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

Month: September 2017 (Page 7 of 10)

Maggie Haberman Should Stop Picking Up The Phone After A Certain Hour

CELL PHONE NOISE

“No. No. No, no, no. I’m just not gonna answer it. I’m not gonna pick it up. But they won’t give up. They’ll keep calling me, and they’ll keep calling me until I listen to their drunken bullshit. No. No, no. I’m not gonna pick it up. I’m not.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Fuck! Hello?”

“Maggie, this is Donald Trump.”

“Oh, hello, Mister–”

“Junior.”

“Shit.”

“I did a thing today.”

“You sure did, buddy. Testified in front of the Senate Judiciary Committee. How’d it go?”

“Fucking killed it.”

“Uh-huh. I heard you got lost coming back from the bathroom.”

“That building is complicated!”

“Right.”

“They should let my dad build them a new Senatorium.”

“Capitol. The building is called the Capitol.”

“They should call it the Ugly Zone. There’s no amenities at all. I kept asking people, ‘Are you the concierge?’ And everyone was like, ‘Junior, you’re talking to a statue.’ I was confused a little, but then I yelled ‘Fake News!’ and I made myself laugh and everything was okay. Well, not okay. I was still pretty lost. Hey, what are you wearing?”

“A Sarah Lawrence tee-shirt and sweatpants with a pizza stain on them.”

“Hot.”

“What are you wearing, Junior?”

“A business suit, because I’m a businessman.”

“Right. Even at three in the morning?”

“Ten a.m. in Moscow.”

“What?”

“Dude, you would not believe how hard I bullshitted these dummies. They just sat there eating it up. They bought everything.”

“Riiiiight. Junior, do you know what a ‘perjury trap’ is?”

“Pssh. Of course I do. I went to Pennsylvania University.”

“You mean the University of Pennsylvania?”

“Same thing.”

“It’s not. What’s a perjury trap, Junior?”

“It’s…the…thing…where…you…”

“Are you googling it?”

“No! I KNOW WHAT IT IS! I’m smart.”

“Okay.”

“Perjury trap doctrine refers to a principle that a perjury indictment against a person must be dismissed if the prosecution secures it by calling that person as a grand-jury witness in an effort to obtain evidence for a perjury charge especially when the person’s testimony does not relate to issues material to the ongoing grand-jury investigation. The perjury trap is a form of entrapment defense, and so must be affirmatively proven by the defendant.”

“Yeah, that’s the first hit on google.”

“No, it’s not! What’s google? I’ve never even heard of that. Is it like antifa? You are such fake news.”

“Okay, fine.”

“Why aren’t you supporting my dad? He’s the greatest president ever. Ever!”

“Well, that’s debatable, and the job of a journalist isn’t to support the president. It’s to report the news.”

“Okay, well, here’s the news: President Trump is awesome. What other president has reached across the aisle before to make a deal with the enemy party?”

“All of them. Every single one. Until Obama, for some reason.”

“Because he was divisive.”

“Right. That’s it.”

“I still think he was born in Kanye.”

“Kenya. He was born in Kenya. And he wasn’t.”

“My dad says different. My lawyer took me for hot dogs after the hearing today. I had almost three.”

“Who’s a big boy?”

“I am.”

“Yes, you are. So, what exactly did you tell the Judicial Committee about that meeting?”

“Dude, I told them that the Russian lawyer lady didn’t have any good information.”

“Was that true?”

“OH MY GOD, NO. She gave us all sorts of shit on Hillary. And, you know, I vetted her fitness. Because if anyone’s more qualified than me to judge Hillary’s fitness, I don’t know who they are.”

“You, the man who’s never worked for anyone but his daddy, were going to ‘vet the fitness’ of a former Senator and Secretary of State?”

“Yeah, fuck her.”

“Sure.”

“Bitch.”

“There it is. Okay, Junior. I gotta get some sleep.”

“Fuck that. Come on over. I got gak.”

“No, thank you.”

“Pink and flaky, yo.”

“Pass.”

“More for Junior.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT.

Don’t Worry ‘Bout Me, No

Fillmore South is under Lake Okeechobee. The inset with Highway 27 colored in purple? I’m under there. So safe, apparently, that the state of Florida didn’t even see fit to include me on their emergency map. If you can’t trust the state of Florida…

My home is neither manufactured nor mobile; it was built and does not move even a tiny little bit. They build with concrete down here, now, and the roofs are strapped to frame. Construction companies rarely cut corners…

The shutters are metal, and I’ll put them up tomorrow. I never fuck up manual labor…

There is water–a closet’s full, and the bathtub will be, too–and meat in the freezer. Propane to cook it with. Cans of tuna and stringbeans in the pantry. Fans and batteries and chargers for the devices. There is gas in the car. Cash in hand. I’m sure I’ve forgotten nothing…

What could possibly go–

Don’t.

Yeah, probably not.

