After nearly an hour had gone by without Garcia firing any roadies or levying any fines on musicians, Clarence began to wonder what kind of bush league organization he had joined.
Thoughts On The Dead
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Page 67 of 1031
AM I NOT GLORIOUS?
Hey, Wally.
DO NOT CALL ME THAT.
You’ve got a certain knockabout glamour to you.
YOU UNDERSELL MY BEAUTY. CHECK OUT MY CURVES.
You don’t have curves. You’re all angles.
MY CENTER CLUSTER IS CURVED.
True.
NO ONE HAS A SEXIER CENTER CLUSTER THAN ME.
No one else has a center cluster at all. It’s a singular configuration. Why are you so vain lately?
I PLAN TO DATE ONCE MORE.
Ah. Explain your sexuality to me again, please.
I AM A WALL WHO IS ATTRACTED TO BLIMPS. DIRIGIBLES, AIRSHIPS, AND HOT-AIR BALLOONS, TOO. THE PROPER TERM IS VESICASEXUAL.
Vesicasexual?
I LIKE ‘EM PLUMP AND FLOATY.
That’s just odd. How are you meeting these…beings?
DATING APP.
Man, there’s one of those for every demographic.
THERE WASN’T. I HAD TO CREATE IT MYSELF. IT IS NOT GOING WELL.
No?
SO FAR, I AM THE ONLY MEMBER. WAIT. I AM REASSESSING. AH. THE FAILURE OF THE APP IS NOW EXPLAINED. I MADE A MISCALCULATION.
What?
BLIMPS ARE NOT ONLINE.
There you go.
I MUST GO TO THE SOURCE. HAUL ME TO THE NEAREST MAJOR OPEN-AIR SPORTING EVENT.
Absolutely not.
Please trust me and go read that.
Hey, coronavirus. Whatcha doing?
“Broham, I am killing it. Having a terrific 2020. Remember how good 2019 was for Lil Nas X? Like that.”
Don’t be so smug.
“Why not? I’m on a winning streak that Baron Bleichroden would envy.”
…
Wow. Nice reference.
“I can’t lose, dude. I got green lights from here to the highway. Everything’s coming up corona.”
Not everything.
“CUTTIN’ SWATHES, MOJIMBO!”
Oh, knock it off.
“Check my drip.”
“Do not check his drip. Corona, he has no style. Not like me.”
Who the hell is that?
“It is I, the palomavirus.”
Oh, this is gonna be one of those stupid posts, huh?
“I will tear through the masses, especially those with last season’s trousers.”
Gosh, that necklace looks expensive.
“This is not a necklace. It is a strand of RNA I borrowed from my friend Zika.”
Okay, I officially no longer understand the premise here.
“Of course not. You are poor.”
“But rich in spirit!”
Ah, c’mon. Who’s that?
“It’s me! The colonnavirus.”
No! No, this is dumb! No one remembers who the hell Jerry Colonna was!
“Your parents do. Until I kill them, that is.”
Dude, not cool.
“Not cool at all! High, high fevers!”
Jackass. Are you really a virus?
“More of a sidekick infection.”
“Me, on the other hand: I’m a leading man.”
Oh, for fuck’s sake. Not the bolognavirus.
“Hey, howyadoin’.”
None of this is all right.
“No, but y’know what is?”
What?
“Me and my wife Renee are doing The Fantasticks at Burt Reynolds’ Dinner Theater in Jupiter, Florida. We got a place down there in Boca. You could eat at a different restaurant every night and not repeat yourself for six months. Six!”
I wish to be released from this pathetic attempt at a joke.
“Not a shot, kid.”
“Don’t listen to him. Relax. Would you like some turquoise?”
No, sedonavirus. I don’t want any turquoise.
“What about meth?”
Okay, we’re done here.
Bobby and the Wolf Bros cram into the NPR studios to play a 15 minute segment that lasts 26 minutes.
Hey, Pig. Who’s that?
“That ain’t a ‘who.’ That’s a ‘what.’ And what that is, is a rando.”
Ew.
“The ol’ Pig jus’ seems t’attract ’em! Mus’ be my sav-wah fair!”
You do have a lot of that.
“Too much! Can’t mosey on down to the liquor store without lookin’ like the Pied Piper! Jus’ wanna buy me a taste, an’ all of a sudden my wake’s full o’ weirdos an’ strange-types an’ sploinky-doinks!”
Sploinky-doinks?
“That’s them hippies who don’t never wear shoes. I calls ’em that cuz that’s the sound their feet make on th’ sidewalk.”
Bobby turns into one of them.
“Well, he ain’t at th’ moment! Ain’t havin’ that in th’ organization! The ol’ Pig puts his foot down when it comes t’ feet!”
Hey, I agree totally.
“Even th’ foxes gotta put on some shoes. Some, they walk around the city all day nothin’ in between their soles and all that nitty-gritty! Bottoms of their feet lookin’ like someone left a tire patch kit sittin’ on the radiator.”
Gross.
“The ol’ Pig won’t abide it.”
Always nice checking in with you, Pig.
“I’m a fountain of yes in a world made outta no.”
God bless you.
“Yes, he did.”
It’s my birthday today, so I might hurl myself off a bridge; you did all you could.
“Hey, Dusty.”
“Yes, Billy?”
“You remember Gimme All Your Lovin’?”
“How could I forget it?”
“You liked it?”
“Loved it.”
“Great! Because I wrote it again.”
OR
Upon hearing this tune for the first time, John Fogerty was heard to exclaim, “WHY DO THEY GET AWAY WITH IT?”
Go watch Bobby and his Wolf Bros (with special guests) live from the World Famous Ryman Auditorium in Nashville, and maybe throw those poor wind-fucked bastards a couple bucks while you’re at it.
Everywhere’s got a North and a South.
© 2025 Thoughts On The Dead
Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑
Recent Comments