His hair is as blue as the state in which he grew up and, by all accounts, as equally impressive.
Jim Ballsinger–brother, son, lover, hootenanny coordinator–recently returned from his daily therapy session in seemingly high spirits.
“Oh, that’s right, the interview thing,” said Jim, apparently caught off guard by our presence. ”No, it’s perfect timing. Really, no problem. I just need to go take my afternoon dump and I’ll be right with you.”
For the next hour, we had a chance to chat with Jim’s family to gain a better perspective on his newly identified social behavior and see how everyone was learning to cope.
“That theruhpiss,” Jim’s mother revealed, “Told us that thuh bes’ way to help Jium was fer hium to hug his–whut?! Waddidu say, Larry?! Oh, squuuze me. Embrace (same thang). She told us to help hium “embrace” his passive angryness. Whut?! Well, why don’t ewe come in heer and talk to the ‘porters if yu’re sooo smart! That’s whut I thought. Larry’s always been skeered of anything with a camruh.”
“Anyways,” she went on, “That’s why we call hium PAM. It’s not cuz we’re tryn’ to be mean or anythang, we just really wanna do right by ‘em, ‘speshally cuz he’s turnin’ 35 today.”
We finally got to ask Jim directly how things were going and if he felt empowered by his family’s unconditional acceptance.
“I have a few questions for you first,” Jim began. ”What was the name of yall’s news agency again? Ironing News? Is there a big market for news only about ironing ’cause I couldn’t really find you guys online. Are you all just getting started or something? Oh, sorry, back to your question. No, I really don’t mind being called Pam. It’s solidified my place as the tragic archetype. Symbolic irony and stuff. You wouldn’t get it. It’s layered.”
“But I guess it beats being called Jim-balls.”