Thoughts On The Dead

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

Page 71 of 1031

The Forces Tear From The X-Axis

“Goddammit, you little prick! What did you do?”

The picture’s just turned a little. I can–

“You can fuck up! That’s all! You can fuck up and massage your crotch, that’s all you’re good for.”

No need for that, Phil.

“The whole restaurant’s 90 degrees off! The oil from the deep fryer spilled on three of the Busboys!”

Oh, no. Are they okay?

“Jill shot them.”

Why?

“We’re running a business here, dickface. No room in the budget for skin grafts.”

“DAAAAAAD!? WHY IS THE WALL THE FLOOR NOW?”

“Oh, great. Are you happy? You scared Grahame!”

I can fix this.

“They should’ve fixed your mother, suckjob.”

Dirty, Trix

Hey, Trixie. Whatcha doing?

“Holding up my dead dad’s stuff. Living the dream.”

It could be worse.

“Listen, I’m not comparing myself to a Uighur here.”

You’re doing better than the Uighurs.

“And I’m not Meghan McCain.”

In no way, shape, or form. Plus, your father wasn’t a war criminal.

“I thought McCain was a war hero.”

Fucker was on his way to blow up a power plant when he got shot down.

“My dad never blew up anything. Unless fireworks count. Jerry enjoyed a good cherry bomb same as the next guy.”

Trixie, do you think Billie Eilish is an industry plant?

“I don’t know who that is, and I don’t know what that is.”

Cool.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Is that me?”

Yes. You should take it.

“Hold on.”

“Trixie here.”

“What is that, one of those WASP nicknames?”

“Who is this?”

“You know damn well who it is. Many young people today, I’m told, can do an impression of my voice. The timbre, my particular locution, phrases of speech, so forth. Perhaps they do it at parties to, uh, entertain their peers. Nixon has always had an identifiable sound.”

“Uh-huh. I was gonna ask you how you got that number, but then I realized how many other questions I have.”

“Trixie. Trixie. Nonsense. If it weren’t an election year, I’d have your parents arrested. Roughed up, maybe. The liberals frown on those sorts of actions nowadays, but it keeps the world honest. A good beating would do most of the world quite well. Quite well. I learned this playing football. Nixon was not the biggest, not the strongest, but by God I was the toughest.”

“Why are you calling me, Richard Nixon?”

“I was looking for Elvis.”

“Presley?”

“That is his last name. Some refer to him as ‘The King.’ Not an official title. He’s of common blood, incredibly common.”

“I don’t know Elvis.”

“Dammit, this is Ziegler’s fault.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES NO LONGER DO THAT

“Excuse me. Dickhead?”

Me?

“Yeah. I did not enjoy that and it’s not gonna happen again.”

Sorry, Ms. Garcia.

“You need to learn about boundaries.”

I sincerely apologize.

A Partial Transcript Of The Nevada Democratic Debate, 2/19/20

“Good evening, America, and welcome back to the 197th in an infinite series of Democratic Debates. My name is Lester Holt, and your mom probably has a crush on me. Tonight, we are in Las Vegas, Nevada on the cusp of the nation’s third primary. Andrew Yang has dropped out, but we do have a new face behind the podium, former Mayor of New York City, Michael Bloomberg.”

“Lester, I’ll give you half-a-million dollars to make everyone else’s questions harder.”

“Stop that. I do want to add that we apologize for the late start. The DNC gave all the candidates the wrong address. Tough to overstate how incompetent the national Democrats are, folks. Anyway, let’s start off with Senator Bernie Sanders.”

“I marched for your people, Lester.”

“You’ve mentioned it before. Senator, you are 80 years old and recently had a heart attack. Will you be providing the public with any more details about your health?”

“Health is good. Listen, listen, don’t worry about my heart. Very solid in there. No crust, no gunk, real strong. The people don’t need to see any of my medical records. What the people need is to join a worker’s collective.”

“Yes, but you can understand why there are concerns about your health?”

“I have to say that this line of questioning is racist.”

“What now?”

“Like when everyone noodged Obama about his birth certificate. This is just like that. Asking to see any sort of documentation is racist.”

“I don’t think it is.”

“Lester, I wanna talk about Medicare For All.”

“Fine. How are you going to pay for it?”

“Except that part. I wanna talk about all the aspects of Medicare For All except that part. Did you know that, with my plan, all illegal immigrants receive free root canals?”

“Really?”

“Yes. Trump wants to build a wall, I want to give out dental bridges.”

“Interesting. We now go to the Senator from Massachusetts, Elizabeth Warren.”

