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While at the State Fair, Senator Al Franken appeared on Minnesota Public Radio, and during the segment, drew a map of the United States. Free hand. From memory.
I’ll tell you one thing — if the junior Senator from Minnesota ever invites me to play a friendly game of Simon, I’m going to politely decline.
I call “fail.” Maine’s proportion is off.
That’s a party trick he’s done many times before, I think the first time I saw it was probably 15 or 20 years ago on Letterman. Not to take anything away from it – just shows he hasn’t lost a step.
What’s the big deal? It’s just a party trick, like Larry Craig’s tapdancing, or David Vitter’s napkin-folding.
I knew the Senator slightly when he & Tom Davis were in L. A., just before they were hired by SNL. Decent, intelligent guy, & (not that I’ve been stalking him, so I may be wrong) apparently unchanged by what celebrity & fame have come his way. Haven’t yet watched the video of Al calming down the mob of antis, but it’s been well-reviewed.
I think the tale of how Tom Davis & I almost got arrested by the CHP (in 1975) has already been posted to the Inter-nazz, so I’ll spare you the details.
Well, it’s Saturday nightSunday morning, not as if I’ve anything else to do, so alright.
1975, Mr. Davis & I are westbound on the Santa Monica in Tom’s VW microbus, heading to friend’s (Ace Young of KMET News, for extra name-dropping & nostalgia value) Santa Monica pad to dub some audio tapes of Franken & Davis routines to hand out to agents. I’m smokin’ a reefer in the passenger seat (Took me a while to realize that autos are where one is most likely to encounter the heat, & one should keep the cars & reefer separate.) & I see a CHP black & white in the lane to my right, dropping back. “Whew, that was close,” I say, even as Tom advises me they’ve turned on the lights & to eat the other joint. Which I did.
So the Chippies pull us over, give us a little grief, see the reefer residue in my teeth & laugh, “Doesn’t taste very good, does it?” followed by, “Keep it at home boys.” And that was that, though the best part is that the CHP checked the microbus, including the official F&D prop trunk. They may have thought they were onto something big, two “long-hairs” smoking in a VW bus, but on opening the trunk found a life-like, life-sized baby doll w/ a bread knife stuck through it (I think for the Alice Cooper routine F&D were doing.) as well as other goofy props, eliciting a “What the hell is this?” from one of the ossifers. We’re probably lucky they didn’t take us in as Mansonists or something.
I am w/holding the details of being lost in a VW Bug in Mill Valley at two a. m. in 1970 & being pulled over by a cop, who kindly directed us to our destination.
In that VW? Me (& my big bag of weed) my mother, the driver (a woman who will remain nameless, as she is still alive) & Frank Zappa.
I doubt the officer even recognized FZ, who was hunched over in the back, & middle class mothers can fool even the strictest cop (not that anyone knew I was holding, as we used to say) but THAT would have been an embarrassing bust.
Great. Now my story of seeing David Lee Roth in a Terre Haute White Castle parking lot in ’86 is all shot to hell.
Heck of a party trick! Of course,you really only have to learn the shapes of the states around the edges, the square ones in the middle are easy.
Damn. I knew that Al was smart, if annoying during the “Me, Al Franken Decade” era. That’s one helluva “party trick.” Show me one public school kid who can do that from memory. Fuck, by the time I got to high school, they’d done away with the CIVICS classes ALTOGETHER. And our “American History” was almost as big of a joke as our “World History As Defined By Houghton-Miflin” classes.
We was robbed, I tellya, ROBBED.
Don’t have too many “really cool” celebrity stories, though I’ve met a handful. But if you ever wanna hear Henry Rollins’ voice go up four registers, either tell him that I’m standing right behind him or that you’d like to book him for a gig in Long Beach, “Cal-EE-FORR-NEEE-ah??”. Yeah, ’cause there are SOOO many cool venues in Long Beach, MISSISSIPPI, Hank. Right.
Haven’t been able to see one of his spoken-word gigs in close to 6 years, but it’s always fun to make him squeak.
I’d gladly trade all celebrity associations & spottings for a White Castle w/in walking distance.
M’dear Bouffant, you must surely have an alimentary canal/gut/etc. made of solid cast iron, if you not only can LIVE THROUGH White Castle “burgers,” but ENJOY THEM.
Bleck.
Though I will always miss the legendary Hummingbird Cafe’ of N. St. Charles Avenue, now replaced by another fucking PAY PARKING STRUCTURE.
