Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: john mayer (Page 18 of 42)

Down By The River, I Shot My Political Opponents

March 8, 2017 / / 4 Comments

What the fuck are you doing?

“I gave up.”

On the storyline?

“And sobriety.”

Are you drunk?

“Dude, Kim Jong Un knows how to party. I kinda feel bad for ducking him all this time.”

He’s there?

“Yeah. I wasn’t going to him.”

Kim Jong Un is at the Alphi Phi charity benefit?

“He’s blending in. Don’t worry.”

“Hot Dog Dick, you want wine?”

“Sticking with tequila, buddy.”

“Only Korea make best wine in world. Red and white. Both kind, best wine.”

I have so many questions, but ‘ll preface with this: tequila?

“Oh my God, the world of high-end tequila is fascinating. It’s almost as complicated as watches.”

No, it isn’t Real tequila is only made from one ingredient. You cannot complicate it.

“Dude, rich white people can complicate anything.”

True. We now move on: why the fuck is the dictator of North Korea–

“Only Korea!”

–at Bobby’s daughter’s party? It’s odd enough that you’re there.

“He’s not bothering anybody.”

“Kim Jong Un gonna nuke all you round-eye fucks!”

“Okay, he may be bothering the tables around him, but he’s not bothering everyone.”

You need to wrangle him.

“Fine.”

…

“Kim Jong Un is buying coke from one of the randbros.”

Dammit, Mayer! This is why you weren’t in this storyline! Now, turn in your badge and gun.

“I don’t have a badge and gun.”

Go get them, and bring them back and turn them in.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Maybe that’s Katy.”

Maaaaaaaybe.”

“I loathe you.”

…

“Upcoming subject of a FISA warrant John Mayer speaking.”

“Who?”

“Is this Bobby?”

“Yeah.”

“Josh Meyers.”

“Hey, buddy. What about a FISA court?”

“Nothing.”

“Josh, it’s very important to me that my daughter’s party go smoothly. My promotion at work is counting on it.”

“What?”

“I thought maybe we were going in a sitcommy-type direction, but I guess not.”

“Bob, where are you?”

“Still at Phil’s. Now: have you found Elvis?”

“No.”

“You keeping an eye on Putin?”

…

…

…

“Yes?’

“Josh, I gave you one job!”

“Bobby, you gave me, like, three separate impossible tasks that required time travel and magic.”

“One job!”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

“Goddammit. Kim!”

“Hot Dog Dick?”

“You see Putin?”

“Fuck that guy.”

“Agreed. Not the question.”

“He head towards ocean.”

“What?”

Where the fuck are you going?

“Joint of Phil Grateful. Free show. Bobby Grateful is jamming.”

It’s not a joint. It’s a classy establishment.

“Is joint. Maybe I blow up.”

Don’t blow up TXR.

“Putin do what he vants.”

Stop bothering everybody.

“No.”

I hate you.

“Putin nyet care.”

I know.

Josh Meyer’s Big Break

March 7, 2017 / / 8 Comments

“Oh, shit.”

…

“Oh, fuck.”

…

“Oh, shit.”

John, why is Bobby running around the room cursing?

“He can’t find Elvis.”

OMG.

“Right?”

Elvis needs supervision at all times. He was alone literally once in his entire adult life and he ended up at the White House.

“Is that how that happened?”

Yeah. He ran away from home and flew around the country for a while by himself, and then decided to meet the president. He had his guys meet him in Washington.

“That’s amazing.”

It is. Why aren’t you helping Bobby find the King?

…

“You’re kidding me.”

What?

“NOW you want me in the storyline.”

Desperate times, etc.

“No.”

Please?

“Kiss my ass.”

Okay.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“You have, like, one trick.”

But it’s a good trick. Answer the phone.

“Asshole.”

…

“Alpha Phi gala, John Mayer speaking.”

“John, have you seen Elvis?”

“Benjy?”

“Yeah.”

“Where are you?”

“Still in Cuba. Did you know the Spanish word for ‘marijuana’ is also marijuana? That’s called a cognate.”

“No, it’s a loanword.”

“Let’s not argue about the parts of speech. You haven’t seen him?”

“No. He was at the bar with ’89 Garcia, and now he’s not.”

“Is ’89 Garcia missing, too?”

“No, he’s onstage jamming with Elvis.”

“You said Elvis was missing!”

“The other Elvis.”

“Okay. John, this isn’t good. Elvis can’t be left alone. He’s a people person.”

“I don’t care. Someone I won’t name who’s a lonely weirdo didn’t want me in the storyline.”

“Be a team player, bro. Help out, okay?”

“Ugh.”

“Have you been to Cuba? It’s fuckin’ awesome. You know what they call Cuban sandwiches down here?”

“Sandwiches?”

“Yeah, sandwiches. No modifier.”

“Makes sense.”

CALL WAITING NOISE

“Benjy, I’ll call you back.”

“Find Elvis!”

“No!”

