Thoughts On The Dead

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

Month: April 2020 (Page 1 of 9)

Frequently Asked Questions About Reopening America, As Answered By My Beloved Dead Father

April 30, 2020 / / 4 Comments

When will businesses be allowed to open up again?

No one’s stopping you from working at the supermarket.

Are we in danger of letting the cure be worse than the disease?

“The cure be worse than the disease?” Where’d you hear that? You’re not smart enough to come up with that on your own.

I’m just saying that the economy is suffering irreparable damage.

You’re gonna tell me about the economy? Pay for something for once in your life before you start talking about something you have no idea about.

Doesn’t the Constitution give us the right to assemble?

My most profound regret is that I didn’t push your pregnant mother down the steps. You’re just…you’re just an idiot. Don’t let people outside the family know you’re this dumb.

Isn’t if safer to be on a beach, in the open air, six feet from everyone else, than Walmart?

STARING FURIOUSLY WITH A TRUE GREEN 100 CLENCHED IN TEETH NOISE

Um, I said–

I heard you. I was just daydreaming about talking to someone who wasn’t a moron.

So are you gonna answer–

Do you need to go to the beach? Or are you just a selfish dick?

It’s not about need. It’s about rights. The Constitution says–

The Constitution? The Constitution! Adele! Adele, your shithead son wants to talk about the Constitution!

Why do you have to be this way?

What the fuck do you know about the Constitution? You read comic books, you little jerk. Did Spider-Man tell you about your rights? What did Spidey tell you?

God, you’re such an asshole!

Did Spidey tell you that, too?

FUCK YOU, DAD!

Go lick an Emergency Room, dumbass.

Watch This, And Then Send Me Some Edibles*

April 29, 2020 / / 7 Comments

In this newly-restored footage from the 1982 US Festival, you’ll see:

  • Bobby shorts!
  • Phil playing a bass you could, like, walk into a Guitar Center and buy!
  • Dancin’ white folks!
  • An exceptionally clean stereo mix! (Okay, you won’t see that unless you’re synaesthetic or on farr too much acid, but you get my point.)
  • Hawaiian Shirt Billy!
  • No sign of Brent until 19 minutes in!
  • Absolutely no social distancing!

 

*I like the sour gummies.

Thoughts On Three Movies, Only Two Of Which Being Related To One Another, And Only One Being Excellent And Starring Elliot Gould

