Got one of these this afternoon, and I’m taking it as a sign no matter what any of you boring rationalists say.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Author: Thoughts On The Dead (Page 29 of 1031)
Well I woke this morning with a pain in my neck,
A pain in my heart and a pain in my chest,
I went to the doctor and the good doctor said,
You gotta slow down your life or you’re gonna be dead,
Cut out the struggle and strife,
It only complicates your life.
There won’t be a Tanglewood Music Festival this year, because a goodly percentage of your countrymen are stinkbrained assfaces who couldn’t give two shits about anyone but themselves. But we can still enjoy Miles from 1970 with his greatest (and shortest-lived) electric band roster: the one with Jack DeJohnette in it. I’m pretty sure that one of JDJ’s parents was a thunderstorm.
Gotta be honest: I don’t hear much slow rhyming here. There is an across-the-board quickness to the rhymes.
Boncologist Humping not up to snuff? Might need to make an appointment with the boncologist.
Noncologist This is a French doctor, and when you ask him for a prescription, he says, “Non!” And then you’re like, “Well, are you even gonna listen to my chest?” And, once again, he says “Non!” Not really the best use of your time seeing this dude, to be honest.
Goncologist Gonk. Gonk gonk. Gonk. (Yeah, it’s a Star Wars joke. Don’t you fucking judge me; I have cancer.)
Groncologist It’s Gronk. He’s wearing a doctor’s coat with no shirt underneath. You tell him that your leg hurts, and he makes you chug three Monster energy drinks. His enormous brothers keep wandering in and out of the exam room. There are a lot of HIPAA violations.
Davevanroncologist His office is on MacDougall Street. Not a lot of patients.
Concologist If you are a black person from the 1940’s who fucks up your head straightening your hair, then you need to go to the concologist.
Honcologist Clowns who want nose jobs see the honcologist.
Stop this. There’s no idea here, nor any actual jokes.
That’s never stopped me before.
True, but now it’s depressing. You’re the diseased one. Why does everyone else have to suffer?
…
Please don’t call me “diseased.”
That was probably over the line. I’m gonna take that back.
Appreciate it.
Let’s just call this one, huh?
Seems like the right thing to do.
I said everything I needed to say in the title.
I apologize for the light posting; I’m feeling poorly. Your kind words have buoyed my spirit, but the flesh is resistant to vibes.
Send shmedibles, or a panacea if you have access.
FUN FACT: Johnny Thunders’ original rockyroll name was Johnny Volume, which–I think we can all agree–is dreadful.
Or don’t. But you’ll be happy if you do, and so you should. When do I steer you wrong, Enthusiasts?
“Dave, I’ve written a new song.”
“So have I, Ray.”
“Yes, but mine’s actually gonna make it onto the record, so let’s talk abut that.”
“I hate you.”
“It’s called Animal Farm.”
“Oh. About the book?”
“No. It’s about a farm. With animals on it.”
“I hate you.”
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