…

“John Mayer, Sorority girl slayer.”

“What’s that now?”

“Nothing! Sorry, Bob. Just a joke.”

“Not a great one.”

“Where are you? I hear music. You’re not onstage. Wait. Where did Phil go?”

“Yeah, we ducked out for a sec. Can you find Elvis and also drive my wife–”

“Natasha Monster.”

“–home? Great. Good talk, Josh.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

“Oh, come ON!”

Hey, look: you’re in the storyline.

“I hate this universe.”

What if I told you that Hillary Clinton was president in it?

“Is she?”

Nah.

“Fucker. Selfie!”

What?

“Selfie.”

Ah. Just go find Elvis.

“I hate you.”

Understood. Hey, wait. Where’s Putin?

“Dude, he’s shitfaced and heckling ’89 Garcia and Wrong Elvis.”

What?

“You suck, Jerry Grateful!”

Jesus. Is that Medvedev? Where’d he come from?

“Is my Charlie Hodge. Brings Putin scarves and water and dead journalists. Play Freebird!”

Of course you’re that guy. John?

“Oh, what?”

I need you to do the following things: number one, get Vladimir Putin out of Bobby’s daughter’s charity function; two, find Elvis Presley; three, steal all the time machines back from ’85 Phil. You are the storyline now, pal. Main character. All your show.

“I’m not wearing the right clothes.”

You’re never wearing the right clothes. Just do this. Be the hero, John Mayer. You’re the Garcia now.”

“Hey! I’m in the room, y’know!”

“Sorry, ’89 Garcia! John? Buddy? Can you do this one for me?”

“Again: ugh. And how am I going to help? You’ve never let me have the Time Sheath.”

Gotcha covered.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“You’re the man.”

I am.

…

“John Mayer, hero of the storyline.”

“Dynamic duo back in action, Hot Dog Dick!”

“FUCK!”

“Kim Jong Un got Time Hat. Find hillbilly in cape. Save world.””

“Fuck.”

“Take best friend on adventure through history.”

“Fuck.”

“Father invent history.”

…

…

…

“Fuck.”

I’ll Meet Just About Everybody At The Jubilee

March 6, 2017 / / 1 Comment

“Josh, you see this down here?”

“What?”

…

“Ah, you got me. I hate that game.”

arm punch

“These look like upstanding young men.”

“Both of them just offered to sell me coke.”

“I retract my assessment.”

“Bobby, have you seen Elvis?”

“He’s right there at that table.”

“Where?”

“That’s the wrong Elvis, Bobby.”

“Is it? I can’t see very well in this tux.”

“How many Demerol did Elvis give you?”

“Just one.”

“How many other pills?’

“Many. Have we lost Elvis?”

“I didn’t! I’m not in the storyline.”

“You got a lotta lines for a guy who’s not in the storyline.”

“We need to concentrate, Bob. Where’s ’89 Garcia?’

“I think I saw him out on the patio.”

“He doesn’t look happy, Bob.”

“Nope. Hold on. Jer?”

…

“Jer?”

…

“Big guy?

…

“Yeah, he’s asleep.”

“That’s unnerving.”

“You get used to it. Not quickly, but you get used to it.”

“Sure.”

“But, uh, let’s go find that hillbilly lunatic. I don’t want anything screwing up my daughter’s sorority gala.”

“Is very classy affair, Bobby Grateful.”

“Shit.”

“You’re not supposed to be here.”

“Putin daughter in sorority vith Bobby Grateful daughter.”

“I don’t think so.”

“Da. They besties. Gossip, giggle, vhatnot.”

“Get the hell out of here, you commie son of a bitch.”

“Putin in party mode. Get freak on.”

“Do not get your freak on.”

“Who’s holding?”

“No one’s holding, asshole. Get out.”

“Want to powder snoot.”

“If I get you some coke, will you go?”

“Da.”

…

“Josh, ask one of the randbros for coke.”

“Should I get some for us?”

“Well, obviously.”

“Gotcha.”

“Wait. Hey, Putin. Wasn’t 2015 Phil with you?”

“Phil Grateful right there.”

“Bobby, this is a very classy affair. Very nice.”

“Hey, Phil. Could you not bring foreign dictators to my family events any more, please?”

“I can’t promise that.”

“Who could?”

“Weir, tell your wife–”

“Natasha Monster.”

“–congratulations or whatever you say.”

“You bet. Phil, are you drinking?”

“Yeah, but it’s cool. I had Putin stop in 1972 and I borrowed my old liver.”

“Ah.”

…

“Seriously: has anyone seen Elvis?”

Weir Partying

March 6, 2017 / / 1 Comment

“It’s just not fair, Bob.”

“Josh, everybody doesn’t get to be in every storyline. When Garcia started a solo band, I wasn’t in it. Didn’t hurt my feelings.”

“No?”

“It hurt a little.”

“Okay, so you see where I’m coming from.”

“Connecticut.”

