Your ward gave a very moving interview to Rolling Stone.
“He’s in a weird place. He’s a young kid.”
He is a boy with issues. He feels life so deeply.
“He’s literally 20.”
…
Wow. Dude, you should protect him from show business.
“Right?”
I’m impressed he hasn’t taken a shit in a Koo-Koo-Roo yet. If I was famous when I was 20, I would have been dead when I was 20 and a little bit older than at the beginning of the sentence.
“He’s got a head on his shoulders.”
Honestly, John. Watch over the boy. He seems sweet. Keep the monsters away from him.
“Well, I’ll try but there’s only so much you can do for another human–”
You keep that candy for yourself, bro.
“–being if they’re on a path of…you’re not listening.”
Every moment you’re not pulverizing his pucker is a moment gone. Like tears in the rain.
“Don’t bring Rutger Hauer into this.”
Look at that! Look at that, John Mayer! It is yumptious and sense-pleasing! Grab yourself some before the juice turns to wine, now, when he’s ripe! Squeeze him, Mayer! Demand the boy’s juices!
“You’ve become intolerably strange lately.”
Listen, man, someone in Hollywood is gonna snipe that tight yaya. Might as well be you. Plus you could get a piece of the publishing.
“I could get a piece of the publishing.”
Ass and publishing. Two things it’s always nice to get a piece of. Now hold onto the boy with your powerful thighs and ride him like a pudgy Marine recruit. Haze the boy, John Mayer. Haze him with your gonads.
“I know better than look forward to the phone call, but this is just not the way I wanna live.”
Buy the lad chickens, and have your ethnics prepare them.
“I employ no ‘ethnics.'”
Woo him, damn you! Woo! Write him a song.
“I might write a song with him, but I dunno about–”
A love song about his sourpuss. You know the face when you eat a lemon? That’s his button. I call it a sourpuss.
“Jesus.”
BUT IT’S SO SWEET.
“Are you okay?”
Honestly? Eh. Could go either way.
CELL PHONE NOISE
“You’re on with John.”
“How you pronounce this thing again?”
“Hey, Nephew on the Dead. It’s an umbrella.”
“YEBBA!”
“Close.”
“BENNA!
“Closer.”
“Lou Pinella.”
“Less close. Excuse me? Uncle on the Dead?”
Mm?
“I told you I don’t wanna talk to the baby.”
You respect that baby or I’ll turn you inside-out.
I’m a little disappointed that I don’t have any reading left to do, but I feel like I accomplished something. NotD is a great note to brake on.
get some Bespoke Chelsea Boots on the stocking feet of That Guy
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LnGDzCeQZqQ
I found that the brilliant headline is what really made this article the toppermost.
I know, right? One of the best I’ve ever come up with all by myself and without any help and I didn’t steal. I accept all the credit.
Hey wasn’t that Jimmy Page’s Grammy acceptance speech. And really truly it was an honour to have some small influence on you the master wordsmith.