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

Tag: john mayer (Page 20 of 42)

Is John Mayer Experienced?

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Where are you? And why are you in black and white?

“Backstage. And you know why I am in black and white.”

Are you sad?

“I’m a lot of things right now.”

Sore?

“Yes. Yes, sore. Muscles got used that don’t usually become involved during lovemaking.”

Lovemaking? That was not what that seemed like.

“Freddie Mercury is a charismatic man.”

I’m glad you got into it. Why are you backstage?

“I needed a minute.”

Sure. John?

“Yeah?”

Did he?

“What?”

Did he?

“What?”

Rock you?

“What?”

Rock you.

“Yeah.”

See? We have so much fun.

“We don’t, really. I just wanted–”

To take drugs and see a band. Yeah, yeah: everybody gets your motivation, John. What happened to your unicorn outfit?

“Laundry.”

Jesus, you just couldn’t wait to wash that thing, could you?

“No. No, no. It truly needed washing.”

Oh.

“Many stains.”

Sure.

“Pre-soaking right now.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

“The Johnicorn.”

“Uh, hi. I’m, uh, looking for Jimi Tee-Shirt?”

“What? Bobby?”

“No, not Bobby.”

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“This is Bobby Tee-Shirt. I’d, uh, like to speak to my best friend, Jimi Tee-Shirt.”

“He’s not available.”

“Hey, cat! Is that my groovy friend Bobby Tee-Shirt? Slide me that telephone so we can rap!”

“None of this makes any sense.”

Oh, nothing makes any sense any more. At least my bullshit has jokes.

“Now all you have to do is make ’em funny.”

Sure, sure: keep digging your own grave. You have no idea how many people dressed up as Freddie Mercury to go to that show.

“A lot?”

You should start drinking.

“Dammit.”

In Which Freddie Mercury Calls John Mayer’s Bluff

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Just for Trey?

“I hate you. This is a Photoshop.”

What does the card actually say?

“Washing instructions for the unicorn onesie.”

I would have assumed you didn’t need washing instructions.

“I use them as a launching pad, yknow? They’re the map, but I’m free to go on side quests or little day trips to stain-removalville or wherever.”

How’s the show going, anyway?

“No idea. Between the snapchatting and selfie-sessions with randos, I haven’t been paying attention. Also all the weird bullshit.”

Yeah, I’m sorry for that.

“Really?”

No.

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“We meet again, John Darling!”

“Motherfucker.”

“No, not mothers. Fathers, brothers, uncles, nephews. Not mothers, except occasionally and only the ones with giant tits.”

“You’re being inappropriately sexual, Freddie.”

“Darling, I am Freddie Mercury at a party.”

“Okay, you’re being legendarily sexual.”

“Better, thank you. Come to Freddie, darling. Remove my white jeans.”

“You are the only person who’s ever successfully pulled off white jeans.”

“Oh no: you’ll be quite successful in pulling them off, I assure you.”

“Freddie.”

“I’ll help if they get stuck on my hips.”

“Freddie.”

“Oh, fine: I’ll do it myself.”

“Put your pants back on, Freddie Mercury.”

“After we’re done, absolutely.”

“Done?”

“You said you were gay for Trey. Are you ready for Freddie?”

“Freddie. Freddie? Freddie!”

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(EDITOR’S NOTE: IMAGE REDACTED.)

John?

Johnny?

John Boy?

“I just wanted to take drugs and see a band.”

But now you have a story to tell.

“I’m not participating in this anymore. I’m calling my lawyer.”

Ooh, I can’t wait to see who that is.

“Goddammit.”

The Inevitable Death Of Radio Randy

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“We’re back with John Mayer on the Radio Randy Rock and Roll Roundup.”

“Wait. Is this the selfie we were taking in the other picture?”

“Looks like.”

“How many pictures got taken of me?”

“Almost as many as you took of you.”

“That’s a lot.”