“I mean: you understand my position.”

“Seated.”

“Can’t you talk to Elvis? I wanna fight Communism, or time travel, or drunken Phil from 30 years ago. Whichever.”

“Yeah, this storyline has a whole lotta ‘whichever’ in it.”

“Well, just put in a word with him. Where is Elvis?”

“I saw him at the bar.”

“Is he drinking? He shouldn’t be mixing whatever he’s on with alcohol.”

“DON’T NOBODY TELL A SOUTHERN MAN WHAT T’ DO ‘LESS THEY BRING TH’ NATIONAL GUARD”

“Calm down, Elvis.”

“TELL YER SON HE’S ABOUT T’ GET A TON O’ KARATE SHOVED UP HIS ASS, HAIRY GARCIA.”

“Please don’t unleash your karate on Josh, King.”

“AH HAVE MADE MAH FEELIN’S ‘BOUT THAT BOY CRYSTAL CLEAR.”

“I know, yeah, sure. But, uh, lemme tell you: everybody feels that way at first. He grows on you.”

“SO DO CARBUNCLES!”

“True.”

“Okay, don’t call me a carbuncle, man.”

“YOU WILL ADDRESS TH’ KING WHEN ADDRESSED BY TH’ KING, AN’ TH’ KING AIN’T NEVER GOIN’ T’ ADDRESS YOU, CARBUNCLE!”

“Goddammit, Bob. I have, like, five Grammys.”

“Nobody cares about the Grammys, Josh.”

“LISTEN T’ YER ELDERS, CARBUNCLE!”

“Is that nickname gonna stick?”

“The answer to that will be revealed in the fullness of time, I suppose.”

“WHICH ONE YOU LITTLE LADIES WANTS A DEMEROL?”

“Elvis?”

“UH-HUH?”

“Not the one in the red dress.”

“IZZAT YER LISA-MARIE?”

“Yup.”

“AH WILL NOT GRANT HER MAH PILLS. HOW ‘BOUT YOU?”

“Y’know what? I could be talked into my shoulder hurting.”

“HOT DAMN, HAIRY GARCIA! NOW ISS A PARTY!”

“I’ll take one, too, man.”

“AW RIGHT, MAN! DEMEROLS F’R EV’RYBODY ‘CEPT CARBUNCLE!”

“Bobby?”

“Josh?”

“Is that Jerry at the bar?”

“Good eye.”

“Uh-huh. Bobby?”

“Yeah?”

“Should the dead guy be sitting at the bar in full view of the room?”

“Oh, no. Absolutely not.”

“So, why is he?”

“Cuz that’s Garcia from ’89. He’s not dead yet. 2017 Garcia? Yeah, dead as disco. That guy should not be anywhere near the bar.”

“Why is Jerry from ’89 sitting at the bar?”

“Well, we weren’t gonna leave him in the car.”

“IT AIN’T A CAR! ISS A STUTZ!”

“In the Stutz.”

“Maybe I don’t want to be in this storyline.”

“NOBODY INVITED YA, CARBUNCLE!”

“Okay, I’m gonna go bang sorority chicks in the bathroom.”

“AVOID TH’ STALL ON TH’ LEFT. THAT POPEYE’S WENT RIGHT THROUGH ME.”

“Goddammit.”

The Dead, Red Wedding

March 5, 2017 / / 2 Comments

What is this?

“Mawwaige.”

Princess Bride reference. Nice, Phil.

“I’m with it.”

You’re very hip. Why are you allowed to marry people?

“Anyone in California is legally allowed to marry anyone to anything.”

So progressive. Weren’t you and Putin on the way to steal back all the time machines from ’85 you?

“We still are. Stopped for a minute.”

Lada break down?

“Lada broke down. Thing’s made out of popsicle sticks and promises.”

How’s ’69 Garcia?

“Really, really, really enjoying 21st century weed and pornography.”

Both of those things have come a long way in 50 years.

“Yeah, he’s thrilled. Although, he nearly shot the kid at Starbucks when he found out how much coffee costs now.”

’69 Garcia was packing?

“No, of course not. Jerry, along with the rest of the Dead, was a pacifist who didn’t believe in weapons of violence.”

…

Hahahahaha.

“Hahahaha.”

Oh, we have a good time. Wait: where’s Putin?

“Right over there. He loves weddings. Even managed to find a date.”

“Is so romantic. Putin love veddings.”

Is that Steven Seagal?

“Da. Is my bro.”

What the hell is on his head?

“Vig.”

A what?

“Vig.”

“Vig?”

…

“Nyet make fun of glorious Russian accent.”

Stupid accent.

“Is best accent. Ladies love.”

If the ladies love it, then why is Steven Seagal your date to a wedding?

“Is vingman. Going to meet tight American foxes. Butt play on bocce court.”

“You stay the hell away from those bocce courts, mister!”

“Nyet tell Putin vhat to do, Phil Grateful. Putin make love to voman butt vherever he please.”

