What I Want for Christmas

-is this railroad bicycle or tricycle if you count that little bitty wheel (click on the image to enlarge). Note that the man at far right appears jealous-if that's the case I don't blame him. This has to be one of the coolest machines ever built. Period uniforms with boots too. If you got me this for Christmas I would be very careful. It would teach me responsibility. I wouldn’t bike the rails willy-nilly just to impress women. I’d use my bike constructively - for good, not evil. I would fight crime with it (provided the crime took place very near or on a railroad) and make you proud. Who knows, it might be you that I help. You may find yourself a victim of an attempted robbery or some unspeakable molestation. I could be there to apprehend these criminals (as long as they fled along a railroad track). By the way, I’d need a police scanner and night vision goggles, maybe a taser and some snacks. I’ll need handcuffs too. You see, I’ve thought this out. Well thank you in
advance and Merry Christmas.

Profannery

Mom invented a new word to describe some foul language she heard coming out of her television set recently. She referred to it as profannery. I googled this new word and got only one result so I’m going to credit mom with inventing it. My mom reads, has always worked crossword puzzles and is quite literate. She knows words I’ve never heard of but like a lot of older people she finds it hard, at least on some subconscious level, to utter any word that deals with sex. On rare occasions the effort to do so mangles syllables, mixes letters, and combines words resulting in a new word. Sometimes the result sounds even nastier than the more correct synonym. An example of this is my all time favorite word mom invented – Pedifeeler. Of course it means pedophile and it actually makes sense once you think about it. Go mom. There’s also the classic prevert that we’ve all heard. Mom has used prono (of course meaning porno) but I don’t think she invented that one, I’ll have to ask her. The funniest and most bizarre example of a mangled word I’ve heard was used repeatedly by a preacher I knew when I was a kid. He literally could not say the word sex. From time to time he would talk about how awful it was that these here young people were out there having sec. Even with the power of Jesus, he could not bring himself to pronounce the very last sound in the word sex. It was as if he were choking on the word itself. As a teenager this was freaking funny to listen to but it’d make me wonder - just who were these young people, where was out there and why wasn’t I with them? Then, as now, I wouldn’t mind having a little sec.

My Relationship With the Kennedy Family

With the passing of Eunice and Ted Kennedy recently I feel compelled to recount my own special relationship with the Kennedy Family.

Years ago I was flying from Worcester Massachusetts to Philadelphia. I was flying in a small commuter plane and had an aisle seat. Directly across the aisle I noticed a member of the Kennedy family sitting there. Cool I thought. I wanted to talk to him but small planes like that are very loud and it’s difficult to carry on a conversation so I didn’t try. Plus I’m sure if I’d waded into a real conversation about politics or whatever with someone like that, he’d realize I was an ignorant bumpkin, which I is.

When I got back I told a friend that I’d sat beside a Kennedy on a plane. They asked the obvious question-‘Which Kennedy?’ Well, I honestly didn’t know. The guy looked like a Kennedy though and that’s what I said. I answered: ‘ … uh … well, he looked like a Kennedy.’ At that point my friend did the obvious thing and laughed. A few weeks later however I was vindicated. There was a TV documentary telling what the children of JFK’s generation were up to and the guy I say across from was the assistant district attorney of Philadelphia. I can’t remember his name now but I had indeed sat next to, or at least across the aisle from a Kennedy. That’s pretty much my relationship with the Kennedy Dynasty.

Speaking of the Kennedys and to be serious for a moment, I was watching Ted Kennedy’s funeral procession and wondered if most news channels were broadcasting it. I flipped through the channels a bit and they all seemed to be. I was a bit curious as to what Fox News might say about the passing of the ‘Liberal Lion.’ They’d have the good sense to be respectful wouldn’t they? Well, as soon as I turned the channel I heard them wondering aloud about Ted Kennedy meeting the criteria to be interred at Arlington. I had only been watching a few seconds and heard this. Honestly. Of course they preceded their comments with phrases such as ‘Some say that’ and ‘others say’ to appear that they were ‘simply reporting’ what someone else said and wouldn’t sound quite as disrespectful. You may or may not like him but there is no real debate as to whether or not Ted Kennedy can be buried in Arlington Cemetery. Those unbiased, fair and balanced people at Fox News couldn’t resist slighting the man as he is being drawn to his grave.

What incredible assholes.

