Hey, Benjy. Whatcha doing?
“Feeling the Bern.”
Been a while, buddy. How’s it going?
“Good! I’m Spider-Man now.”
No, you’re just making the gesture.
“How many times did Billy kill me? I’m functionally immortal; I might also have spider-powers.”
It wouldn’t be the weirdest thing in here. I’m sorry you and Billy broke up.
“It may have been inevitable.”
No “may” about it.
“For the best. We had a journey, we learned, and we parted as friends.”
Punch you in the dick?
“That’s how Billy defines friendship, so yeah.”
“I can’t talk about it.”
Is it too painful?
“Nah, I’m cool.”
Was there a non-disclosure form?
“Billy has a pillow with ‘Snitches get stitches’ crocheted on it in his living room, but no.”
So, why can’t you talk about it?
“I don’t actually remember what happened.”
That sounds right.
“Things were going well. The Farewell Shows were a success, and the tour, and Billy kept coming up with clever ways to murder me, and we were having such a great time.”
What’s the last thing you remember?
“Me and Billy were watching TV, and he made us some drinks, and that’s it.”
What were you watching?
I think I know what happened. What’s the next thing you remember?
“Waking up in Bratislava.”
That’s no good.
“And I didn’t have an entry stamp in my passport.”
Oh, that’s no good at all.
“And I was–”
Naked and moneyless.
Hey, look on the bright side: when Billy used to do that shit to people, Phil would steal their kidneys.
“True true. It’s no big deal. Within a week, I had risen to the top of the Bratislava jam band scene and was co-authoring the memoirs of the biggest drummer in Slovakia, Miroslav Mäsiar.”
That’s great, man. How’d that turn out?
“I don’t remember.”
Where’d you wake up this time?
“A town called Bariloche in Argentina.”
I know that name.
“It’s the Nazi town.”
“A lot of those fuckers got out. And they went to Argentina, and they loved this town, man. Had a lot of kids. Left their mark.”
“On the other hand, they do this thing that’s a cross between a Bavarian pretzel and a churro that’s just killer.”
“They’re the shape of swastikas.”
“I didn’t do too bad there.”
There absolutely cannot be a jam band scene in the Nazi town in Argentina.
“It’s small, but thriving. Lot of tribute bands. I managed one.”
What was their name?
“The Grateful (Six Million Jews Are) Dead.”
That’s the worst thing I’ve ever heard!
“They’re Nazis! What do you expect!?”
How could you manage them, Benjy?
“Oh, it’s okay: I don’t think they knew I was Jewish.”
“I didn’t tell them.”
Did you tell them your name?
What was it?
Nicely done. They knew.
“I don’t think so. No one ever even said the word ‘Jewish.'”
That’s because Spanish lacks a “J” sound. What did they call you?
“They had the cutest nickname for me. Pinchy Yoody.”
Yeah, that means “Fucking Jew.”
“I took French. Anyway, if that’s what was going on, then I feel better about the job I did with the money.”
What’d you do?
“Stole it and skipped town.”
That’ll teach ’em to hire a Yoody. And now you’re back in the States?
“It was a windy road. And windy. I lost my hat.”
“I got a new thing, though; it’s great. Managing another band. Reed Mathis from the Kids is in it, and it’s called Electric Beethoven.”
So, it’s Beethoven?
Then that’s a good name. Gotta say, though: that site’s a bit barren at the moment. Anywhere we can hear what they’re all about?
“Good of you to ask. We’ve been posting stuff in our Instagram account. Take a listen.”
Y’know, Benj: I initially scoffed.
“Yeah, you do that.”
And I still don’t know if I completely understand the concept, but I enjoyed what I heard, and would listen to more gladly. Are they booked anywhere around me?
“The Jam Cruise!”
I will not be seeing Electric Beethoven.
“Okay. Um. What’s going on?”
I don’t follow.
“You’re letting me plug, you’re being really nice: what’s going on?”
I admire a man who can take a punch.
“Yeah, all right.”
“AHHHHHHHH! I’M ON FIRE!”
I got my flamethrower.
The one I was talking about before.
“Don’t do that, man.”
But you just come right back.
“I don’t! I go, like, through a place. It’s hell, but inside-out. And every time I do I feel like I lose a little bit of my sou–”