“When did you learn to play saxophone, Oteil?”
“Yeah, I’m not gonna warn you about that shit again, Bob.”
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Month: August 2018 (Page 2 of 9)
“Hey, Thoughts on my Ass!”
Hey, Billy. Who you think you’re kidding?
“I know. I haven’t voted since ’72. And that was by accident.”
How do you vote by accident?
“Ballot skank.”
Not a thing.
“There’s a subsection of skank that goes nuts for democracy. Get ’em within a mile of a polling place and you can pole their place.”
This doesn’t sound right.
“It wasn’t right! It was wrooooooong. That’s what makes it skank, Ass! And that’s what makes it America.”
Weird.
“Chick loved politics, man. She taught me all about backdoor diplomacy.”
Gotcha.
“Pressing the flesh.”
Sure.
“Whipping the caucus.”
We get the joke, Billy.
“I was caning her like she was Charles Sumner!”
Obscure. Who’d you end up voting for?
“Nixon.”
What!? You didn’t vote for McGovern?
“Ass, here’s something you gotta know about me: I love a shitshow.”
True.
- Does not know the lyrics.
- Has not rehearsed.
- Been to Europe.
- Knows to run when Billy says “C’mere and lemme show ya something.”
- Lived with Frankie Weir for several years.
- Hippies lose their shit when he shows up.
- Feuding with Jill Lesh.
- Jams like his dick’s on fire.
CONCLUSION: Bandwidth Marsala is a Grateful Dead.
“Big Jeff.”
“Johnny Checkers.”
“Bro, I love it over here. Me and my guy rocking the fuck out.”
“Making beautiful music. Having a blast, bro.”
“Right side is tight side.”
“I like that! Nice.”
“Uh-huh. Um, Jeff?”
“Yeah, John?”
“Where’d you get that shirt?”
“Which shirt?”
“The one you’re wearing.”
“Oh, this one. I, uh, don’t remember.”
“It looks familiar.”
“I’ve probably worn it before.”
“I don’t think so. It looks–and don’t take offense to this–much more expensive than the shirts you usually wear.”
“I’ve been hitting the gym. Maybe that’s it.”
“No.”
“Huh. No idea, then.”
“Jeff?”
“Yeah, John?”
“Did you rob my house?”
“No.”
…
…
…
“I burgled your house.”
“GODDAMMIT.”
“Not cool?”
“No! Not cool in the slightest!”
“Dude, you’ve never been in a band before. This is what bandmates do.”
“It is not.”
“Billy breaks into my house all the time.”
“That’s because he’s a psychopath! This is not acceptable behavior!”
“Okay, okay, okay. Tell you what: you can burgle my place.”
“And steal what? Your gym shorts and Ratdog tee-shirts?”
“And conditioner.”
“I have my own conditioner.”
“And yet my hair’s nicer than yours.”
“That’s it: Oteil’s switching back.”
Reports of a teenaged girl up in the rigging turned out to be false, but Jay Blakesburg got a good shot while he was up there, anyway.
What is this now?
“I’ve joined the E Street Band.”
Goddammit.
“I tried to join Phish, but they ghosted on me.”
Is that the reason Curveball was cancelled?
“Yeah. The water was fine. Those guys are just fucking dicks.”
Aw. Sorry, buddy. But you really don’t have to join Bruce’s band.
“I’m gritty!”
You’re from Connecticut and collect typewriters.
“Typewriters from the streets.”
John, put the telecaster and denim down.
“It’s all selvage.”
Selvage is the IPA of denim. White people need to stop complicating staple items.
“Listen, I…I’m afraid to go home.”
What? Oh, noes.
“Since the robbery.”
Burglary.
“What’s the difference?”
Robbery is stealing from a person; burglary is stealing from a place.
“Huh. Learn something every day. Can we get back to my newly-acquired crippling phobia?”
Sure.
“I was violated! And not in the fun way that involves safe words and pop stars! I drive to my house and I start shaking. I can’t go in, man. So I’m staying out on tour for the rest of my life if I have to join every legacy act in the country.”
Uh-huh. John?
“Yeah?”
You own at least two more homes.
…
“You are right. Apartment in New York and the spread in Montana.”
So you could just go there.
“Are you aware of how hot Montana gets in the summer? Lot of bugs, too.”
So go to New York.
“I can’t deal with Cynthia Nixon’s bullshit.”
No one can. Huh. I don’t know what to do. You can stay with me.
“No.”
Good decision. Go stay with one of your comic friends. How about Saget?
“He sleepwalks.”
Oh.
“And then he sleepfucks.”
Sure. John?
“What?”
CELL PHONE NOISE
It turns out I don’t care about your rich people problems.
“Asshole.”
…
“What?”
“Little Potato always have place to stay!”
“Ah, shit.”
“You come Only Korea. Live like king. I got Cokes.”
“Real Cokes?”
“Kinda.”
“Dude, this is not the best time. Plus, if Bruce sees me on the phone he’s gonna fine me. I’ve been in the E Street Band for an hour and I owe him $8,000.”
“Boss run tight ship.”
“He does.”
“I kill for you.”
“NO! Do not assassinate Bruce Springsteen!”
“Make look like accident.”
“How would you do that?”
“Piano fall on him.”
“Do not drop a piano on Bruce, please.”
“Father invent New Jersey.”
“Hanging up.”
…
“Hey!”
Yeah?
“Either he needs to stop calling me or you need to write him some new jokes.”
Oh, bite me.
“It’s a little formulaic at this point.”
So was your last album.
“FUCK YOU!”
FUCK YOU!
“HEY! What the hell you doing, new guy?”
“Ah, Jeez. Sorry, Bruce.”
“That’s another grand!”
“Aww.”
I’m not usually this much of an asshole, but someone on Twitter sent me this pic and asked who the other guy was.
I replied, “?”
She said, “The other guy. Not Garcia.”
So I repeated, “?”
And she said she’d ask someone else and I’m giggling because I’m a lousy crumb-bum.
EDIT: I am now informed that is Link Wray, but I don’t believe it.
He can’t be in the band. The rhythm’s wobbly enough as it is.
“Who? Phil Collins?”
That’s not Phil Collins, Bobby.
“Tiny, cranky, plays the drums. Sounds like Phil Collins to me.”
No. That’s Lars Ulrich from Metallica.
“Ah. One of those Heavy Mental bands.”
The big one. Pretty much the Dead of Metal.
“How so?”
Only made two good albums, but they’ve been around forever. Made most of their money from merch. Their new bass player is ethnic.
“That does sound like us.”
Bobby, I gotta say that your wife–
“Natasha Monster.”
–looks spectacular. What’s her secret?
“She’s 30 years younger than me.”
That’ll do it.
They play big chords. Were you thinking about dicks, you pervert? Better yourself with some Rachmaninoff*.
*I spelled it right; the YouTube poster doesn’t know his Cyrillic-to-English conversions. Unlettered fuckwit.
Pack your bags, Enthusiasts, and join Peter Shapiro and A Bunch of Jam Bands To Be Named Later on the Briefcase’n Tour! In honor of Garcia’s briefcase, we’ll be hitting all the funnest spots in the world!
Dates announced so far:
- A morgue in Trenton, NJ!
- Jonestown!
- Anne Frank’s attic!
- Plum Island!
- That Apple factory in China where workers keep throwing themselves off the roof!
- Centralia, PA!
- Tuol Sleng, Cambodia!
- John McCain’s bedside!
And many, many more! Shapiro: It’s Hebrew for class.
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