No more probablies anywhere around here, buddy.

Barbecue

Hey, Pig. Whatcha doing?

“Smoke, smoke, smokin’ my cigarette! Nothin’ better!”

What about booze and black chicks?

“Awright, some things are better. Heh heh.”

Who’s that you’re standing with? It’s not Veronica Barnard.

“Dunno her name, but the ol’ Pig’s gonna get her number! Kinda looks like Tootie from Facts of Life.”

Please stop using the Time Sheath to watch teevee.

“Hell, no! Loves me some teevee, but they’re just ain’t enough channels at the present! Gotta look to the future for my entertainment!”

So, you’ve got the entirety of teevee history to choose from and you’re watching Facts of Life?

“Other stuff, too. The Pig likes to flip.”

Like what?

Livin’ Single.”

Okay.

“Real Housewives of Atlanta.”

You just have a crush on Kim Fields.

“Heh hehe. Yeah, a little.”

Please don’t travel through time to hit on Tootie.

“Don’t be settin’ no boundaries on the ol’ Pig now!”

I’m putting my foot down.

“Foot’s gonna be floatin’ pretty soon.”

What was that?

“Aw, I’m jus’ teasin’ ya.”

Thank you.

“Wind gonna kill ya, not the water.”

Jesus, man.

“Hey, it happens, it happens. Happened to me! Shit, brother: you die, you can hang out with me.”

Yeah?

“We’ll watch some teevee together. Smoke some cigarettes, drink some whiskey, and tell some lies.”

That sounds okay, actually.

“Beats workin’!”

Always nice to talk to you, pal.

“I know! I’m the life of the damn party!”

Not A Good Sign

Hey, Pope Francis. Where you going?

“I’m-a gettin’ outta da way. Ooh, is-a big-a storm.”

I didn’t know you were in Florida.

“Si, si. Take-a da vacation. Recharge-a da batteries.”

Was it relaxing?

“Oh, si. Read-a da books. Sat by-a da pool. Hang with-a da boys.”

The boys?

“Pitbull.”

You know Pitbull?

“Signore Worldwide? Si, si. Better Catholic than-a he is a rapper.”

Well, that’s not tough.

“Si, si. He’s-a no Jigga Man.”

True that. Wait. Are you carrying your own bag?

“Of course! Who’s-a gonna do it?”

Literally anyone else. You’re the Pope.

“No, no. I-a carry. It keeps-a me humble. Besides, I got-a some sinful things in-a here.”

Your Holiness! What could you have?

“I got-a da Elena Ferrante books.”

She’s a genius.

“No one writes-a better about-a da female friendships.”

That’s what I hear. Anything else?

“I stole-a da robe from-a da hotel.”

Oh, Your Holiness.

“I couldn’t help-a myself.”

Was it white?

“Si, si. That’s-a my color.”

Anything else you’d like to confess?

“I got-a da nuclear codes in here, too.”

The Vatican has nukes?

“Shh. Don’t-a tell no one. Especially Benedict.”

Why does the Vatican have nukes?

“Who else you gonna trust with-a da nukes?”

I guess, maybe. Where do you keep the missiles?

“Why-a you think we got-a so many obelisks?”

Wow.

“You didn’t buy-a dat Illuminati garbage, did-a you?”

A little.

“You’re-a smarter than that.”

I’m not.

“Si, si. I-a forgive you.”

Thank you, Your Holiness. Hey, uh, before you leave? Wanna throw me a little prayer here?

“Like in-a da first Rocky?”

Precisely.

Dominus Vobiscum.
Hey, Irma: Miss ’em!”

Good prayer, Your Holiness.

“Is-a what I do.”

Amen.

These Late-Night Phone Calls To Maggie Haberman Need To Stop

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Jesus wept. And then cursed me. Jesus wept and cursed me, and I know not why. Hello?”

“Maggie, sweetheart, how are you? How’s your mother?’

“It’s three in the morning, Senator Schumer.”

“Morning, shmorning. You’re my favorite yenta.”

“I know what that means.”

“Congratulations. Are you hungry? I’ll send over some pastries?”

“Senator, why are you calling me?”

“Well, I was just wondering something.”

“Yes?”

“You got any idea what the fuck happened today?”

“Not a clue.”

“I was in the room and I got no idea. C’mon, Maggeleh–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“–I know you’re tight with those crazy people over there. What’s the word from the White House?”

“What’s in it for me?”

“From me? Bupkes. From an unnamed aide briefed on today’s meeting? The president thinks the debt ceiling is an actual ceiling.”

“Like, the underside of a roof?”

“Yeah. A ceiling. The schmuck says, “While we’re raising the debt ceiling, why don’t we do some improvements? Paint it?’ Swear to you. Me and Pelosi laugh like he’s telling a joke. He keeps going. ‘Maybe we could add a chandelier.’ Guess what he did next.”

“Pulled out the electoral map.”

