Whichever God floats your goat: give some funky thanks that the Beastie Boys did not call their first album what they originally wanted to call it. (Look it up.)
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Author: Thoughts On The Dead (Page 112 of 1031)
This is the Universal Music Publishing Group, or UMPG. It used to be MCA Music, which was a subsidiary of the Music Corporation of America, a company founded by Jules Stein in 1924 to book acts into nightclubs. You’d be amazed at the types of people you meet in nightclubs.
MCA became the most powerful company in Hollywood under the leadership of a guy named Lew Wasserman. This is Lew:
Lew was cunning, and ruthless, and brilliant, but most of all: Lew was lucky. Never–not once–did any of his productions have union troubles. Lucky guy.
Wanna guess who Lew’s best friend was? (As far as mogul types have best friends, anyway.) C’mon, guess.
Sid Korshak! Lew used to start every day with a call to Sid, and that’s the way his day ended, too. Maybe they talked about baseball, or the weather. Sid was Lew’s bestest friend, except for one other guy, a former lifeguard from Illinois.
Always a Dead connection.
Hey, Mickey. Whatcha doing?
“Squatting.”
I see that.
“Great for the hammies. Most people think that the quads are the money muscles, leg-wise. Bullshit. Hammies are where it’s at.”
Stop saying “hammies.”
“They’re the bicep of the thigh!”
I’m aware. Why are you on the street with a drum?
“Street-drumming.”
Sure
I am the audience for this.
Best thing Eddie Money ever did was shut up and let Ronnie Spector sing. Let’s listen to her.
- Highway Child
- Criss Cross Man
- Jiving Sister Fanny
- Living In The Heart Of Love
- Get Yourself Together
- For Your Precious Love
- Drift Away
- Cocaïne Blues
- Travelin’ Man
- Potted Shrimp
- Stuck Out All Alone
- Hillside Blues (I Don’t Know The Reason Why)
“Here’s how the deal goes down, crumb-bum: I’m takin’ your wife and givin’ her the ride of her life. Try to stop me and three guys named Jilly work ya over.”
“Aw, gee, Frank. I dunno why you gotta–”
BLUE-EYED SLAP!
“Don’t you talk back ta me, Lollipop Guild. C’mon, Ava. Let’s blow this joint.”
“Ah, go fuck yourself, Frank.”
“FUCK YOU!”
“FUCK YOU!”
“Hey, you two, let’s not–”
BLUE-EYED SLAP!
DIVA SLAP!
“Aw, Jeez.”
“Whatever happens, Mickey, don’t let Ashton Kutcher play me in a movie.”
“I’m not really in charge of that, St–”
“SWEAR TO ME!”
“Okay, okay.”
OR
Ear.
OR
I’m personally shocked that Steve Jobs wore a wedding ring.
OR
“Whatever happens, Mickey, don’t let them remove the headphone jack from the iPhone.
“Again, Steve: I have no sway over these types of dec–”
“SWEAR IT, JEWBOY!”
“Fine, whatever.”
Will it shock you that Frank and the Australian press did not get along? It should not.
It’s not true love ’til the pistols get drawn.
Goddamn it, are you reading about Frank and Ava again?
They were like Romeo and Juliet.
Yes. Childish and destructive.
© 2026 Thoughts On The Dead
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
Recent Comments