I did not. Until this evening, I had been ignorant to the fact that the theme to The Godfather had lyrics. Furthermore, I was unaware that said lyrics were over-emoted by the Moon Rover Madman himself, Andy Williams. How will these knowledges affect me? Or you? We’ll find out, I suppose.
Thoughts On The Dead
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Page 8 of 1031
Got me taking this junk against my will.
Just a little prick.
Zevon day. Draw blood.
“Morning, everyone. We have some hermetically-sealed influencers and YouTubers here with us in person, and that’s great. Until they break mine or Kathleen Kennedy’s Personal Health Radii. Then, things are gonna be less than great. We’ll mow you peasants down. Stay where we put you.
“Everybody else is at home, and that’s for the best. Our announcements are gonna be around six hours. We’re really going for it today. Literally every dumb idea we’ve had for the past ten years. I might improvise a couple shows. We’ve also got some new trailers, which is exciting, and we’ve got title-cards, which we’re gonna pretend are the same as trailers.
“Let’s start off with Star Wars. Yay, Star Wars! It’s back. It never went away, but it’s back. Mandalorian, huh? The helmet, the baby, it’s a Western. The kids love him, and the guy who plays him is Hispanic. So that checks off a lot of boxes for us. We’re going deep into Mando. Everyone who’s been on the show is getting a spin-off. Beefy Muscle Lady and Apollo Creed are gonna team up. Remember the IG droid that blew itself up? He’s getting a prequel.
“We’re also gonna be digging into the Original Trilogy and giving everyone shows. Remember the guy with the walrus-face? His name was Ponda Baba, and he’s got a show. Hammerhead? Show. The early life of Bib Fortuna? Show. Everyone gets a show and none of it makes sense unless you watch all of it.”
DIAOBOLICAL LAUGHTER NOISE
“We’re gonna have a show with multiple Jabbas. And they’re gonna get it on. Everyone told me, ‘Bob, they’re not called Jabbas. They’re Hutts.’ I pissed on their shoes. ‘I says they’re Jabbas,’ I said. They agreed with me pretty quick. We’re gonna have Jabba-orgies.
“Jesus, you just wanna reach out and know someone’s there. Have someone join you in the warm confusion of existence. It’s so fucking confusing. You just hunt around for the point, and I don’t think it’s a fair game, so you just…you just don’t wanna do it alone. You can’t do it alone.
“…
“Disney can’t do anything for that, but we got Jedis. You can bear the torment of life for 45 more minutes as long as those 45 minutes are full of Jedis. Or superheroes. Who loves superheroes? Me, too.
“First big announcement is that we’re doing Fantastic Four. Stretchy-Man, the See-Through Lady, Hot Guy, and Pebble-Ass. Everybody’s favorite family is gonna team up and punch the armored foreigner. You’ve been waiting to see it for so long.
“Also, we’re doing the Eternals. Or the Inhumans. Or the Celestials. I always get those three confused. Are they all from space? One’s from the moon. The Celestials are real big, I think.
“I’m gonna be honest with you: We’re maybe six months away from doing The Beyonder. Omnipotent being from beyond the stars who, for some reason, only wanted to see Spidey punch the Wrecking Crew in their faces? Just the dumbest fucking plot device in the history of comic books? Yeah. That. We’re doing that, and you’re gonna thank us with money.
“Y’know what? Fuck it: Moon Knight. No one’s ever liked Moon Knight. Hell, no writer’s ever figured out who he is besides ‘legally not-Batman.’ Moon Knight’s coming, and if you don’t like it, I’ll piss on your shoes.
“All right, have the influencers and YouTubers killed.”
- I didn’t listen to that bullshit, man.
- I’m not gonna listen to that bullshit, man.
- You can’t make me listen to that bullshit, man.
- And I am weak and confused right now; I can be forced to do almost anything.
- If you come too close to me, I squawk and hold my breath and limp away as fast as I can (which is not fast at all), but I’m still not listening to that bullshit.
- You could chicken-wing me, or give me noogies, and I’m still not listening to that bullshit.
- Through cultural osmosis, I will most likely hear the singles.
- But I’m not listening to the album cuts.
- I’m gonna judge those of you who do, though.
- Should’ve seen this coming when you all started taking Dua Lipa seriously.
