What are you two up to?
“Nothing.”
“Nooooooothing.”
Uh-huh. That guy’s a bad influence.
“Don’t talk about Jerry that way.”
I was not speaking to you, Drug Dealer.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Author: Thoughts On The Dead (Page 78 of 1031)
Worst part of 9/11 is that we all had to pretend to love cops for a few years afterwards.
Miss one word and you tumble down the rest of the song.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“Wha? Ah, fuck, I’m part of this bullshit again? I thought Katy Tur was doing this role.”
…
“Hello?”
“You’re on the livewire with THE BOLT, baby!”
“Nobody calls you that, John.”
“They should! Cuz I’m tossing lightning like I’m Thor. You see what I did yesterday? I got the whole Hill ducking for cover.”
“You’re referring to the incredibly well-timed leak of your book?”
“Gosh, was it?”
“Oh, can it.”
“Maggie, ask me the secret of my success.”
“What’s the–”
“Timing.”
“–secret of your success? That joke’s a classic.”
“See, what I just did was the political equivalent of dropping a bowling ball off a freeway overpass. No matter when you release the ball, chaos is gonna ensue, but if you time it juuuuuust right, you can kill dozens of people. It’s a finesse thing.”
“I wish you hadn’t used that analogy.”
“D.C. is a kill-or-be-killed town, Mag. That’s why I have I grew Ol’ Faithful. I keep a flick-knife in there.”
“You call your mustache Ol’ Faithful?”
“He’s hot and reliable.”
“So, who’d you get to leak it? Publisher? National Security Council? White House?”
“None of the above. I went old school. Put on a trenchcoat and fedora, and met ’em in a dark parking garage. I lit a cigarette, did a spooky voice, said a bunch of real vague shit. It was great. I felt young again, like I was 45.”
“Sounds fun.”
“Got the juices flowing. Maggie, I am shining with sweat and primed for the pit.”
“Ew. Just how many bullets are in this book?”
“Remember the scene in Predator where Arnold and everybody just shoots into the jungle like maniacs?”
“Yes.”
“That many bullets. Each page of my book contains a high crime and/or misdemeanor committed by Blubbering Fucktits.”
“Is that what you call President Trump?”
“Not in the book. I write in a professional manner. And all of it is backed up by evidence. Recordings, texts, e-mails, phone logs, memos, and my contemporaneous notes. There wasn’t this much evidence on John Wayne Gacy, and they dug teenage bodies up out of his backyard.”
“And you write that the President directly informed you that the Ukraine aid package was being held up because of the Biden thing?”
“I remember it like it was yesterday. I walked into the Oval Office and it’s Map Time.”
“What?”
“Map Time. That’s where Pompeo got that blank map from. Map Time. You’d bring the Shitmonger a blank map, and he’d guess the countries. He’d stab one of those itty bitty nubs of his at Asia and say ‘Oogieboogiestan,’ and Pompeo would tell him he’s right and feed him a mini-Twix.”
“Mini-Twix?”
“Like you get on Halloween.”
“Ah.”
“Then he liked to look at the election map from 2016. Y’know the one that’s all red and looks impressive unless you’ve been educated beyond the third grade?”
“I do know it.”
“He loves that fucking thing. One time, I heard him yelling at Junior, ‘Why can’t you be more like Map?'”
“He just calls it ‘Map?'”
“Yeah. Like that’s its name. He talks to it sometimes Other times, he wads it up in a ball and throws it real hard at Mike Pence. You know how he is.”
“I do know that.”
“Anyway, he gets through with Map Time and tells me that he’s gonna freeze the aid to Ukraine until they announce an investigation into Hunter Biden. I mean, he said it in a more roundabout way. Plus he got off on a tangent about how lakes were just lazy rivers. You know how he talks.”
“We all know that. How did you respond?”
“In a Tex Averyesque fashion, Maggie. Jaw dropped to the floor, eyeballs leapt out of my skull, feet started running towards the door without the rest of me: all that cartoon crap.”