“This deal is getting worse and worse all the time.”

SOMEWHEN ELSE

“WELL, YER BASS PLAYER AIN’T AT TH’ WATER PARK, HAIRY GARCIA.”

“Elvis, I gotta admit something to you. I, uh, didn’t think that he was.”

“YOU JUS’ WANTED T’ GO T’ TH’ WATER PARK! YOU SLY DOG, YOU.”

“In my defense, we had a lot of fun.”

“IT WUZ A GOOD THING AH BROUGHT MAH BATHING-JUMPSUIT.”

“Yup. You looked good, too.”

“AH WUZ TH’ ONLY ONE IN TH’ PARK WITH A CAPE.”

“Well, you’re generally the only one in any building with a cape.”

“NAH, MAN. AH HANG OUT WITH A LOTTA MAGICIANS.”

“Ah. So, what’s the plan?”

“SENSEI BENJY HAS CALLED ME WITH AN UPDATE. POOTER AN’ TH’ OLD FELLA HE HANGIN’ OUT WITH GOT THEMSELVES SOME SORTA SECRET WEAPON. SOMETHIN’ CALLED A ‘JERRY.’ DUNNO ANY MORE THAN THAT.”

“Did the call get interrupted?”

“AH STOPPED PAYIN’ ATTENTION ONCE TH’ CONVERSATION WAS NO LONGER ‘BOUT ME.”

“Sure. A ‘Jerry,’ huh? I know where to get one of those. When, I mean.”

“LEAD ON, HAIRY GARCIA. WHICH WAY SHALL AH POINT MAH LUXURIOUS AUTOMOBILE?”

“Take the exit for 1989.”

“WANNA GET POPEYE’S?”

“Yes, I do.”

HONK HONK

“Is there a car in the dressing room?”

“THIS AIN’T NO CAR, Y’ DINGDANG DRUGGIE! ISS A STUTZ BLACKHAWK!”

…

“Elvis?”

“Hey, Jer?”

“Bobby? What the hell is happening?”

“I got you fried chicken.”

“Oh, cool.”

thwip

“Bob, did Elvis just shoot a blowdart into my ne–”

flump

…

“He was getting in the car!”

“CAN’T TAKE NO CHANCES WITH NO DRUGGIE.”

“Well, you know: not to be pointing a finger, but you’ve eaten your weight in pills since we started our trip.”

“THASS MAH MEDICINE, BOY!”

“But you’ve been sharing it with me.”

“YOU LOOK SICK.”

“Dammit, man. All right, let’s just get him in the car.”

“WHY’D WE HAVE T’ GET ONE O’ TH’ FAT ITERATIONS, MAN?”

“Just help me.”

“AH SHALL HELP YOU. CHARLIE HODGE! HELP HAIRY GARCIA PUT WHATEVER TH’ HELL THIS THING IS IN TH’ STUTZ!”

“You make it difficult to be your friend.”

“WE AIN’T FRIENDS. WE BEST FRIENDS.”

“Great. Gimme the blow gun.”

“AH WILL GIVE IT T’ YOU BECAUSE AH WANT TO, NOT CUZ YOU SAID TO.”

“Whatever. And stop eating Jerry’s chicken!”

“IT JUS’ SMELLED SO DANG GOOD, MAN.”

…

…

…

“Am I too late?’

Post’s over, John.

“But, I had–”

Post’s over.

“HOW MANY TIMES AH GOTTA PASS ON THAT BOY?”

You heard Elvis. Post’s over.

“I hate all of you.”

Smoking In The Girl’s Room

March 3, 2017 / / 3 Comments

Still?

“I’m all in, man. Been living my life as The Hawk for a week now.”

Why?

“Honestly? I’m trying to see if there’s anything I can do that would stop me from getting laid.”

is there?

“Getting a tugger right now. Just out of frame.”

Wow.

“Tried it all: not showering, saying stupid shit in interviews, singing through my nose. Nothing.”

I feel bad for you.

“Yeah?”

CELL PHONE NOISE

No.

“Fucker.”

Good insult. Call Benjy and see if he’ll write you another one.

“Is that why you’re mad? Because I asked Benjy to be my writer and not you?”

I’m not mad.

CELL PHONE NOISE

Not mad at all.

“This pettiness is why you’re not successful.”

There are so many more reasons than that.

“Dick.”

…

“You’ve reached The Hawk’s nest.”

“You do character? No do character. No can take shtick.”

“Oh,  fuck.”

“Hello, hot dog dick. I back.”

“No one wanted you back.”

“I fan favorite.”

“You’re not.”

“Everyone miss Kim Jong-Un.”

“They don’t.”

“Why Josh Meyers tour not come to Only Korea?”

“Same reason I’m not going to South Florida.”

“You no like Jews?”

“No!”

“No Jews in Only Korea.”

“It’s not about the Jews.”

“Father invent Jews.”

“He didn’t.”