I am biased, I liked Ted Kennedy. The one thing I really liked about him was that regardless of its demonization over the past 30 years, he embraced the word ‘Liberal.’ He didn’t cower away from it as does pretty much every other ‘progressive’ politician does now. In the end he was human. He had his flaws but allowing himself to be bullied into shunning the characterization of ‘liberal’ wasn’t one of them.

Bataan Death March of Milkshakes

Sometimes I don’t quite believe things that come out of my TV. I’m not talking about nudity, violence or strong language. Those things I do quite believe and I'm usually fine with. A few weeks ago (honestly-I’m not making this up) Maureen O’Boyle was reading the news from a teleprompter on Channel 3 and she spouted out that someone was “seriously killed.” Then the other day I was watching Man Vs Food and the host Adam Richman was attempting to drink 15 (I think) milkshakes. He failed and immediately afterwards said that it was the “Bataan Death March of Milkshakes.” Maybe it was the brain-freeze but considering the commonly known history of starvation and cruelty of what was known as The Bataan Death March, that was an incredibly stupid thing to say. Think about it. If you want, you can click here to see what Wikipedia has to say about the wacky shenanigans that went on. I normally like this guy as we share a love of food but that was a stupid thing to say. I googled around to see if anyone else heard him and commented on it but couldn’t find anything. Ironically I did find this excerpt from the book Bataan Death March by William E. Dyess, Charles Leavelle and Stanley Lawrence Falk:

Our talks about food sometimes drove us crazy. I recall one agonizing session that had to do with chocolate milkshakes. I said if I could have all the thick milkshakes I could drink I would give five hundred dollars for them. This seemed to hit the spot with the others. Our misery descended to new depths.

Remember When Perverted Uncles Were Funny?

Boy I do. I’m talking about the Buck Henry character Uncle Roy from the late 70s Saturday Night Live. If you’ll remember, Uncle Roy would babysit (I’m assuming) his nieces played by Gilda Radner and Laraine Newman. He would take pictures of them in provocative poses and they and their parents were too naïve to realize what he was really up to. Good ole fashioned ‘passive molestation’ is guess is what you could call it. The girls enjoyed the horsey rides, digging for presents from Roy’s pockets and sliding down backwards polishing the banister and Roy, well he enjoyed himself too. Usually the parents showed up earlier than expected ending Uncle Roy’s photo sessions. I remember a skit where he was pretending to be a dog and the girls promised to give him a flea bath next time he watched them. Funny sick stuff.

This skit would go nowhere nowadays. Strangely enough, given the sexual mores of the 70s, I think people were somehow freer to do some things then than now. Growing up I remember X-rated theatres everywhere back then. Sexuality was more open and even sexual perversion could be funny. This changed by the late 80s with Reagan, aids and Falwell. Now entertainment in general has changed even more into the yin of politically correct hypersensitivity and the yang of the constant deluge of South Park style, anything goes, edgy, sensory overloaded, shock comedy. If they tried to resurrect an Uncle Roy type character, it would either be criticized to the point of removal or it would have to be made ‘edgy.’ By ‘edgy’ I mean rendered in Claymation, Roy doing unspeakable full uncle on niece penetration with Roy’s impaling clay penis exploding through Laraine’s eye socket and he’d probably make a ‘woman suit’ out of Gilda. Perhaps this would be funny but in a shock valued way only.

I know I know I know! - of course I’m not condoning molestation even ‘passive molestation.’ And if your uncle did something to you that he shouldn't have, well, I'm sorry. I’m just pointing out the fact that in another, more innocent time, Buck Henry made it funny, really funny.

And who was ole Roy really hurting anyways? Then again, who knows what that flea bath would’ve lead to?

The Vortex Cabaret

I hardly ever get out of the house, but when I do I try to do something special. In my never ending quest to be a renaissance man, I attended what I would call a fringe variety show entitled The Vortex Cabaret at The Boiler Room in Asheville, North Carolina. This show is managed by the Reverend Johnny Lemuria. Aside from his myspace presence, I think he runs the website http://pleasuresaucer.com.

