Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Enthusiasts, I wouldn’t tell you that a dry recounting of a naval voyage was the funniest goddamned thing I’ve heard in ages if it weren’t true. This one has everything: friendly fire, ghost squadrons, mind-blowing incompetence, and an admiral slowly driven insane by the numpties he’s been surrounded with.
TRUST ME. Watch it.
“All right now, all right now. Settle yourselves on down. Everybody done relieved they bladders, fetched theyselves a protein bar, texted their handlers? We gonna get right back into this here hearing. Appropriations Committee recognizes the Secretary of Homeland Security, Chad Wolf.”
“Thank you, Senator Kennedy. I want to first say what an honor it is to be here with you. Your heroics during World War II on PT-109 were an inspiration to me as a child.”
“Son, I ain’t that John Kennedy.”
“My staff informed me that you were.”
“John Kennedy was assassinated in 1963.”
“My staff did not inform me of that.”
“Mr. Wolf, my confidence in you is a leaky balloon. Let’s try to keep jus’ a little bit of air in there, huh?”
“Yes, sir. I would like to begin my remarks with a song about President Trump. I brought my guitar.”
GUY NAMED CHAD TAKING OUT A GUITAR AGAINST THE WISHES OF THE ROOM NOISE
“No! Security!”
CAPITAL POLICE OFFICER SNATCHING CHAD’S GUITAR AGAINST HIS WISHES NOISE
“I ain’t gonna stand for that, boy. You got any more instruments on you?”
“No, sir.”
“I find out you got a harmonica, I’m shoving it up your butt.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Secretary, you’re here asking this committee for 2.5 billion dollars to combat the coronavirus. I would like to ask you some questions.”
“Oh, fun. Like trivia?”
“No, I’m gonna ask you what you’re planning on doing with the money.”
“Oh, much less fun. Well, Senator, as you know: the coronovirus is a complete mystery to science.”
“That ain’t true at all.”
“We are also working under the assumption that while the virus will kill a certain amount of the population, it will also impart magical, almost god-like powers upon a different segment of the country.”
“Where exactly you getting that from?”
“President Trump heard Lou Dobbs say it yesterday, and it is now official U.S. policy.”
“Boy, that’s dumber than a hen trying to sneak into the foxhouse. Tell me what Homeland Security is doing about the outbreak.”
“I, personally, have formed an advisory committee called C.OR.O.N.A. That stands for the Christian Organized Resistance to Oriental Novel Afflictions. We have met well over a dozen times.”
“And what have you gotten done?”
“So far, just the name. It was really tough backfitting an acronym to ‘corona.’ Would have really helped to have a V in there somewhere.”
“Who is on this committee, Mr. Wolf?”
“There’s me. Lou Dobbs, obviously. Well, not him. He sends an intern. A couple Saudi guys who won’t tell anyone their names. Big John Studd.”
“Big John Studd the professional wrestler?”
“No, sir. Big John Studd the preacher, inspirational speaker, and entrepreneur . Who used to wrestle professionally.”
“So there are no members with any medical training?”
“I believe that Lou Dobbs’ intern has taken a CPR class, Senator.”
“Boys as dumb as you get et up by alligators where I’m from.”
“Massachusetts has alligators?”
“I’m not that John Kennedy, you damned ninny!”
“Again: my staff misinformed me.”
“Mr Wolf, how many current cases of the coronavirus are there?”
“Like, in total? I can’t speak for the rest of the world.”
“No, just America.”
“I also cannot speak for America.”
“Wanna ballpark it?”
“Well, it’s definitely more than none. If there were no cases of coronavirus, then we wouldn’t be having this meeting. And everyone doesn’t have it. Because then we also wouldn’t be having this meeting.”
“I’m sorry, are you telling this committee that the closest estimate the United States government can give is ‘between none and all?'”
“Give or take.”
“Mr. Wolf, how is the virus transmitted. I just wanna know you know something. I wanna be assured that the Trump administration knows just one basic fact.”
“Human to human.”
“How?”
“Sneakily?”
“Oh, God, we all gonna die.”
“Senator Kennedy, I again assure you that President Trump is completely on top of the situation. Before he left for India, he told me that there was a vaccine coming very soon, and that there was nothing to worry about.”
“Is there a vaccine in production?”
“One would assume. This seems like the sort of things scientists would jump right on.”
“Have you checked with the CDC?”
“President Trump has forbidden all contact with the CDC. A guy in a lab coat gave him the finger at one of his rallies, and that was the end of the CDC.”
“What about Health and Human Services?”
“Do you think calling them would help? Yeah, sure. Do you have their number?”
“Boy, I think your compos is non-mentis or something. You sustain any head injuries coming in here today?”
“My staff did not inform me of any, no.”
“We gonna take a break, and I’m gonna go in the cloakroom and get drunk real quick.”
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Making a lot of choices.”
I see that.
“And showing off Montgomery.”
Who?
“I have named my butt-chin Montgomery Cleft.”
Clever.
“He comes out to play when I hit the high notes.”
Uh-huh. And your hair?
“I asked for ‘the Suzy Quatro.'”
What material is your shirt made out of?
“Multiester.”
Is that like polyester?
“Mm. But more so.”
This was enlightening.
Basketball Head loves to tell this story at his rallies, and none of the fuckbrains in the crowd realize that they’re the tender woman and he’s the snake.
No one loves you like I do, Enthusiasts. Now I want everyone to dress exclusively in taupe and send me all their money.
Don’t start a death cult.
But I wanna.
No.
Aw.
That’s Stevie Wonder’s real first name. Stevland. Like he comes from the Land of Steves or something. O, what a miracle this world can be.
If you have nothing to say, then why do you type?
No one ever asked Chuck Klosterman that.
THEY DID. CONSTANTLY.
I’ve told you all this before: We don’t need to execute all of the billionaires, only a handful. It’s just that we need to do it publicly.
What is this all about?
“The, uh, Wolf Bros have taken on a Pup.”
Don’t call him that.
“Kid’s coming on the tour with us. He’s gonna be New Josh. Just as cute, and far fewer regrettable interviews. And, uh, I can pay him much, much less. Kid’s a winner all the way ’round.”
Do you know his name?
“Not as such. But I could pick him out of a crowd. Especially if the crowd was made up of the Wolf Bros. He stands out.”
Matt Jaffe is his name.
“Oh, no. Matt is Matt Busch’s name. Can’t have two Matts on one bus. Terrible luck.”
Is it?
“It’s like going to the theater when you’re named MacBeth. Bad hoo-doo.”
Didn’t know that.
“Way more name-related superstitions than you’d imagine.”
I learned something here.
Hey, Bobby. Whatcha doing?
“Making friends.”
You’re good at that.
“Oh, yeah. And I got a lot of free time since Jimi Hendrix never calls. I don’t know if I’ve told you this in a while, but—”
He’s your best friend.
“–Jimi is my best friend.”
Uh-huh.
“Over to my right in the hat is Carl, the Living Carl.”
Okay.
“Next to him is Non-Tattooed Pete. He’s got the fewest tattoos I’ve ever seen.”
Zero?
“Somewhere around there. I didn’t check all of him.”
Good idea.
“You know Watusi.”
Wynonna.
“And, uh, to my left is A Mash-Up Of Tom Waits And Bruce Springsteen.”
That’s a good name for that guy to have.
“Fitting, yeah.”
Sound is a bit naff, but whattya want for free?
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