“Every other name is taken,” Mr. Jones explains. “Think of a great band name and Google it, and you’ll find a French-Canadian jam band with a MySpace page.”
Well, anyone who knows me knows that I am always ready to lend a helping hand, unless said loan would present the risk of even mild inconvenience to me. But it’s no trouble, really, to offer some band names I’ve come up with.
For, alas, I shall never use them. My dream of being the unassuming but overmuchly talented rhythm guitarist in an esteemed indie band, who on tour strolls cities anonymously by day, for he has none of the burdens of celebrity that befall the singer and lead guitarist, but who does have a devoted and distinctively female fanbase worldwide, who… uh, right, the names. Below.
My sinology is not what it should be, so I found this Q&A with the excellently-named Roderick MacFarquhar very interesting. My close reading and litotes skills got a workout from this statement, though:
He’s not yet a figure that so terrifies his colleagues that they couldn’t dream of suggesting to a comrade, “Let’s ally against him,” because they don’t know that that comrade would not report him.
That four-bagger reminded me of one of my all-time favorite bits of writing, Aubrey Buffing’s speech in The Bonfire of the Vanities, which contains this extra base hit:
But one can scarcely help being aware of the marvelous friendship and hospitality of you and Inez, and thank goodness I don’t have to pretend for a moment to be otherwise.