April 29, 2020 / / 2 Comments
  • Got that?
  • Everybody with me?
  • All right, let’s go.
  • You’ll recall that I hated you yesterday.
  • Not you.
  • It wasn’t personal.
  • Just a general, all-consuming loathing of the entire species.
  • So I cranked up the teevee and watched me some movies: The Long Goodbye, Lost Soul: The Doomed Journey of Richard Stanley’s Island of Dr. Moreau, and The Island of Dr. Moreau.
  • The first two are available on Amazon Prime and objectively fine pictures (in very different ways), while the last one I had to torrent and is objectively garbage (but in a tremendously entertaining way).
  • Let’s get the great flick out of the way: Go watch The Long Goodbye right now.
  • RIGHT NOW.
  • Why are you still here reading this garbage?
  • You could be hanging out with Elliot Gould, solving mysteries and chain-smoking.
  • Elliot Gould smokes so much in The Long Goodbye that the credits have lung cancer.
  • The most unbelievable thing about the movie is that he never coughs.
  • Lights his unfiltered Camels off the previous one’s dying butt, and yet never chokes up a lung, even when he chases a car halfway through Hollywood.
  •  The second most unbelievable thing about The Long Goodbye is how his character can get from the Hollywood Bowl to Malibu in ten minutes.
  • I know there was less traffic in 1973, but those locations are 35 miles away from each other.
  • Plus, Elliot Gould was driving a ’48 Lincoln.
  • He probably had to pull over and top off the oil three or four times.
  • That’s a cinema sin!
  • DING!
  • (Christ, I hate that fucking guy. He’s got, like, four jokes that he just rewords every time. That’s my bit.)
  • Anyway, The Long Goodbye is Inherent Vice, but with Sterling Hayden in the Eric Roberts part and Henry Gibson in the Martin Short role, and a much bleaker ending.
  • You know you’re watching a 70’s movie when the ending’s bleak and Henry Gibson’s in it.
  • Love me some Gib.
  • Look at this creepy little motherfucker:
  • Love me some Gib, man.
  • Sure, until a few years ago I thought he and Buck Henry were the same person, but still: love me some Gib.
  • There are also women in the film.
  • In order of appearance, they:
    • Do topless yoga.
    • Purposefully drive their husband to drink/suicide.
    • Get a Coke bottle smashed across their face.
  • Robert Altman and the New Feminism, ladies and gentlemen.
  • Go watch it; it’s funny and sad and gorgeous and Jim Bouton tries to act.
  • Let’s move on.
  • You wanna get nuts?
  • C’mon, let’s get nuts.
  • The Island of Doctor Moreau was an 1896 novel by H.G. Wells about a dude who makes pig-people.
  • On an island, obviously.
  • Y’kinda have to.
  • If you live in town, the authorities are gonna close down your little abomination factory tout suite.
  • City governments need to keep the roads paved, the streetlights lit, and the yak-men numbering zero.
  • Even one yak-man is too many.
  • So if you wanna make some, you gotta get away from the general populace.
  • Maybe you could go up a mountain, but why not go somewhere warm with a beach?
  • The yak-men will thank you.
  • Wait.
  • No.
  • The yak-men would like the mountain.
  • But all the other chimerae would thank you.
  • Hollywood has adapted IODM three times so far (there’s a new version in production).
  • First was in 1932 as Island of Lost Souls starring Charles Laughton and Bela Lugosi, who looked like this:

  • Bobby?
  • Anyway, there was one in 1977 starring Bert Lancaster and Michael York that no one remembers, and then the 1996 version that should also be forgotten save for the fact that IT’S COMPLETELY INSANE.
  • I am not talking about the legendarily clusterfucky production, the topic of which is the subject for Lost Soul: Richard Stanley’s Blah Blah Blah, and we’ll discuss shortly.
  • Just the movie.
  • Even if you don’t know anything about it going in, you’d still be in full what-the-fuck mode within 20 minutes.
  • For example, this film stars David Thewlis.
  • What the fuck?
  • Who would let David Thewlis star?
  • Especially if he’s gonna make this face?

  • And he makes that face a lot.
  • Pretty much every scene.
  • Maybe because there was no script, and so he had to write his own part.
  • And, man, does he make the wrong choices.
  • He plays the guy who washes up onto Dr. Moreau’s island.
  • This is supposed to be the viewer stand-in.
  • We discover the horrors of the isle along with him.
  • Except I guess David Thewlis found that role boring and decided to have his character INSTANTLY grok everything that was going on.
  • And not be all that bothered by it.
  • Not one scene where he’s just standing there confused.
  • “Wha? Huh? Is that a pig-lady? What kind of fucking island is this?”
  • No.
  • Immediately figures it all, processes it emotionally, and begins flirting with a catwoman.
  • Fairuza Balk plays a catwoman.
  • You can’t make this kind of movie without a catwoman.
  • Now, was Fairuza Balk a kitty that Marlon Brando turned into a human, or vice versa?
  • We are not told this, because the movie itself did not know the answer.
  • The film had no script.
  • Sometimes, that works.
  • Spinal Tap had no script, just an outline.
  • But it’s not fair to compare the two: Spinal Tap was based around improvisatory dialogue, and a few low-tech sight gags, whereas Island of Dr. Moreau includes this shot:

  • And if you’re gonna include that shot in your movie, you need to have a script.
  • That gif needs at least a screenplay’s worth of explanation.
  • It brings up a lot of questions.
  • Where do you get a midget-sized piano on a secret evil island?
  • Did the yak-man build it?
  • And who tunes it?
  • It’s a jungle island, for fuck’s sake.
  • It’s humid.
  • Both of those pianos are gonna sound like 1971 Garcia in weeks.
  • The movie also does not explain why Marlon Brando has a misshapen miniature clone of himself, but I’m more concerned with the temperedness of the instruments.
  • I ask the tough questions, man.
  • Val Kilmer’s also in the flick.