“You bring tour here. Play all your hit.”

“Hits.”

“Agree to disagree. Come Only Korea, Josh. I make up room for you. We have sleepover.”

“I don’t want to have a sleepover.”

“We play Nintendo in rumpus room.”

“No, thank you.”

“Make stuffed animal hump. Maybe trade hands.”

“What?”

“Trade hand. You use Kim hand. Kim use Josh hand. Go to work. Make feel good.”

“I don’t want to jerk you off, man.”

“No, no. Is not jerk me off. We jerk ourselves, but with each other hand. Is not gay.”

“Is gay.”

“Is not gay.”

“ISS PRETTY DAMN GAY, KIMMY GIBBLER.”

“Is no gay!”

“Hey, Elvis.”

“PASS.”

“Motherfucker.”

“I no talk to you, hillbilly. You ditch me in Vegas.”

“YOU WAS TALKIN’ CRAZY. COULDN’T UNNERSTAND A WORD YOU WAS SAYIN’.”

“No talk crazy! Was talking Korean!”

“YOU SAY CUH-RAZY, AH SAY KUH-REAN. SAME THING.”

“No same thing.”

“TELL IT T’ TH’ MARINES, BOY. NOW GET ON OUTTA THIS STORYLINE. THAT YOUNG MAN AH DO NOT CARE FOR WAS RIGHT. YOU AIN’T NO FAN FAVORITE. TH’ KING IS A FAN FAVORITE.”

“In small dose. You wear out welcome.”

“DON’T YOU GET META-REFERENTIAL ON ME, BOY! NOW, GIT!”

“You guy suck.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

“CAN’T STAND THAT GUY, MAN. FAT, CRAZY, EV’RYBODY DOIN’ WHATEVER HE SAYS.”

…

“Um.”

“YOU STILL HERE?”

“Yeah, Elvis. Thanks for the help with Kim Jong–”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

“Motherfucker!”

You brought this on yourself, Hawk.

Award Season

March 2, 2017 / / 3 Comments

Oh, Christ.

“Hey, brother. How’s it hangin’?”

Don’t do shtick.

“My name’s Hank “The Hawk” Knut–”

DON’T DO SHTICK!

…

“Okay.”

I’m sorry I yelled, but I can’t deal with people doing their characters at me.

“I got it.”

I’m not in your improv troupe, John Mayer. You come in this dojo, you come correct.

“This is a dojo?”

Elvis is rubbing off on me a little. What is this?

“Promoting the new album.”

Right. Tears From My Penis.

“No.”

Stop Touching Her, Orlando.

“That hurts.”

Hey, man. I miss her, too. But, seriously: what is this?

“It’s one of my many characters. I do voices, impressions. I like to play dress-up.”

Sure.

“This is Hank “The Hawk” Knutley.”

Blah.

“You could do better?”

Porkchop Paxton. Jeremiah “Mumbleberry” Foyt. Hillman Gravy.

“Yeah, those are better.”

You need a writer.

“Maybe I do. Dead had someone else write their lyrics, right?”

Yup.

“Maybe I’ll try it. I know just the guy.”

Really? I’m honored , but–

CELL PHONE NOISE

Are you calling someone?

“Shh.”

Holy shit, you did not just shush me.

“Shh.”

You’re gonna get it, mister.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Hola?”

“Benjy?”

“Juan! Como esta?”

“Why are you speaking Spanish?”

“Cuba, baby!”

“Cuba, cool. Seeing it before it gets ruined.”

“No, no. It’s 1961. Elvis sent me here. Him and Bobby are fighting Communism’s main forces, and I’m cleaning up around the edges.”

“Riiiiiiight.”

“You haven’t really been in this storyline, have you?”

“Not as much as I’d like.”

“It’s been fun! Except for getting eaten by dinosaurs. Not fun in the slightest. And it doesn’t get any better: I’ve been eaten, like, a dozen times and it’s just as painful and terrifying as the first time.”

“They say you can get used to anything.”

“They’ve never been eaten by a dinosaur.”

“True. Listen, Benj: you wanna be my writer?”

…

“Didn’t we talk about this last week?”

“We did, but–”

“You said no. So now I’m Elvis’ sensei.”

“Again: I have not been in the storyline, so when you say things like “So now I’m Elvis’ sensei” without any context, I don’t know how to respond.”

“I’m in the Memphis Mafia. Let’s just leave it at that for the sake of the conversation.”

“Sure. That makes much more sense.”

“So, you know: I dunno if I got the time now, John.”

“You could do two things.”

“I’d have to ask Elvis. Hold–”

“HERE AH AM.”

“–on. Oh, hey, King.”

“Hi, Elvis.”

“WHATCHOO WEARIN’, BOY? YOU DOIN’ ONE O’ YER LITTLE CHARACTERS?”

“Yeah. His name is Hank “The Haw–”

“PASS! HELLO, SENSEI BENJY. WHAT WISDOM HAVE YOU BROUGHT BACK FROM YER RECENT TRIP T’ TH’ NETHERWORLD?”

