Boy, does Halloween bring back the memories. This one year we dressed up as the back end of a horse and went to this drunken party where our front end passed out in the back yard but we didn't know this and so ended up walking around with the front end of another two-person horse until the end of the party when we both took off our ends and we screamed, "You're Adolf Hitler!!" and he screamed "You're not Simon Wiesenthal!" back.
Jesus. Okay. Jesus. Well. Jesus was a man who lived a long time ago and did wonderful things and ended up as part of a really famous mixed media art installation.
Was he nice?
Very nice. He performed miracles.
What's a miracle?
A parlor trick performed before the age of portable recording devices.
Can you perform miracles?
I used to be able to. I used to be able to perform six miracles a night. Jesus could perform miracles all day too. Because he didn't have a job.
What else do you know about him?
Honey, it's hard to remember. To be honest, I'm kind of drunk.
Come on, just one thing.
I remember your Uncle Topor poking eyeholes in a picture of Jesus once, then walking around with it over his face saying, "These are my genitals, touch them and you shall have immortal life." Uncle Topor was drunk then too.
I don't want to hear about stinky Uncle Topor! Tell me something about Jesus! Or I'll make you read me a story!
Okay, okay. No need to start making threats. Here's something. On the day that he was born all the angels got together and decided to create a dream come true. So they sprinkled moon dust in his hair and something something in his eyes of blue.
Daddy, that's a Carpenters song.
Written about Jesus. It's time for you to go to bed.
Daddy, do your impersonation of the one-armed drummer from Def Leppard playing Wipe Out.
It's too late. Go to sleep or I'll sing you a Leonard Cohen song.
He cried, standing by the Seine. The Seine! The Seine River! In Paris, France! "Ouvrez la porte!" he shouted, this being the only French he remembered from school. "I want to touch the Seine!" he told his wife. "I want to hug George Sand and tongue kiss Gertrude Stein and bugger Flaubert! I want to make rude gestures at concierges! I want to punch Ernest Hemingway in the mouth and say "Now you're the Lost Generation!" I want to storm the Bastille! I want to write my masterpiece in a ratty garret! I want to gnaw at the end of a loaf of stale french bread and shiver in my ratty garret! I want to stand by Emile Zola and say, "I, too, accuse!"" I want to shoot Verlaine in the hand with Rimbaud's revolver!" His wife looked at him. He was accustomed to this look. It meant he was overexcited. He took a calming breath. Said, "The Seine. It's not quite what I expected. Disappointing really. We never should have left Ohio."
DuWayne stopped eating meat because meat is murder. Then he stopped eating eggs because eggs are abortion. Then he stopped eating poultry because poultry is, if not murder per se, at the very least involuntary manslaughter. Then he stopped eating shrimp because they look like commas. Then he stopped eating cheese because let's face it, there's a cheese holocaust going on. Then he stopped eating anything with a heartbreaking tale to tell. Then he stopped eating toast because it reminded him of a pony he knew as a kid that moved. Then he stopped eating homeless food. Then he stopped eating food that could conceivably wear a bikini. Then he stopped eating food that could be shown to be incompetent to stand trial under the MacNaughton Rules. Then he stopped eating Mr. Peanut brand peanuts because he was sick and tired of having to spit out the spats.
Eddie Holland of the great songwriting team Holland-Dozier-Holland turns 69 today. We feel obligated to wish him a happy birthday because frankly, if we don't things could get ugly. We don't know if you know this about Eddie, but he's one don't-cross motherfucker. Seriously. We once came upon Eddie beating a guy to a pulp and crying, "I'm the Holland what comes BEFORE Dozier, you got that?"
that's eddie at far right. whatever you do, don't look him in the eye. too late.