“You enjoy yourself. Can we talk about the upcoming solo record?”

“Randy, can we do this later?”

“We’re live on the air, John. This is very unprofessional of you, and I expect more from a unicorn. We have a caller, Bobby in Vegas. Oh, you’ve called before. Welcome back to the show.”

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“I’ve been listening since the last time I called, and I’m, uh, just hooked. Great radio. Real, uh, theater of the mind-type stuff. Middle America, real people. I like that detective character, Guy Noir.”

“Bobby, you’re thinking of a Prairie Home Companion.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Is this Mike or the Mad Dog?”

“Hang up the phone, Radio Randy.”

“John says I have to go, Bobby.”

“You bet. Seriously, though: get me when Elvis shows up.”

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

“John–”

“How the hell are we taking calls?”

“–I have a few more questions.”

“I don’t want to take any more questions.”

“They’re about laundry.”

“I will take as many questions as you have.”

“Blow our minds, John Mayer.”

“Hand-washing in a sink is a completely different beast than hand-washing in a tub. It has something to with water density and bubble viscosity. I’ve invented several differential equations to explain it.”

“You’ve blown our minds, John Mayer.”

“Don’t speak for everyone.”

“You’ve blown my mind, John Mayer.”

“I’ve written up my findings for the Journal of the American Laundry Association.”

“JALA?”

“You read it?”

“I subscribe. They just pile up.”

“Worth your time, Radio Randy. Cutting edge of clean.”

“John, what about pre-soaking?”

“Ooh, that’s a touchy subject in the laundry community. And, quite frankly, it’s a personal subject and I’d rather not get into my personal life.”

“I didn’t mean to pry. Let’s talk about something less intimate.”

“Thank you.”

“Sources are saying you plowed Demi Lovato.”

“Plowing’s for skanks. Demi Lovato is a celebrity. You bang celebrities.”

“Bang her?”

“Shit, yeah.”

HIGH FIVE

“Butt stuff?”

“Started with butt stuff.”

DOWN LOW

“So now you’ll marry her in the church?”

“You know I…what now?”

TOO SLOW

“You have to get married, or you’ll burn in hell.”

“I’m sorry, where is this coming from?”

“The Bible.”

“I meant the direction the conversation is going.”

“Lonely weirdo in Florida. We have another caller.”

You stop talking shit about me, you little asshole.

“Fuck you, TotD!”

Fuck YOU, Radio Randy!

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH YOU KNOW HOW THIS SENTENCE ENDS

“You know it’s TotD, man. Stop answering the phone.”

“No one calls that guy on his bullshit.”

“Sure, but it’s not good to antagonize him.”

“No? What’s he gonna do?”

KARATE!

“Send Elvis to kick you in the head.”

“AH HAVE MADE MAH LONG-AWAITED ENTRANCE, AND BROUGHT A ROLLING STONE!”

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“I’m not a Rolling Stone, darling. John Mayer. We meet again.”

“Weren’t there five of you?”

“There can be only one.”

“Great. Elvis, I think you killed Radio Randy.”

“TALK SHIT, GET HIT.”

“Fuuuuuuuuck–”

“–yooooouuuuuuu…”

DEATH RATTLE NOISE

“Yeah, you killed Radio Randy.”

“DEATH DON’T SEEM ALL TOO PERMANENT ‘ROUND HERE. DON’T YOU WORRY ‘BOUT HIM.”

“Take off your trousers, John.”

“Stop it, Freddie.”

“JOHHNY BOY, LEMME ASK YOU A QUESTION.”

“Sure.”

“YOU SEEN THAT NUKE ANYWHERE?”

“The one you lost a month ago in a storyline that just wandered around making no sense until it fizzled out with Lady Gaga’s appearance?”

“THAT ONE, YEAH.”

“No. No. No. No. We’re not doing this again.”

“Just the shirt, then. Take off your shirt, John.”

“Freddie, come on.”