I’m not a very social person, I’m not much for striking up conversations with strangers so I would’ve liked to have gone there with a friend but ended up going alone. As usual, I gave myself way too much time to get there fearing getting lost and showed up way way too early. I ended up walking around town and showing up at The Boiler Room long before the show started. It was a little awkward knowing no one and being older than just about everybody else there. The most awkward moment for me occurred when I attempted to merge into a conversation between who I later found out was Sister Discordia and some guy. She is actually one of my myspace friends although, like most myspace friends, I’ve never communicated with her other than sending the initial friend request. I ambled over to them and definitely got within earshot of their conversation. I waited for a break in the conversation prepared to butt in nicely with some disarmingly humorous remark. It never came. I continued standing there saying nothing. At some point I’m sure it became rude of me but I figured the only way out was to wait for a pause and talk. It never came and they both walked away. My life is made up of these awkward moments, sometimes multiple overlapping awkward moments. I’m used to it. People usually remember the happiest or saddest moments of events in their lives. I, for some reason, always remember the most awkward moments like that time I walked into a woman’s restroom on a business trip to Baltimore 20 years ago. I am The King of Awkwardness. Awkwardus Rex.

When this Vortex Cabaret finally started pulling out of the station. It consisted of 5 acts: 2 musical, 1 standup, 1 puppetry (yes, puppetry) and 1 burlesque. 'Forrest' was up first. This was the first of 2 musical acts. It consisted of 4 or 5 young men playing with some electronic gadgets and singing incoherently while shaking, rolling around or just laying on the floor. I like to think I know something about experimental electronic music. I used to listen to Brian Eno and Kraftwerk when I was in high school. I couldn’t quite appreciate this first act though but I’ll consider this my failure, not theirs.

Next up was the aforementioned Sister Discordia. She was up for just a few minutes and gave a quick drug and sex related rant that the audience seemed to relate to. This is where I realized that only geographically was I a local. She’s apparently a stranger to subtlety and nuance but was entertaining. I liked her. Sister Discordia was a short plump woman who wore a short hound’s tooth patterned dress. During the evening I kept noticing her and finally realized I was somewhat attracted to her. I wanted to squeeze her. Like a zit. A juicy wonderfully plump little foul mouthed sexy zit.

After her ranting was 'Madison.' He was a puppeteer and this honestly was the best part of the show. Obviously this guy put a lot of time into his craft. He had I guess what I'd call 'goth' styled puppets and mingled with the audience.

After Madison was another music act, Elisa Faires and some guy-the act was billed as 'Elisa Faires & Co.' at http://pleasuresaucer.com. I don’t really know what you’d call this. 'Performance art' is too much of an umbrella term but that'll have to do. This is a video of Elisa Faires. They were singing/making incoherent noises and playing some conventional musical instruments unconventionally. Their hearts were into it. I really hate saying something was 'interesting' but it was interesting. I was sitting there during their performance, taking it in and it made me wonder, do you have to have a certain defined appreciation to, well, appreciate this? If you don't/can't appreciate it, should you, just to be polite if nothing else, sit there and stare thoughtfully? No, that's dishonest. Was it symbolic and was I just not getting it? After a few minutes I was really trying hard to 'get it' and then she put on a horned mask and started tap dancing while singing and yelling. I finally laughed-almost orgasmically. I say 'orgasmically' because to my shame, I’d gotten tickled early on and the urge to laugh had been building. I had finally noticed someone else laughing and their domino hit my domino...

After some laughing I had a fun-sized-epiphany. Maybe I was approaching this all wrong. I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings but perhaps laughter was ok and even expected. Why hold back my emotions when they definitely were not holding back their guttural feelings. Seriously. Appropriate or inappropriate, maybe the audience’s reaction isn’t outside the scope of the performance. Perhaps the performance never ended and this write up part is part of it. Maybe I’m still thinking about it way too much. If nothing else you can tell it messed with my head and sometimes it's fun to have your head messed with.

Lastly was burlesque from 'Theatre de Fetiche.' It was funny because this was when I noticed people starting to come back in from outside. It was cute, a little amateurish but classy, no exposed nipples or genitals and no donkeys.

Two or three times during the show the Reverend Johnny Lemuria, read from a good book I don’t pretend to know anything about. The audio wasn't the best so I caught bits and pieces. Evidently a captain of local industry, he's proposing establishing a local currency. I'd love to see those metal drink can tabs become currency because I have a whole bag of them. According to The Reverend's website 'The Vortex Cabaret' is an ongoing bi-weekly event at the Boiler Room in Asheville. The next show is July 29th I believe. Although some of it was a bit amateurish and hit and miss, the performers I saw honestly put a lot of effort into it. I'd recommend attending if for absolutely no other reason than it's different, really really really [ad infinitum] different.

Memorial Day

Any write-up regarding Memorial Day is almost always concerned with how people, preoccupied with potato salad, don’t remember what the day is for. Cartoons depict guys playing golf through Arlington Cemetery or grilling hot dogs while the ghosts of dead soldiers look on with seeming disapproval.

