Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: holly bowling

Bowl, Share

What the fuck?

“Go away,”

Holly.

“Not now.”

Holly.

“Fuck off.”

HOLLLLLLLY!

“Stop stealing jokes from Archer.

What the fuck is Tom wearing?

“I was confused about that myself. It’s almost a robe, and–”

Almost a kimono, but definitely not a coat, yeah yeah. It’s called a toppermost.

“That’s not a real thing.”

It is. Rich people have a whole set of garments that normal folks don’t have access to.

“Tom’s not rich. Otherwise, he wouldn’t be on a fucking Jam Cruise.”

Is that what this is?

“Yup. You know Phil’s restaurant?”

Of course.

“Well, imagine you couldn’t leave for five days and there was a 40% chance of contracting Legionnaire’s Disease.”

Ew.

“And Turkuaz was there.”

Jesus. Y’know, it’s not too late to go back to grad school. What was your hat’s GPA?

“Okay, this was fun, but I’m busy.”

I wanna know where the fuck he got that toppermost.

“I don’t know. The store?”

Holly. Look at that garment. What store would you buy that in?

“Yeah, okay, you have a point.”

This is not good. I just hope–

“WHAT THE FUCK?”

–a certain social media star doesn’t find out. Heeeeeey, buddy.

“Dude, I’m steaming. Why does Brad Whitford–”

Tom Hamilton.

“–have one of my toppermosts!? He’s not even supposed to know they exist, let alone be wearing one.”

Got me.

“You know how much that cost?”

Too much?

“Waaaaay too fucking much. That’s a handcrafted piece by Sushi Sashimi.”

Not a real Japanese name.

“He’s not even wearing it right!”

How so?

“He’s fucking poor!”

John, this is an ugly side of you.

“Dude, I don’t have an ugly side. I mean, my right profile is slightly more handsome, but–”

Focus.

“I am so pissed off. What the fuck is going on here, anyway? Who’s the chick in the hat?”

The very talented Holly Bowling. And this is the Jam Cruise.

“I don’t know what a ‘Jam Cruise’ is, and I refuse to learn.”

Good decision.

“Does that guy have his dick out?”

Tom? I hope not. Unless it’s part of the improv. Keith Jarrett used to do that if someone coughed.

“No, not Tim.”

Tom.

“Don’t care. Not him. The guy on the left in the yellow shirt.”

Oh.

“It can’t be.”

If it is, good for him.

“Is this what people do on the Jam Cruise? Wear hats and take their dicks out?”

Pretty much.

“Trump’s gonna win in 2020.”

Probably.

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.

“True.”

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?

“Bass.”

Yeah, I can see that.

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

Who is Lady Jay Leno?

“Who?”

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–

Holly?

“Mm-hmm?”

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.”

Holly?

“Mm-hmm?”

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?

“Yes.”

Why?

“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.”

So?

“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.

 

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.

“Great.”

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–”

CELL PHONE NOISE

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

He really does have a lot of junk in there.

CELL PHONE NOISE

“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.”

“What?”

“Jam-themed holiday album.”

“No.”

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

“Nooooooo.”

“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?”

DIAL TONE NOISE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

“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?

Holly?

Holly?

“HEY!”

Oh, hi, Phil.

“Fuck off!”

Your hair looks great.

“I know. Fuck off.”

Okay.

Bowling For Rubles

Hey, Holly Bowling. Whatcha doing?

“Ohhhhh, shit. They told me about you.”

Who?

“Everyone. Phil, Bobby, Soup.”

You know Soup?

“I found him living in my hat.”

You love that hat.

“I want no part of this.”

Not even if I plug your new album Better Left Unsung, available as two CD’s or three vinyl LPs?

“Eh.”

What about plugging your upcoming tour? Which I notice does not come to South Florida.

“I can’t go to Florida.”

Warrants?

“Warrants.”

I hear you.

“I’m gonna pass on this. It was sweet to include me in your ravings without my permission, but I’m gonna pass.”

Sorry to hear that.

CELL PHONE NOISE.

“Is that you?”

No.

“I left my phone backstage.”

Check your hat.

“How the hell did it get in there?”

Got me.

“Weird.”

Yeah.

“You’re rolling with Bowling.”

“Why you no have band?”

“Who is this?”

“Is Putin.”

“I don’t want to join the Flaming Groovies.”

