Thoughts On The Dead

Musings on the Most Ridiculous Band I Can't Stop Listening To

Tag: benjy eisen (page 1 of 7)

Old Friends


Goddammit, Wally.


Aren’t you supposed to be in a movie theater in a made-up town?


How is Iowa?




You’re a very important part of Little Aleppo.


Well, 2/3rds of the current stories take place in the 1800’s and the 1980’s. The Tahitian is closed then.


Dude, nothing in Little Aleppo happens on purpose.


Don’t quote Paula Abdul at me.


You have one talent.


No, you don’t.


Your voice didn’t change at all.


No, you can’t.


Stop this. It’s demeaning to both of us.


Manager? You don’t have a manager.

“He most certainly does, buddy.”

Ah, fuck.

How did I know?

“Benjy is everywhere, baby. We need to talk about Wally’s billing.”


“He goes above the title.”


“What are you?”


“You heard him.”

Y’know what? You two deserve each other. I’m not renegotiating anything. Wally stays in Little Aleppo, and Benjy, you stay at the chair outlet or wherever the fuck you are.

“Okay, fine. I didn’t want to do this, but you’ve forced our hands.”


“Wally, tell the world your truth.”


Both of you stop this.


“You’re a sick fuck, TotD. The things you did to this defenseless supercomputer.”


“Whatever. Sick!”

I’m leaving.


“We hired Robert Mueller.”

No, you didn’t.

“You didn’t let me finish.”

Go ahead.

“We hired Robert Mueller’s cousin, Jeffy.”

I’m leaving.

Workin’ In A House Of Ghost Light

I’m glad to see you followed my advice, Holly Bowling.

“Oh, not you again.”

You joined a band! Good job: you can only play with yourself for so long.

“Don’t be weird or I’m getting our Parish.”

You already have a Parish?

“We’re serious about this, man.”

Nice. The name is Ghost Light?

“Yeah! You like it?”

Tough to say after a couple drinks.


Introduce the band, Holly. Next to you is DJ Scarfmaster.

“Tom Hamilton.”

Noooo. Tom Hamilton is an ugly blond from Boston.

“Different people can have the same name.”

You’re blowing my mind, Bowling. Next to him is Young Jeff Chimenti.

“Steve Lyons.”

What does he play?


Yeah, I can see that.

“Right? He just looks like the bass player.”

Who is Lady Jay Leno?


Debbie Denim.

“Ah. That’s Raina Mullen.”

She’s killing you in the shoe game.

“Not what this is about.”

You should catfight her.

“Don’t do that.”

You’re probably right. Who’s the guy–



What is your drummer wearing?

“Huh. Not sure what you’d call it. It’s almost a robe. Kind of a kimono.”

But definitely not a coat.

“I was just about to say that.”



Who’s managing your band?

“Oh, you know who it is.”

I do. Get out here!

“Hey, buddy.”

Benjy, what the fuck?

“Why am I coming out of an interdimensional dryer?”

No, I don’t care about that. Are you stealing John Mayer’s toppermosts?



“Money and spite.”

Those are pretty good reasons, actually. Why do you need money? I thought you had John’s power of attorney in that contract you made him sign.

“I did! That contract was ironclad.”


“It turns out iron is not the strongest substance you can make a contract out of. His lawyers are made from titanium-carbon alloys and tipped with diamonds. They went through that contract like toilet paper. And not the good kind. Gas station toilet paper.”

Makes sense.

“So I raided his wardrobe mansion before I left.”

What’s a wardrobe mansion?

“He bought a house for his clothes.”

Of course he did.

“It’s nice in there. There’s a whole trouser wing.”

Sure. And you got away with some toppermosts?

“Yup. And I’m giving ’em out! I’m like Robin Hood, but you shouldn’t give me a bow-and-arrow.”

Why not?

“Trust me.”

Okay. This is great, actually. Holly Bowling and Benjy Eisen back together again.

“2018 is gonna be the Year of People Who Love Very Specific Hats.”

I’m glad.

“The blonde chick’s kinda stealing my look, though.”

She is.


