Monday Night Foot-In-The-Mouth

I’ve done plenty of stupid things in my life.

Most of them in college.

But somehow I survived.

Somehow.

I’ve said plenty of stupid things in my life as well.

Many of them on this here blog I’m sure.

Sometimes the words just come out of the mouth.

Before the brain can stop them.

I call it the -- Fire, Ready, Aim syndrome.

I could give you the billboard top 100 of my screw-ups.

But for today, lets jump straight to #1.

The undisputed champ.

It goes a little something like this.

A few years ago I got a surprise call from a former colleague.

A friend.

Out of the blue.

“Hey, it’s a voice from your past.”

Wow!

I said.

In my head.

Fondly recalling how much I enjoyed working with him.

But instead of saying...

“What a great surprise.”

Or...

“How are you?”

Or...

“How is the family?”

I went outside the box.

“How’s the hair?”

Yep.

“How’s the hair?”

Holy Dan Quayle Batman!

Before my brain could find the emergency shutoff switch, I somehow fit my entire size 11 directly into my mouth.

Somehow.

“How’s the hair?”

What the hell does that mean anyway?

My colleague, who probably once considered me a friend, said the only thing he could.

“What?”

And there it was.

My opening.

Now this is when someone with half a brain would crumple up paper in the phone and hit the disconnect button.

Or scream -- “I said, HOW ARE THINGS OVER THERE?”

Or “do you like your steak rare?”

Or anything that rhymes with “hair”.

Except the word HAIR.

But instead, I said it again.

“How’s the hair?”

Yikes.

After nearly an entire quarter-second of his fake -- nervous -- laughter.

I told him I always liked his hair.

PLEASE MAKE IT STOP!!!

Believe it or not that was the last time we spoke.

It’s been about eight years now.

I have always looked forward to the day that I run into him.

In person.

I always wanted the opportunity to explain to him, face-to-face, what really happened.

It’s very simple.

Brain fart!

Period.

That’s it.

Nothing more.

Unfortunately I’ve never had that chance.

And who knows if I will.

I can’t do this apology in 140 characters.

Or less.

So tweeting is not an option.

Neither is texting.

Can you imagine his horror if he saw an email from me in his inbox.

Subject:  HAIR APOLOGY.

How ‘bout an old fashioned phone call?

Really?

Oh the damage I could do on that call.

Amazingly he did friend me on facebook a couple of years ago.

And I immediately accepted.

We exchanged some very basic greetings.

(I think I read mine out loud 1400 times before hitting send.)

Hey let’s face it, we are all capable of saying stupid things.

George W. made a career of it.

And he somehow got re-elected.

Somehow.

There are certainly no rules on who is capable of saying stupid things.

I’ve done it.

You’ve done it.

Jessica Simpson’s done it.

Anybody can join this club.

And today we welcome a new member.

Hank Williams Jr..

Oh Henry.


He must’ve had one too many before his interview with the Fox News Channel on Monday morning.

Or he is just plain stupid.

Coin flip.

Comparing President Obama to Rutherford B. Hayes.

Perhaps.

They both claim to have gone to Harvard Law School.

Comparing Obama to Larry Bird.

Perhaps.

They both did things no man of (their) color have done before.

But comparing Obama to Hitler.

On National TV.

Yes, that Hitler.

Is there another?

Really Junior?

That's almost too much for the Fox News Channel.

Almost.

There are at least six million reasons why Hank shouldn't have gone there.

And he still went there.


Actually what Hank Jr. said is not stupid.


It's a whole lot worse.


That's not an off the top of the head brain fart, "How's the Hair?"


What Hank said on Monday morning is exactly how he felt.


Which is the scariest thing of all.


Comparing OUR President, whether you like him or not.


To Adolf Hitler!

Are you ready for some backlash?

He better be.

Other than a high five or two at the Rick Perry Family Ranch, Hank took a hit in court of public opinion.

ESPN instantly removed Hank from the start of their Monday Night Football broadcast.

Something he’s been doing for 20 years.

But this is America.

And despite his despicable choice of words, Hank Williams Jr. will somehow live to sing another day.

Somehow.

6th Avenue Freeze Out

The clock is ticking on my time left in New York City.

And ticking quickly.

I have spent the last few weeks searching for a way to remain on this coast, but the fact is, it’s not going to happen.

I have finally swallowed that truth.

Along with my last bites of New York pizza, pretzels, chestnuts and anything else I can eat off the street.

I was fortunate to have my family spend the Thanksgiving holiday with me in the big city as I tied up the final pieces.

They left yesterday.   

I leave shortly.

During their stay here, we did things that people do in New York on Thanksgiving.

We went to Radio City Music Hall to see the annual Christmas show with the Rockettes.

My wife and daughter woke up at 3:30 in the morning to go shopping on Black Friday.

And we got a front and center seat for the Macy’s Thanksgiving Day Parade.

Ok, it wasn’t front and it certainly wasn’t center.

But we were there.

We met up with some good friends who had come in from LA to enjoy November in New York.

Along with the other cattle, we got up bright and early on the morning of turkey day, bundled up and went in search of the perfect vantage point.

Once we realized perfection wasn’t possible, we settled in on the corner of 39th Street and 6th Avenue.

Without going all mapquest on you, let’s just say the parade started about three miles to the north.

So by the time the action got to us, many of the “celebrities” were waved out.

But the kids didn’t seem to care.

And isn’t that was this was all about.

We somehow nestled them a spot at the front of the street so they could get an up close and personal look at all the circus clowns dressed as pedophiles.

Or was it the other way around?

Great family fun.

I’m not sure if there was a rhyme or a reason to which floats stopped where, but we seemed to be the popular resting point for the balloons.

We got some real intimate time with the Kool Aid float.

The Energizer Bunny spun in front of us for what felt like forever.

That damn thing just keeps going and going.

We also had a great view when the Buzz Lightyear float flew by.

I never realized that Buzz has a plastic bag over his head.

What a great role model for the kids.

We didn't get as much time with the big stars.

Gladys Knight, sans Pips, drove right past our street.

As did Kanye West.

And Jessica Simpson.

We did get a good look at Joan Rivers.

It’s a good thing it didn’t get any colder or her face might’ve cracked.

But all joking aside, we really had a great time.

The commentary by the people on our street was better than anything the broadcast might’ve offered.

My favorite part was definitely the people watching.

Like when the lady standing next to me, with literally hundreds of people surrounding her, lit a fresh cigarette for us all to smell.

Yummy.

Or the guy who wiggled and jiggled his way to the front of the street so he could record his own personal version of the parade.

Really?

I don’t know about you, but I’ve got hundreds of unedited and unwatched hours of video of MY kids singing and dancing and playing sports.

What in the world is he going to do with a shaky version of The Food Network float?

There was just a little touch of pushing, with no shoving, but some people clearly wanted to get closer to the action than we did.

I was touched in ways that usually only happens on 9th Avenue.

I guess there was something for everyone.