For a brief moment in the ’80’s, ZZ Top turned into the Art Of Noise.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Author: Thoughts On The Dead (Page 100 of 1031)
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Forklift ran out of gas.”
No.
“No, no. I was, uh, just having a little fun. The machine is in fine fettle, mechanically.”
Good to hear.
“I’m at the gym. You might not think so, but anywhere’s a gym if you’re sweaty enough.”
Your delts are popping.
“The kids call it being swole. Well, Don Was calls it that.”
What is this exercise called?
“Well, uh, naming something gives it power. But in this situation, I want the power. Not enough power to go around. So, uh, the exercise does not get a name. I just put my weight on it.”
Do not quote Dolemite at me.
“I enjoy the way that fellow says ‘ambulance.'”
He pronounces the word humorously.
“Here’s something you don’t know: that guy Dolemite? Rutabaga Perkins?”
Rudy Ray Moore.
“Big Deadhead.”
Not true at all.
“Oh, yeah. Him and Pig dated a couple of the same women.”
Rudy Ray Moore didn’t date women, Bobby.
…
“I’m thinking of Rerun.”
Go back to your workout.
Do what I tell you, dammit.
Hey, Bobby. Talking to journalists again?
“I’ll, uh, talk to anyone who’s polite.”
I guess. Are those sex toys?
“Anything’s a sex toy if you’re perverted enough.”
True.
“But, uh: no. They’re what’s called gada maces. Ancient weapons. Have you ever heard of the Knights of Malta?”
Vaguely.
“What about Nights on Broadway?”
What?
“Anyway, the knights would use these bad boys as a last-resort cudgel. Lot of Turkish heads got bashed in with ’em. But, you know, the knights also had downtime. They would repurpose their maces into exercise equipment, due to not being able to order a Bowflex.”
Hadn’t been invented yet
“There ya go. The, uh, knights had to make do.”
So, the article mentions that you don’t proselytize to your the rest of Dead & Company about fitness.
“Well, Billy would hit me and Mickey can’t hear me. No good bothering those two. And, uh, Josh keeps himself in real good shape, although most of that’s for show.”
No core strength?
“Abysmal. I don’t wanna talk out of school, but: abysmal. He just won’t activate his hips.”
I’ve heard that about him.
“I won’t even discuss Branford and New Brent.”
For the best.
“Dude.”
Hey, Slash.
“I need to leave here. You know I got a family, right?”
They won’t know you’re missing. Time works differently for them than for you.
“What now?”
Well, you’re kinda…next…to time.
“That doesn’t make sense.”
Everything happens at once, but causality also rules.
“Those two states of being are mutually exclusive.”
Or complementary. Imagine a stripper rotating around a pole, except she’s not moving; the whole of reality is. And she’s got big cans.
“I can imagine the last part.”
I like to call her a Möbius stripper.
“That may be too clever by half, man.”
I didn’t have full confidence in it. But, anyway: don’t worry about your family or any appointments you might have. A week in here is like an hour out there. Or a year.
“In here or out there?”
Either.
“I’m beginning to resent you.”
Good instinct.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Is it Kim Jung-Un?”
If I say “no,” would you believe me?
“No.”
Then I’ll remain silent.
…
“Slash here.”
“Slasher! Guess who join band?”
“You can’t be in Guns N’ Roses.”
“I new Izzy.”
“You are not the new Izzy.”
“Fine. I new Gilby.”
“You’re not even Gilby, man.”
“Got axe. I shred. Wear leather pant. Many bracelet.”
“No.”
“Do all the Rock Moves. I windmill. Play behind back. Say ‘Hello, Cleveland.’ All the moves.”
“Hanging up.”
CELL PHONE NOISE
…
“Please let me go home.”
No. You made an album I enjoy 35 years ago, so now I’ve trapped you in a slightly comic hell. That’s how it works.
“No, it’s not.”
Trust me, Slasher.
