Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

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More Coronavirus Top Tips: At-Home Kids Edition

March 14, 2020 / / 3 Comments

In response to the global pandemic known as the coronavirus, school districts across the United States have temporarily shut down. Many parents have reached out to me. TotD, what can I do with my kids? they ask, and then listen to my reply, and say I’m not throwing my kids in a river. What the fuck is wrong with you? And though so far every conversation I’ve had on the subject has ended in hurt feelings and thrown punches, I shall continue to attempt to help you poor, brat-afflicted bastards.

MAKE AN ALLY OF SLEEP

Every minute your child is asleep is a minute they’re not being a needy little asshole. Many chemicals–most of them available over-the-counter at the pharmacy or farm supply store–can keep your kid snoring for 18-20 hours a day until the school bells ring once more. Parents with more money should opt for a physician-monitored twilight sedation.

HARD CHOICES

Decide which of your children has the least earning potential, and nominate him/her as the Gofer. Need errands run? Send the Gofer. The smart, good-looking kid contracts corona, damages their lungs, and needs a double-transplant? Harvest the Gofer. Society completely breaks down two weeks from now? Trade the Gofer for supplies, or just eat him.

FAMILY VALUES

There will never be a better time to teach your kids who to hate. Which ethnicities are smart, which ones steal; sexualities that aren’t kosher; modes of behavior to abjure: the whole cat and canoodle.

FEED THEM TO BEARS

I am just kidding. Do not feed your children to bears.

LEARNING IS FUNDAMENTAL

Children soak up knowledge like a sponge soaks up money. You must continue your youngster’s education. Contact their teachers and find out where they are in their assorted syllabi, then ignore that bullshit and make the little toerags read Robert Anton Wilson and Philip K. Dick until they get paranoid and start distrusting their breakfast cereal. Then dose their breakfast cereal. Open those wee fuckers’ minds, man.

SELL THEM TO BELA KAROLYI (IF THEY ARE FLEXIBLE)

If your kids are flexible, sell them to Bela Karolyi. Bela Karolyi will buy your flexible kids.

END THIS QUICKLY

If you really wanted to help, you’d appease Trandor H’hh’H by ritualistically gnawing your stripling’s throat open, dressing the entrails in the manner prescribed in the Liber Exterri, and then doing some pervert-magick on top of the mess. Medicine has failed us; this problem requires an occult solution.

EARN OFF THEY ASSES

If you’ve got three or more children, then you have a band. All you need to do is buy your kids some instruments, and then beat them until one of them turns into Michael Jackson. Easy-peasy.

JUDAS GOAT

Sew your sins to the child, to his flesh, and send him from the village. Give him neither food nor knife. If he tries to return, chase him back to the wood.

DEAR OLD GOLDEN-RULE DAYS

If you do intend to educate your kids, consider these topics:

  • Why morals and “being a good person” are crocks of shit, and how you should just make a stack of cash as quickly as possible so you can get the fuck away from the scum that makes up society.
  • The forgotten Presidents: Fillmore, Polk, McKinley.
  • Geospatial topology.
  • NPR CPR. (Helpful if your child ever needs to administer chest compressions to Ira Glass.)
  • Thaumaturgy.
  • Psychic surgery.
  • Refrigerator repair.
  • Whalesong.
  • Why Whitey deserves what’s coming to him, how to give it to him, and how to get away with it.

COAL MINES

Small hands can do big things.

He’s Come To Take His Children Home

March 13, 2020 / / 3 Comments

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“Same thing as always. Playing my tunes, wearing my hat, letting my toes breathe.”

You’re a man of consistency.

“It’s like the song goes: Keep on truckin’.”

That line actually isn’t in Truckin’.

“I was talking about a different song.”

Ah. Listen: you did the right thing postponing the Wolf Bros shows. Folks were disappointed, but I think they understood why you did it.

“Well, yeah. I talked to several doctors. And then I talked to far more healers, shamans, and women dressed like Stevie Nicks with unplaceable accents. They were all in agreement.”

Good. Absolutely the correct call.

“Folks don’t remember Typhoid Mary fondly.”

No. Maybe you could do a webcast or something from TRI Studios or Sweetwater.

“Probably gonna happen. I’m already bored as shit, and that’s, uh, bad for my headspace. My shoulder starts hurting when I get bored.”

That’s no good.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“I gotta answer that. It might be Matt Busch. I’ve had him driving around Marin looking for Purell for the past 14 hours.”

Has he found any?

“No. He would’ve stopped looking.”