“Lester, let me interrupt you to say that Mike Bloomberg is the fucking devil. I’m not gonna sugar-coat it. Me and my staff, we whipped up a dozen clever lines about what a sleazy, greedy, racist, autocratic putz he is, but I’m calling an audible and just saying it plainly. He’s the motherfucking devil.”

“Okay.”

“THE DEVIL!”

“You all right, Senator Warren?”

“I’ve lost whatever sense of humor I had coming into this. I don’t mind losing to a commie, but not to Wall Street Smurf.”

“Understood. Next question is for Pete Buttigieg, mayor of South Bend, Illinois.”

“Indiana, Lester.”

“Same shit, different highway. Mayor Pete, all the other candidates in the race support some variation of universal health care, whereas you keep using the phrase Medicare for those who want it. What is the difference?”

“Mine sounds much better. You have to admit that.”

“I don’t. Would your plan eliminate private health insurance?”

“Oh, God, no. Think of the jobs. People’s health is one thing, but it’s not as important as the economy’s health.”

“Uh-huh.”

“What Senator Sanders and Warren is proposing would basically set America on fire. Y’know what? Not ‘basically.’ Literally. Remember what happened to Australia last month? That. The whole country would literally be on fire if socialists are allowed to interfere with an insurance company’s right to insert itself in between you and your doctor.”

“I don’t know if that’s a right.”

“Which one of us was a Rhodes Scholar?”

“You.”

“There ya go. Also, I heard that Bernie Sanders is only staying alive via transfusions of intern blood.”

“This is not true! This is not a true statement! I do not require such procedures!”

“Pete! Bernie! Knock it off! I am now going to speak with the Senator from Minnesota, Amy Klobuchar. Amy, you’re still here.”

“I resent your tone, Lester.”

“It’s just sweet how you’re not letting your lack of charisma hold you back.”

“Every time you say a mean thing, I beat another staff member tonight. So that’s all on your head, Les.”

“Senator, who is the President of Mexico?”

“No clue.”

“How about the Prime Minister of Canada?”

“The hunky dumb one.”

“What about Italy?”

“God only knows who’s in charge over there.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that one. Would you like to tell Mike Bloomberg to go fuck himself?”

“I would.”

“Go ahead.”

“Go fuck yourself, Mike.”

“Great. Mayor Bloomberg, hello.”

“Hello, Lester. Have you been frisked?”

“No.”

“I’d prefer if you were. Just for my own safety.”

“Absolutely not.”

“I’ll give you a million dollars to let Biden frisk you.”

“Oh, wow. I totally forgot Joe Biden was here.”

“Has he fallen asleep?”

“Apparently. Mayor Bloomberg, you’ve come into the race recently and been spending a lot of money.”

“I have so much.”

“Yes. Will you release your tax returns?”

“Oh, they’re boring. No one wants to see them.”

“I believe they do.”

“Nah. What people want is for Robert Downey, Jr. to play Iron Man again. Elect me president, and I’ll pay Robert Downey, Jr. to come back as Iron Man.”

“He’s aged out of the role..”

“Nah, they’ll shmear the computer stuff on his face like in the Scorsese movie. And I’ll have him fight Batman.”

“Those are two entirely different companies, Mayor.”

“I’ll buy them both. They’ll fight.”

“Lester! Lester!”

“Yes, Senator Warren?”

“He’s THE FUCKING DEVIL.”

“You’ve mentioned.”

“Lester, I want to conclude my statement.”

“Go ahead, Mayor Bloomberg.”

“I will give every American citizen $100 to vote for me. In cash. Straight cash, homie, as your people say. I could do it and still have $20 billion left over.”

“Oh, God, you actually could.”

“BECAUSE HE’S THE FUCKING DEVIL!”

“Settle down, Liz! We’re going to a commercial. Someone wake up Biden.”

Personal Floatation Devices Can Be Found Under Your Flag

“Sir!”

“Not now, Colonial Jenkins. I’m symbolizing.”

“Anything in particular, General Washington?”

“You name it. Freedom, masculinity, sneakiness. There’s a lot going on right now.”

“Yes, sir. But you really need to sit down.”

“Speak to me that way once more, Jenkins, and you get bit.”

“Yes, sir.”

“I will take my teeth right out and bite your dick off. I’ll make a fine gnash of your nethers.”

“Begging your pardon, General, but we’re in a tiny boat. We need to keep our center of gravity as low as possible.”

“Gravity?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Has that been invented yet?”

“200 years ago.”

“You don’t say.”

“General, you’re rocking the boat back and forth. At least take your leg off the gunwale.”

“Have those been invented, too?”

“That depends. Do you think I said ‘gunwhale?'”