GAVEL NOISE!
“Order. Order. Everybody simmer. HEY! SIT YOUR BOBO ASSES DOWN! I am not Steny Hoyer. Auntie Maxine will not abide by any foolishness from anyone in here. You best behave yourselves in my hearing. The Financial Services Committee welcomes the CEO of Facebook, Mr. Mark Zuckerberg.”
“Chairwoman Waters, I thank you for this opportunity to fly across the country and get yelled at.”
“Mr. Zuckerberg, the Presidential election is almost upon us, and you have done less than nothing to make sure that Facebook is not once again overrun with bad actors, foreign influences, and whatever the hell ‘bots’ are.”
“I disagree with that, ma’am.”
“How so?”
“We did do something.”
“What?”
“We monetized the bad actors.”
“Mr. Zuckerberg, you have a problem. Facebook is where most Americans get their news, and you have allowed it to become a cesspool. Is there any formal vetting of political advertisements on your platform?”
“Well, sure. The checks have to officially clear. We’re very formal when it comes to getting paid. We stand on ceremony there.”
“What you’re saying is that any organization that pays for space on your service can have it, regardless of its message?”
“No. We would not allow actionable calls to violence. Just suggestions that violence is justified against certain groups. Wait, no. The Rohingya. Sometimes we do allow direct calls to violence. But that was in Myanmar, so my lawyers have told me that it doesn’t count.”
“It most certainly does count.”
“I agree. Violence is bad.”
“Mm-hmm. I will yield my time. The Chair recognizes Bill Foster from the great state of Illinois.”
“Thank you, Chairwoman Waters. Mr. Zuckerberg, I would like to ask you some questions about Facebooks’s cryptocurrency program called Libra. Could you describe in plain terms what Libra is?”
“It is a plan to make money.”
“Facebook already makes billions of dollars a year.”
“No, I meant make money. Like, we’re gonna start printing our own currency. Not actually ‘printing.’ Everything’s gonna be digital, obviously.”
“Uh-huh. And who would keep this digital information?”
“I would. We. We would. Libra will make the consumers’ lives easier. Imagine a treasury, a national bank, the mall, and Twitter combined.”
“What you’re describing is a Phillip K. Dick novel. No one wants to live in one of his books. What kind of assurances can you give this committee about security when it comes to your cryptocurrency?”
“Oh, I can give assurances.”
…
“I assure you.”
“What technical steps have you taken to make your product safe?”
“It’s inherently a lot safer than so-called ‘real’ money. Can’t choke on it.”
“From hackers, Mr. Zuckerberg.”
“Stealing is bad.”
“We know that. How will you prevent people’s money from getting stolen?”
“What I find works for me is to have so much money that it can’t all be stolen at once. That would be my advice.”
“I yield my time in disgust back to the Chair.”
“Thank you, Congressman. This committee now recognizes the Honorable Gentleman from Florida, Bill Posey.”
“I do appreciate your recognition, Madame Chair. Mr. Zuckerberg, I am a man of science, but also a fierce champion of free speech. It worried me that Facebook saw fit to censor voices on one side of the vaccine debate.”
“There is no debate, Congressman.”
“Hold your horses, pal. I have done my research–almost all of it on your very site–and I know for a fact that vaccines are one of the leading killers of Americans today. You got smoking, then there’s suicide, and then vaccines. Higher than car crashes!”
“That is not true.”
“Many doctors, some of whom have been to my private home and met my private wife, agree that vaccines cause athleticism.”
“Autism.”
“That, too.”
“No, Congressman. Vaccines do not cause anything but long lives. And if they did cause athleticism, that’s a good thing.”
“Not for your feet. It burns!”
“I don’t understand where this line of questioning is going.”
“Will you or will you not commit to personally unvaccinating your children?”
“That’s not a thing. And, no.”
“You proved my case.”
“What case?”
“That vaccines introduce tiny Jewish goblins into the bloodstream.”
