for my money
I used to love Larry King’s column. He would simply string together a handful of not-very-risky opinions (usually, but not exclusively, about celebrities), introduced by some regular guy phrase like “for my money” or “if you ask me”–add some ellipses, and you’ve got a column.
For my money, you couldn’t ask for a nicer guy than Paul Newman…if you ask me, that Cristina Aguilera can really move…if you put a gun to my head, I’d have to to call cappellini my favorite noodle–not for nothing, but I love how it’s thicker than angel hair and not as thick as spaghetti…
Since I don’t really have anything that would warrant five or six hundred words, I’m gonna take a page out of Larry’s book–just a few random rants–a snarky sampler if you will.
So I’m standing in front of Davenport’s, where I’m doing my solo show “I’m A Freakin’ Mess” this Sunday, and I’m in front of one of the posters for my show. A man walks out of the club, does a double-take, and says to me ‘You’re the freakin’ mess guy!” The tragic part is that for half a second I wasn’t sure if he was referencing the title of my show or just passing judgement on my emotional stability…
Usually I have pretty accurate gaydar, but occasionally I misread things. A few nights ago, I struck up a lovely conversation with a guy I assumed was gay. When a friend of mine who knew him said he was, in fact, straight, I realized I had assumed which team he played for based on the fact that he he was well-spoken and polite. You just so rarely see a straight guy with impeccable manners. Sad…
A friend of mine told me that, as far as finding that special someone, he’s waiting for a lightning bolt. Me, I’d settle for static electricity. Just let me walk in socks on your deep pile shag, baby…
I don’t exactly run with a gang (there are three of us who ride to open mics together, but I don’t think that counts), but I thought I understood tagging. I thought that whatever was ‘tagged’ was claimed as the ‘turf’ of whoever did the tagging. So why was the little coffeehouse near me tagged? Is there a particularly literate gang out there, trying to lock up all the good spots in the poetry jam? Are there rogue members of the Latin Kings trying to get their acoustic folk on? Has there been a sudden upswing in muffin trafficking (“Yo yo yo–check this out–that’s right, that’s cranberry walnut, homeboy–you can have the first one free”)?…
True confessions time. I’m Jewish and I love Christmas. I’m sure this is because I converted to Judaism–I was raised Christian…Well, nominally. My mother was an Episcopalian who hadbn’t been to church in so long she was afraid if she went the church would collapse on her, and my dad was a Catholic who stopped attending Mass when the church stopped speaking Latin. Anyway, I have made peace with ‘celebrating’ Christmas–I figure, we take a day off for Abe Lincoln, and Jesus probably ranks even higher than Lincoln on the list of “People Who Did A Lot Of Good Things But Were Killed.”
But the real reason I dig Christmas is the music. Now, traditional Jewish music is beautiful–don’t get me wrong. But it’s just not as joyful as your classic Christmas tunes. It’s all minor keys, and ‘people tried to kill us and we survived.’ (Now I realize if I joke at all about Judaism, I risk being compared to the dentist in that ‘Seinfeld” episode, the guy who only converted so he could get away with making Jewish jokes). One of my favorite Christmas songs is ‘The Christmas Song,’, known to most people as ‘chestnuts roasting…’. But how cocky was the writer of that song–Mel Torme? Literally thousands of Christmas songs had been written by that time, but he calls his ‘The Christmas Song.’ …
Everyone has their emotional touchstones with the holidays, and for me, I know it’s the holiday season by the ads I see on tv. If Santa is skiing on an electric razor, it’s that time. More importantly, if I can buy a Chia-Pet, it’s definitely that time. Because there’s nothing that says ‘the son of God is born’ like a pig covered in shrubbery. Happy Holidays!
