like i definitely didn’t want to grow up to become rik “you’re a fascist! you’re a fascist! you’re all fascists!” mayall but then once eva schloss was like, “yeah i survived auschwitz and hitler and this campaign is familiar” i couldn’t not check out adorno’s analyses of fascist texts and, realizing both parties are just different brands of american fascism, i resigned myself to being a fugly version of rik
This house will become a shrine, and punks and skins and rastas will all gather round and hold their hands in sorrow for their fallen leader. And all the grown-ups will say, “But why are the kids crying?” And the kids will say, “Haven’t you heard? Rick is dead! The People’s Poet is dead!”
And then one particularly sensitive and articulate teenager will say,
“Other kids, do you understand nothing? How can Rick be dead when we still have his poems?”
Richie: What about pin the tail on the donkey?
Eddie: We haven’t got a donkey.
Richie: Well er, pin the tail on the chicken.
Eddie: We haven’t got a tail.
Richie: Well pin the sausage on the chicken.
Eddie: We haven’t got a chicken.
Richie: Well pin the sausage on the fridge.
Eddie: Or a pin.
Richie: Sellotape a sausage to the fridge.
Eddie: We haven’t got a sausage.
Richie: Put a bit of Sellotape on the fridge!
Eddie: Not much of game, is it?