“Is his time almost up?”
“All our time is almost up! I’d rather get the flu than have Jewish goblins of any size in me!”
GAVEL NOISE!
“What the hell is wrong with you, boy? Quit your playing. The Chair takes the rest of your time back due to you not knowing how to act right, and awards it to the Distinguished Gentlewoman from Queens, Alexandra Ocasio-Cortez.”
FRAT BOY AND AN IDIOT BURSTING INTO THE ROOM NOISE
“This is a mutiny! We hereby place all Democrats in the room under citizen’s arrest!”
“LOUIE!”
“Congressman Gaetz! Congressman Gohmert! What are you doing? Get out of here!”
“All of this is phony and a sham, and the Constitution says that Puerto Rican ladies can’t be in Congress!”
“LOUIE!”
“Out! Out! Security!”
FRAT BOY AND AN IDIOT BEING WRESTLED OUT OF THE ROOM NOISE
“I will not have it, I will not put up with it. Next person in here that acts up is getting my size four up their ass. I’ll put it way up there, too. Test me, I dare you. Congresswoman Ocasio-Cortez?”
“Thank you, ma’am. Mr. Zuckerberg, I have some questions about your fact-checking department.”
“Okay.”
“Do you have one?”
“Not as such.”
“What does that mean?”
“We outsource our judgement about what is and isn’t a fact.”
“To whom?”
“We also crowdsource our judgement.”
“What does that mean?”
“Facebook believes that the average consumer is far more savvy than you Washington elites give them credit, and is easily capable of seeing through high-level disinformation campaigns.”
“Advertisers on Facebook are able to narrowcast their ads to very specific demographics. Could a political campaign that desired to suppress the African-American vote send ads to that community stating that the date of Election Day had been changed?”
“You can’t change Election Day. It’s in the Constitution.”
“Right. It would be a lie.”
“Lying is bad.”
“Sure is, slugger.”
“So I don’t think that would happen.”
“Multiple agencies in the Intelligence Community have determined that incidents like that did happen during the 2016 election. On your platform, Mr. Zuckerberg.”
“People are so disappointing sometimes.”
“What if a company wished to advertise a pill that it claimed cured cancer? Would you allow that ad?”
“Did the pill cure cancer?”
“No.”
“Is the word ‘cure’ in quotations on the ad? Punctuation is the facial expression of language.”
“I have no idea what that means. Mr, Zuckerberg, could I run ads with a photoshopped picture of me hugging Republicans in tight districts? I’m the last person in the world any Republican wants to be see hugging. Probably piss off a couple of their voters. Could I do that?”
“Congresswoman, NBC ran ads for years telling the country that Bill Cosby was a trustworthy family man.”
“Not relevant.”
“I’ll give you five million dollars in cash if you yield your time back to the Chair.”
“Answer the question, Mr. Zuckerberg.”
“Photoshop is bad.”
“Forget the Photoshop. Could I run a text ad asserting that a Republican candidate had voted for my Green New Deal bill?”
“Did that even come up for a vote?”
“No! It’s all a lie.”
“Lying is bad.”
“I tell you what, Mr. Zuckerberg–”
“Please stop asking me things, please stop asking me things.”
“–I’m gonna change topics.”
“Can we talk about Roman History? I love Ancient Rome. It’s where I got the idea for my haircut.”
“Not Rome. Recently, you have had several dinners with far-right wackadoodles.”
“I disagree with your classification.”
“One of the participants was a Twitter user who goes by the name Big Chief Memosabe and posts doctored videos of President Trump teabagging his political opponents, myself included?”
“Congresswoman, I’m sorry you got teabagged.”
“And at these dinners you discussed their assertion that social media is biased against conservatives. Do you believe that social media is biased against conservatives, Mr. Zuckerberg?”
“I don’t know what my final opinion on that is, Congresswoman, but an outside panel we consulted with did agree that there was.”