“You have a terrible poker face.”
“I don’t play poker. I enjoy strip backgammon. And war.”
“The card game?”
“No. War.”
“Right.”
“Maggie, the lurching turdgobbler could’ve had my undying loyalty. I would’ve taken a bullet for him. All I wanted was one little war. He had the chance! Iran! We were RIGHT THERE! Generals blowing up, missiles launching, planes exploding: good times! We were theeeeere, man. And he goes limp. GOD! It was like when you’re about to cum but then you accidentally open your eyes and look at your wife.”
“I really didn’t miss these calls.”
“There’s so much more stuff in the book. Most of the material is geopolitical and bureaucratic in nature, but I did include some personal stories to lighten it up. Like the time the President made the entire cabinet vote for what the funniest word for black people was. It was an uncomfortable discussion. I mean, not for Ben Carson. He made most of the suggestions, and laughed the hardest. Something wrong with that guy.”
“Probably.”
“Shmoogie.”
“What now?”
“That was the word the President chose as funniest. And he’s not entirely wrong. Were in not for the unfortunate racial connotation, the word would be hilarious. You got that shm sound up front, and that’s always a winner. And oogie. Going by only the sound of the word: very funny.”
“It’s a racial slur, John.”
“Notwithstanding.”
“What else is in the book?”
“I got a picture of Stephen Miller with his Kuato exposed.”
“His what?”
“You remember the scene in Total Recall where the little mutant Baby Finster extrudes from the guy’s stomach? Stephen Miller has one of those. It emerges when there is no moon, and he takes it to Mexican restaurants to scare the staff.”
“Sounds right. Why are all of your references to Arnold Schwarzenegger movies?”
“Arnold Schwarzenegger movies are the only movies I watch.”
“That also sounds right.”
“Wanna come over and watch Eraser with me and Ol’ Faithful?”
“Was that the one with Vanessa Williams and the bad CG crocodile?”
“Yes.”
“Pass.”
DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT
Why 11/23/79 from Golden Hall in San Diego?
Because I am listening to it.
Is it a highlight of the tour?
Not at all.
Is it representative of the tour?
Fuck yeah.
How so?
1979 is secretly the wobbliest of all Grateful Dead years.
I’ve heard ’84.
Of course. That’s what they want you to believe.
Who?
They.
Bastards.
Aye.
OR
Just fucking look at Mickey. It’s like cocaine did a line of him.
OR
Does the guy behind the stage that’s facing away from the camera and bending over have a monkey hanging off his back printed on his tee-shirt, or is that an actual monkey clinging to him? If it’s the latter, I am not okay with it. Everyone needs to stop bringing monkeys to Grateful Dead concerts.
OR
Amazing how much Golden Hall in San Diego looks like Red Rocks, isn’t it?
“I SAT ON MY BALLS!”
That’s called a Mr. Belvedere.
“AAAAAAAGGGGHHHHH!”
Both of ’em?
“THEY WERE STACKED ON TOP OF ONE ANOTHER!”
Oofah.
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Well, uh, someone has stolen my chair.”
I don’t think so.
“Then explain my current posture.”
You’re exercising, pal.
“Ah. That makes much more sense.”
Is that your barbell behind you?
“Oh, yeah. Deadlifting.”
Deadlifts are done from the floor.
“No, no. Every lift I do is technically a Deadlift.”
I see what you did there. Clever.
“I’m working out my body and my mind.”
Very efficient. What exactly is this exercise for?
“This one’s for the core. And, uh, the armpits. Core and pits: it’s like I’ve finished a fruit salad.”
You look very healthy.
“Got a magazine shoot coming up. Me and Young Josh are going shirtless.”
You sure about that?
“Yes. His name is Josh.”
No, about posing half-naked in a magazine.
“Yeah, I’m good with it. Mostly cuz it’s the top half that’s gonna be naked. If they wanted the bottom half, then I’d have to pass. Full nudity would be fine, but no one wants to see a fellow in a shirt and no pants.”
