There’s still some magic in this used-up world.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Category: Uncategorized (Page 61 of 1031)
Let’s all put on dresses and take acid and steal cops’ guns. C’mon, y’know you wanna.
- Joe Exotic.
- Any of Joe Exotic’s husbands, including the one who’s dead.
- That prince who likes fucking teenagers.
- Billy and/or Mickey.
- Mariska Hargitay. (I would kill for Mariska Hargitay to be in charge right now. That woman takes no shit, she’s got the work ethic of a dozen Amish, and she’s not afraid to straight-up sock a disrespectful motherfucker in the nose. Plus, Stabler would stand behind her at all the press conferences, glowering at journalists.)
- Random hobo.
- The coronavirus itself.
- Zok.
- Tundro.
- Gleep.
- Gloop.
- Let’s just say that I would rather have any of the cast of The Herculoids than the homunculus we have now.
- Ringo Starr’s Australian counterpart, Dingo Starr.
- Any of the New York Times‘ op-ed writers, even the dumbfucks.
- That girl from middle school who fucked a snorkel and then the story about her fucking a snorkel got out and she had to switch schools.
- Day-old bread baked in the shape of Charles de Gualle.
- Grace O’Malley, the Irish Pirate Queen.
- Ching Shih, the Chinese Pirate Queen.
- Literally any Pirate Queen.
- Semi-intelligent dog with a racist name and a habit of biting old ladies.
- Deck of cards missing all the 7’s.
- The captain of the Costa Concordia.
- Sarlaac.
- The smell in a hockey team’s locker room.
- You.
- Me.
- Pretty much fucking anybody other than this slophound.
Uh, hello?
“Hey, how ya doing? How’s your pecker?”
Fine. Thank you for asking. Um, who am I speaking to?
“Outside.”
Oh, right. I remember you.
“Where the fuck did you all go? I am unbelievably gorgeous right now. I mean, except if you have allergies. Hey, fun fact: ‘pollen’ is just a polite way of saying ‘tree jizz.'”
You don’t have to tell me twice. I’m looking at you through the window. You look great. But we’re all quarantined right now.
“You don’t say.”
Yeah. It’s kinda big news. You should read a newspaper.
“I read Elena Ferrante novels and shampoo bottles. That’s it.”
Weird.
“It’s called self-care.”
Dunno about that. Anyway, Outside: humanity is in the midst of a pandemic, and the only way to stop it is to avoid…well, you.
“Did anyone consider my feelings?”
No one even knew you had feelings.
“You racist motherfuckers.”
“Outside” is not a race. It’s a category.
“Fuck your hair-splitting! There’s no one out here, man! It’s depressing. I miss the laughter of children. I miss couples on their first dates walking around and talking about everything and nothing at all. And the accidental deaths! Oh, God, I miss when you idiots would tumble off a cliff or walk right into a volcano or something.”
You’re not engendering sympathy.
“I’m kinda fucked up over here, man! Hey, if you’re not here, then where are all of you?”
Inside.
“INSIDE? FUCK THAT GUY!”
I was wondering when this was gonna get weird.
“INSIDE FUCKED MY SISTER AND NEVER CALLED HER BACK!”
Outside has a sister?
“Backside!”
We’re done here.
- Charisma is free-floating, Enthusiasts; I’ve said it before.
- It doesn’t necessarily come packaged with looks or talent or brains, or the pompatous of love.
- Sometimes it sticks itself to pure idiots.
- Example: our current reality.
- QED.
- If you haven’t watched Tiger King: Mullets, Monkeys, and Meth on Netflix, then go do so now.
- We’ll wait.
- CASUAL WHISTLING FOR AROUND SIX HOURS NOISE
- Hell of a ride, huh?
- Bet you didn’t see that coming.
- Each of you thought of a different antecedent to that, and you are all correct: Tiger Beat is the least predictable documentary I’ve ever seen.
- Some are comparing this to Wild Country, but WC was a by-the-book paranoia parable.
- Halfway through the first episode, you knew the Rajneeshis were gonna be heavily armed sooner than later.
- Not so with Tiger Dong.
- This fucker’ll juke on ya, and then go in for the kill.
- You’re sitting there, self-isolating as per CDC recommendation and guzzling fish tank cleaner as per the President’s tweet, feeling a bit woozy, and then BAM she’s got no arm because OF COURSE her arm was eaten by a tiger, and you’re trying to process this information from behind your smarmy little college puke biases when SHWAZOOM who got fed to the tigers now?