  • That’s during the beast-people drug orgy scene.
  • Thought you were gonna get out of this without a beast-people drug orgy scene?
  • What are you, new to this?
  • Richard Stanley was new to this.
  • Great segue.
  • I’m proud of it!
  • Lunkhead.
  • Yeah.
  • Anyway, IODM was Richard Stanley’s project.
  • He acquired the rights to the IP, wrote the script, commissioned elaborate art and character studies, packaged it all up, pitched it with his posh British accent, sold it to New Line Cinema, signed Brando to guarantee a green light, got Val Kilmer (who had been Jim Morrison and Doc Holliday and Batman recently) to assure financing, then hacked a set into the middle of an Australian jungle.
  • And then immediately lost control of the production.
  • Four days!
  • It only took him four days to get fired!
  • And those four days were so fucked that Rob Morrow, the original possessor of David Thewlis’ part, cold-called the CEO of New Line Cinema to beg to be released from his contract.
  • You know what an actor will do for a part?
  • You know what an actor will do for a check?
  • Those are four fucked days, man.
  • Richard Stanley had made two previous pictures, but they were both low-budget B-movies and this was a $66 million production.
  • (That’s in today’s money, and you know I always convert to today’s money for you, Enthusiasts. I love you like that, plus I’m always curious and it’s not that much hassle to write it down. It’s hatefully rude for a writer not to convert old prices to their current values. Don’t tell me something cost ten bucks in 1931. I have no idea what that means without context.)
  • So instead of helming a lean crew of his friends and two or three actors at most, he was now essentially the head of a multi-national corporation.
  • Major motion pictures employ so many people that they have to organize themselves into departments, each with their own internal hierarchies, for purposes of command.
  • Plus a dozen feature actors and twice that many extras.
  • Think of being in charge of that many people.
  • And now think of Val Kilmer yelling at you in front of all those people.
  • He used to do that a lot.
  • Not so much any more.
  • For various reasons.
  • Richard Stanley has spent the entire pre-production getting high in his rented house and communicating with the crew via drawings, and now Batman is berating him in front of Fairuza Balk and Rob Morrow.
  • I have nightmares like that.
  • Remember Burden of Dreams, the documentary about the making of Fitzcarraldo?
  • Remember how when Werner Herzog spoke, you became entombed in his insistent madness, and lost in his erudition, and began to understand why people join cults and/or help Germans drag boats over mountains?
  • Richard Stanley does not produce that effect.
  • You want to use the Time Sheath to go back and convince him to choose a different profession.
  • Novelist.
  • Graphic artist.
  • Something where you sit quietly in a room by yourself.
  • I’m not putting that down, mind you.
  • My favorite activity is sitting quietly by myself.
  • I do it all the fucking time.
  • Which is why I do not direct major motion pictures.
  • So New Line fired Richard Stanley–who, instead of going home, set up camp in the jungle outside the set–and hired veteran John Frankenheimer, who tried turning shit into shit salad until…
  • BUM BUM BUM
  • …Brando arrived.
  • This was 1995.
  • The Godfather was a very long time ago.
  • On The Waterfront  took place in a different age.
  • This was Late Period Brando, and he didn’t give a shit.
  • You wanna see some graduate-level not-giving-a-shit?
  • Look at this:

  • That’s the earpiece Brando had his assistant read him his lines through.
  • It’s not that he had trouble remembering his lines, it’s that he flat-out refused to read the script.
  • Although in Late Period Brando’s defense, both Middle and Early Period Brandos had also pulled that kind of shit.
  • Look:

  • Don’t use Robert Duvall as your cheat sheet, man.
  • He doesn’t deserve that.
  • So Brando shows up and instantly begins a feud with Val Kilmer–who has continued the feud he was having with the original director with new one PLUS pissed off the entire crew–and making ludicrous demands such as having a dolphin head.
  • “I wanna have a dolphin head and be a dolphin. I’ll be my own friend Flicka,” he would say in the voice that by 1995 sounded distinctly like someone doing a sarcastic Marlon Brando accent.
  • And John Frankenheimer would say,
  • “Wha?”
  • “Dolphin head.”
  • And then Brando would retreat to his trailer and refuse to come out until he had a dolphin head.
  • Which is just not how you run a business, man.
  • So, to sum up: Go watch The Long Goodbye and  Lost Soul: The Doomed Richard Stanley, both available on Amazon Prime, and make your own mind about whether you want to torrent Island of Dr. Moreau.
  • Thank you for your time.

The Impotent Yowling Of A Frazzled Fuckstick

April 27, 2020 / / 3 Comments

I apologize if the posting has been light lately. You see, I’m not in a comedic mood based on the fact that I fucking hate you. Not you personally–although maybe you personally–but every single human being that’s ever lived. I hate Jonas Salk right now. I hate Florence Nightingale. Harriet Tubman can go fuck herself. Remember Ryan White? He was a little kid that got AIDS from a blood transfusion. He didn’t deserve that, and he doesn’t deserve my enmity. But he’s got it: fuck him, too. If you are–or were at any point–a human being, I hate you.

So, again: I’m sorry, and I hate you, and I’m sorry I hate you.

Corona delenda est.

La Maison Où J’ai Grandi, As Translated By Someone Who Took Spanish In High School

April 27, 2020 / / 1 Comment

I got me some years,
And souvenirs
And I can remember the smell
Of roses in the garden.
I used to love them flowers, man.
But they ain’t there no more.

I had some friends,
Some broke and some mend
We drank some good wine
But no wine’s very good if you drink too much
Why are you crying?
Is it because it’s a French song?
French songs are either sad,
Or about fucking.
But even the ones about fucking are sad.

Some people were never children
But we were, weren’t we?
Life’s easier for children.
Life’s easier for adults.
It’s the remembering that’s the trouble.

Four? Loco!

April 26, 2020 / / 6 Comments

Precarious?

“Yo.”

How you holding up?

“This corona shit’s for pussies. Back in ’82, we had something going around called groupie pox.”

That sounds terrible.

“Contracting it was fun.”

Sure. Small question about the microphones on Bobby’s speaker cabinet.

“Okay.”

Why four?

“There’s not four. Look careful. There’s five.”

Why?

“Weir had been complaining about wanting a fuller sound. So we did that to shut him up. I think only one mic is actually plugged in.”

Placebo mics?

“Essentially.”

Always something new with this band.

“Never boring, though. Except when we’d play Indianapolis. That was always boring.”

What Are We Seizing Next, Comrade?

April 26, 2020 / / 2 Comments

THE MEANS OF PRODUCTION

Well, yeah, duh. Of course we seize the fucking means of production. That’s the first chapter of the book.

GOLF COURSES

The People must seize control of the land golf courses now occupy, and then seize the golfers themselves, and shake them furiously until they realize the error of their ways. We’re gonna need some real strong comrades to properly shake the golfers, though: those fuckers can be built solid. The People will also seize the carts and have fun races and maybe do some doughnuts.

EVERY DAD’S BASEMENT

Man-caves, rumpus rooms, half-assed bars, and home gyms used solely for the purpose of masturbation will also be repatriated to the State to be used by the Ruling Committee to hang out and hide from their families.

YOUTUBE

Don’t ask me how; I’m not the tech guy. We’ll get ‘er done. Maybe there’s an app? Or we could do a hack. Get a kid to do a hack. I’ve seen it on N.C.I.S. Not that tough. Clicketyclicketyclick I’m in! Easy peasy. Obviously once we’ve seized YouTube, we would execute the counter-revolutionaries and degenerates. Not all the counter-revolutionaries, though. Some of them we don’t have to murder, as they can be re-educated. Degenerates all get executed. Once a degenerate, always a degenerate; you can’t unscrew that lightbulb. Also, someone remind the Ruling Committee to formally define the term “degenerate” between now and when we seize YouTube. Up ’til now, we’ve been working with a “Know one when we see one” system of classification, and that isn’t sustainable. We need a degeneracy rubric; maybe something like the Apgar Score.

