Thoughts On The Dead

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

Tag: jim james

These Guys Really Know Where Their Towels Are

What is this?

“Tell Cersei it was me.”

Don’t be a meme, Bobby.

“I’m just playing with ya. I didn’t do anything at all to Cersei.”

I know.

“It’s just hot as all get-out, man.”

Well, tell Jim James to get out of the black jeans and cowboy boots.

“I’m not the wardrobe police. People can wear what they want.”

Swastika armbands?

“I guess. Freedom of arms.”


“But, uh, I’m not jamming with you if you’re wearing that shit.”

I wouldn’t think so.

“I check Phil every time we play.”

You check Phil for swastikas?

“Radicalization can happen at any time in life.”

I think Phil’s trustworthy on that subject.

“It’s like Grace Slick always used to say: ‘Trust, but verify.'”

Ronald Reagan said that, Bobby.

“Ah. I always get them confused.”

They both had black hair.

“Right. And they were both into perestroika.”


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.”


The James Gang

“I’d like you to meet my son.”

Not your son, Bobby.

“We’ve got the same beard.”

You don’t.

“Well, he’s already in the will, so it’s a moot point now. What, uh, is his name?”

Jim James.



“If I told you my name was Bobby Roberts, what would you say?”

Fake news.

“There you go. Have you, uh, met my nipple?”

I haven’t.

“Brought the little guy out with me today. He gets all cooped up sometimes.”


“Besides, I wanted my nipple to meet my son.”


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