“If I did not think you were also immortal, I would have you blowdarted, too.”

“What?”

“Nothing. You get band. Big hit. All-lady jam band.”

“Sounds a little gimmicky.”

“Ve call band Doobies & Boobies.”

“Pass.”

“Putin manage. You vill be big stars. I promise.”

“I cannot pass hard enough.”

CALL WAITING NOISE

“That’s me. I’m not coming back.”

“Putin find you, Holy Piano.”

“Goodbye.”

“I steal your hat.”

“GoodBYE!”

“Hello?”

“Holly? Was that Putin?”

“Yes!”

“The one from–”

“Not the one from the Flaming Groovies.”

“–the Flam…okay, just checking.”

“Wait. Who is this?”

“It’s Benjy Eisen. I’m calling on behalf of Elvis.”

“THAT SQUIRRELY LI’L COMMIE MAKIN’ INCURSIONS?”

“Yeah, King! It was him!”

“DAMN, MAN. AH HAVE BEEN CLEAR IN MAH WARNINGS.”

“You totally were, King. Can we Cadillac Holly?”

“CONSIDER IT DONE.”

“Nice! Holly?”

“Yeah?”

“You just got Cadillac’d!”

“What the fuck is going on?”

“It’s complicated. Putin’s been making incursions into the universe we occupy, so Elvis Presley has been fighting him using the awesome power of a fully-operational Time Cape.”

“AN’ KARATE!”

“And karate. Holly, lemme ask you something.”

“Okay.”

“Why don’t you have a band?”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.”

“I got an idea: all-lady jam band. I even got a name.”

“Doobies & Boobies?”

“How’d you guess!?”

DIAL TONE EVEN THOUGH PHONES DO NOT DO THAT ANY MORE

“Hey!”

“HEY!”

Me?

“Yes! What the FUCK is going on?”

Holly, are you familiar with the concept of semi-fictionality?

“No. No, I’m not. Mostly because that isn’t a concept.”

Oh, anything’s a concept if you can conceive of it.

“I’m calling my lawyer.”

You shouldn’t.

“Why not?”

The person who picks up is not going to be your lawyer.

“Why?”

Because she was eaten by komodo dragons this morning.

INCOMING TEXT NOISE

“Oh my God, my lawyer was eaten by komodo dragons this morning.”

Told you.

“Did you do that?”

Kinda.

“Why!?”

Couldn’t think up a punchline for the post.

“You’re a hack.”

I know.

Hugging, Choogling, Bowling

Those are two lucky men.

This shot was from the Brooklyn Bowl the other day, but Phil and his Phriends are back where they belong in Marin County; tonight your pal Reddy Kilowatt is playing with Stu Allen and everyone’s new favorite person Holly Bowling (who really should get herself a band already). Check it out at Radio Busterdog.

Crazy Fingers

This is Holly Bowling; later, I’ll show you Holly Drinking and Holly Stealing The Bowling Shoes and Holly Getting Tackled By A Cop. Right now, though, go watch Holly talk and listen to her play the piano, which she does well.

Now, obviously the woman practices, and knows her F-sharps from her G-flats, but one of the reasons she plays the piano so well are these:

screen-shot-2016-10-27-at-4-40-08-pm

If you have fingers like that, you’re legally required to take piano lessons; it’s like how the tall kid had to be on the basketball team, even though he was a complete goon. Look at those ladyfingers! Nine or ten knuckles apiece, and long and skinny: like an aye-aye with a manicure. Good guitarists have big hands, but piano players have elegant hands.

Holly Holy

Did you know ladies could be pianists? Big ones. Pianists of power of magnitude.

Stop it.

Girthy pianists.

Don’t do this.

Pianists that require two hands.

Really?

The kind of pianists you send videos of to your friends. “Look at this pianist!”

You done?

Yeah.

Great.

Bowled Over

Y’know, that was a shitty Rock Nerd thing to do this morning. Kendrick Lamar is great. The way he talks about things over music? That’s some good talking-over-music.

Anyway, let’s make amends: the video above is the multi-talented Taylor Swift from last night’s show.

Nope. Holly Bowling playing Eyes of the World.

Oh. Not Taylor Swift?

Nope.

The musical talent should have given it away?

Were you making a little Tay-Tay joke when you called her “multi-talented?”

Not at all. She can be photographed from the left or right.

Sure.

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