Tag: john mayer (Page 22 of 42)

CELL PHONE NOISE

CELL PHONE NOISE

“Johnny Vegas speaking.”

“Why do you do this every time you go there?”

“Katy?”

“Vegas does something odd to you, John.”

“Action, baby! Besides, I figure I might as well get used to it.”

“Both of our best-case scenarios are winding up there, yeah.”

“What’s that sound?”

“Burning Man, John! It is the sound of freedom, and radical self-reliance! Also, there’s like 200 hot chicks doing yoga poses in slutty outfits while their boyfriends take pictures for Instagram. Very loud.”

“Sure.”

“Also, there’s a little bit of a sandstorm.”

“You know you’re allowed to take drugs and have sex in weird costumes in your living room, right?”

“The sand is the scour of Drug Christ!”

“Who?”

“Like regular Jesus, but with drugs. Lot easier to believe in, honestly. He protects the Playa.”

“Where was he when those rich guys got their camp burned?”

“Even Drug Jesus falls out once in a while.”

“Sure.”

“John, have you considered that the fact that ‘slavery’ and ‘white slavery’ are two different things starkly underlines the white supremacy baked into the system?”

“I haven’t, but I will now. Huh. Good point.”

…

“Why would you–”

“Doctor Gary has begun slaving.”

“–bring up slavery? Oh, no. Katy, tell Doctor Gary not to enslave people.”

“He’s stubborn.”

“Sure.”

“But he’s not racist! Well, wait: he’s a terrible racist, but he’s not doing the slaving in a racist way.”

“How so?”

“Between the fact that everyone’s completely covered in dirt, and the fact that almost everyone here regardless of race has dreadlocks, it’s almost impossible to tell what the hell people are. I mean: what they are is Doctor Gary’s slaves now, but you know what I mean.”

“He’s kidnapping Burners?”

“Kidnapping implies release and ransom, John. This is enslavement. He owns them.”

“That’s not legal.”

“Before I got impeached, I signed a stack of pardons for Doctor Gary, John.”

“Katy.”

“It was a big stack.”

“Katy.”

“My hand hurt after I did it.”

…

“Katy, you need to make Doctor Gary stop…no, y’know what? You have to get away from that guy entirely.”

“He is a colorful character.”

“How is he even doing this? How do you ‘enslave’ someone at fucking Burning Man?”

“Benzobarbital.”

“I don’t what that is, but it sounds scary.”

“First step’s a doozy.”

“What is it?”

“Layman’s terms?”

“Please.”

“Zombie pill.”

“Goddammit, Katy. This is not right.”

“It got weird almost immediately. 120 Days of Sodom mixed with Human Centipede.”

“You need to not be associated with this. It’s a bad look, Katy. Come down to Vegas.”

“What’s in Vegas?”

“Nice, huh?”

“Is that the Suicide Suite? Because it looks like that’s the room the hotel gives to people they know are going to kill themselves during their stay.”

“It’s a cabana.”

“That is a cabana of drudgery and sadness.”

“But I’m in no danger of being enslaved by a rogue chemist.”

“Excellent point. I’m on my way. Hold on one second.”

“Sure.”

FWOOMP

…

“Okay, I’m coming to Vegas now, John.”

“Yay.”

CELL PHONE NOISE

CELL PHONE NOISE

“John Mayer, butthole slayer.”

“You should let your bandana wrangler answer your phone, John. You’re awful at it.”

“President Katy?”

“No, John. After the Time War and all the freejackings and Doctor Gary selling the White House on Craigslist and Philly getting destroyed, I was impeached.”

“It’s been two days.”

“It was an open-and-shut case, John.”

“Sure. Well, either way: I’m sorry. How you taking it?”

“I’m at Burning Man.”

“Of course you are.”

“Once again, I have returned to my ancestral home, which is an ultra-RV in a field they used to test nukes in.”

“Can’t you just take drugs at home like the rest of us?”

“John, Burning Man is about so much more than taking drugs: it’s about art on drugs, and sex on drugs, and freedom. Drug-related freedom, but still freedom. There’s a lot of drugs, yeah.”

“How’s Doctor Gary?”

“Busy!”

“I would assume.”

“He made a new drug, John. Blackrock for Black Rock. It’s Glyco-Morphohexahydrobenzoylmethylecgonine.”

“Is that spelled right?”

“I have no idea.”

“What is it?”

“Speedball, but you vape it.”

“Wow, did the world not need that to be invented.”

“Selling like hotcakes, John. Also selling well are Hotcakes, which are waffles in a psilocybin/fentanyl syrup.”

“Where is Doctor Gary making all this stuff in the middle of the desert?”

“He stole a couple mobile labs from the CDC when I made him the boss over there.”

“Sure. So: Katy Perry is a Burner.”

“Oh no. I’m with Hillary, John.”

“BurnER.”

“I’m a hunka hunka Burning love, John. I am cleansed by the wind of the Playa. The dust scours the world from me, and the sun bleaches my bones of sin. If only all the world could be at Burning Man, John, then there would be no war. No strife. Just love, and sand, and drugs.”

“That was a terrible speech.”

“These are my people, John!”

“Who?”

“Sybarites. Tech bros. The professionally fuckable. Unplaceable Europeans. The familiarly last-named. Arms dealers’ nephews. The inexplicably famous. Peter Thiel. Tout le monde, John.”

“Good bunch of folks.”

“And, you know: staff.”

“Obviously.”

“Burning Man is all about radical self-reliance, so you have to bring your own staff.”

“Sure.”

“What are you doing, John? Why don’t you come up? I’ll send a helicopter.”

…

“Doctor Gary also stole several helicopters.”

“You should give those back.”

“Do you have any idea how many helicopters the military has? They won’t miss 20.”

“20?”

“Or however many it was. Let’s not do math during Burning Man, John. Come up here!”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

“Remember when you blew up my house with cruise missiles?”

“I didn’t do that, John.”

…

“They were smart bombs.”

“Gotta go.”