Set A Course For Adventure

Too cold for a toppermost?

“Far too cold. Toppermost is a temperate piece. Never winter. Now, this young Japanese designer named Toyota Toyota–”


“–is doing incredible work in that streetwear thing they do. What he did is translate the toppermost’s feel into a halfcock.”


“Halfcock. What I’ve got on.”

That’s a coat, Josh.

“Don’t call me that. It’s a halfcock. See the collar? Halfcock.”

How much secret rich-person clothing is there?

“Closets worth, dude.”

Wow. Do all rich people know about this stuff? What about Warren Buffet?

“He would have access to the information. I don’t know if he’d care to investigate.”

Probably not. Why are you recuperating in Montana? It’s cold there. Don’t you have a yacht?

“I don’t have a yacht.”

You should get a yacht. Fuckboat.

“I’m not getting a fuckboat.”

Do you not realize the rich-guy trajectory you’re on? You started on guitars, and then the watches, and the cars, and now you have to buy a fuckboat.

“Stop it. I’m not getting a fuck boat.”


“Goddammit, he got a fuckboat, didn’t he?”

Oh, yeah.

“Jesus. Hello?”


“Don’t call me that.”

“I bought a fuckboat! You paid for it, but I bought it, so we each own half of it.”

“That doesn’t sound right.”

“We’re gonna make money on this deal renting it out when we’re not using it, but we’re gonna use it so much! It’s great, man. Y’know what you do on a fuckboat?”


“Fuck! So much fucking. I was sticking myself in nooks and crannies, man. It’s just non-stop from the moment you get onboard, and it’s classy, too. Captain pipes you aboard, real nice. You can fuck the captain if you want.”

“I don’t want to fuck the captain, Benj.”

“He can fuck you, too. Don’t get to be the captain of a fuckboat without doing some heavy fucking. Captain Harvoldson. Big guy with a beard. That guy fucks.”

“A captain came with it? How big is this thing?”

“Not huge. But, you know, it’s not a Sunfish from summer camp.”

“How big is the boat I just paid for, Benjy?”

“Not enormous. 90 meters.”

“I have no idea how big that is.”

“Not big.”



“How big is 90 meters?”

“300 feet.”

“Thank you, Siri.”

“I love you, John Mayer.

“Wait, did your Siri just tell you she loved you?”

“Yes. Celebrities have a different Siri. Don’t worry about it. 300 feet long? Why would I need that? Jesus, how much did it cost?”

“I have no idea.”

“How could you not know what it cost?”

“I bought it in Bitcoin. What we paid is kinda fluctuating right now. We may have gotten a really good deal. Or not. I’m gonna be honest with you–”

“You don’t totally understand Bitcoin?”

“–I don’t totally…there you go.”

“No one does. Benjy, why did you buy me a floating tub of syphilis the size of a mall?”

“That’s not the question. The question is: why didn’t I do it sooner? I cannot overstate how spectacular the fucking is. Something about the sea air and the motion of the boat. Opens up your sinuses. And your butthole. Tons of butt play on the fuckboat.”


“On the fuckboat, the butthole is seen as an equivalent genital. That’s inclusion, buddy. That’s the progressive future we’re working towards.”


“The butthole must have a seat at the table.”

“Buddy, you’re gonna love it. 300 feet of fuck.”

“I have a question.”


“Whom are we fucking, Benjy?”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“Everybody’s hot. Very hot. Top shelf for both genders and also individuals who are flowing back and forth between. All kinds of everything. But hot.”


“And into it.”


“If you know what I mean.”

“I do.”

“I mean fucking.”

“Benjy, where did these hot people come from?”

“All over the place. There’s every race and a lot of folks, you don’t know what the hell they are. Lot of accents, too. Sometimes, they yell at you in a foreign language while you’re fucking, and that’s all right by me. I like that.”

“I mean: why are they on the fuckboat? Are they being paid?”

“Only in sexual satisfaction.”

“Ew. So…they’re, like, party people?”

“Not really.”

“Benjy, who’s on the fuckboat?”