Please don’t misunderstand me, there’s a lot of truth in the notion that people don’t quite understand what Memorial Day observes and many don’t care. For me, it’s become that time of year where I get inundated with emails reminding me of this. It’s just that some of this material leans more toward über patriotism than thoughtful solemn remembrance. Again, we should be very thankful for those who gave their lives in combat and be thoughtful of the intentions and the results of the military conflicts that this country has been involved with. Also, if I gave my life for something I’d want to be remembered too.

However, perhaps instead of simple blind patriotism, it’d be a good idea to bone up on some history. If you want to actually ‘honor’ those fallen then find out a little about when, why and where they died and for what exactly.

and, was it really worth it?

All this aside, I honestly think in my heart of hearts (or brain of brains I suppose) that if one could talk to the average solder who gave their life in battle they’d smile and say something like ‘Thanks for remembering. Now go the hell on and enjoy the day off and spend a little time with your family before you have to go back to work tomorrow.’

Mens Kissin’ Mens

That title comes from something Early Cuyler said in a Squidbillies episode. That’s where I get most of my inspiration.

Friday I was stopped in traffic behind a Tracker or some jeep like vehicle. The back of it was open so it was easy to see the driver and passenger in front of me. I was sitting there staring waiting for it to go when the light turned. I noticed the driver and the passenger leaned toward each other and kissed. It was a quick kiss on the lips, no prolonged PDA. They were both men. My immediate train of thought was this:

Did they see me see them?
Jeez, How long have I stared at them?
Is the driver looking at me? (both were wearing sun glasses so it was hard to tell)
If he saw me looking at him he’ll think I’m just another narrow minded bible belt conservative jerk and I’m not! Really. Like the bumper sticker reads - ‘I’m straight but not narrow.’
Did Matt, my 14 year old son sitting beside me, see them? He hasn’t said anything. Don’t tell him! He’ll stare or point or something.
Don't say anything.
The driver’s looking at me, I know it.
Did I raise my eyebrows?
Did I raise either eyebrow?
Did my eyes bulge any?
Damn, he thinks I’m one of them thar homophobes. I just know it.
How do I let them know I’m not?
I got it! I’ll give them a thumbs up. That’ll solve everything.
No no no. Jesus, don’t do that. What am I, crazy?
Just don't do anything, I've done enough as it is!
Sigh…this is somehow all my fault.
(green light)
whew

When you tend to be a self-conscious liberal who tries not to hurt anyone’s feelings, it’s easy to think yourself into these ridiculous corners. I don't truly know how others feel and I'm certain that same-sex couples get plenty of static from strangers. I would however go as far as saying that many reactions, stares and the like, are probably mistaken for outright disapproval. I'm guessing that much of the time it’s probably nothing more than people reacting as they do to anything they rarely see.

TV Network for My Mom

Mom worries. She and her cats worry a lot as do many older widows. I was thinking that there could be a special television/cable network for these people. It could be called ITSOK-TV. The slogan could be “Where it’s ok, really Mom, it’s ok.” It’s ok all of the time. It would be formatted to fit the old soothing black and white bulbous cathode ray tube style televisions. None of this wide screen nonsense where they cut off the top and the bottom of the picture-Mom, bless her heart, thinks that’s what they do. The network could show Matlock and have news about kittens. The viewer would be pacified every 10 minutes by explicitly being told that ‘it’s ok’ from a nice man in a suit. More frequent subliminal and product placement style messages would reinforce this message. Someone could be drinking a can of ‘IT’S OK’ cola for instance. It could be sponsored by Geritol and Willard Scott could send out happy birthday wishes. All shows would end happily and somehow involve a cute animal. All bad guys would see the error of their ways and turn over a new leaf.

Mom worries. When I told her that my younger son was travelling to Atlanta on a field trip, she worried that he and his classmates would turn the bus over. That’s right, turn the bus over. She had seen some news about a school bus flipping over and was worried that Matt and his friends would start rocking their bus and turn it over. I assured Mom that Matt would not turn his bus over. I even considered making Matt promise her but didn’t. By the way, they’re back and they didn’t turn the bus over unless they did and they’re just not telling me.

There would be no school buses flipping over on ITSOK-TV. No China acting all crazy putting people into space. No skanky ladies in skanky reality shows. No terrorism. No talk of drugs. No politics. And definitely no mention of a colored president.

It’s ok. Really.

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