And you can go to the grocery and get FROZEN White Castle “sliders,” if you’re THAT desperate.
I’d trade my I-met-a-serial-killer-once story for a Burgerville in lunching distance. But this isn’t much of a trade.
I was something of a slut in the pre-grunge Seattle music scene, but I have no regrets about that, so no deals.
Meanwhile, Al Franken is starting to seem *scary* smart, not just smart. For various reasons, I had three different people at points in my childhood try to get me to freehand draw the US from memory, and I failed miserably all times. It’s harder than it looks.
I’d trade my I-met-a-serial-killer-once story for a Burgerville in lunching distance. But this isn’t much of a trade.
Wait….what?!
Bill S: The tape appears to have been sped up a bit, but it’s darned impressive nonetheless.
The big question is, would it still be as impressive with Yackety Sax playing over it?
Yeah, well. Someone I was once friendly with once introduced me to someone who turned out to be Westley Allan Dodd. I thought he was creepy, but I tend to think nearly everyone is creepy. I said, “Hi,” and he said, “Yeah, hi”. I told you it wasn’t much of a story.
Outside of the aforementioned sluttery involving regional music celebrities, and a couple of book signings, he is the most famous person I am aware of meeting.
Though, Dave Barry once to general amusement called my partner an idiot. It seemed pretty good natured, though.
Well, now I’m into topper territory, but Henry Rollins used to live down the street from me. (Best time of my life, living at a higher elevation than a known person.) He would occasionally appear in the front yard in wife beater & shorts (tattoo display purposes) & look surly.
He also looked surly going to & from the Food Mart.
This is all, of course, geography. I do not claim to be a better person merely because I live nearer to some of these ninnies than others.
I’ve really never had a White Castle, even the frozen ones, but they sound amusing. Alas, the cast-iron has rusted a bit after yrs. of use. And my recent stint of homelessness/motel living has pretty much turned me off the fast food thing for a while. In-N-Out Burger still rules though.
Um, M.: I don’t pretend to “know” Henry, though we’ve had some interesting/weird conversations and gift exchanges. But I don’t think that, after all of these years of living with that ink, that he would EVER appear anywhere, even his own yard, JUST TO SHOW OFF HIS TATTOOS. He DOES have a hysterically funny story about a guy who was breaking into his house while he was AT HOME, and how his former road manager Mike basically did LAPD’s job for them and CAUGHT THE GUY, but other than that, I don’t know anything about the neighborhood.
And, y’know, sometimes I have to step in and act as “security” when HIS security crew is up in the opposite balcony, watching and laughing their ASSES OFF, the fuckers. Don’t get me started about the lazy turds who pretend to be “security” at the House Of Blues, NOLA. I don’t know WHY all of the most drugged-up, psycho-cunt little fetuses in Chucks have to sit RIGHT THE FUCK NEXT TO ME, but that’s how it tends to turn out. And since I have a higher center of gravity, no, Henry can’t knock me over when we’re taking pictures. In the laws of physics/physiology, it doesn’t make sense, but most importantly, HE STARTED IT.
That’s pretty much the extent of it, aside from having read all of his books up ’til ’04, when I wound-up homeless and selling all of my CDs, jewelry, books, clothes, whatever anybody would buy (to buy meds, food, cigs, pay rent to TOTAL DOUCHEBAGS who claim to have spawned me), so I feel ya on the motel hell.
As long as you never have to go live with your PARENTS, you’re still upright and functioning.
And if you have to hitchhike or take to the road or live in your car, you can always come bunk with me and the cats, provided you don’t piss ‘em off, and can help move furniture when I get evicted in April. And never, EVER, wake Annti up unless someone’s delivering a huge wad of cash. In other words, never wake Annti up, in the sense of DON’T POKE THE BEAR.
BTW, I don’t have a couch anymore, but there’s room for somebody to bed-down on the floor/furniture, if we have to build a couch-surfing network. The way that things are going thus far this year, that looks like a strong likelihood.
Thanks for the offer, but I’m fully housed & totally gummint dependent now.
Oddly enough, being totally dependent on the Social Security I paid to the gov’t. for many yrs. HASN’T turned me a whimpering weenie who lives in fear of the gov’t. which has taken all of my freedoms. Hunh. Imagine that.
I’d gladly trade all celebrity associations & spottings for a White Castle w/in walking distance.
Left by M. Bouffant on September 6th, 2009
Hm, a true masochist. Or you haven’t given up The Weed.