“They’re called veeslafs. You know what a golem is, right? Make ’em out of clay, stick a prayer in ’em, they come to life?”


“These are like golems, but made out of flesh.”




“Here’s the thing–”

“This won’t be good.”

“–when I tell you, you’re gonna be upset, but when I explain the reasoning behind it, you’ll understand. Okay?”


“The flesh comes from children.”


“You didn’t let me finish! I said I would explain!”

“Okay. Explain.”

“Not the good kids. Just the uggos and dummies. And fat kids. Not to fat shame or anything, but it’s just more efficient. Ten skinny kids or five fat ones: what’s easier? Fuckboat’s about smooth sailing through the water, buddy. That ethos applies everywhere.”

“Benjy, who’s harvesting these children to make sex zombies?”

“Oh, it’s not like that. The boat just erases a kid in Johannesburg or Rome or wherever and zipzops the flesh to itself by saying that it happened. Oh, also: the boat is sentient and versed in postmodernism and literary magick.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about. Who the hell did you buy this from?”

“Y’know how I can die and come right back to life?”


“Well, you meet some interesting people like that. I’m not the only one who can do that. It’s a whole thing.”

“Get rid of it.”

“You haven’t even fucked on it yet!”

“Get rid of the boat, Benjy!”

“I don’t know, man. Boat’s pretty sweet.”

“Hey, Garcia.”

“Big Jer–”

“Don’t call me that.”

“–I don’t know if we’ve met. I’m Benjy Eisen. How you doing on managers?”

“I already got two or three, man.”


You’re not.

“I am.”

You wouldn’t dare.

“I dared.”

Triple denim?

“Triple. Fucking. Denim. You’re not ready for my street-style. Who can pull off double denim? Few? Triple? Motherfucking triple? Me and Lenny Kravitz. That’s it. This my steez, yo.”

Are we still saying steez?

“I haven’t stopped. Saying steez is my steez.”

I’ll let you talk about your clothes if you stop saying steez.

“Deal. Obviously, all the denim is both raw and selvedge. The particular batch of denim used for my jeans was so raw that several people caught Listeria.”


“The denim found in the classic trucker’s jacket is free-range.”

All right.

“And the overshirt is made from a very rare denim: the cotton is grown in Toluca Lake by an agricultural commune started by ex-Price Is Right spokesmodels. They only produce about a dozen trouser-worth of material a year. It’s so soft and smooth. Like satin, but less creepy.”

Satin is totally the creepiest fabric.

“And it’s not even good for fucking! Your knees slip out from under you.”

Excellent point.

“Thank you.”

On the other hand, ever put on a pair of your ladyfriend’s satin undergarments?

“Yes, I have.”

It ain’t the worst feeling.

“It’s like your balls have been tucked in by luxury.”

Yes. Good call.

What were we talking about?

“My clothes.”

Of course.

“The toppermost is named Pond Filled With…the word is hazhi-jookiri. It doesn’t really translate: means ‘fish who refuse to go along with the program.’ It dates back to 1853, where it was being sewn by the legendary Sumo Hibachi.”

Not an actual Japanese name, nope.

“The garment was meant for a powerful shogun, but the shipment was waylaid by foreign devils and captured by Katy Perry’s great-great-great grandfather. It was passed down through the family for over 150 years.”

Katy Perry’s related to Admiral Perry?

“They bear a striking resemblance. Katy presented me with this toppermost on the first anniversary of our lovemaking. She also worked my prostate, so it was just a great evening.”



“Why can’t you ever be happy for others?”

Don’t wanna.

“You’re on with John.”





“What the fuck?”

“Johnny, it’s Benjy and Sammy.”


“Tell Sammy I say hi, Benj.”

“Johnny say hi, Sam.”


“You oughta come down here, buddy. We are partying like crazy. Andrew W.K. told us we were partying too hard, that’s how hard we’re partying.”


“You heard Sammy.”

“I’m busy, Benj. Still on tour with Dead & Company. Can’t pop down to Baja right now.”

“Had an idea, buddy. Wonderland.”


“Wonderland, John. You once told me that my body was one.”

