“Three randos!”
…
Are you counting your shirt-horses?
“Yes.”
No.
“What about the jackass behind me?”
He counts, yeah.
“You’re keeping score?”
Absolutely not.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Month: July 2016 (Page 10 of 23)
…
…
…
“Sup.”
I don’t know how to respond to this.
“Soak it in.”
Don’t wanna.
“But you can’t look away.”
I cannot, no. Are you on a boat?
“No.”
…
“It’s a yacht.”
Sure.
“If a boat’s over a certain size and serves no purpose, then it’s a yacht.”
I get it. Did you buy a yacht?
“No, a Saudi prince is paying me to be here.”
Oh, you’re Lohanning.
“Sweet deal.”
You’re gonna get a really weird tan line.
“The prince is into that.”
Is this a sex thing?
“Negotiations are always fluid on the water.”
Sure.
(With thanks to Wilbard for the ‘shop. It should be noted for legal reasons that this is not an actual photo. The one of the Wall of Sound at Fenway, however, was totes real. Totally totes.)
Surprisingly,
Article,
It is useful to me,
and others,
to know about items.
Please just keep it.
Once again, Enthusiasts, certain Jesse Jarnows who shall remain nameless have proclaimed my genius.
He said nothing of the sort.
It was an implied proclamation.
No such thing. Proclamation and implication are opposites. You proclaim things at the top of your voice in the public square; you imply things by deliberately not saying the thing you’re saying, and hoping the other person will figure out who you want assassinated.
Still: genius.
The New Yorker has a lot to answer for.
SO DOES THE FUCKING WORLD, MAN.
…
Okay, you’re not allowed to watch TV or go on Twitter tonight.
I have been kicking that idea around. Last night, I thought it would be fun to watch a few minutes of the convention, but it turns out you can’t glance at the abyss.
A little is as bad as a lot.
Yeah. So I can’t do that tonight. And plus I don’t even want to hear about it, or read about, or see Just 19 Awesomely Epic Tweets About The RNC. Remember this poor schmuck?
Never had a chance.
I envy this man, whose part was cut was because Harrison Ford had diarrhea; I further envy the character, who got shot and died and didn’t have to live through 2016.
Indiana Jones just flat-out murders that guy in cold blood.
Right, he’s the hero, keep up.
What’s your point?
I have two: first, there must be distraction tonight. I gotta find something to do that occupies my attention, because an idle mind is the devil’s voting bloc. Also, I may or may not be accusing Jesse Jarnow of things.
Don’t.
I may.
You shouldn’t.
I may not.
There you go. Any idea on the distraction?
Thinking a Thoughts on a Thing thing.
…
You okay?
That sentence hurt my brain.
English is awesome. I was gonna do The Last Waltz, but it’s not on Netflix any more.
Disappointing.
I was going to say the meanest things about Robbie Robertson.
That would have been fun. Any other ideas?
Just one, but I’m also open to suggestions. That dopey Batman Punches Superman movie is on the Apple TV for five bucks and if someone hates me, I’ll do that.
You’re such a whore.
If I am, I’m terrible at it. Five bucks is very reasonable.
Two extra for ass-fucking.
…
Did you post a picture of the post in the post?
TotDception.
- Private jet lag.
- No such concept as “plagiarism” in any of the other four languages she speaks.
- Campaign recently hired Jonah Lehrer as a speechwriter.
- It’s not like Michelle Obama invented the English language. (Karina Pierson, who is a grown-up Zika Baby, actually said this today. Swear to fucking God.)
- Y’know how you get a song stuck in your head? Like that, but with a speech from 2008.
- Fuck you, that’s why.
- Actually, blacks steal from whites far more than the other way around, which the mainstream media won’t report.
- It was an homage.
- It was a tribute.
- It was a sample.
- Melania Trump invented the remix.
- Something something Benghazi.
Hey, Pig. Whatcha doing?
“Bein’ a role model to man and beast alike!”
That dog seems to like you.
“He ain’t lovin’ the Pig! He lovin’ the ham!”
…
“I got me a samwich!”
Oh. Camera’s behind you.
“Which is why I done explained the situation! You thick as Boston molasses! Now: tell the Pig what’s goin’ on out there.”
You don’t want to know. Also: you’re in, what, 1967? There is quite literally no point of reference.
“Gettin’ bad?”
Weird, more like.
CELL PHONE NOISE
CELL PHONE NOISE
“What the hell is that racket!?”
Check your pocket.
…
“What the hell is this contraption!?”
What does it look like?
“I got no frame of reference!”
Uh-huh. Just swipe the button.
…
“It’s very intuitive!”
Sure.
“You got the Pig on the line!”
“Please hold for Taylor Swift.”
“Who!?”
Oh, COME ON.
“Is this the Pigpen? Oh my God, I am SUCH a huge fan of yours, and your music, and your unreleased solo albums. Would you like to date?”
“What!?”
…
“All right, listen to me, you filthy urchin: my team has crunched the numbers and for some ungodly reason, being seen with you in public is the only thing that will shore up the breaches. I’M FUCKING DYING HERE. And you’re gonna help me, or it’s gonna be bad for you, you got that?”
“Who dis?”
“Taylor FUCKING Swift, you cocksucker! I am motherfucking WHITE GIRL JESUS and I have told you to JUMP, you shitty little mutant, and now you are gonna ask me, ‘HOW FUCKING HIGH UP YOUR ASS, Ms. Swift?’ and I will not have your family MURDERED BY HYENAS in front of you!”