Sure.

…

“Weir here.”

“Hairy Garcia! Is your boy, Dr. Love!”

“Alistair Love or Hortence Love? Or Phoebe? Huh. I know quite a few  people named Dr. Love.”

“Not real name. Is Kim Jong-Un. They call Dr. Love.”

“Ah.”

“Got love you’re thinking of.”

“If you insist.”

“You want children? They clean. No corona.”

“We’re, uh, all set on kids over here, but thanks.”

“You take for two week. No like, you send back. Or drown. Whatever. I give you Only Korean children as gift.”

“No, I’m all right. The two I have now are expensive enough.”

“They small. Very little food. Or you no feed. Whatever.”

“I would definitely feed them.”

“But you no have to.”

“Noted. Please don’t send me any kids. Don’t you usually bother Young Josh?”

“He no fun. Jessica Simpson book get in his head. I think he got yips.”

“Women, right?”

“Good idea, Hairy Garcia. I murder Jessica Simpson to make Hot Dog Dick happy.”

“You wouldn’t think your statement would make sense, and yet it did.”

“High-context statement.”

“Yup.”

“I call back. Children there in week.”

“Don’t send me–”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

The Remaining Inventory Of TotD’s Publix Supermarket

March 13, 2020 / / 3 Comments
  • Six (6) partially opened boxes of generic Cheerios called “Edible Breakfast Circles.”
  • Three (3) women in their early 70’s, all named Miriam, fighting to the death over the last bottle of Purell.
  • Shelf of Jell-O brand pudding pops with Bill Cosby prominently featured on the packaging.
  • L’Eggs pantyhose. (Sheer, taupe, nude.)
  • Several dead bodies in varying stages of decay, each of which has obviously been tasted/fucked.
  • Sentient tumbleweed that now rules the sushi station with an iron fist.
  • Full case of the processed meat snack “Hey, Maybe It’s Whale.”
  • Snake Plissken wandering around the dairy aisle muttering “Not fucking again” under his breath.
  • Half a red pepper, but not the good half.
  • Shell pasta. (Not the seashell-shaped noodles. Pasta made by the Shell Corporation.)
  • Flamboyantly homosexual, 6’5″, 19-year-old African American employee who keeps berating customers: “Put them toilet papers back, Miss Thing! This disease does not produce poo!” (This is absolutely true. His name is Branton, and even before the pandemic he had the worst attitude I’d ever witnessed in retail. I kinda love him.)
  • One (1) pack of shrimp jerky-flavored Hubba Bubba with one (1) piece missing.
  • A balrog. (Not the balrog. Just a balrog.)
  • Paul “Charmin” Harmon, who calls himself the Human Bathroom Tissue, and whose fetish is precisely what you think it is.
  • Ten (10) packages of an off-brand matzoh called “Jew Crackers.”
  • Pork chop that I distinctly heard singing a sea shanty.
  • Eighteen (18) copies of Guns & Ammo with Megan Markle on the cover.

A Partial Transcript Of CDC Director Dr. Robert Redfield’s Testimony Before The House, 3/12/20

March 13, 2020 / / 0 Comments

GAVEL NOISE

GAVEL NOISE

“Quiet down, everyone. Quiet, please. The committee recognizes the Director of the CDC, Dr. Robert Redfield. Dr. Redfield, what kind of doctor are you?”

“Y’know the ones who go to war zones and fix little kids’ cleft palates for free?”

“Yes.”

“I’m the other kind of doctor. Congresswoman Porter, before we continue, may I perform a folk-rock tune about President Trump’s greatness I wrote?”

“Absolutely not.”

“I brought my harmonium.”

“I’m still at ‘no.'”

“May I enter the lyrics into the record? ”

“Doctor, this is a crisis. We don’t have time for any Presidential hymns”

“What about an epic poem? Sing, Melania, of Donald’s rage, black and murderous–“

“No! Knock it off. Dr. Redfield, can you tell me how many confirmed cases of the Covid-19 virus there are in the United States?”

“The administration disagrees with your nomenclature. We are now calling it Beef & Broccoli & Breathing problems.”

“Unacceptable, sir. Please use the accepted–”

“Rupus.”

“–scientific name.”

“Because they get their R’s and L’s screwy over there. Rupus.”

“I got it.”

“Chinky Lungs.”

“NO! Stop that! You will refer to the virus as Covid-19 in these chambers!”

“Congresswoman, the President insists that the name be racist. Make sure you throw it in there were his exact words to me in the Oval Office, which he has finally gotten the black-person smell out of.”