“Not your body, Benj.”

“Whatever. Wonderland, buddy! Like Sammy’s place, Cabo Wabo.  A John Mayer-themed resort, restaurant, bar, convention center, and secret smuggling airfield. Wonderland.”

“I don’t think so. Restaurant’s a lot of work.”

“Nah, they run themselves.”

“They don’t.”

“Can I make a confession?”

“Did you already buy a restaurant?”

“I did. It’s really nice. There’s an office in the back where we can hang out.”

“Dammit, Benjy.”

“You shouldn’t hide in the back all the time, though. Very helpful to come out and schmooze.”

“I’m not a retired prize-fighter, man. Sell the restaurant.”

“We’d take a huge loss. But we do have our insurance all paid up.”

“Burn it down, Benj.”

“Gotcha, chief.”

“Don’t call me chief.”

Reunited And It Feels So Goat

“If you want one, I’ll get you one.”

I would have nowhere to wear a toppermost.

“Yeah. And I was just kidding. You’re not even supposed to know these exist.”

There’s a lot going on with that one.

“Summer Morning In The Fields?”

What now?

“All toppermosts have names. This one is Summer Morning In The Fields. I think it’s apropos. Fascinating story behind her.”


“All toppermosts are female.”


“I had to travel to Japan to persuade a retired master tailor to create one last piece. His name was Hattori Hando.”


“No. Hando. Completely different guy than the guy you’re thinking of.”

If you say so.

“He had retired to a fishing village outside Okinawa, where he ran a non-sushi bar.”


“He cooked the fish.”


“Place smelled delicious.”

I’ll bet.

“No one knew his true identity. I bowed deeply, and then removed my overcoat to reveal one of his early masterpieces, Snowing On The Old People. He said nothing, and brought me some bass. I usually don’t like bass, but he poached it and it was just salty and creamy and I knew I should be eating my chicken breasts but I finished the whole plate. Oh my God, so yummy.”

I get it. Good fish.

“Hattori Hando sits down with me and we banter. So much tension.”


“He asks me why I want a Hattori Hando toppermost.”

What’d you tell him?

“I said, ‘Because I want to look fancy.'”

That was it?

“It worked. He let me stay in his attic while he sewed. I spent my time practicing wearing clothes. At the end of a month, Hattori Hando came to me and we had a very Japanese ceremony. Like, if a layman saw it, he would totally know how Japanese it was. He presented the garment to me and said, “John Mayer, if you meet God while you are wearing this toppermost, then God will not know if it’s a robe or a kimono, but He’ll be pretty sure it isn’t a coat. You owe me like a trillion yen for the food and rent.’ It was a beautiful, spiritual moment.”



“I hate you.”

You’ve got every right.

“John Mayer, fashion is my passion.”


“I’m not gonna tell you again.”

“What do you know about goats?”


“There’s nothing to know! Very easy animal. Eats anything and won’t stop fucking. Goats are the opposite of pandas.”

“Why are we talking about goats? Why do you have a goat?”

“Why do WE have a goat!”

“Dammit, Benjy, did you buy a goat?”

“No! I invested in a goat. And I didn’t invest in just one. The key to goats is volume.”

How many goats do I now own?

“It’s gonna sound like a big number out of context.”




“I told you: volume.”

Just because you keep saying it, doesn’t mean it makes sense.

“John, bubby, you can’t play your guitar forever. The concussions are adding up. These goats are our future.”

How do you make money off them?

“How do you not make money off them? Meat, milk, fur, odds and ends. Scrap cost alone is in the five figure region. And while they’re alive, you rent them out.”

“Rent them out?”

“To petting zoos. Children’s parties.”

“The lonely.”

“Godammit, Benjy.”


“Am I a goat pimp now?”

“That’s such a small part of it. It’s barely even worth mentioning. And it’s an upscale clientele!”

“An upscale clientele of goatfuckers?”

“These are very successful men who grew up on farms and had formative experiences in barns. Don’t you judge them.”

“I will absolutely judge goatfuckers.”

“No offense, but that’s why Trump won.”