“Who was the outside panel?”
“Well, Memosabe was on it. That guy’s on the ball about life.”
GAVEL NOISE!
“Okay, give it a rest, Congresswoman. The boy’s clearly a dullard. We’re gonna take a five-minute recess so I can do something about my corns.”
GAVEL NOISE!
Oh, so that’s what Grahame looks like under his beard.
“It’s not Grahame, you numbskull.”
Who is it?
“Ah, I dunno. One of those teen guitar prodigies that comes along every couple years. I think he plays the blues, maybe.”
You think?
“Just judging by the hat.”
Sure. You jam with him?
“Maybe when he gets his braces off.”
Okay.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Oh, thank God. I can ignore you.”
…
“Terrapin Crossroads, home of the all-you-can-eat vegan shrimp platter. Phil speaking.”
“Philbert!”
“Ah, shit.”
“That Baby Levon? Grow up so fast.”
“No, it’s not Baby Levon. What do you want?”
“Slasher there? He no pick up phone.”
“Who the hell is ‘Slasher?'”
“Has hair. Top hat. Used to no wear shirt, but now wear shirt.”
“Oh, Slash. Yeah, no. He’s not here.”
“No biggie. You get liver I send?”
“Yes, and you need to stop sending them. Where are you even getting all these human livers?”
“Only Korean politics very serious game.”
“Jesus.”
“See people on horses behind me? Are back-up organs. Always bring with.”
“I’m hanging up.”
“Tell Jill Kim Jong-Un say hi.”
“No.”
“…and so then Axl threw the piano out the window, which none of us was expecting since it was a baby grand. We knew he could chuck an upright when he got mad, but a baby grand is like half-a-ton. Apparently, Axl’s adrenal glands are nine times the size of a normal human being’s.”
“WOO!”
“It was wild, yeah. Sammy, can I ask you a question?”
“Woo.”
“Is that all you say? Is it like a Groot thing with you?”
“Woo, woo.”
…
“Woo.”
“I’m just gonna talk about my new album now.”
“Woo?”
“Shh.”
And, as always: Fuck Christopher Columbus.
GAVEL NOISE!
“Call this meeting to order. Order, please. Today, we will be hearing the testimony of William Taylor, who was America’s highest-ranking diplomat in Ukraine up until very recently. I welcome all my fellow Congresspeople from various committees, and do remind them that this hearing is secret and what is heard here should not be discussed with anyone outside this room. Goddammit, Ted Lieu, are you Tweeting?”
“No, I’m streaming on Twitch.”
“Knock it off!”
“Aw.”
“Mr, Taylor, thank you for coming today. I understand that the White House attempted to prevent your appearance.”
“Congressman Hoyer, thank you for having me. And, in answer to your question: yes. The White House was rather aggressive in their desire that I not testify.”
“Can you describe their efforts?”
“I was contacted by various officials from various departments. State called, as did the White House counsel’s office. The Governor of Florida called me at home, real late, and used terrible language. Donald Trump, Jr., both texted me and tagged me in an Instagram post.”
“Anything else?”
“Letters ranging from ludicrous legal missives to incomprehensible, short-sentenced threats. You know the kind of letters this White House sends out.”
“Sure.”
“One hand-written note from the President.”
“Sharpie?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“What did it say?”
“Be a smart guy! Dummy up! and then his signature. The note was written on the bill of a Make America Great Again cap.”
“Do you have the cap, sir?”
“I do.”
RED BALL CAP THAT A MORON SCRAWLED ON BEING INTRODUCED INTO EVIDENCE NOISE
“Thank you. Anything else?”
“Several interns from the White House tried to tackle me on the way in here this morning.”
“They were not successful, I take it?”
“Congressman, I was in ‘Nam. Some little bastards named Hunter aren’t gonna lay me out.”
“Thank you for your service.”
“Sure.”