…

“Wow.”

“I’m allowed to say that: I’m a doctor.”

“If I start down that road, we’ll be here all day, and I want to get to the important points. Dr. Redfield, how many confirmed cases of Covid-19 are there?”

“Currently?”

“Yes.”

“What a great question. You someone important? Some kind of lawyer or something?”

“Doctor–”

“That was Jay-Z I just quoted. Head of the FDA couldn’t do that. That guy’s a fub.”

“Doctor–”

“I don’t know if you know this, but the CDC is pretty much the coolest of all the agencies. Friday nights, we all write ourselves prescriptions for weird shit, and we just hang ten. You should stop by.”

…

“I need you to concentrate.”

“It’s been a rough week.”

“Yes! It’s been a rough week for the whole country because of the confused messaging, obfuscations, and outright lies of this administration. Why can you not tell me how many people are sick?”

“HIPPA?”

“No. HIPPA does not apply here in any way. HIPPA is completely irrelevant to our discussion.”

“Nine.”

“Nine?”

“Nine. There are nine cases.”

“I find that impossible to believe.”

“800 million.”

“That’s just impossible. There are only 350 million Americans.”

“Everyone got it twice, and then 100 million people got it a third time. 800 million. But very few deaths, and I think that’s due to President Trump’s strength, patriotism, and vitality. I don’t know if you’ve ever met someone with an aura, but the President’s got one. You can absolutely see it. Gold, of course.”

“Dr. Redfield, you have no clue how many patients there are, do you?”

“No, not me, but someone does. The information is not unknowable. I’d bet that each state’s Department of Health possesses a portion of the information. What you should do is get all those fellows on the same page. Maybe a conference call.”

“Yes. Yes! That’s literally your job! Why aren’t you doing that?”

“The CDC no longer has room in the budget for phone books. Or phones, for that matter. President Trump made a lot of cuts, but I think he made the right decision. Not just the right decision, but also the handsome and powerful decision.”

CONGRESSWOMAN PRODUCING A HANDHELD WHITEBOARD NOISE

“Doctor, let me ask you a question.”

“If the question is Would you like to play Hangman? then the answer is a huge yes.”

“Wasn’t the question.”

“I saw the board and my mind instantly went to Hangman.”

“We’re not playing Hangman, Doctor.”

“Okay. I’m up for Pictionary.”

“We are not playing any games at all.”

“Your loss. I’m a hoot when I do stuff like that. I really get the party started.”

“Doctor, I would like to ask you the prices of some medical tests.”

“So we are playing a game? We’re gonna do the Price Is Right? I bid a dollar!”

CONGRESSWOMAN PUTTING A WHITEBOARD AWAY NOISE

“Forget the board. You were distracted by the board.”

“It seemed like the signpost to a new, more frivolous, section of the hearing.”

“It wasn’t, but we’re pushing forward. Dr. Redfield, is it the administration’s assertion that only rich people should be tested for the virus?”

“Um.”

…

…

…

“No?”

“Excellent. So you agree that all Americans should be able to be tested, regardless of their ability to pay?”

“I would love to say ‘yes’ to that, but the President has made it quite clear that he does not consider the poor to be entirely American. Or entirely human, really. He’s made that quite clear in meeting after meeting.”

“Doctor, the CDC has the authority to authorize payment for all treatments in a declared emergency.”

“You’re shitting me.”

“I am not. Federal statue 301A.21 gives you this power.”

“No one man should have all that power.”

“Doctor–”

“That was Ye. CDC RULES, FDA DROOLS!”

“Settle down! Right now!

“I got excited. I go hard for The C. That’s what we call ourselves. That’s my posse. We got jackets and everything.”

“I don’t care. Dr. Redfield, you have the ability to make all Covid-19 testing in this country free. Will you or not?”

“Oh, gosh, I would. But I have to ask Stephen Miller. President Trump made him the corona kaiser. I guess usually the position is called ‘czar,’ but Stephen insisted on using the German title. And he makes you call him that, too. He’s a quirky kid.”

“Sir, Mr. Miller is not granted any powers under the law. You are. Will you or will you not make testing for the Covid-19 virus free?”

“I don’t know if I could do free. I could do a discount. How about that? Deep discount. Oh, hell: wholesale.”

“No. You don’t have the authority to haggle. Will you or not?”

“Oh, fine. Free Kung Flu tests for everyone.”

“Don’t call it that.”