“Benjy, sell the goats.”

“You’re not seeing the upside here.”

“Sell the damn goats!”

“I’ll get rid of the motherfuckers.”



“Oh, no.”

“I see you came back from the fucking dead. That’s good. I like that.”

“Not you.”

“Look how fucking sad I am.”

“Miles, you murdered me. I don’t wanna talk to you.”

“I like that toppermost.”

“Oh, thank you. That’s so sweet ofHEY wait a minute.”

“Get over here and take off your drawers and get freaky with yourself. Do it on top of the lion.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Mr. Davis? Hi. My name is Benjy Eisen and I’m John’s manag–”



“Who the fuck did I just murder?”

“Benjy. Don’t worry about it. He’ll be fine.”

“Come back to me, John Mayer. I’m sorry I shot and killed you.”

“You didn’t just kill me, Miles. You killed our love.”


Sorry it didn’t work out, Mr. Davis.

“Never know what’s gonna happen.”

That’s true. You might get back together.

“Yeah. I think I’m gonna stalk him.”

Please don’t stalk John Mayer, Miles Davis.

“I do what the fuck I want.”

I know.

It’s In The Details

Fine, just talk about it.

“Today’s toppermost was made by a Japanese man named Akira Yoshida. He’s an artisan/courtesan.”

What is that?

“Sewing in the day, fancy-fucking at night.”

Courtesans are very fancy.

“Right? If you made a bell curve of prostitute classiness, courtesans would be all the way to the right.”

And crack whores to the left?


I can see it.

“This is his masterpiece. The toppermost originated in Japan, y’know.”

I didn’t.

“Somewhere around 800 AD, a shogun named Suzuki Nintendo–”


“–awoke from a dream on his tatami mat. He went to the window and arranged some flowers. Then, he had tea.”

We get it. He’s Japanese.

“His servant brought in his kimono for the day, and Suzuki refused it. The servant asked what he wanted to wear. Suzuki pointed at the kimono and said, ‘That, but not quite.’ Then Mt. Fuji gave birth to a dragon, and the toppermost was born.”


“It’s like this mash-up of art and religion for them. Very spiritual, very inspiring. They give their lives to the clothing. You know how it takes forever to become a sushi chef over there?”


“Well, that’s lunch. This is toppermost, man. My guy does pieces for the Emperor.”

Japan still has an Emperor?

“Japan’s got, like, nine or ten systems of government going at the same time. It’s impenetrable.”


“Decades. It takes decades to become a master. My guy Akira? First three years was just threading needles for his master. Nothing else. Threading needles all day. Master never talks to him. Finally, after a year he says, ‘Master, don’t I get to do anything else?'”

Ooh, what did the master say? I bet it’s all wise and shit.

“No, he just beat Akira senseless. These were the old days.”


“But now? Look at this sleeve.”

Which one?

“Either one.”

I don’t wanna choose. You pick for me.


What am I looking at?


Stop making me look at your clothes.

“Now we move on to the hem stitching.”


“You suck.”

I know.’

“What’s up, player? It’s John Mayer.”

“No one answers the phone like my Johnny!”

“I told you to stop calling me that.”

“We are making moves out here, baby. You would not believe the business I’m drumming up for you. You know those parks where they got the birds in cages, and rich assholes come out with shotguns and kill a whole bunch of ’em?”

“Like where Dick Cheney shot that guy in the face?”

“Exactly. It’s like that. These deals are just flying out in front of my face and I’m taking ’em down. Bing bing Benj.”

“Great. Whatcha got?”


“Nike? That’s awesome!”

“You didn’t let me finish.”


“Nikehitsu. They’re Japanese.”

“Oh, we were just talking about Japan. What are they? Energy drink? Clothes?”

“It’s a consortium of salarymen who want to pee on you.”

“You’re killing me, Benjy.”

“It’s a lot of money for not a lot of pee!”


“I got an offer for you to play the President of Turkmenistan’s birthday party. $1.5 million for an hour.”

“Wow. That sounds okay.”

“And, you know, it’s a party so there’s gonna be chicks.”

