c & c

September 2, 2008

This is how we like to remember Cheech and Chong (emblazoned on crudely silkscreened shirts with their bandannas waving in the wind. Facial hair unkept on account of the recreational drug use. Possibly naked on hotel balconies, trying to have sex with the same girl who was probably a transvestite in real life):

But now I will remember the eponymous duo like this:

Dressed up like drunk, homeless Native American action figures about to embark on a double-country’d weed-themed comedy tour. Why don’t you just have Cypress Hill open for you and they can cover the Up In Smoke theme as you come out to make jokes about how ironic it is that your name rhymes with bong and how amazed you are that the suspenders still fit. And the whole time I’ll imagine you two doing kareoke at a backyard family reunion they weren’t invited to and going to the mall and waiting in line with all the underage hispanic couples to have your glamour shots taken. Thanks a lot.


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