“Upon what shall I come, darling?”

“Stop it. I’m not a part of whatever the two of you are up to. I want to take drugs and see a band. Leave me alone. Y’know what? Fuck this. Fuck all of this. I’m leaving . It’s all ruined, and I’m leaving and–”

jm-circle-phish-2“What the fuck is this?”

Phantom Zone ring.

“Like what they did to Zod in Superman II?”

Yup.

“That’s FUCKED! You’re fucked, man!”

You ain’t going anywhere.

“I will get you for this! You will kneel before me! YOU WILL KNEEL BEFORE JOHN!”

Okee-dokee, artichokee.

“JOHN!”

“What if I have to use the bathroom?”

Should’ve thought of that.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Really?”

You will see that you have brought this call onto yourself.

“Goddammit.”

“The Johnicorn speaking.”

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“Didn’t I say to tell me when Elvis showed up?”

“Dammit. I forgot, Bob. Sorry.”

“One thing I ask you to do.”

“Sorry.”

“Fucker owes me $320.”

“For what?”

“Grown-up stuff, Josh. Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad, I’m just disappointed.”

“I just wanted to take drugs and see a band.”

“Well, I guess no one gets what he wants today, huh?”

“Aww.”

The Saddest Unicorn In The Entire World

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Why are you in black and white?

“Oh, come on. Right back to me? Can’t you bother somebody else for a post or two?”

I did, but Bobby knew what I was doing and got mad.

“He’s sharper than he lets on.”

Oh, yeah. Now: why are you a boohoonicorn?

“Don’t call me that. I just want to take drugs and watch a band. I don’t wanna talk to dictators or Elvis or Elvis’ six-toed, three-nippled, nine-toothed, shoplifting hill freak daddy–”

“Vernon.”

“–and I don’t wanna have to flee the mainland, or have my house blown up, or run from dinosaurs bring ridden by OJ Simpson. I just wanna take drugs and watch a band.”

Then why do you have that look on your face?

“Because I was lying: I’m going to replace Trey.”

Oh, no.

“If Trey must die so Phosh can live, then so be it.”

Please don’t murder Trey.

“I won’t.”

Or have him murdered.

“No promises.”

Dammit, Johnicorn.

“Don’t call me that, either. Listen: I do not desire his death. It is not the goal; I would much rather All About Eve him.”

Never actually seen the film

“Me, neither. Showgirls?”

I have seen Showgirls several times. John Mayer, please don’t push Trey Anastasio down the stairs like in the movie Showgirls.

“Did you write that sentence solely for the joy in knowing that no one else in the history of the English language had?

Yes.

“Respect. Again though: the prize is being in the band. Replacing Trey is a tactic, and I’m going to choose the most optimal one. Best case scenario doesn’t involve a ginger corpse.”

I see.

“Can’t do that again.”

What?

“Nothing. I heard the Dead on Pandora, and then I joined the Dead. This year, I had a free trial to Tidal and I heard Phish, so now I have to join Phish.”

It sounds so simple when you explain it that way.

“Thank you! I’m pretty sure I’ll be joining all the jam bands eventually.”

String Cheese Incident?

“I mean, within reason.”

Disco Biscuits?

“Mm. No.”

Widespread Panic?

“I thought they broke up?”

No idea.

“Maybe I’ll just stick with the Dead and Phish.”

Good idea.

ARENA ROCK NOISE

“Darling! Face your doom, and also a thorough rogering!”

“Oh, who the hell is this?”

No idea.

five-freedie-mercury

“We are the Freddies Mercury!”

“Oh, come on.”

Stop it, John. This is good stuff.

“I just wanted to take drugs and see a band.”

Interview With An Unicorn

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“Sellllfie.”

“Have you always done that? The ‘sellllllfie’ thing?”

“I’m sorry. Who am I speaking to?”

“Me, the guy you’re taking a picture with.”

“Randos don’t get speaking parts.”