“I hope you did! We should buy as many as we can. War’d be over in two weeks.”

“Gunwhales aren’t real, General.”

“Well, have the boys in the Culper Ring build one.”

“Sir, do you see that we’re using oars to propel the boat? And that you’re wearing a sword? We’re nowhere near technologically advanced enough to weaponize cetaceans.”

JANKY-ASS BOAT NEARLY CAPSIZING NOISE

“Sir! For the sake of America, please sit down!”

“How dare you blame me for your poor seamanship! Row more vigorously! Jib your sheets! Mizzen your masts to the lash of the fo’castle!”

“Uh-huh.”

“Hop to it, then.”

“General, you’re not much of a boat person, are you?”

“Only been on three so far. Do not understand the appeal. Now, horses? I’ll ride the fuck out of a horse, Jenkins.”

“Yes, sir. But getting thrown out of a boat is so, so, so much worse than being thrown off a horse. Especially with all the ice.”

“Ah, thank you for reminding me. Have my slaves gather up all the ice they can and sell it to the French.”

“Yes, sir. What about crouching? If I can’t get you to sit, can I get you to crouch down? Even just a little bit would help.”

“Jenkins, I didn’t buy this new cape for you to look at. I want Cornwallis to see how good I look.”

“It’s the middle of the night, sir.”

“Clearly not. Look how bright it is.”

“Just in the painting, General. Lot of factual inaccuracies in there.”

“They call that ‘artistic license,’ Jenkins.”

“I read that, yes. Sir, please sit down.”

“Fuck you, Jenkins. I’m jumping!”

FATHER OF OUR COUNTRY JUMPING UP AND DOWN IN A ROWBOAT LIKE A LOON NOISE

“Whee! I’m the jumpiest boy in the colonies!”

“What the fuck, dude?”

“YAAAAAAY!”

“Hey, jackass.”

Yes, Jenkins?

“What happened there?”

The characterization went a bit sideways on me. I’ll admit that.

“You’re just not trying lately.”

I’m sick.

“What’s wrong with you?”

I have brainosis.

“Next time you involve me, I need you to have a thought-out premise.”

Sorry, Jenkins.

Play It Loud, And Four Or Five Times In A Row

I’m just trawling the Comment Section for content at this point; Valued Commentator JES reminds us of the greatest Stones song that none of the Stones played on.

(But HOLY SHIT what a band! Ry Cooder on slide–you knew that–but did you know about Randy Newman on piano? That one! With the curly hair and the Oscars! Plus, Jerry Scheff from Elvis’ Vegas band on bass!)

OR

This is the most evil lyric ever written. All that semi-satanic bullshit Slayer and those other heavy mental bands growled pales in comparison, espcially to the opening verse.

Didn’t I see you down in San Antone on a hot and dusty night?
We were eating eggs in Sammy’s when the black man there drew his knife
Aw, you drowned that Jew in Rampton as he washed his sleeveless shirt
You know, that Spanish-speaking gentlemen the one we all called Kurt
Come now, gentleman, I know there’s some mistake
How forgetful I’m becoming now you fixed your business straight
I remember you in Hemlock Road in nineteen fifty-six
You’re a faggy little leather boy with a smaller piece of stick
You’re a lashing, smashing hunk of man your sweat shines sweet and strong
Your organs working perfectly but there’s a part that’s not screwed on
Weren’t you at the Coke convention back on nineteen sixty-five?
You’re the misbred, gray executive I’ve seen heavily advertised
You’re the great, gray man whose daughter licks policemen’s buttons clean
You’re the man who squats behind the man who works the soft machine
Come now, gentleman your love is all I crave
You’ll still be in the circus when I’m laughing, laughing in my grave
When the old men do the fighting and the young men all look on
And the young girls eat their mothers meat from tubes of plasticon
Be wary of these my gentle friends of all the skins you breed
They have a tasty habit they eat the hands that bleed
So remember who you say you are and keep your noses clean
Boys will be boys and play with toys so be strong with your beast
Oh Rosie dear, don’tcha think it’s queer so stop me if you please
The baby is dead, my lady said, “You gentlemen, why, you all work for me”
If they had played this at Altamont, way more kids would have died.

You’ll Never Guess Why His Name Was Meat

The mention of the Porky’s trilogy caused Valued Commentator DJ50000000000000000000000 to bring this to our attention, and it’s mind-melting. Look at this murderer’s row! They must have spent more money on the soundtrack than the picture!

So I ask you, the Rock Nerd Community, a question: What’s the WORST movie with the BEST soundtrack? Answers in the Comment Section, please.

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