Hooked!
2003-12-01 - 2:21 p.m.
1. Quick: Who delivered the Gettysburg address—Honest Abe, or some guy from “Star Trek”?
2. Who says you can get too much of a good thing? Obviously, not this guy.
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DON’T FEAR THE REAPER
Here is an excellently written article by Chuck Klosterman (from Spin), who visited sites of famous rock-mortality moments across the country, raising questions about why rockers become larger than life once they are dead. Especially worth reading are the sections on the Great White-death site, the Lynard Skynard plane crash site, and Robert Johnson’s infamous crossroads.
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FREAKY CO-INKY-DINKS, CHAPTER ONE
(Warning: you might not get this one unless you’re a hard-core “Seinfeld” fan.) The other night I watched a “Seinfeld” re-run, the one where George had a nemesis who everyone ---especially George’s parents--seemed to adore. The very next morning, I was reading a news story about how CBS is kicking butt in the ratings game, and I came across this quote: “… ‘we have to stand behind the promising young shows,’ said ABC's top entertainment executive, Lloyd Braun."
CHAPTER TWO
For nearly two years, I have walked down the same hallway every morning to get to my cubicle. Each and every one of those mornings, as I’ve passed the long row of coat hooks on one of the walls, I’ve thought to myself, “Wow, those old coat hooks are really interesting-looking. I should take a picture of them someday.”
It’s been a repetitive tape-loop in my head, saying the same thing every single morning: “I ought to take a picture.”
And so, one recent morning, feeling an arty-farty bug coming on, I loaded my camera and took it with me to work. I figured that if I’d been looking at those hooks and thinking the same thing for nearly two whole years, it was time to put my thoughts in to action.
And when I walked in the door, I saw before me a hallway that had been completely stripped of all of its coat hooks, which had likely been there since the Kennedy administration. The very freaking day.
CHAPTER THREE
Since the day I started my job here, there has been a pothole the size of a kiddie swimming pool in the street in front of the building in which I work. Every morning, I have to do a big, exaggerated swerve to get around it, but if someone’s coming in the other lane, I can’t do the swerve. I have to go through the pot hole and pray the bumpiness won’t knock my teeth out.
Last week, I said to the secretary, “Jeeze, when are they ever going to pave that big ‘ol pothole out there? It’s getting to be like the Grand Canyon!”
And then, the very next morning, I began to initiate the big dramatic swerve, and I’ll bet you can guess what happened next: the freaking thing was patched. Repaved. Covered.
Something, my friends, is happening.
And so…excuse me for a moment while I think to myself…
“Wow, I love George Bush; I’d sure love to take a picture of him someday!” And, um, “I wonder when TV execs will get around to ending reality TV?” And, let’s see… “I’d love to take a picture of Britney Spears!! I better do that one of these days before it’s too late…”
Damn, it’s not working.
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