“Well, whaddya look like?”
“Hold on. Sending a pic.”
“What!?”
DING!
“Well, ain’t that magic.”
…
“Heh. Yeah, no. Sorry, little girl: you are the opposite of my type! It ain’t gonna work!”
“WHAT? YOU CUMSTAINED PILE OF AIDS-SHIT! I’M GONNA–”
DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANYMORE
…
“I’m gonna chuck this gadget down the sewer and go get drunk!”
That’s the best decision anyone’s made today.
“They don’t call me the Pig for nothin’.”
“Y’know, Bob: I took quite a bit of acid in my day.”
…
“You’re adorable.”
“VEGETARIANISM IS A COMPROMISE WITH THE CHEESE DEVIL!”
“Have you met my sister-in-law, Lillan Monster?”
“Monsters? Gronks? What the hell is going on?”
“Y’got a little too close to a Grateful Dead, Yoko–”
“I’m begging you to stop calling me that.”
“–and things get off the rails quick.”
“Well, Bob, you know: Beatles were awful weird, too. Things got strange.”
“Seriously: you’re adorable.”
“We went to India.”
“We owned an Indian. It turned out, you know, that he was a Catholic guy from Rhode Island, but the intent was there.”
“A woman broke up the Beatles.”
“A sound system broke up the Dead.”
“We let Billy Preston into the band.”
“Yeah, that was a British thing. See, Americans had met black people before, so they weren’t impressed with his little Afro wig and his grin.”
“That was harsh, Bob.”
“Don’t get me started on Billy Preston, man. Long history there.”
“Okay, okay.”
MRONCH MRONCH MRONCH
…
“Bob, did the Gronk just eat my bass player?”
“Yeah, uh-huh.”
“That’s not vegetarian.”
“The opposite.”
“Of course we’re going to make America great again, but we also need to make America America again. And we need to make again now, so America is America again now; I’m tired of waiting for America to be America like it used to be, so it needs to be again now. And we need to make America even more America then it used to be, again, but now. Let’s all of us make the future happen again, and right now, in America, which needs to be America now, again.
“America used to be very America, but America’s not as America as it used to be. America used to be full of Americans, and not just Americans, American Americans. I think we need someone who will America America as hard as America can be America’d, and then America will be America again, now.
That was a note from Chachi, on America
CELL PHONE NOISE
CELL PHONE NOISE
“John Mayer, international poontang slayer.”
“Please hold for Taylor Swift.”
“What?”
“John, things are fucked up.”
“Why are you calling me?”
“Because people are treating me the way they treat you, John. Help me or I will destroy you.”
“Taylor.”
“I’ve grown so powerful in the years since we spoke.”
“Taylor.”
“I’ve received so many awards, and been so surprised at each one.”
…
“I’ve also dated.”
“You do enjoy dating.”
“And having friends.”
“You have the best friends.”
“John, I have a proposal: we get back together.”
“Taylor, we are never, ever getting back together.”
“I see what you did there.”
“Yeah. Anyway: no: we banged for two months and you wrote a song about what a sleaze I am.”
“I was a naive young girl, and you took advantage of that. You killed love, John.”
“Uh-huh. And the literally millions of dollars you made off the song and the attendant narrative casting me as the douchebag?”
…
“That was business, John.”
“Good-bye.”
DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANYMORE
There is coffee, never-ending jars and mugs and trucks worth. It is expensive and unique, or cheap and fungible, or free and shitty, but most of all: it is plentiful. Coffee fills urns, not pitchers, and it (and its accessories) fill an entire aisle at the market. If you’re not a snob about things, you can drink enough coffee to make yourself sick for less than a buck a day.
You may put your name on the waiting list for Sarawak Ultra-Liberica Single-Batch, which is grown in Borneo; hopefully your children will get to have a cup of what is called “the best coffee in the world” by the Borneo Coffee-Growers Association. Only five pounds a year of the coffee can be harvested, mostly because 95% of the farmers’ time is spent having fist fights with overly-caffeinated orangutans. It’s simply an inefficient method of agriculture; they should just build a fence or something.
You may have heard of Kopi Luwak, or civet coffee, which is made from cherries a civet has partially-digested and defecated out, but have you heard of Goggy Boom? This $100-a-cup strain has been processed not within the body of an obscure jungle kitten, but in the gut of the best barista in Brooklyn. Someone who really knows their coffee, and talks about coffee while the beans are percolating.
Alternately, you may purchase ten pounds of brown liquid with energizing properties that needs to have sugar and milk products added to it so it doesn’t taste like sad death, and it is so cheap. Coffee needs to be imported–it only grows in between the Tropic Lines–but the American dollar is strong, and has been for a very long time, and so imported commodities are affordable. The milk and sugar are also inexpensive, due to farm subsidies that can only exist within a stable society with a mild, but not overwhelming, level of legalized corruption.
There are alternate realities, and extra-solar planets, and broken timelines without coffee. Hell, there are many places on this earth without coffee, whole societies. Sometimes a country will wake up and there will no longer be coffee. Last month, there was coffee; and lest week, there was a line for coffee; and now there is no coffee.
Not where I am, though, and hopefully not where you are: I will make a fresh pot and write a fresh post, and sit quietly without hurting anyone tonight, or listening to the world at all beyond what some semi-defunct choogly-type band sounded like many years ago, in some second-rate city dead in the middle of America
© 2025 Thoughts On The Dead
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
Recent Comments