“Mr, Taylor, I’m told you have a prepared statement to read?”
“Yes, sir.”
Mr, Chairman, I appreciate the opportunity to speak before Congress today. I hope to illuminate through detail the irredeemably fuckwadded misadventures of this White House, specifically in regard to Ukraine.
In terms of my background, I have been in the employ–in one way or another–of the American government for my entire life. I attended West Point, and then served in Vietnam. Upon my return home, I joined the Department of Energy, and I worked on the Hill, and at NATO, and finally became a diplomat with State. I have served loyally under both Republican and Democratic administrations.
I was the ambassador to Ukraine from 2006 to 2009, appointed by George W. Bush. I fell in love. Oh, the Kyiv Spring! I know most Americans spell the name of the city “Kiev,” but they don’t know her like I do. City of wonder, city of glamour, Kyiv. Don’t forget the countryside. The fertile fields. The sturdy peasants. The goats. Who could resist Ukraine?
But when Secretary of State Pompeo asked me to return to the role, and the country, I balked. First of all, because my would-be predecessor was treated quite shabbily by the White House Second: my wife was very against the idea. She said of the President His brain is made of soup, and This will end in tears and lawyer’s fees.
So I would like to formally, and on the Congressional record, say that my wife was exactly correct on both counts.
I made it clear over the phone that taking the job required that the United States maintain its current level of strong support for Ukraine, and Secretary Pompeo blew into the phone and pretended like there was a bad connection. I flew to Kyiv anyway.
Immediately, I began to suspect monkeyshines. The newly-elected President of Ukraine, Volodomyr Zelensky, reported receiving numerous middle-of-the-night phone calls from Rick Perry During each call, President Zelensky attempted to explain the concept of “time zones” to Rick Perry, but he (Rick Perry) failed to grasp the material. Rudy Giuliani also “popped by” Zelensky’s official residence on three separate occasions. I tried to explain just how inappropriate that was to him (Giuliani) but he failed to grasp the material, and was drunk.
I was also under pressure from the Ambassador to European Union, Gordon Sondland. He was less interested in the intricacies of international relations than he was in doing whatever President Trump wanted him to do, and going to dinner. In our initial meeting, he said that Ukraine was “the country with the great pastries?” When informed that Ukraine did have delicious baked goods, it wasn’t particularly known for its cakes Sondland became incensed, and began shouting. “NO! IT’S PASTRY FUCKING CENTRAL!”
I regret using that language, but I felt it necessary to quote Sondland completely.
During a call with Sondland on July 18th, I was made aware of a hold placed on $391 in military aid. I objected quite vociferously, and was told that President Trump needed President Zelensky to announce that he (Zelensky) was investigating Hunter Biden, or an internet company, or Hillary Clinton’s campaign; the subject of the investigation seemed to me quite fluid. For a full five minutes, I was also told that Zelensky had to “find the server.” When I asked what in God’s name that meant, Sondland screamed “I AM RICH AND YOU WILL LISTEN TO ME!” at me.
The following day, I met with President Zelensky, who showed me security-cam footage of an obviously liquored-up Giuliani and two of his fat idiot criminal friends trying to climb the fence of Maryinsky Palace. Needless to say, this was embarrassing to both America and myself. Rick Perry had also called again, once more in the middle of the night.
“Mr. Chairman!”
“Settle down, Congressman Jordan. Don’t interrupt Mr, Taylor!”
“I won’t sit here and let this pinko rape my President! That’s what’s happening here! The Democrats, in league with International Communism, the Deep State, and those drag queens from the library, are holding my wonderful President down and trying to forcefully reverse his butthole’s traffic flow!”
“That is a highly offensive analogy.”
“All of this is offensive! The non-phony parts of the Constitution says that you can’t rape a sitting President!”
“No, it doesn’t.”
“That’s it, Hoyer. Push-up contest. Right now.”
“I’m 80 years old, Jim.”
“Coward.”
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