“I’m not a rando. I’m Randy. Radio Randy from SiriusXM.”

“The Tom Petty station?”

“No, then I would be Tom Petty.”

“So there’s a Radio Randy station?”

“John, focus.”

“On what?”

“The interview. Thanks for coming on the show.”

“The what?”

“We’re on in three, two–”

“I don’t even see any equipment. Why does this always happen?”

“–one. Hey, folks! We’re back with John Mayer. John, you used to sing prom songs and bang pop stars. Now you’re tripping balls at a Phish show dressed as a unicorn.”

“What’s your question?”

“No question. I just wanted to point that out.”

“Rando–”

“Randy.”

“–I am not really in an ‘interview’ headspace right now.”

“Great. Let’s take a call.”

“What?”

“Bob from Vegas, you’re on the air with Radio Randy and John Mayer, who is ripped to the tits on acid in a gay hoodie.”

“Oh, uh, hey. Long time caller, first time something else.”

“Bobby?”

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“Yup. I have a question for Josh. Josh, did I leave my glasses in your hotel room?”

“Tour’s been over for two months, Bobby.”

“Ah.”

“Have you checked the top of your head?’

“There ya go. Do we have time for a quick tale of the bunkhouse?”

“Bobby, this is Radio Randy. I’d love to hear about the bunkhouse, but this is really John’s storyline.”

“Who?”

“Josh.”

“Gotcha. Get me if Elvis shows up. Love that guy.”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH APPLE WATCHES HAVE NEVER DONE THAT

“We’re back with John Mayer, who has donned a onesie he bought on the internet and taken so much LSD that his eyeballs are halfway down his neck, and is now riding the rail at a Phish concert.”

“I just want to leave my house without everything getting all weird.”

“And I want a last name, but apparently I’m just ‘Radio fucking Randy’ like some kind of dog. Racist son-of-a-bitch that types this bullshit is so damn lazy. We’ve got a call from Florida.

FUCK YOU, RADIO RANDY!

“FUCK YOU, LAZY ASSHOLE!”

Why are you even recurring?

“Because you’re a mouthbreather that thinks Radio Randy is a funny name, you waste of potential.”

FUCK YOU.

“FUCK YOU. I’m hanging up!”

Bababoo–

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

“We’re back with John Mayer.”

“Goddammit.”

Beginning Of A Great Adventure

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“You ever feel alone in a crowd?”

Don’t start.

“Like everyone else knows what’s happening and you don’t?”

I got, like, 90 pictures of you from the Phish show. If you’re going to be weird, it’s going to be a long night.

“Did you ever feel like a plastic bag?”

What?

“Drifting through the wind, wanting to start again?”

I’m begging you not to be weird tonight.

“Do you like my unicorn costume?”

More of a hoodie than a costume, but it’s okay.

“God, I’m looking forward to washing it.”

Hey. Jackass?

“Me?”

No, Scuba Steve behind you.

“Don’t call me jackass.”

Then stop being one. You are a unicorn, not a jackass.

“A sexy unicorn.”

A unicorn. And y’know what? I’m under a lot of pressure right now. Everyone saw these pictures and said to themselves, “Oh, I bet TotD will have some quality japery to accompany these shots,” and right now? Right now, buddy? I got nothing.

“You’re clearly throwing dialogue into a void hoping something will spark an idea.”

I know, right? Everyone can see it, and I want to kill it for all the nice Enthusiasts, but this has to be a team effort. Stop moping around.

“What if I met some randos?”

Great. You do that. I’m gonna drink too much coffee and stall for time with a picture of Bobby in short shorts.

“Good plan. All hands in?

Absolutely not.

“Break!”

In Which I Place A Bounty On John Mayer

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Phish show in Vegas starts soon, and I won’t post the pirate link, but if someone in the Comment Section does, then I won’t take it down. This year’s “musical costume,” which is a terrible and nerdy phrase, is Edward Gibbon’s Decline and Fall of the Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Gaul.