“Always choose a slicker over an umbrella.”

“DAMN, MAN. THASS SOME GOOD ADVICE.”

“What are you up to, King?”

“AH AM ACCEPTIN’ AN AWARD.”

“For what?”

“MAH GREATNESS.”

“Okay. Weren’t you on a road trip with Bobby?”

“WHO?”

“Hairy Garcia.”

“HE IS MAH BEST FRIEND NOW! WE LIKE TONY CURTIS ‘N SIDNEY POITIER IN THE DEFIANT ONES, EXCEPT WE BOTH WHITE. AND WE AIN’T CHAINED T’ EACH OTHER. AN’ ALSO WE LIKE EACH OTHER.”

“Just like it.”

“UH-HUH.”

“Where is he?”

“AH ARRANGED F’R HIM TO BE PRESENTED WITH AN AWARD, TOO.”

“Look what Elvis got me.”

“THASS A FRIENDSHIP TROPHY RIGHT THERE, HAIRY GARCIA. SYMB’LIZES OUR FRATERNAL LOVIN’.”

“You bet. Heavy sucker.”

“Elvis?”

“SENSEI BENJY?”

“I’ve got a great offer to do some writing, but I don’t know if you’d be okay with me doing it. It might cut into our time together.”

…

“NEXT SUMBITCH WHO DON’ UNNERSTAND HOW TIME MACHINES WORK IS GETTIN’ SHOT!”

“Oh, right. I can do it.”

“YOU GOTTA FOLLOW YER BLISS, MAN, MAH BEST FRIEND HAIRY GARCIA TAUGHT ME THAT.”

“I didn’t really teach it. Just kinda said it once or twice.”

“AH LEARN FROM YOU.”

“Neato.”

“King, lemme call you back.”

“YOU ASSASSINATED CASTRO YET, BOY?”

“It’s on my to-do list.”

“HOP TO IT.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

An Impropitious Introduction

February 25, 2017 / / 5 Comments

You really should play some ’97 DMB, bro.

“Not familiar.”

Bro? Fuckin’ Tinsley on the violin? Sick, bro. Sick.

“I’ll take your word for it.”

What are you doing?

“Giving the fans a little John Time.”

Is that like Pope Time?

“What?”

Nothing.

“Gotta promote the new record, The Search for Everything.”

The Search for Everything?

“Yeah.”

You need a writer? Seriously. I work cheap, but you have to put up with a lot of bullshit.

“Kiss my ass. You think you could do better?”

Yup.

“Go to it.”

Put Your Pussy On My Heart.

“Terrible.”

John Mayest.

“What?”

Like, more than John Mayer. John Mayest.

“I get it.”

Like it?

“No, but I get it.”

“AH AM BREAKIN’ INTA THIS HERE MIDDLIN’ POST TO BRING EV’RYONE A ‘PORTANT ANNOUNCEMENT!”

You can’t just show up.

“BUT AH DID AN’ NOW AH’M HERE SO LESS JUS’ MOVE PAST IT.”

“Hey, Elvis.”

“GO PLAY DAVE MATTHEWS TUNES, BOY. THIS HERE GROWN-UP BUSINESS.”

“I’m older than you.”

GUNSHOT!

“I’m gone.”

“AH DO NOT KNOW WHY AH GOTTA PUT UP WITH THAT.”

Join the club.

“THERE HAS BEEN AN INCIDENT.”

Oh, no.

“Y’ALL KNOW THIS RUSSIAN FELLA, POOTER?”

Putin.

“BLESS YOU. HE’S A BAD HOMBRE, MAN. GETTIN’ ALL KINDA FUNNY IDEAS ‘BOUT TH’ WAY THINGS WORK.”

I know who he is.

“AS YOU KNOW, AH AM A MAN OF PEACE.”

Sure.

“BUT AH AM ALSO AN AMERICAN OF PEACE, WHICH MEANS AH AM GONNA WHUP SOME COMMIE ASS.”

Yay.

“‘CEPT THERE HAS BEEN AN INCIDENT. AH BLAME EV’RYONE ‘CEPT MAHSELF.”

What happened?

“AH DECIDED THAT THE AWESOME POWER OF A FULLY-OPERATIONAL TIME CAPE WAS NOT ENOUGH F’R WHAT AH HAD T’ DO. AH REQUIRED A SECOND DEVICE OF TIME-WARPIN’ CAPABILITY.”

That is probably not a good idea.

“AIN’T NO PROB’LY ABOUT IT, BOY. YOU SHOULD NOT LET TWO TIME MACHINES TOUCH EACH OTHER.”

Wow, no.

“THINGS IS GETTIN’ WEIRD ‘ROUND HERE. MISS MARY JUS’ CALLED FROM GRACELAND. BIG OL’ STEGOSAURUS IN TH’ RACQUETBALL COURT.”