He Loves Dressing Up

March 12, 2020 / / 0 Comments

Lemme guess.

“Desertcore.”

Desertcore? Yeah, I guessed.

“Look how much cargo these pants can hold.”

Those are capacious trousers.

“Only problem is that I showed them to Bobby, and now he makes me hold everybody’s stashes.”

Sure. How are you dealing with the coronavirus?

“Duh. I’ve taken to the desert.”

Ah.

“Loaded up the Earthroamer with the entire 2018 Visvim line, four million dollars worth of watches, my personal security team, and some sex slaves.”

Sex slaves?

…

“I didn’t say that.”

You did. Are you buying sex slaves again?

“Oh, no. I wouldn’t buy sex slaves. I’m leasing them.”

Just as bad!

“Not financially. I mean, you buy ’em and then they turn 25 and then what do you do? Sex slave starts depreciating the second you drive them off the lot.”

I don’t even want to respond to that.

“Can’t argue with the bottom line, man.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Dick.”

Dude, you’re human trafficking. You deserve whatever’s coming.

“Is it Nixon?”

Dunno yet. Say ‘hello’ and let’s find out together.

“Dick.”

…

“You’re on with John.”

“Hot Dog Dick! Long time, no Kim!”

“Ah, shit.”

“Kim Jong-Un is doctor now. Best doctor in Only Korea. Better than Hawkeye. You know Hawkeye?”

“Yes.”

“He from MASH.”

“I know who Hawkeye is.”

“He wisecrack, but he care.”

“Why are you calling me?”

“I cure cobra violence.”

“Coronavirus.”

“That, too. Cobras no fight any more, and virus no kill old people. NBA back on thanks to Kim Jong-Un. You got Bron number?”

“I do not have LeBron’s phone number, and I wouldn’t give it to you if I did.”

“Kobe always in heart!”

“Sure, yeah. You said something about curing the coronavirus?”

“Is cure. Say bye. No more. Kim Jong-Un is hero. Get star on Walk of Fame.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You can see all star as walk down Hollywood Boulevard.”

“Please don’t–”

“Some that you recognize. Other, hardly even heard of.”

“–sing The Kinks at me. Do you really have a cure?”

“My treatment has 100% success rate. After one session, no have coronavirus any more.”

…

“Are you rounding up people that look sick and executing them?”

“You know Kim Jong-Un so well.”

“Pass.”

“Medicare cover! No co-pay!”

“Hanging up.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

“Dick?”

Yup?

“How many more pictures of him in that stupid lab coat do you have?”

Like a dozen. Kim Jong-Un is absolutely involved in the pandemic now.

“Oh, great.”

Steal Your Facemask Right Off Your Head

March 11, 2020 / / 4 Comments

Please go inside, Phil.

“Don’t tell me what to do, needledick.”

Dude, I’m worried about you. You’re turning 80 this week and have several underlying health issues. You must know a bunch of tech billionaires. Go to one of their private sex islands for a couple months.

“Half of the Western Caribbean is private sex islands nowadays.”

Really?

“Oh, yeah. They call it ‘The Sea of Fuck.’ It’s the only logical endpoint to unchecked Capitalism, if you think about it.”

True.

“I did have Grahame isolated, though.”

Is he sick?

“No, he was just getting on my nerves.”

Please be careful, Phil.

“I told hepatitis and cancer to go fuck themselves. This is nothing.”

Okay.

When Push-Up Comes To Shove

March 11, 2020 / / 1 Comment

Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?

“I am intentionally strengthening my core. And, uh, accidentally being very matchy-matchy.”

Yeah. The ball, your sweats.

“I’ve got a color palette going here.”

Are you and the Wolf Bros considering cancelling any of your upcoming shows?

“Well, the Wolf Bros don’t really get a vote. So if there’s any cancellations, then you can blame ’em on me.”

Sure.

“I like that arrangement better than the one in Dead & Company. Any political system that grants Mickey the franchise is fatally flawed.”

You prefer a more autocratic organization.

“Tyrant wasn’t always a perjorative, y’know.”

I do. What are you doing personally to keep yourself safe from the virus?

“My beard strains out 99% of all foreign bodies. It’s basically the advance guard for my immune system.”

Amazing.

“Plus, uh, I am a Grateful Dead. I’ve encountered a lot of weird pathogens over the years. I got a lot of antibodies just sitting on the bench.”

Just be careful, buddy.

“I got both hands on the medicine ball.”

Not what I meant.

“I’m sticking with my original answer.”

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