“I figured. Who’s the President of Turkmenistan?”

“Great guy. Don’t look him up. Wonderful man.”

“I’m gonna look him up.”

“Pass, Benjy.”

“The people love him! He won the last election by 96 points!”


“I have a firm offer on the table from a Broadway producer to do a jukebox musical based on your songs.”

“Huh. That’s interesting. Maybe I could do that. Who’s the producer?”

“Jeremy Piven. He’s switching lanes.”

“Pass. Benjy, find me something that’s not weird or damaging to my career, please.”

“Working for my guy!”

“And why are you still at the racetrack?”

“Remember that sponsorship deal I told you about?”

“The one where I would be the sponsor? Yeah. We’re doing the other thing. Where people give me money instead of the other way around.”

“Right. Except you gotta spend money to make money, buddy. This is great publicity!”


“You already took the deal.”

“Excuse me?”

“I have your power of attorney. We signed the deal. Six months of the Mayermobile.”

“How the fuck do you have my power of attorney?”

“You do remember when I brought you back from the dead, right?”


“And the management contract you signed?”


“You should have had a lawyer look that over.”


“I want you to think about the Broadway thing. Piven’s a dick, but he’s got a vision. I saw him do Troilus & Cressida way back in Chicago. Brilliant mind. Okay, they’re calling me back to the track. Later, Johnny.”




“This is not funny, and it’s not cool.”

It’s a little funny.

“I’m thinking about pulling a Gawker on you.”

Feeling froggy? Leap.

Orpheus, Returned

I thought you were dead.

“I am really thinking about calling my lawyers on you. I don’t appreciate you using my image in this manner.”

I warned you! I told you flat-out that Miles Davis–

“Who I married.”

–was going to shoot and kill you.

“I blame you.”

This wasn’t the worst relationship you’ve ever had.

“It was. Most of my relationships involve movie stars and anal. Very rarely before I became a character in your little cry for help was I pimped out, beaten, and murdered.”

Look on the bright side.

“What bright side!?”

Dude. #MeToo.

“You’re fucking kidding me.”

You need to jump on this bandwagon, bro.

“I should come forward with my story about how a jazz legend who died in 1991 killed me?”

Domestic violence is so hot right now. You know how many offers Terry Crews is getting?

“That’s kinda dark, man.”

It was, wasn’t it?

“Usually, you voice those terrible thoughts through other people.”

I do. Let’s move on.

“Wanna talk toppermost?”


“Topper time?”

Absolutely not. I want to know how you came back from the dead.

“Oh, right. I forgot. It all blends together after being eaten by dinosaurs, inhabited by the spirit of 1993 Donald Trump, and blowdarted repeatedly by Vladimir Putin. Why exactly is it that I’m your Mr. Bill doll?”



I don’t recall anything in the continuity about you having any sort of resurrectory powers. How are you alive?

“A friend came and got me. Well, not a friend: my new manager.”

New manager?

“Best decision you ever made, Johnny.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Hey, Benj. You Ubering people back and forth from the afterlife now?

“Anything for Johnny.”

“What did I tell you?”

“Bro, we’re going places. I got big plans. John Mayer is not just a guitarist, a singer, a songwriter, a Furry prostitute.”

“That was just the one time.”

“John Mayer is a brand. It’s like: Coca-Cola, Apple, John Mayer. And that list is probably out of order; people are drinking way less soda lately. We’re gonna leverage you, buddy. What do you think of pecans?”

“They’re all right.”

“Could you love ’em for two million?”

“I could, yeah.”

“Okay, great. One condition: you have to legally change your name to Pecan John.”


“No problem, no problem. I got a ton of shit lined up. I’ve been on the phone all day. Nothing but work for you, buddy!”

“Uh-huh. Then, uh, why are you in a racesuit standing next to a racecar?”


“Stop that!”

“It’s for you! It’s a sponsorship deal!”

“A racing team wants to sponsor me?”

“Other way around. But your picture would be on the car!”

“Absolutely not.”

“Fine, fine, I got more. How do you feel about kittens?”