If I ever looked out into my yard and saw Henry Rollins walking around in a wife beater and shorts, you’d have lift my toungue off the driveway. And THEN I’d make a major ass of myself, like I did when I met Robert Kennedy Jr. (I will not divulge the details. They’re too embarrassing.)
D. Sidhe-really? Wesley Dodd? EWWWWW. (shudders) Y’know, when I saw “Manos: the Hands of Fate” the first time, I thought “The Master” kinda looked like him. But that was only based upon the one photo of Dodd I’d seen, so maybe I wasn’t quite right.
And THEN I’d make a major ass of myself, like I did when I met Robert Kennedy Jr. (I will not divulge the details. They’re too embarrassing.)
Was that you at the salad bar on West 44th Street? It took me three weeks to get the tabouli off my pants legs!
No, THAT would have been less embarrassing.
My primary “Making-an-ass-of-myself” skill lies in SAYING stupid things, not doing them.
Just ask anyone who reads my comments regularly.
“Thanks for the offer, but I’m fully housed & totally gummint dependent now.
Oddly enough, being totally dependent on the Social Security I paid to the gov’t. for many yrs. HASN’T turned me a whimpering weenie who lives in fear of the gov’t. which has taken all of my freedoms. Hunh. Imagine that.” — M. Bouffant
Good to know that you’ve got SOME backup now. Hope that the Medicare kicks-in soon, ’cause those Medicaid doctors SUUUUUUUXXXXORRRRRSSSSS, especially the ones who think that having impoverished, desperate-for-healthcare people ensnared in their tacky-assed strip-mall “offices” somehow imbues them with the “authority”/”power” to try and shove JEEBUS down the patients’ throats, whilst they’re very clumsily shoving the WRONG-SIZED SPECULUM up yer cunt.
So try to save getting sick or needing scripts until the Medicare kicks in. And welcome to the wunnerful world of Gubmint “Employment.” They monitor your checking account (especially if you do direct-deposit), how much rent you pay, IF you can get into subsidized/handicapped-accessible housing, which is kinda like trying to squeeze into a phone booth with THE ENTIRE “CAST” OF “MEET THE KLUMPS,” and how badly the utility companies fuck you into the ground. They won’t do a fucking thing to PROTECT you from the utility companies or phone companies, but they monitor.
And when you DO get located someplace semi-permanent, A) SEND ME AN APPLICATION, IF THEY GOT OPENINGS!!!, B)make DAMNED SURE that you DEMAND your disabled/fixed-income DISCOUNT from AT&T or whatever EVIL-CORPORATE-WHORE phone company you use, C) demand the SAME FUCKING THING from the gas/electric/cable companies, ’cause if you’re on a FIXED INCOME, that won’t always coincide with THEIR “billing schedules,” so they’ll FUCK YOU TO DEATH WITH LATE FEES, until you DEMAND your rightful immunity to those late fees. Make friends with your local Public Service Commissioner’s office. Seriously. And whatever apartment complex/housing unit you get into, DO YOUR RESEARCH FIRST. I know what it’s like to only have a WEEK to find a place to live before your shit is thrown onto the street, and to get stuck into the first piece-of-shit dump that’ll take you. Most subsidized-housing units require at least THIRTY DAYS before they “process” an application, and they charge anywhere from ten to thirty-five bucks PER APPLICATION, so be prepared. Go to the state office that oversees these bastards (if it’s a USDA Rural-Housing Authority-subsidized unit, you are soooooo fucked, just like me) and ask questions, demand answers, and look for referrals and as much information as you can get.
Ohhhhh, how different the past 4 years could have been, if I’d been able to get outta this fucking hellhole, if I’d had more than a WEEK to evacuate THEIR fucking torture-chamber of a house. I would not NOW be at the mercy of corrupt, thieving, conscience-free PSYCHO-CUNT WHITE-TRASH WHORES while I try to find a new dump to inhabit, after the Genocidal Jindal flying monkeys have DESTROYED over 50% of the public/subsidized housing in this state.
Sometimes, reading Annti’s posts saves me a trip to the eyedoctor.
Actor, sweetheart, here’s an eye test for you: there’s a very specific, single-needle, line-by line replication tattoo of my lip-print, telling you and the rest of the world where to pucker-up and kiss.
For 25 points, GUESS WHERE.
Something to say?
The tape appears to have been sped up a bit, but it’s darned impressive nonetheless.
Left by Bill S on September 5th, 2009