When Phil makes that face, you need to give him about three feet of space or you’re getting bitten.




Is that a Fender?

“Yeah. But, you know, it still cost twenty grand.”

Oh, thank God. I was worried.

“It’s a ’59. This sucker liked Ike.”

He was a genial sort.

“People don’t know this about Eisenhower, but he was our most graceful president.”


“Moved like a panther.”

I learned something today.

“Yup, okay.”


Bobby’s wrist is reaching Johnny Deppian levels of tchotchkes and bric-a-brac.


Phil loves that green flannel so fucking much I cannot begin to describe it. It might be his wubby at this point. Don’t believe me? Here’s Phil tonight:

Several of you go to Terrapin Crossroads regularly; someone bring Phil a new shirt.