One of my former bosses at the Ledger-Enquirer — whom I, with fond affection, called “Pork Chop” — kept trying to get me to watch some HBO show called “Curb Your Enthusiasm.” At the time, I didn’t even have HBO and barely watched any TV that wasn’t sports or news. (Yes, kids, there was a time when there were news channels that told you what was happening in the world instead of offering perpetual punditry.)
I declined, but Pork Chop insisted: “No, you don’t understand! This guy is you! You have to see it.”
“The bald Jewish millionaire behind ‘Seinfeld’ is just like me, huh? Yeah sure.”
But Pork Chop and her husband finally brought in a stack of DVDs from the first few seasons of the show, and, sure enough, he was in many, many ways … me. Although, at the time, I had way better hair. Now, we’re getting more similar on that battle front, as well.
Larry and I agree on many issues — such as pretentiousness, politics, social norms, societal obligations, golf, political correctness, etc. And we definitely agree on avoiding small talk, which is the subject of this week’s column in the Ledger-Enquirer, linked below.
This week’s column in the Ledger-Enquirer
Last week I watched an excellent — if a couple hours too long — two-part HBO special called “The Zen Diaries of Garry Shandling.” It was produced and directed by Judd Apatow, who considered Shandling his mentor.
The show took a deep look at one of the greatest comedic minds of our time by mixing in clips and interviews amid short handwritten musings from Shandling’s diaries. As the handwriting would appear, I was struck by how much pain this guy, like so many comedians went though. I was struck by how insightful he was. And I thought to myself, “Wow, he has really nice handwriting!”
To be fair, everyone has nicer handwriting than I do. Over the years I’ve seen folks put paintbrushes in the trunks of elephants or have monkeys do paintings, and I’m pretty sure their signatures on the works look far better than mine. My signature is just two words, yet you can’t actually read it. You can make out the “C” at the beginning, but after that it’s looks like I passed out shortly after starting the “h” and suffered a concussion long before I got to starting the “J” — although I try to scribble it similarly each time so that it’s semi-official. Continue reading