Walk Like a Comedian

I have always been a fan of the legendary film, radio, and television comedian Jack Benny.  I realize that many of you of the Generation X and Generation Y persuasion don't know jack about Jack.

I have also been a fan of having good posture,  since good posture tends to indicate health, confidence, and a greater ability to get chicks.  Unfortunately, my actual posture is often utilized in mathematical textbooks nationwide as Fig15-8, which illustrates the geometric form known as a parabola. 

Little did I dream that my comedy hero would provide the inspiration for me to finally conquer my posture problem.  Don't worry, my slouching  friend, I'm about to give you the secret, provided you don't use it whenever we're competing for the same job.

Jack Benny  --- known as the Old Skinflint for his comedic image of cheapness ---walked onto the stage on his television show in the 1950's and 60's in a  unique manner all his own.  Hands swinging at his sides, he strode across the stage to the tune of his theme song Love in Bloom in a manner that could best be described as quasi-pseudo-grandiloquent, or something like that,  sort of.  

Whatever it was, I found that effecting his walk naturally caused me to stand up straight. 

Using my Jack Benny Walk, I go anywhere secure in the knowledge that America's beloved comedian is with me, ensuring both my outstanding posture and the clamping shut of my wallet, a truly wonderful side effect of my Walk Like a Comedian posture strategy.

"Hi, Perry, nice to see you," said Len Farbman as I arrived at his home for a small party last Saturday.

"Hello, Len, and Welcome to our Program for State Farm Insurance!" I replied.  

In a social situation like this, I was taking no chances.

Once inside I spied my friend Blitzstein.

"Oh,   Fella!"  I said to Blitzstein. 

"Oh, hey, Perry, what's up?"

"What's up?   No, you're supposed to say "Y-e-e-e-e-s-s-s!" in the manner of Jack Benny's longtime foil, Frank Nelson. 

"Oh, I didn't know there was a script." 

"Now cut that out!"

I left the pagan Blitzstein and glided across the room, arms swinging at my sides,  Love In Bloom resonating in my head,  posture immaculate.  And  incredibly I walked right into the best looking woman at the party!

"W-e-e-e-e-l-l-l!" I said,  crossing my arms,  putting one hand up to the side of my face,  and turning my head to one side.

And then, unfortunately, I got nervous.

"Hello, I don't believe we've met," she said. "What's your name?"

"Oh, Rochester!"

"You're from Rochester?"

" No, no, no.  Oh, Don!  Don Wilson!  Ladies and gentlemen, our announcer Don Wilson!"

"Your name is Don Wilson?  You're weird!  And why are you slumped over like that?"

"Your money,  or your life?  (Beat)  I'm thinking it over!"

"Well, I don't have to think anything over, I'm outta here!  And stand up straight, loser!"

The rest of the evening I'm afraid my posture was like that of an apt candidate for a finishing school run by Quasimodo.  

I guess there's a few bugs yet to be worked out of the Jack Benny Walk Like A Comedian  Posture Strategy.  But I'll fix 'em.

Because Mr. Benny, the Old Skinflint,  and I have a lot in common.

You see,  folks,  both of us are 39! 

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Note: If you don't know Jack Benny, Gens X & Y,  you should.  Not only will you understand the above jokes (which may not necessarily be worth understanding),  you'll meet a great American entertainer.  Ask your parents  or grandparents  or anybody else with more wrinkles than you have, or read about him here.

Cupid, Draw Back Your Bow

Boy, I'm bummed!

My holiday comes up next week and as always, it is the lamest holiday ever.    A gratuitous pit stop on the calendar artificially manufactured to sell greeting cards, roses, chocolate, and courses in anger management that only have to prove effective for one day.   

Oh, my name's Cupid, how the hell are ya? Yeah, I'm naked but that was never my idea.  It's February, Zeus damn it, and I'm freezing my pee pee off!

How I got stuck being the Grand Kahuna of St. Valentine's Day is beyond me. I originally put in for Shavuos  but got turned down.  Somebody said a chubby Italian kid shooting arrows hither and yon wasn't appropriate for a  Jewish holiday.   They said even my most potent arrows couldn't make Jewish men sexy.

How do I hate thee, Valentine's Day?  Let me count the ways.

For the holiday supposedly with a heart,  you are particularly heartless for single people.  All around them they see couples nuzzling, looking ardently into each other's eyes,  and pawing one other. (Of course, these are exclusively the ones that have been boozing it up for a couple of hours and just met each other at the bar.)  

Still the single individual feels depressed and  left out, yearning for a significant other that isn't attached to the end of his right arm. Just like at Christmas, there's a lot of suicides on Valentine's Day, almost all of them occurring immediately after ads for Kay Jewelers.

Married couples fare no better with you, Valentine's Day. 

Of any ten random married couples, six hate each other with the same intensity that Kevin James hates being funny.  For these people, the day begins with breakfast at a table that becomes progressively longer as they eat, finally resulting in one of the two being shoved out on the front lawn.

At work, they harangue one and all about the despised spouse to such a degree that most of their co-workers quit, the leading cause of corporate failure and bankruptcy in the United States. Having picked up the requisite box of chocolates or roses --- often with extra thorns ---  they return home and spend a forced minute or two exchanging gifts and attempting a token kiss,  missing each other's lips at minimum by a good foot and a half. 

Thereafter they have dinner and  repair to an evening of internecine conflict the likes of which I haven't seen since the Peloponnesian War! 

Of the ten random couples, two are indifferent to each other.  For these folks, Valentine's Day is a day of professing deep feelings  that they do  indeed have  --- for other people.  The husband presents flowers to the wife that he'd like to be presenting to the woman in Marketing with the big boobs,  and the wife gives chocolate to the husband she'd like to be giving to George Clooney.

