckon me.
“Fooey t’that! You’ll be answerable to your subjects or I’ll horsewhip ya!”
Fine. What is it?
“Who was that fine-looking colored chick in the picture?”
…
We had a talk about language, Pig.
“What?”
You can’t call people that any more.
“Oh! Sorry! Who was that fine-looking colored lady in the picture?”
Walked into that one, I suppose.
“She’s a fox and she cranks my motor! I gotta get me my guitar and serenade that vixen!”
Attempting to serenade that woman would end in a sniping. You would be sniped.
“She does look awful fancy. What she do for work?”
Goes on talk shows, tells people how to eat, makes women feel bad about their arms.
“You’re talkin’ in circles, ya damn reprobate!”
Pig, that’s the First Lady. How do you not know that?
“I been dead since 1973, ya damn waterhead! Don’t watch the news no more! Ain’t no paperboy!”
Okay. Well, yeah: the First Lady.
“That’s the First Lady?”
Yeah.
“Her?”
Yup.
“Which makes that fella…”
…
…
…
“Things done changed.”
In a lot of ways, yeah.
“But that relationship? It’s solid?”
Night, Pig.
You know why I love America?
Taco Tuesday?
You know why else I love America?
No, but please don’t get weird.
Not weird: patriotic. Only in America am I guaranteed the right to proclaim how much sexy our First Couple has.
Please don’t talk about–
I would three-way the shit outta of those two.
–having a menàge…dammit. That’s not respectful.
I would be totally respectful of the First Couple’s sexual boundaries.
Not what I meant.
I don’t understand where I’m wrong in this: if I were to ogle Mrs. Obama, then: yeah, sexist and wrong and shitty. What I’m saying is that both of them can do stuff to me, or have me do stuff to them.
Stop.
That’s called equality.
…
…
…
I wanna be the white part in the Oreo.
STOP TALKING.
Yes, China: you will almost certainly run this century, but we still kick your ass in the First Couple-off.
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