- It’s a bit nerve-racking.
- Like a white trash Safdie Brothers film.
- (A note on the term “white trash”: I generally don’t prefer to employ that term, as it is classist, bigoted, and othering. But Tiger Style forces one. There’s simply no alternative descriptor for the trailer park shenanigans going on here.)
- Y’know how much shit happened in TK?
- (I’m gonna stop coming up with new wacky names for the series; the joke’s run its course.)
- So much shit happened that you totally forgot about the ex-drug trafficker and his secret zoo in Miami.
- So much shit happened that you don’t remember whether there were two or three arsons, do you?
- Generally, one exits a piece of entertainment knowing precisely how many arsons it contained.
- The much-beloved gritty cop thriller Serpico, for example, contains no arson.
- I know that off the top of my head, and I haven’t seen Serpico in years.
- But I can’t tell you exactly how many times Joe Exotic set his own zoo on fire.
- He did it a lot!
- Once, he boiled some alligators.
- Not on purpose.
- He was trying to burn down his teevee studio, but the gator enclosure was right next door and the fire heated up the gator’s water
- Y’know that old bullshit about how if you put a frog in a pan on water and slowly bring up the temperature, the frog won’t leap out?
- That probably doesn’t apply to alligators.
- I bet those poor fuckers were trying real hard to get out of there.
- They were Michael Jackson’s alligators, too.
- You wouldn’t do that to LaToya, would you?
- No, you would never boil the multi-talented LaToya Jackson alive.
- But Joe Exotic did.
- (I am more sure that Joe Exotic voted for Trump than I am that Donald Trump, Jr., voted for Trump. Every single participant in this documentary voted for Trump, actually, except for the lady who fed her husband to the tigers, who voted for Jill Stein.)
- As with most issues, the world’s societies fall along a spectrum regarding the question of tiger ownership.
- I would imagine Switzerland frowns on it.
- All of Scandinavia seems anti-tiger.
- “Why are you desiring to own a creature such as this? It is not docile, and will present many dangers to the community at large. Perhaps your desire for this animal hints at an underlying mental problem. You should avail yourself of some free healthcare. No tiger for you.”
- And then there are countries where if you can get a tiger, then you can have a tiger.
- America’s one of those countries.
- Parts of it, at least: the states you think allow tiger ownership do, and the ones you think don’t, don’t; obviously, you can’t own a tiger in Massachusetts.
- Most places require a permit, which is something to remember if one of your lunatic neighbor’s tigers gets loose and tries to eat you.
- I use “tiger” as synecdoche for the entire menagerie that Joe Exotic and his compatriots amass in their backyards.
- (Didn’t think we were gonna get synecdochic up in here, did you? That’s the content TotD provides in this, your hour upon hour upon hour of need. You’re welcome.)
- Sometimes the animals get loose.
- Go read this.
- Tigers are terrible neighbors.
- You don’t wanna live next door to people who play their music too loud, or cook stinky food, or don’t keep up their lawns, but tigers are worse.
- I lived next to a crust punk squat in Los Angeles, and that was not great, but none of the crust punks weighed 600 pounds and wanted to eat me.
- They were skinny vegans, mostly.
- If you’re given the choice between camping next to crust punks or tigers, go with the punks every time.
- Here are the animals that non-farmer human beings should be anywhere fucking near:
- Dog.
- Kitty, upon kitty’s permission.
- Bird that happen to be in your presence.
- One o’ them little skittery lizards that fidget and flee.
- Horse, if that’s what you’re into; personally I don’t get it, but some people like horses and they’re free to do so.
- And that’s it.
- Obviously, farmers may have cows and chickens and whatnot.
- Are you gonna talk about the show or not?
- I wander through topics like a frolicking schoolgirl!
- Ew.
- Watch me traipse gleefully!
- Just get back to the point.
- Suck my dong.
- Anyway, if there is a major criticism to be leveled against TK, it is that it does not reveal the depths of Joe Exotic’s loathsomeness, instead enclownifying him, pre-memifying him.
- He is not the adorably flamboyant naif the documentary presents.
- There’s a lotta shit the show left out.
- That asshole was breeding fucked-up mutant cats as fast as he could, and he boiled those gators, and he absolutely tried to have that lady killed, and a bunch of of other stuff.