What precisely happened, Elvis?

“THERE WAS ONLY ONE OTHER TIME MACHINE AH KNEW OF.”

Dammit. Not the Time Sheath.

“WHEN AH POSSESS IT, IT BECOMES A TIME SCARF.”

You shouldn’t possess it. Neither should the Dead. I’m trying to think of people who would be worse to give machine to than Elvis and the Grateful Dead, but all I can come up with are serial killers and dictators.

“POSSESSION IS NINE TIMES EIGHTY-FOUR!”

Are you trying to say “Possession is nine-tenths of the law?'”

MAH HEEBIE-JEEBIES IS COMIN’ ON SOMETHIN’ FIERCE, MAN.

Please just tell me what happened.

“AH SWALLOWED MAH ROYAL PRIDE, AND EVEN THOUGH AH HAVE FAILED IN MAH QUEST T’ KARATE WITH HAIRY GARCIA, AH CALLED TH’ FILTHY DRUG DEN THEY ALL LIVE IN. LUCKILY, THE DIRTY HIPPIE THAT PICKED UP KNEW ‘BOUT POOTER. HE AGREED TO JOIN ME AN’ BRING THE TIME SCARF.”

Sheath. Who was it?

“TH’ BASS PLAYER.”

Phil?

“AH WILL BE DAMNED T’ HELL ‘FORE AH LEARN A BASS PLAYER’S NAME.”

Dammit. Phil’s actually vaguely competent. I don’t know why he did this. Wait. Phil from when?

“MIDDLE O’ THE 80’S.”

Aw, man. Phil?

“Kiss my ass.”

Jesus.

“You, with your little sketches, and Pooter–”

Putin

“–and his bullshit, and Josh and his chatting and snapping, and Elvis, too. Kiss my ass, Elvis.

“DONT’ YOU TALK T’ YER KING THAT WAY, YOU SLOPPY SUMBITCH.”

“Everything would’ve been fine until dickless here’s monkey grabbed the Time Sheath–”

“SCARF!”

“–and threw it around his sweaty neck.

“THAT MONKEY HAS A NAME, BOY. ISS CHARLIE HODGE. AH ALSO HAVE AN ACTUAL MONKEY. HIS NAME IS CHARLIE HODGE, TOO.”

You’re straying from the point, Elvis.

“TH’ POINT IS WHATEVER AH’M SAYIN’ AT TH’ TIME!”

“Should’ve seen the damn thing. It was like time vomited itself up. Everyone in the room’s wrists turned inside out. Jackass.”

“YER GETTIN’ AWFUL CLOSE T’ KARATE TIME, BASS PLAYER! YER LUCKY AH AM, AS AH SAID BEFORE, A MAN OF PEACE. WHAT TH’ MEMPHIS MAFIA FUCKS UP, TH’ MEMPHIS MAFIA FIXES. AH GOT MAH SENSEI ON IT.”

Who?

“Elvis, I’m in New York and John Lennon is dead.”

“SHOULD HE BE?”

“That depends. What year is it?”

“WHEN AH AM OR WHEN YOU ARE?”

“Yes.”

“Jesus, man. Your sensei is Benjy?”

“HE HAS CONQUERED DEATH HISSELF. THAT BOY’S LIKE DARTH PLAGEUIS THE WISE, MAN. HE IS TEACHIN’ ME HIS SYSTEM OF MARTIAL ARTS, BENJIDO.”

“Okay, yeah: none of this is my fault. I may be drunk, but you’re a ninny.”

“Hey! Phil! How ya doing?”

“Hi, Benjy.”

“Lemme run one thing by you: Searching for the Sound 2?”

“Absolutely not.”

“What about a Cadillac?”

“GIVE THAT MAN A CADILLAC!”

“BAM! You just got Cadillac’d, Phil!”

“Okay. Phil out.”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH NO ONE WAS ON THE PHONE

“Elvis? King? Between you and me, all of this is Phil’s fault.”

“AH KNEW IT!”

…

…

…

“Hello?”

…

“Hello?”

John?

“Yeah. You forgot about me.”

Oh. Huh. Well, the post’s over.

“I’d like to talk about my new alb–”

Post’s over.

“I despise you.”

Yeah, yeah.

Perry Relinquishes Sobriety

February 24, 2017 / / 6 Comments

Hey, John.

…

“Not gonna ask me what I’m doing?”

Eh.

“You are a fair-weather friend.”

That is precisely true. I will deal with you in the summer.

“Dude, I got so much going on! Album, tour, Fashion Week.”

You were at Fashion Week?

“So many bold choices. Kanye’s show was magisterial.”

You’re not using that word right.

“Oh, sorry. I meant it was Magisterial. That was the name of the show.”

Ah. Then, Kanye’s not using that word right.

“It was awesome. Tee-shirts five times too big and nine times too expensive, Limp, beige sweaters. Awesome.”

Sounds it.