- And I don’t give a fuck if that little closeted weiner who used to “date” Lena Dunham produced it, and I CERTAINLY don’t give a fuck if Bob Iger helped out.
- Boba Yoba?
- You know who I’m talking about: the Sad, Sloppy, Balding White Boy who was terrible with Dead & Company.
- …
- …
- …
- Bonwit Teller.
- Fuck it, whatever his name is.
- He don’t do it for me.
- None of this is for me.
- I am not some 13-year-old who just got some wispies on her cha-cha.
- I am a grown, dying man.
- I’m not listening to Taylor Swift, I’m not taking fucking Kpop seriously, and I refuse to learn whether it’s Shawn or Sean Mendes.
- Call me on it.
- I dare you.
- I’ll rip my candana from my head and give you a Death Stare.
- My Death Stare’s good, man.
- I haven’t eaten in around two weeks, and you can see every bone in my skull.
- I win arguments, baby.
- So: You listen to TS.
- I got my KISS records out.
- Coconut Tongues, W. Frank Yesnow.
- Burn, Muff.
- 鸭的愚蠢是巨大的, Juk-Deng #1 Horse.
- The Man Can’t Jail Dese Nuts, Lickyboomboom (Feat. Baseball Glove Face).
- The Sky Fears No Harpoon, Machochachi.
- Cantinflas Didn’t Kill Himself, Sweet Uncle Stan & The Jump-High Gang.
- Macha/Mochi, ciTyFLuid.
- Dipping Sauce For My Titties, Princess Anal (Feat. DJ Liberace’s Lasagna Recipe).
- Part 3, Volume 2, Turgid Thurgood.
- Sink-pissin’, Lil Stank.
- Globbawobbadoobleday, Yobbalob Globbawobbadoobleday.
- Arf (Not Arf), Dogs Who Went To Art School.
- Submarine Seamen, Ólaf Ólafsson & All His Sons.
- Spider Ballads, Tammy Christ.
- Throw Hands With My Pussy, Jennifer Annnnnnnnnnn Asstronaut.
- iRreSistibLE, wOw X wOw.
- Requiem For Pepys, Montgomery Yiff & the Buffalo Symphony.
- Covid’s Metamorphosis, Maia Maliaia.
- Live Bullet, Bob Seger & The Silver Bullet Band.
- Circular Bridges, Ben and Jeannie Alfredo.
Hey, Mr. Davis. Whatcha doing?
“Bein’ black and better than you.”
I can’t disagree. That’s some bed you got there.
“Custom-made. I can fit six bitches in here. All sorts of room for freakiness. Plus I got hidey-holes.”
Hidey-holes? For what?
BANG!
“Don’t be asking me about my hidey-holes.”
You brought it up.
“I’ll bring my foot up your ass. Fuck’s the point of a hidey-hole if you’re gonna run around telling everyone what’s in it?”
You’re right.
“Shit, I know. But you’re half-dead or something, right?”
Something like that.
“Yeah, so I’ll let you behind the black door. That’s very kind of me, letting your semi-civilized ass into my hidey-holes.”
Thank you, Mr. Davis.
“I got a drug drawer.”
Sure.
“Next to that is for devices of a sensual purpose. I got some wet-wipes in there, too.”
Smart.
“Under there I got, maybe, nine or ten deflated soccer balls.”
Why?
“Ask Cicely.”
If I see her, I will. Anything else you want to share about your bed?
“PIllows are custom, too. Feathers only come from good-looking ducks. I picked ’em out personally. Went upstate to this cracker’s farm. Man’s got ducks out the ass. I chose the attractive birds.”
There are good-looking and ugly ducks?
“Shit, yeah. Some of those motherfuckers were uglier than Gary Bartz. I can’t be putting my head on that shit.”
I guess not. One last question.
BANG!
What was that for!?
“You act like we ain’t met before and I don’t know you’re about to say some stupid shit.”
Yes, sir.
“Ask your stupid shit.”
Shoes on the bed?
BANG!
“They’re bed-slippers, you hillbilly shithead!”
I enjoy our visits.
“I’ll throw you out a window if you come back here.”
Yes, sir.
…and he’s set fire to the fridge, rummaged through Dinah’s purse when she wasn’t looking, and then he fucked the butter.
Give this a spin. Let your neighbors hear it, too; they’ll thank you.
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