CHEF BOYARDEE’S FACTORY

Spaghetti-O’s belong to the People. Marx proved this fact.

YOUR WIFE’S TITS

Your wife’s tits also belong to the People. Just be cool, comrade.

LAKE PLACID

The whole fuckin’ town, Johnny Earl? From the bobsled track to the high school to that ladies’ spa where they shave the Olympic rings into your bush? You couldn’t seize a salad, Johnny Earl. You don’t even understand that was a pun, cuz you got vomit in your skull. Who you takin’ with you? I know you’re takin’ the Gobbler Twins, cuz they’re already jerkin’ each other off in our bedroom. Why you bring those freaks here, Johnny Earl? They ain’t natural in their treatment of each other! An’ who the fuck is Pretty Albert Cookies and why is he demandin’ I grill him up a cheese? This is my home, Johnny Earl! Don’t go plannin’ no communist overthrow of no scenic Upstate New York town with your heathen buddies in my home!

This is generally where I come in.

Y’know what? Maybe we’ll seize you, too. Seize you and redistribute you.

Explain how that would work.

No.

Write something good or don’t bother people.

No.

 

 

Who Should Drink Bleach?

April 25, 2020 / / 3 Comments
  • You, ya nutsucking fuckmump.
  • Your spouse, fourth choice that they were.
  • Your kids, disappointments all.
  • Your mother, who was and continues to be a hoo-er.
  • Your father, who beat you too much or not enough.
  • Your brother and all his fucking money.
  • Your sister, who gives it up to those graffiti boys.
  • Your pets, who will not be taught.
  • All the new people doing the Muppets’ voices, because those aren’t the fucking Muppets’ voices.
  • Anyone who gives a shit about the NFL draft.
  • The entire NFL.
  • Surviving members of the AFL.
  • Anyone who has disagreed with me on Twitter, even mildly.
  • You, again, just to be sure.

This stops now.

BUT I CRAVE THE DEATH OF OTHERS!

You shouldn’t.

Show me where it says that in the Bible.

On, like, every page. It’s one of the major themes of the book.

Reading is gay.

Gonna be one of those nights, huh?

Oh, yeah.

No Help On The Way

April 25, 2020 / / 0 Comments

Stay inside.

“Dude, my backyard is the size of a county. And not one of those dinky suckers Back East. Like, a Texas county.”

Is that your dog?

“That is my dog.”

Is he a rescue?

“In a sense.”

What sense?

“In the sense that I rescued him from the breeder for three grand.”

Dude.

“I just couldn’t love a common dog.”

Wow.

CELL PHONE NOISE

You deserve this.

“I can’t help it if I live a moneyed life.”

You absolutely can.

“But I don’t wanna.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

Answer the phone, douche.

…

“You’re on with John.”

“Hot Dog Dick!”

“Ah, shit.”

“That your lunch?”

“No, that’s my dog.”

“Look delicious.”

“Jesus, that’s offensive. Are you dead yet?”

“Not having good week, Little Potato! Look at hair!”

“Kinda sad.”

“So sad! Surgery go bad. Turns out forbidding education was poor long-term strategy.”

“Yes.”

“Same thing with being a 400 pound chainsmoker. Tough to maintain.”

“Don’t see a lot of 80-year old 400-pound chainsmokers”

“No. Also, sister probably bribe doctors to botch operation.”

“Almost definitely.”

“No look good for Kim Jong-Un. At least I go to Heaven.”

“You think you’re going to Heaven?”

“Father invent Heaven.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

…

“Dude.”

Yup?

“When he dies, will I have to take phone calls from his ghost?”

Almost definitely.

“Fuck.”

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