That’s called the Winnie Pooh maneuver.
“Huh. We used to call it ‘The Billy.’ Matter of fact, we still do.”
Billy does that?
“Yuh-huh. And he likes to put his foot up while he’s talking to you. Like that alcoholic pirate.”
Ew.
“It’s a sight.”
“Thank you for meeting me, Doctor Dolittle.”
“It’s pronounced DAHL-it-uhl. Everyone gets it wrong.”
“Huh. I had always heard it the other way.”
“Well, that’s because the world’s full of putzeldorfs. Ask the average guy to pronounce Goethe or Nietzsche.”
“Yes, well. You are the man who can talk to the animals, correct?”
“Oh, yeah. Lucky me.”
“Yes! Lucky you! My word, to be able to translate the squawks and roars of the lesser creatures. How illuminating that must be!”
“Illuminating? Uh-huh. Hey! Ferguson!”
A SILVERBACK GORILLA ENTERS THE ROOM,
“Ook ook?”
“AHH AHH AHH AHH OOK!”
“Ook?
“HOO HOO HOO HOO.”
A SILVERBACK GORILLA LEAVES THE ROOM
“Should I translate?”
“Oh, please, Doctor. This is ever so exciting.”
“I asked Ferguson what he was thinking about. He said I want a banana and some gorilla-pussy. I asked him if there was anything else on his mind, and he said No, just the banana and the gorilla-pussy.”
“A bit base of a thought, I submit. But the most learned of men sometimes find their minds wandering about common neighborhoods.”
“Sure, yeah. Maybe it’s a one-off. Hey! Crawdad!”
A GIRAFFE ENTERS THE ROOM
“…”
“…”
“…”
“…”
A GIRAFFE LEAVES THE ROOM
“Translate?”
“Neither of you said anything.”
“Giraffes don’t have vocal chords. They communicate telepathically.”
“Really?”
“That’s what those little horns are for.”
“I had no idea.”
“Yeah, so, I asked him what he was thinking, and he said Leaves and giraffe-pussy. I’m gonna bring another animal in here, and I bet you can tell how it’s gonna go. I can see in your eyes that you’re a bright fellow. Hey! Britney!”
A LIONESS ENTERS THE ROOM
“Roar?”
“GGGGRROOOOOOWR.”
“Yeah, I figured. Thank you, sweetie.”
A LIONESS LEAVES THE ROOM
“Antelope and lion-pussy. That’s all Britney’s thinking about.”
“Britney is a female.”
“Lions can be lesbians.”
“Another fact I did not know.”
“Y’wanna know what it’s like to talk to the animals? It’s hell. It’s utter hell. When roosters crow in the morning, they’re just screaming WANNA FUCK over and over. What would animals have to talk about? Books? Sports? The weather? Shit, most of ’em aren’t smart enough to get out of the rain, so they’re definitely not advanced enough to discuss it. Animals are the worst conversationalists in the world.”
“I always figured that animals would have innocent yet slightly askew takes on life.”
“That’s children. Or foreigners. These are creatures with brains more rudimentary than ours, and they won’t stop coming to my house and yammering at me.”
A DUCK ENTERS THE ROOM
“Yes, yes! Bread crumbs and rape!”
“Quack!”
“Fuck you, too, Nelson!”
A DUCK LEAVES THE ROOM
“I’ll give you a thousand dollars to murder me.”
“Absolutely not.”
“Please. I don’t have the balls to do it myself, and I can’t get the animals to do it. I tried covering myself in barbecue sauce and standing downwind of the tigers, but they wouldn’t take the bait.”
“Stop it.”
“Please kill me.”
“I’m leaving.”
This jam is the shit; this shit’s the jam.
You should, too.
ALWAYS A DEAD CONNECTION: The Grateful Dead made their first (documented) Arizona appearance at this theater on 3/8/70. (There was a show at the University of Arizona’s Centennial Hall in ’69, but there’s no tape and so I say it doesn’t count.)
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