- Let’s just get Judge Judy, Judge Reinhold, Mike Judge, Judge Dredd, and Flip Wilson’s “Da Judge” character out of the way up front.
- People are sure to start advocating for an African-American judge, or a Latino, but I think we should get an Albino-American on the Supreme Court.
- An albino would look super-cool in the black robe.
- Also, albinos glow in the dark, so the Court could play midnight basketball.
- Ai Wei Wei would be a poor choice as he does not speak English, nor know the law, and China would certainly have him accidentally assassinated.
- Kobe Bryant will need a job soon, although he would be a terrible Justice: he would hog all the opinions and try to get the other Justices traded.
- Kobe aside, the Court does need a forward; Ginsburg is not strong in the paint.
- Speaking of basketball, Bill Walton could do it.
- Oral arguments would be much more entertaining; the case would be about patent law or something, and Justice Walton (“Call me Bill.”) would start talking about how Ancient Egyptians discovered tanning and made the finest leather in antiquity, and then he’d do his rap on violins (“Only four strings, but they make a ton of noise.”), and then a Coach Wooden story or two.
- The poor court stenographer would be a mess by the end of it.
- “Psst. How do you spell Aoxomoxoa?”
- Bobby would mean well, but he would be a poor Supreme Court Justice.
- He’s a rather bright man, but does lack a formal education of any kind.
- And I know the Constitution makes no mention of any requirement that a nominee have been a judge, or even have attended law school.
- But it would help.
- I would imagine lunchroom conversations would be impenetrable; the other Justices might even ostracize Bobby, and that would make him sad.
- Stop making Bob Weir sad, Supreme Court.
- In a similar vein, I bring up the Air Bud rule: just because the Constitution doesn’t explicitly say that a golden retriever can’t be appointed to the highest court in the land doesn’t mean it’s allowed.
- Besides, a dog would vote with whoever gave him treats, and we’ve already got a Clarence Thomas.
- Every bar I go to, there’s a guy there who’s so smart: they should find that guy.
- Brett Ratner.
Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To
Tag: brett ratner
Are those Tibetan prayer beads on your wrist?
“Dude. You have: no. fucking. IDEA how spiritual I am.”
How spiritual are you?
“Dalai Lama’s been at my house.”
I will give you this one: Dalai Lama at your house is the height of White Guy Spirituality.
“Used my shitter. Little bastard top-decked me.”
The Dalai Lama did not top-deck you.
“Ah, you’re right: I’m fuckin’ with ya.”
How much you gotta donate to Free Tibet Inc. before the Dali Lama comes over.
“Dude. You have: no. fucking. IDEA how much those fuckers cost.”
I can imagine.
“Plus you know: I’m not gonna just make the first donation they suggest, right? Everything’s negotiable, I figure.”
…
“You ever negotiate with a Buddhist monk?”
No.
“Fuckers believe in reincarnation: they’ll just wait ’til you crack.”
Good strategy.
“Worse than the Mafia. You sit down with a mob guy, you don’t have to listen to the fucking prayer wheels: you’ll agree to their demands just to get out of the room.”
Okay: we haven’t really talked about what you’re going to do for the show.
“Long lens.”
Okay.
“Black and white. Color.”
What?
“Panaflex.”
That’s the name of the company that makes movie cameras: you haven’t given this a second’s thought, have you?
“I’m gonna be more of a big-picture guy on this project.”
What does that mean?
“I will be letting everyone else do everything and taking the credit and cashing the check.”
Again: I cannot fault your strategy.
“Got this shit on lockdown.”
Okay.
“Lockdown!”
Right, sure. So, who’s going to be doing the actual directing?
“Guy. Guy the Dead sent over. Nice kid. Good guy.”
…
…
…
“Jason Katzman!”
No.
“Jordan Kookamunga.”
Nope.
“Jibby Kockandballs.”
That’s not even close to a human name. Justin Kreutzmann will be doing the work.
“Sure, okay. Great guy. Good kid. Like me: started with no connections and made his way.”
He may have had a contact in the organization.
…
His dad.
…
…
…
“Harry Mendoza had a son?”
We’re done. Nice watch.
“Gift from John Mayer.”
Hey, Brett Ratner. Whatcha doing?
“Karate, judo, some of that Jap shit. Beatin’ ass!”
Great. You do a lot of martial arts?
“Is fucking a martial art?”
Only in Brazil.
“I been training with one of those Brazilian guys! Bro, I am so into MMA.”
I had a feeling. So, you got any ideas about this webcast?
“Oh, bro, I have been so inspired. Gonna do some split-screen stuff, then I’m gonna overlay some tie-dye: real trippy bullshit.”
Of course you are.
“That says ‘hippie!’ How else will people know that hippie stuff is going on?”
Why don’t you just stay out of the way of the music and show the musicians?
“Nah. People hire Brett Ratner, they get the full Brett Ratner.”
Which is?
“Superficial competence and herpes.”
Okay.
“This webcast is gonna look just fine, as long as you don’t look hard at it. Or think about it. Also, you will immediately forget it afterwards: I will make it through the entire thing without finding one memorable angle or shot or transition. But, you know: it’ll look professional and all the famous people will come away from the experience as my friend.”
Are you even a Deadhead?
“Bro, no one is a bigger Harry Mendoza fan than me.”
Figured.
“What are the drummers’ names? Icky and Sticky?”
Close enough. You gonna film any of the rehearsals?
“Rehearsals are for fags.”
There you go.
Wait, does this mean that the rest of the tour isn’t going to be webcasted? Even this league can’t be this bush.
Also, as long as we’re asking questions, here’s a good one: precisely what value does Brett Ratner bring to the table? Someone in the Dead Or What’s Left Of ‘Em should look into this, and I’ll await the reply: What are you paying Brett Ratner? vs. How many people will tune in because of Brett Ratner?
It’s just a band, and not even that anymore. Little bit of choogly-type music to get you through your day: the Dead never actually, you know, mattered. This certainly shouldn’t.
It shouldn’t matter at all that it’s turned into Hollywood bullshit, and mediocre Hollywood bullshit at that.
![[PDF] Brett Ratner and Mariah](http://thoughtsonthedead.com/wp-content/uploads/pdf-brett-ratner-and-mariah.jpg)
Hey, Brett Ratner.
“Yo. Having a killer day, bro. Killin’ it.”
Yeah. You definitely don’t look like the guy with the coke.
“What?”
Nothing. So, what’s your favorite Dead song?
“Oh, I like ’em all, man.”
Uh-huh.
“The thing about the Dead’s songs is each one of them is so different, but there’s that them, y’know, that theme of America and style and passion and achievement–”
Achievement?
“–that really always resonated with me. And the authenticity! I could talk all day about the authenticity.”
I have no doubt that you could. Brett?
“Bro?”
Name one Dead song.
“Y’know, you’re insulting me a little here.”
One song.
…
“Drivin’, drivin’ in my caaaaar. Drivin’, gonna go so faaaaar.”
Let’s not talk about this anymore.
“Talk about what? You wanna bump?”
Do I have to talk to you afterwards?
“Yes.”
Pass.
“More for Mariah.”
This fucking guy? What is John Mayer, some sort of douche-tribble? When does Ashton Kutcher get involved?
Hey, Phil. Whatcha laughing about?
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
The latest debacle?
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
What pushed you over the edge to hilarity? Brett Ratner?
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Is it that it turns out that Peter Shapiro is actually a stand-up guy who understands the Dead?
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”
Will you be doing any free shows?
“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!
Good talk, Phil.
…
“Brett fuckin’ Ratner.”
I can’t see: are you making the jerk off motion?
“Better believe it.”
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