The whatever-the-fuck-that-thing-is I posted is from Josh, and he’s at the show tonight, and I will reward anyone who gets a picture of him. Also,  I will blow anyone who tackles him.

Washing For A Cause

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Billy says to suck his saggy balls.

“Survived the hurricane, huh?”

Please stop introducing pernicious ideas into the Grateful Dead.

“Washing your clothes is not a pernicious idea!”

Caring about it is. Nothing good can come from giving this much of a shit about laundry.

“I’m washing for a cause.”

What the fuck does that even mean?

“Refugees?”

Oh, just say you thought it sounded good.

“Let’s not quibble about branding: laundry can change the world, so we can stop waiting on the world to change. That was from my first hit single.”

Is number 14 a hit?

“It was a number one hit.”

On the Adult Contemporary Chart.

“Still counts.”

Participation medal, laundry boy.

“Okay, can you explain the hostility, please? We’ve been getting along.”

No. I got used to the idea of you. And maybe you were so busy soloing that you couldn’t do these terrible things you’ve been doing. You’re selling candy necklaces, you’re having laundgasms: I don’t know this John Mayer.

“You can’t know me without knowing my laundry habits.”

Right, sure. Well, let me.

“What?”

Let me in, John. Teach me your washerwoman’s ways.

“That’s very sexist.”

What’s sexist is that the spell check recognized it.

“Really? Wow.”

Patriarchy and domination are baked into the language. Let’s get back to laundry.

“Sure, wow, so excited you’re finally on board.”

I want to stop wishing for change, and start washing for change.

“Yes!”

First question.

“Awesome, shoot.”

In the interests of racial purity, should people who use Tide be forcibly sterilized?

“You’re not taking this seriously.”

Totally am. Answer the question.

“They need to be re-educated.”

Weak answer. Be strong.

“Kill them all.”

Good, John. Strong. How often should you wash a hoodie?

“Zip-up or pullover?”

There’s a difference?

“You have an hour?”

No. What’s the most difficult laundry task you’ve ever faced?

“1999 Lafitte Rothschild on a Visvim Sea Island cotton tee.”

Very specific.

“I still wake up screaming. I think of myself as a survivor.”

Sure. Should you hand-wash your balls?

“How else would you do it?”

Drone.

“Hand-wash.”

Does The Laundress X John Mayer line have anything for that?

“Balls?”

And their washing, yes.

“No.”

You’re a shit businessman, Meyers.

“Don’t call me that.”

He Is The Laundress

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You got your watch in the shot.

“Duh.”

But, seriously: what’s wrong with you?

“I have a passion for laundry.”

That statement in no way answered my question.

“I don’t understand what your problem with this is.”

Please get a coke problem. It would be so less embarrassing than this.

“I care about laundry!”

You shouldn’t! Grateful Deads have five shirts, four of which have alcohol and/or blood stains on them. When one gets dirty, they yoink another one from the merch table.

“Garcia didn’t wear merch.”

Garcia had fucking spaghetti sauce stains on his pants half the time. An argument involving Garcia is not an argument for laundry.

“I have special, fancy clothes that require special, fancy cleaning products.”

Please get a coke problem.

“No.”

Schnort for your schnozz.

“No.”

Nice-nice for your nostrils.

“No.”

Tootski for your snootski?

Tootski for your snootski.

“Can we stop talking?”

Sure. I just need to show everyone something.

“‘Everyone?’ What are you talking about?”

Nothing.

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Jooooohn?

“I despise you.”

Question.

“Fuck off.”

They asked you about your “proudest” laundry victory. Wouldn’t that imply that you’ve had many laundry victories, and some of them were better than others? Like, some of your laundry victories were just eked out?

“I’m gonna go.”

John Mayer, have you ever had any Pyrrhic laundry victories?

“Bye.”

Aw.

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