Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Big, hot Sugaree? Y
Big, hot Far From Me? N
Far From Me? Y
If you met 4/18/87 in person, would it call you Pappy? Y
Why? Not a yes or no question; try again.
Iko Iko? Y Y
Does the rest of Irvine that isn’t Irvine Meadows suck? Y
Holy shit, did I actually recommend a show like a functioning Grateful Dead person? N
“…and, uh, the next morning, the teens found a hook stuck into the top of their car.”
What are you doing, Bobby?
“It’s Scary Story Season. So I lit up the ol’ campfire and started spinning some spooky yarns.”
You lit a campfire?
“I had Matt Busch do it. ”
Sure.
“He missed his calling. Could’ve been a great arsonist. Y’blink your eyes and boom: fire. But, uh, he only uses his powers for good.”
Matt’s an ethical man.
“And he cares about the environment. Won’t use a disposable lighter.”
Wow.
“Lotta fun at the campfire. We got Super S’mores.”
What are Super S’mores?
“Y’take s’mores-flavored Pop Tarts and use ’em as the bread in the sweetness sandwich. It’s gooey as all get out, but your mouth’ll thank you.”
Sounds delicious. What’s your favorite ghost story?
“I like the one where the call is coming from up your own ass. Y’know: you’re alone and the phone rings and the voice is all I’m gonna slice ya or whatever and so you call the police, and they trace the call and they’re like The call’s coming from your in your butt! Love that one.”
The call’s coming from in the house, Bobby.
“Yeah, sure. Your butt’s in the house, so the call’s technically coming from inside the house.”
No, it’s…forget it.
“Forget what?”
Don’t worry about it.
There are no words.
“Howdy, Sport. New in town?”
“How’d you know?”
“I watched you get off that bus.”
BUS PULLING AWAY NOISE
“Oh, sure. You’re a deducer.”
“I sure am. Lemme give you some advice, Sport: when you hear the flapping, run for cover.”
“Flapping?”
“Flapping.”
“Like a bird?”
“But moreso. Way, way moreso.”
“A big bird?”
“You’ll see.”
NUTTHATCH WITH WINGS A MILE LONG HOVING OVERHEAD NOISE
“Oh, God, what the fuck is that?”
“It’s a Long-Winged Nuthatch. Mile-long, precisely.”
“How can it exist?”
“We had some of our best scientists trying to figure that out.”
“And?”
“Eaten by the nuthatch. It actually scooped up the entire building they were in.”
“Jesus!”
“Keep it down, Sport. That thing’s got ears the size of diners.”
“It’s like a dragon with feathers.”
“No, it isn’t. Dragons are a fraction of that size. It’s just high up right now so you can’t see how big it is. Wait ’til it swoops.”
“Will it definitely swoop?”
“Oh, yeah. Death, taxes, and the nuthatch swooping into town and gobbling up a few folks. At least a few. Last Tuesday, it ate the entire varsity basketball team.”
“That’s terrible.”
“Eh. They were 1-5.”
“Why don’t you do something?”
“We did. We promoted the JV squad.”
“No, I meant about the bird.”
“What can we do? We tried shooting it, but we just couldn’t find a big enough gun. Say, you don’t happen to have a Hellfire missile on you?”
“Sorry.”
“Never hurts to ask.”
DEAFENING NOISE NOISE
“Oh, God, what is that?”
“It’s singing! Y’gotta remember: its vocal cords are two city blocks long. Generates a lot of decibels. One time, it was perched on the ground and it chirped. The pressure from the sound wave made some babies explode.”
“Holy shit.”
“Yeah, that was fucked up. Y’get used to a lot of things, but not that. I can’t eat calzones anymore.”
“Awful.”
“I know. I loved calzones.”
“No, I meant the babies.”
“Sure, okay.”
“Listen, no offense, but I’m gonna get going.”
TITANIC HORROR-BIRD EATING A BUS NOISE
“Were you planning on taking the bus?”
“Guess not.”
Rockyroll still lives on, yeah.
Hey, Mr. Vice-President. Whatcha doing?
“Retail politics, Salami-face. Putting in my two cents and not taking any wooden nickels. Later on, I’m gonna go down to the Tam-O-Shanter and get blitzed.”
I thought you didn’t drink.
“I don’t. They got a jar full of pickled eggs’ll set you reeling. Health Department keeps raiding the place, but I’ve been getting loose off those eggs for three decades now. Health Department can’t tell Joey B. where to eat.”
Uh-huh. Polls look good.
“Always. Brave men and women. First the Nazis, then the Commies. Tough row to hoe.”
…
Not the Poles. The polls. Where they call randos and ask ’em who they’re voting for.
“Oh, yeah. Those are coming around. Looking finer than Carolina. Big happy yay.”
Uh-huh.
SEMI-BELOVED POLITICIAN PULLING A CELL PHONE FROM HIS POCKET NOISE
“You ever see one of these? It’s a phone! But it goes in your pocket! Here, make a call. It’s not a trick.”
Oh.
“There’s also something called ‘texting.’ Or ‘sexting.’ One of those. I don’t understand all of it, but my grandkids tell me it’s great.”
Dammit. Hey, Lillian Monster.
“I DEMAND ALL ABSENTEE BALLOTS BE PRINTED ON SUSTAINABLY-HARVESTED LEAVES!”
I have a bad feeling about this.
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