“Ye let me wash a couple of the sweaters before the show. What an honor. I love collaborating with that guy.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Fuck you.”

What?

“I come by to check on you and catch up, and you pull your little bullshit.”

Maybe it’s just a coincidence.

“Is it?”

No.

“Fuck you.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Jackass.”

…

“Yeah?”

“What an unenergetic greeting. I deserve better than that, John.”

“Katydoodle?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Hey. What’s up?”

“My sales, John. I dropped something.”

“I saw.”

“And I have a new look.”

“I see.”

“It has been a rough few months, John. I did not take the election well at all.”

“Yeah, no. You were stumping pretty hard for Hillary.”

“I believed in Hillary, John. She was the best person for the job. I still don’t understand what happened. On Election Night, I rage-vomited several times.”

“That’s not good.”

“No, not at all. I required medical attention.”

“Dr. Gary?”

“It’s just easier to stay with him, John. He has all my medical records.”

“He’s a chemist, Katy.”

“Legally, he’s not even that any more.”

“Are you feeling better?”

“SOOOOOO MUCH. John?”

“Yes?”

“Is it Rocktober yet, or are we still in Zeptember?”

“It’s February.”

“Which February? The real one or the practice month?”

“Jesus, what are you on now?”

“John, have I ever told you about a man named Dr. Gary?”

“We were just discussing him, Katy. Like, eight lines ago.”

“Well, after the election I became distressed. Dr. Gary came to my aid, John! He had a stethoscope, and once he finished his popsicle he also had a tongue depressor. Dr. Gary told me I had an autoimmune disorder.”

“That’s not good.”

“So I ran into the street. It turns out I was not immune to autos at all.”

“Ba-dum-bum.”

“Dr. Gary revised his diagnosis. And he checked me for breast cancer for, like, two or three hours.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“Finally, he saw the problem and wrote his prescription.”

“Which was?”

“Drinking.”

…

“Drinking? That’s it? No weird, imagined cocktail of pharmaceuticals with a silly name?”

“No, John. Booze. Been schnockered since the end of November. Ramped it up in the last month. Oh, do you know what time it is?”

“It’s, uh–”

“It’s cold gin time again, John.”

“Oh, Katy.”

“It’s the only thing that keeps me together.”

“Poor Katydoodle.”

“Do you want to come over?”

“Should I bring booze?”

“All good here. Dr. Gary’s been making moonshine.”

“I’ll stop at the store.”

“Pussy.”

“See you soon.”

“Okay.”

Speedway

February 19, 2017 / / 6 Comments

“Randos.”

Well, obviously.

“On the, uh, on the way here I was convinced there wouldn’t be any Randos for me.”

There will always be Randos for you, Bobby.

“Is that a promise or a threat?”

You tell me.

“Depends on the day, really.”

Sure.

“Dunno why I was nervous. People here couldn’t be nicer. Tell ya what: you thought a Dead crowd had a lotta drugs on them, you should come to a race.”

Really?

“That infield’s like Alphabet City in 1975. I have been offered elephant tranquilizer by, like, nine people.”

Don’t take elephant tranquilizer, Bobby.

“LISSEN T’HIM, MAN. AH WANT YOU IN TIPPITY-TOP SHAPE FOR TH’ BIG RACE!”

Goddammit.

Elvis, get off the track.

“IF AH CANNOT KARATE WITH HAIRY GARCIA, THEN AH WILL RACE WITH HIS YOUNGER BROTHER BOB SEGER.”

I have no response to that statement.

“LOOK AT ALL THAT SISSY STUFF DRIVERS GOTTA WEAR. KING DON’T EVEN NEED NO HELMET.”

That’s because you’re on a soundstage in front of a rear projection screen.

“TH’ KING DOES ALL HIS OWN STUNTS! NOW STRAP THAT SANDAL-WEARIN’ HIPPIE INNA CAR!”

Stop yelling at me.

“THE CARS IS VERY LOUD!”

Oh, right.

“AH AM A BLACK BELT-LEVEL RACE DRIVER. TH’ OTHER NIGHT, AH RACED JOE ESPOSITO AN’ JERRY SCHILLING DOWN ELVIS PRESLEY BOULEVARD.”

And?

“IT IS NOT A CLOSED STREET. IN FACT, ISS A MAJOR THOROUGHFARE. CRASHED INTO A DANG FUNERAL PROCESSION.”

That’s terrible.

“THEY WAS ALREADY GOIN’ TO TH’ CEMETERY!”

“Don’t rationalize it.”

“RUBBIN’ IS RACIN’!”

Not on a public street.

“ISS MAH STREET! NOW GET BOB SEGER OUT HERE AN’ WAVE TH’ DINGDANG FLAG!”

His name’s not Bob Seger, and he does not race cars.

“I’ll race with you, Elvis.”

“PASS.”

Jesus, John.

“What?”

You’re coming across as very needy.

“I miss being part of storylines.”

Summer’s coming, buddy.

“I hate this universe.”

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