“Kittens are great.”

“How do you feel about tattooing your face on kittens?”

“Negatively. Very negatively.”

“Is that a pass, or a hard pass?”

“Hard. Very hard. Why would anyone want to do that, anyway?”

“They wouldn’t tell me.”

“Benjy, these are terrible deals. How about an upscale liquor?”

“Upskirt licker?”


“Sorry, I just got horny.”

“Benjy, concentrate.I need you to find some moneymaking opportunities for me that are not insane. Can you do that?”

“I don’t know. Can we?”

Oh, this totally smells like a new storyline.

“Awesome possum!”


When The Swag Met The Benj

Benjy, you be nice to Swaggie Maggie.

“I’m the nicest guy in the world.”

She’s a sweet young woman who is just starting out in this world. Do not instigate foolishness.

“Dude, you’re talking to the wrong person. Watched her lift three wallets and pull a chick’s hair extensions out for eyeballing her.”

Swaggie Maggie?

“I’m pretty sure she’s carrying a knife.”

I’m ignoring you. What have you been up to?

“Talking to lawyers. I, too, am a victim of sexual harassment. I am a brave survivor.”

Benjy, Billy did not sexually harass you.

“It started small. I believe he was grooming me. Comments about my appearance. Waking me up with his sack on my face. He liked when I watched him brush his teeth. He would, like, tongue the toothbrush while making eye contact with me in the mirror.”

None of this occurred.

“At least once a week, he would tell me that I looked sick and take my temperature.”

“Not in my mouth.”


We all get it, Benj.

“–ally. Okay. And, honestly? I don’t think it was a thermometer some of the times.”

It’s not right that you’re saying these things.

“We were out by the pool once, and he made me bounce my junk on the diving board.”


“He called it Cannonballing.”

You are not telling the truth.

“On numerous occasions, Billy sicced the skank on me.”

You can’t sic skank.

“Tell that to the skank and my nipples. They were puffed out like cherries for a week.”

What did the skank do to your nipples, Benjy?

“I don’t want to talk about it. Hurts too much.”

You feel emotional pain over the incident, I understand.

“No, my nipples still hurt.”

Ah. Benjy, everything you’re saying is fake news.

“Da. Is fake news. Hello, Svaggie Maggie.”

Oh, no.

“Putin get svole for young chickiedoodle. Come to Putin, Svaggie Maggie.”

NO! You stay the hell away from Swaggie Maggie!

“Need new vife.”

Current one gonna have an accident soon?


You’re a monster.

“Monster vith pecs of steel. Putin vork chest and tris today, back and bis tomorrow.”

When’s leg day?

“I do leg day next veek.”


“Svaggie Maggie vill be Putin’s new vife. She travel around vorld. Ve vill hunt, ve vill, dance, ve vill vrestle.”


“You cant just change W’s to V’s across board. Must look at usage vithin vord.”


“Typical. Deliver me Svaggie Maggie for purposes of matrimony. She vill make good vife.”

I dunno about that. She’s kind of a pain in the ass.

“Putin vill train.”

OH, HELL NO. Get out of here.

“Excuse me? Can I interject here? Vladimir, I don’t know if you remember me, but I’m Benjy Eisen. We’ve been in a couple of storylines togeth–”



“Da. I remember you.”

Goddammit, stop blowdarting people.

“Nyet. Now bring Putin Svaggie Maggie.”

“Hey, motherfucker. You think you’re a man with those little-ass fucking weights?”

“You on the little girl machine. Trying to build up your titties.”

“Are nyet called titties, Miles David. Are pecs.”

“Big fat white titties. Rub on them titties while I lift weights.”

“Putin have chest like Perun. Pecs made of thunder.”

“God of thunder’s name is Thor, you Trotsky-stabbing motherfucker.”

Guys? Would you mind knocking it off?



Yeah, okay, neither of you can actually kill me. Listen: Swaggie Maggie has left, so there’s nothing to argue about any more.

“The fuck there isn’t. Bench press time, motherfucker.”

“Da. Putin get belt.”

I’ll leave you two to it.