- She may have deserved it.
- I’m not saying she didn’t.
- She fed her husband to tigers, and I believe that The Lord shall seek retribution for that deed.
- Or maybe the legal system could look into it again.
- But I do not believe that her crimes should be punished by Joe Exotic.
- A RELATED QUESTION: How was the court able to impanel a jury for the trial?
- A jury is made up of one’s peers.
- Find me a peer of Joe Exotic.
- There ain’t a dozen in the world like that boy.
- Is he a criminal?
- Only if you take his crimes into account.
- Is he a lover, a fighter, a fierce protector of the animal kingdom?
- Yes, if you ask him.
- RANDOM OBSERVATIONS:
- The show left out that Joe Exotic owned a bar across the street from the zoo called the Safari Bar, and HOLY SHIT I wish I could have hung out there; the Safari Bar must have been a party.
- Kudos for the decision to never explain Joe Exotic’s knee brace.
- There is no look more contemptible than “rich biker dude.”
- The lady who fed her husband to the tiger’s new husband is the dictionary definition of “cuck.”
- That legless fucker got around like magic.
- White people who change their names to Indian bullshit are the worst white people.
- Tiger cubs are cute as fuck, yo.
- Zoos should be outlawed, even the nice ones, but especially the janky ones.
- Imagine you’re a tiger.
- Furry, orange, cranky.
- You should be in Asia, in some thick woods somewhere between India and Vietnam, with a whole side of a mountain to yourself.
- But you have been conceived, born, and whelped in Oklahoma, and cuddled by schmucks as a cub, and now reside in a steel-ish cage the size of a starter home.
- You know of no other life, and neither do the older tigers, and they couldn’t tell you about it if they did.
- Do you know?
- Do you know something’s wrong, and that a dreadful mistake has been made?
- Can you not conceive of the world as it should be, but know that the world as it is is fucked?
- Strangers in a strange zoo.
- Anyway, when does the General Strike start?
“Hey, dangletits.”
Why are you with Randos? Randos are the worst people to be near right now.
“Being closed sucked, so I used the Time Sheath to bring Terrapin Crossroads back to 2006.”
The whole place?
“Even the bocce courts. Best decision I’ve made in years. People spent a ton of money in 2006. Everyone keeps telling me about all the houses they’re flipping, and I try real hard not to laugh at ’em.”
I didn’t know the Time Sheath could do that.
“That’s because you’re a dolt. The power of time travel makes one nigh-on omnipotent.”
Nigh-on?
“You heard me, buttmunch.”
Did you bring Jill?
“Of course I brought Jill. And the Busboys and the Family Band.”
You brought Grahame?
“He’s safer with me, and 2020 is safer with him here.”
You would know best.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“I’m gonna take this because I hate talking to you, and would accept any excuse to not have to do so.”
Okee-doke.
…
“Thanks for calling Terrapin Crossroads, where we’ll toss you in an antique bathtub full of shrimp for $49.99. Phil speaking.”
“Great gadzooks, I would like to take me one o’ them shrimp baths. Y’all got ketchup or do I need t’bring my own?
“Who the fuck is this?’
“It’s me, your new business partner, Joe Exotic.”
“Fuck off.”
“You listen on up, hombre! I’m offerin’ you the ultimate attraction for that hash-house o’ yours.”
“What?’
“Tigers. You gonna be the only restaurant in Marin County what got tigers roamin’ around th’ grounds.”
“Which one are you, Siegfried or Roy?”
“I am neither, but have been mistaken for both.”
“I can’t have any damn tigers. You said it yourself: it’s Marin County. You can go to jail for misgendering a dog. I’m serious, they just passed that. You meet a new dog and say what a good boy it is, but it turns out it’s a girl? Right to jail.”
“That ain’t freedom. That’s communistic.”
“Whattya gonna do?”
“Fine, no tigers. How about a liger?”
“A what?”
“Liger. Cross-breed of a lion and tiger.”
“I didn’t know you could mate a lion and a tiger. How does that work?’
“Lotta the time, it don’t.”
“is that even natural? Is it supposed to happen?”
“I have found that ‘supposed to’ is a phrase I don’t have much use for. I’m more of a ‘can’ or ‘can’t’ kinda guy. You’d love ligers. They’s about 12 feet long and 800 pounds and riddled with mental deficiencies.”
“That’s a monster, you heedless twit. You’re describing a monster.”
“There’s other stuff I made. Got me a chimputan. That’s a chimp mixed with an orangutan. We call her Miss Frizzle, cuz she got the hair like that lady in the cartoon. I also got a cheekey, which is a cheetah crossed with a donkey. We call the cheekey Scrambled Eggs, cuz that’s what its genitalia looks like. And I don’t think its bones are in the right places.”
“I’m not buying any of your abominations.”
“How about Joe Exotic, Jr.?”
“What is that?”
“I mixed in my own precious seed with a little bit of everything I had. Tiger, lion, a couple capybaras. Squirted the concoction up a bison’s cooter, and nine months later I had a son. He was a bit globbier than I’d imagined my child would be, but I see Jesus in the boy’s heart. It’s easy, cuz his heart’s on the outside of his chest.”
“You are banned from Terrapin Crossroads.
DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT
“Hey, cockgobbbler.”
Yes?
PHIL SLAP!
Ow!
“Stop making me talk to assholes, asshole!”
How did you even do that?
“Don’t worry about it.
See Brent?
He is self-isolating via a strategic defilade made from around fifty grand worth of keyboards. No one can penetrate his Personal Health Radius.
Be like Brent.
I think she could beat that little pin-headed fucker’s ass.
Hey, Billy. Why are you at the Farewell Shoes?
“Looking for a happy place, Ass. Not gonna lie: I’m freaked out.”
But you’ve had so many diseases before.
“Sexually-transmitted! You could get a shot and be cured, and plus it was fun acquiring ’em. Not so much with the carnivorous virus.”
Corona.
“I’m pretty sure it’s carnivorous. It came from bats. This is a dracula-related syndrome. Goddamn Chinese and their draculas.”
What?
“Whole country is crawling with ’em. One out of every six Chinese is a secret dracula.”
I’m just gonna concede the point and move on. What are you doing to protect yourself?
“I got more guns than you can shake your dick at.”
How are you protecting yourself against the virus.
“Not gonna lie, I have fired off warning shots.”
Of course.
“And I got the whole compound on lockdown. There are a couple mines.”
You shouldn’t mine your property.
“There’s no law that says I can’t.”
There are many laws that say precisely that. Local, state, federal, and even international. Do not lay mines, Billy.
“Yeah, here’s the thing–”
You forgot to write down where you buried the mines?
“–I didn’t write down…yeah, that. So I have no idea where they are. Mines have an inherent flaw as a weapon.”
Yes.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“I gotta take this. It might be skank.”
You’re still consorting with skank during all this?
“They don’t come over or anything. I make ’em point the phones at their buttholes while they take a Duolingo class. It’s my new thing.”
Do it to it.
…
“This is Kreutzann. Talk me off.”
“Ooh, I like your phone manners. You a rascally little possum.”
“Mick?”
“It’s Joe Exotic. I done cured up coronavirus in a back trailer at my zoo.”
“I’ve taken lots of shit made in zoo trailers. Keep talking.”
“Mixed me up some ketamine with a bunch o’ other shit I ordered off of the internet. I call it Charlie Sheen.”
“Why?”
“Cuz there’s also tiger blood in there. Well, tiger everything. You ever seen a duck press?”
“Yeah.”
“I put a cub in one ‘ them. Squeezed it ’til it was juice. There was a refinin’ process after that. I know what I’m doin’.”
“And it can definitely cure the cappadonna? I did what Trump said and drank quinine. Well, I had a shitload of gin and tonics. I’m also looking into colloidal silver.”
“Drinkin’ it?”
“Investing. As a hedge against inflation.”
“I wouldn’t know nothin’ ’bout the economy. I was not educated.”
“Not at all?”
“Not even a little bit. There was laws against teaching homosexuals to read as recently as two years ago in Oklahoma.”
“So why do you stay?”
“Cuz there ain’t no laws whatsoever ’bout whether or not a man can own 800 fuckin’ tigers. Y’gotta make tradeoffs in this life.”
“How fast can you get your drug to Hawaii?”
“How fast c’n you hire me a private plane?’
“I can’t.”
“How fast can you buy me a first-class ticket?”
“I can’t.”
“How fast c’n you buy me a business–”
“You’re flying coach, fuckwit. And you’re getting a Silkwood shower when you get here.”
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