“Such a smart girl.”

“I am a 43-year-old woman, Senator.”

“Good for you. Now tell me what’s happening over there.”

“Chaos.”

“I knew that.”

“No, more than normal. Like: chaotic by Trump Administration standards. He didn’t tell anyone he was going to agree to a three-month extension. Jonathan Winters never ad-libbed like this.”

“You should’ve seen Paul Ryan’s little goyische punim. The boy was just shattered.”

“And McConnell?”

“He looked like a turtle.”

“Sure.”

“You don’t understand how quickly it went down. I didn’t finish my sentence. ‘How about three months, Mister…’ and he says ‘Yes.’ I mean, he didn’t say ‘Yes.’ He said, ‘Chuck this is the best deal, a really beautiful deal, that many, many people are comparing to the New Deal.'”

“Did he do the hand thing?”

“Does he ever not do the hand thing?”

“True.”

“Mnuchin looked like he’d been slapped. And not with a hand. With a shmeckle. Pardon my French.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Tears. Tears were pooling in the man’s eyes. Never seen anything like it. Honestly, I wish I had gone for more stuff.”

“Like DACA?”

“DACA? I think I could’ve gotten him to buy a time share. Man’s desperate, Maggeleh.”

“Stop that.”

“In all seriousness, I hope that today’s agreement ushers in a new era of the Trump presidency: one of cooperation, collaboration, and compromise, and that both parties can put past differences aside and move the country forward in a bipartHAHAHAHA.”

“Couldn’t hold it in, Senator?”

“I’ve had a few cocktails. Holy shit, are we gonna shiv the cocksucker with this. He didn’t hand us a sword, he built us a sword factory. Maggie, answer me a question. What’s three months from now?”

“The holidays.”

“I’m gonna make that gonif shut down the government for Christmas.”

“Of course you are. How did Pelosi take it?”

“I think she was happy. Who can tell with that face of hers?”

“You’re just as bad as the rest of them.”

“You didn’t know that?

“Good night, Senator.”

“Zay gezunt.”

Primary Sources

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Dsr11QIwUy4&t=3002s

The Khrushchev story Frankie Nickels told is all true, by the way, just about every word. (The Mayor of Los Angeles actually gave the speech insulting the Chairman at a separate function from the Hollywood luncheon.) Frankie only tells true stories.

Who was it that recommended K Blows Top: A Cold War Comic Interlude, Starring Nikita Khrushchev, America’s Most Unlikely Tourist by Peter Carlson to me? Fabulous book: all sorts of neat tangents and details and context, plus the added fun that–every two or three pages–you’re struck by the same thought over and over – Holy shit, this really happened.

Check it out, cats and kittens.

Twice Were Kings

If there were a Dead shirt-off between Mickey and Bill Walton, who you got?

OR

No one from the Kings’ organization asked them to do this.

OR

If you gave me ten chances, I couldn’t find Sacramento on a map. I know it’s not in Los Angeles, but that’s about it. Is Sacramento in Oakland? California’s a weird place, and sometimes cities are contained within other cities.

Hurricane Supply Checklist

WATER

  • 6.35 drams per kilogram per person per fortnight, 4/5ths that if the person is abnormally short or just not thirsty.
  • Gallon a day for asshole-cleaning.
  • Gallon a day for pets, unless they are living cactuses.

ICE

  • Stop.
  • Preparate and listen.
  • Irma’s back and she’ll mast up your mizzen.
  • Word to your mother.

FOOD

  • 14 years worth of canned food.
  • At least a case of Magic Shell.
  • Shitload of chutney.
  • Ten boxes of dry cereal, but not Rice Krispies because no one needs that “Snap, crackle, and pop” bullshit when your roof’s caving in.
  • Powdered soup.
  • Milk dumplings.
  • “Steak.”
  • Sunflower seeds. (Minor league baseball teams only.)
  • Long pig.
  • Six (6) erotic cakes.
  • Avocado toast, if you’re a wasteful Millennial.

SUPPLIES

  • If at least two bedrooms in your home aren’t completely filled with D batteries, you’re gonna fucking die.
  • Flashlight.
  • Fleshlight.
  • Candles. (Jesus candles are preferable.)
  • Melee weaponry.
  • Ranged weaponry.
  • Solar-powered nightlight.
  • Tarps, unless you are sheltering at a Phish concert.
  • Duct tape.
  • Duck tape.
  • At least twelve (12) op-eds from regretful Trump voters.
  • Fire extinguisher.
  • Fire distinguisher. (“Yup, that’s a fire. Very easy to distinguish. The heat and the crackling noises give it away.”)
  • Allen wrenches in case the hurricane drops an Ikea on you.
  • Work gloves.
  • Opera gloves.
  • G. Love and Special Sauce.
  • Rope.
  • Soap.
  • Dope.
  • As much toilet paper as you think you’ll need, times two.
« Older posts Newer posts »