If they do it all, it is George Clooney and Melissa Goldstein in Marketing who are in reality  having the sex. 

Finally, two of the couples actually do love each other with the same romantic passion that orthodontists feel for anyone who's English. 

These people count the minutes at work until they can be home again in each other's arms, present to each other chocolates, roses sans thorns, and  gifts from Kay Jewelers that warrant the every kiss begins with Kay Burt Lancaster/Deborah Kerr kiss in "From Here to Eternity," and do the deed like Olympians for hours on end!

Frankly, these people don't need Valentine's Day.  Actually they could really use a break!  Their kids haven't seen them since last August. 

So what about you?  Where do you fall in the spectrum on this most lame of holidays.

I thought so. Well, that's what my arrows are for, my friend.

Shall I take aim?  

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Captain Cautious Behind the Wheel

                                             

No more for me.  I'm Captain Cautious!

 

I recently had a minor automobile accident while driving not so far from my home.

It was "minor" in that I'm still breathing.   It was "accident" in that my car is not.

Something happens to you after an automobile accident,  aside from the urge to fake whiplash and find a lawyer with the cheapest looking ad in the Yellow Pages. You begin to think you ought to be more careful, take driving more seriously, actually pay attention to the speed limits while you're exceeding them.  

My car had paid the ultimate price.   It was a tearful moment when I emptied out the glove compartment, trunk, and beer cans and unused condoms from the back seat.  

"Goodbye, Old Paint!"   I called out.  Which in this case was literally true since the paint on my 2001 vehicle had been peeling off in shards for over three years now.

Taking to the road  in my rental car on the way home, I noted that the posted speed limit was 25 mph,  so I slowed to that speed.  Before long came the realization that traveling at this sane, reasonable, and legal rate of speed  feels like going backwards! 

Instead of moving toward my destination,  I was in fact losing ground. Given enough time, I'd find myself in the Atlantic Ocean.  Who sets these speed limits, the guy who actually drives your father's Oldsmobile?

But none the less, at that very moment I made a commitment.  

I would become Captain Cautious behind the wheel!

I would never again speed to get through a yellow light unless I was being chased by Nazis.   I would become so attuned to the fact that objects in my right hand side mirror are closer than they appear that I would actually write that very phrase upon the mirror! I would brake for animals and  sometimes even for people too.

I would become one with the road. Why not?  I'm not dating anyone else. 

And today I have indeed become Captain Cautious behind the wheel!  Now when I approach a stop sign,  I slow to a stop ten feet behind the sign. Then I inch forward and stop dead directly in line with the sign.

I look right.   I look left.

I look up.  I look down.

I look 360 degrees all about me.  This is a feat that has not been otherwise successfully achieved since actress Linda Blair did the same in The Exorcist in 1973.

I listen for traffic reports on the twos at KYW Newsradio 1060 in Philadelphia to learn of any nearby advancing motor vehicles.   

I grow old.

I die, Horatio.

Other drivers are beginning to recognize and salute the commitment of Captain Cautious.  Whenever I am driving down a two lane road  scrupulously observing the speed limit,  a long line of cars forms behind me in tribute. Some drivers even sound their horns in my honor.  When the lanes of travel widen, many that  pass me give me the thumbs up sign as they drive by!

At least I believe it is the thumbs up sign. 

I'd love for you to come take a ride with me, Captain Cautious, any time you like.  Just keep a couple of things in mind:

1) Make sure to bring lunch, a toothbrush,  and a change of clothes  even if we are just  going to Rite Aid. 

2) Don't be thinking about talking to me while I'm driving.  I have to focus.  And if you do talk to me, don't be interesting. (Well, no problem there.)

3) As for the radio, no rock, sports talk, not even NPR.  Only soft classical music will do.  And no cymbal clashes and absolutely no Wagner! 

Yes, I am now Captain Cautious behind the wheel, role model for one and all.

I am also one big pain in the ass.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Safety Net

"And next on World News Tonight,  we have  David Muir's exclusive interview with Presidential Candidate Mitt Romney,  which is exclusive to ABC News.   And David is exclusively here with us right now."

"Thank you, Diane.  I had the opportunity to sit down exclusively with Mitt Romney earlier today and after we admired each other's hair for several minutes, I got down to some tough and exclusive questions about his latest verbal misstep ..."

"Governor Romney, you've been criticized for making the statement that you are not concerned about the very poor because they have a safety net." 

"No, David, that couldn't be further from the truth.  I am concerned about the plight of all Americans --- rich or poor, black or white, fat or thin, gay or straight, Yankees or Red Sox, Beatles or Stones, Twitter or Facebook,  Ginger or Mary Ann.  I want to help everyone!"

"Governor, do you actually  know anybody who is among the very poor?" 

"Of course, David. I'm on a first name basis with many people who are among the very poor.  Not that I'd let them call me by my first name." 

"What do you do with your friends who are among the very poor?"

"We talk, David.   I want to understand the serious problems they face in their very poor world."  

"Such as?"

"What it's like to play golf at a public course.  Do they have to take very early tee-off times; do they get the better caddies or do they get illegal immigrants?  Is the food as bad as I've heard in coach?  And when they're picked up at the airport in a non-stretch limo, is the vodka a decent Russian or Scandinavian brand or is it Smirnoff's?"

"How does it happen that you meet people who are among the very poor?"

"David, you think everyone at Bain Capital has my portfolio?"   

"Well, thank you for clarifying your earlier statement, Governor Romney.  Out of curiosity, are you personally Ginger or Mary Ann?" 

"Ginger.  How could you even ask that, David?   In fact, I'm really not concerned about the people who are Mary Ann."

"Why is that?"

"Because they  have a safety net."

"Which is?" 

"Mrs. Howell, of course!"

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