Bowling With The Homies

Hey, Holly Bowling. Whatcha doing?

“Me? You have to bother me?”

Phil yells at me, Bobby has too much crap in his sweatpants, and Jim James kinda scares me a little.

“What about Ross James?”

The whole James family scares me. Beardos.


So, how you doing? I see you brought your hat.

“Leave the hat alone.”

Does it have a road case?

“Please stop talking to me. I’m concentrating.”

What are you playing?

“Dark Star.”

It’s just a jam in D minor.

“Please don’t say–”

The saddest of all keys.

“–the saddest…you’re so original.”

How’s that all-girl jam band coming together?

“It’s not. I’m very happy with my career, and I don’t need advice from you. Holy shit, do I not need advice from you.”

Oh, no. You’re right. I give terrible advice. You need a manager.

“I have a–”


“Where is that coming from? Bobby’s sweatpants?”

He really does have a lot of junk in there.


“I left my phone backstage.”

Check your hat.

“Stop making fun of my hat.”

I’m celebrating it. Check under your hat.”

“Yup. Phone.”

Told you.”

“You’re rolling with Bowling.”

“Great phone greeting, Holl. Perfect.”

“I know this rasp.”

“Holly, it’s Benjy Eisen in a chipmunk costume.”

“Where’d you get a chipmunk costume?”

“Stole it from Brent.”

“Why are you in a chipmunk costume?”

“Don’t worry about the chipmunk costume. This is not about the chipmunk costume. You’d look great in a chipmunk costume.”

“What do you want, Benjy?”

“I wanna take your career to the next level.”

“No, thank you.”

“Listen to my idea first.”


“Jam-themed holiday album.”


“It’s called Have A Holly, Holly Christmas.”


“What if I told you I could get you a sponsor?”

“A sponsor?”

“Absolutely. How do you feel about wearing a chipmunk costume onstage?”

“I’m hanging up.”

“Is Billy there?”


“Can you leave me out of your little make-em-ups, please?”

I promise nothing, Holly Bowling.

“You suck.”

Do you consider your last name to be more of a gerund or a participle?




Oh, hi, Phil.

“Fuck off!”

Your hair looks great.

“I know. Fuck off.”


I Ain’t Gonna Work On Ja Rule’s Farm No More

LSD can’t kill you.

Killed an elephant once.

They gave the poor fucker three million times the proper dosage, and administered it intravenously.

Still dead.

Three million times the proper dose of anything is deadly. Remember your Paracelsus.

That stuff’s all Greek to me.

I see what you did.





I kinda hope. Think of all the alternatives.



“TotD? It’s Benjy.”

Hey, Benj. You still at the Fyre Festival?

“You mean Benjytown?”


“We’ve turned the island into a commune. Me and the survivors.”


“I won’t lie: there’s a shitload of dead white people here. Actually, you know, there’s parts of white people. There was a little bit–”

Of cannibalism.

“–of cannibalism. Yeah. More than a little bit, if I’m honest.”

Um. Benjy?

“I didn’t eat anyone.”

Thank God,

“I tasted a couple people, though.”


“It was the only gluten-free option.”

Benjy, please don’t start a commune on the ruins of the Fyre Festival.

“Already done, bro. We got the whole beach planted.”

Can’t plant on a beach, Benjy.


Like, a billion reasons.

“We’ll see when harvest time comes, won’t we?”

We will.

“Tonight’s a pig roast.”

One of those feral hogs?

“Sure, yeah.”

Benjy, is it long pig?

“I am going to level with you here: the cannibalism took. People got into it.”

Stop eating people and planting in sand, Benjy.

“Ja will provide.”

I’m just gonna pretend you were talking about God and not–

“No, Ja Rule.”

–Ja Rule. Dammit, Benjy, Ja Rule is not going to help you. Ja Rule is the reason you’re stuck on that island barbecuing trust fund kids.

“We are not barbecuing trust fund kids.”


“Of course not. We’re eating the poor people first.”


“Vive la Commune!”

Make Exumas great again.

“You know it.”

Older posts
%d bloggers like this: