There are times when you just scratch your head wondering what the hell happened. This usually happens when I try cooking something way above my skill level and the entire fire department arrives, or I try driving what I see as a shortcut only to find I added 50 miles and two hours to the trip. In the case of movies, I feel this about Superman 3.
When you start with a spectacular film about one of the greatest DC superheroes, then have an even more awesome sequel that spawned an alternate (actually ORIGINAL) version 25 years later, you'd think that the third one would be just as, if not more, AWESOME!
Don't get me wrong, there are some great elements in Superman 3. Specifically, Christopher Reeve himself was the jewel as he got to play a good AND bad Superman. The battle between the 2 in a junkyard is spectacular. Add to that a revisit to Clark's high school and a reunion with his first crush Lana Lang is a refreshing change from the Lois Lane story, which had run its course by the end of 2. So...what the hell happened?
The culprit is Richard Pryor, who makes the whole movie his. And don't mistake me for disliking him, for Pryor was a gifted performer who made a lot of funny and a couple of dramatic films as well, I admire the man. That being said, this was not one of his highlights.
I can't blame it all on Pryor, however. The backstory of the film had a totally different villain making it more sci fi than action, along with more Kryptonian family revealed. That apparently fell through. Then there is the director Richard Lester who brought us Beatles and Musketeers movies in the 60s and 70s. He has turned the Superman franchise into a bit of slapstick comedy. The opening foretells this.
The first 2 films had grand openings with John Williams music playing over cast and credits. This movie begins with Pryor's character Gus Gorman being rejected at the unemployment office, followed by a lot of Murphy's Law street scenes of Metropolis as the credits roll upward. The music is also quite uninspired here and way too lighthearted for a movie's beginning.
We then see Gorman learning computers at his new job and geing quite talented at 80s-style coding. He is disgruntled at his paycheck deductions and uses his coding skills to get himself a bigger paycheck (a plot tool used later in "Office Space"). The boss Ross Webster discovers this through Gus's extravagant showing off of his wealth. Webster blackmails him into using the computer skills for Webster's own gain, such as ruining Colombia's coffee crop (which Superman thwarts)and the world's oil supply.
Meanwhile, Clark Kent goes to his high school reunion with Jimmy Olsen via bus. Clark sees what a dull bastard Jimmy is and creates a chemical plant fire to main Jimmy...just kidding, there is a chemical plant fire where Jimmy is hurt while taking pictures. Clark then goes on to his reunion and sees that a lot of people never change....which reflects real life quite well. He does, however, have a warm reunion with Lana Lang, one of those girls who realizes what she could have had if she didn't conform to social norms of the 60s....if she only knew!
Ross Webster is furious at his Colombia failure and has Gus create Kryptonite to kill Superman. However, Gus realizes there is an unknown element and puts tar in it. When Superman is presented with it during a civic welcoming ceremony, he soon becomes not dead but rather selfish, and soon embarks on destructive activities, even helping Webster by sabotaging an oil tanker.
Superman is also feeling guilty and self-loathing at this point, and after getting drunk and hearing a rah rah speech from Lana Lang's kid, his soul breaks him in 2, the good Clark and the evil Superman, and a great fight ensues in a junkyard. While evil Superman seems to dominate the fight, Clark keeps getting up for more. This angers and fatigues the bad Superman and at the end Clark strangles him easily, making him disappear. The real Superman is back and goes about undoing his oil damage.
He is then lured to the Grand Canyon where Webster has built Gus's mega-computer in a cave. Gus, Ross, his sister Vera, and girlfriend Lorelei are already there and firing missiles at Superman, one of which knocks him out for a bit. When he enters the cave, Vera fires real Kryptonite rays at him (how they got it right is not explained). Gus realizes how wrong this has become and starts damaging his own computer. However, the computer has taken on a life of its own and turns on its operators, gathering power forn the nation to feed itself. Superman grabs some acid (no you stoner, I mean from the rescued chemical plant!) and uses it to Trojan Horse the computer, destroying it and causing much damage that we can't quite figure out why the Department of the Interior doesn't get pissed.
From there, Superman spares Gus from the authorities since Gus tried to save him while Ross and his ladies are assumedly taken to justice. He then goes to see (as Clark) Lana and her son, recently transplanted to Metropolis and they share a moment as he replaces her diamind ring she had to pawn to pay bills (aww). At the end, she is Perry White's new secretary.
Now, I know I oversimplified the story, ignoring a lot of little stuff, but the little stuff didn't help. Lois Lane has maybe 5 minutes of screen time and the Daily Planet itself is like scenes at MI6 in James Bond films only less classy. Way too many Richard Pryor moments of frightened vocal sounds ("In Living Color" had a great sketch of this mannerism in its first season) make you think you're watching deleted scenes from "Stir Crazy". There are some "tender" scenes with Lana Lang and her son. Nothing wrong with those, since Annette O'Toole was well-cast. Another element is Brad, the high school football player whose glory days have been replaced with booze and he can't udnerstand why Lana wants no part of him but prefers "nice" Clark.
I actually do like this movie. If you watch a syndicated version, the opening credits are right at the start and show space and play the real Superman theme, while Gus's unemployment office scene and the street comedy come after (if you cut the street scenes, the movie gels a bit better). The theme about technology taking over (mirrored in the same year's "Wargames") is just as prevalent today. The comedy (or rather ATTEMPTED comedy) was what tore the film apart at times.
Next up: another Bond flick.
Monday, May 27, 2019
Saturday, May 18, 2019
Tucker's Tale part 3....The closing
Here we have Mr. Price, a teacher of many years in the American public school system. He has seen and experienced much. However, this year he has come across a different dimension, a dimension of snot, satanic parents, and alcohol abuse, a hell so hideous that we can only dub it...The Tucker Zone!
When last we left Mr Price, it was at Halloween when the mother tried to blackmail him to agree to her demands, then got strangely cooperative when the attempt failed. Since then, similar battles occurred over Christmas, Valentine's Day, and an attempt to cancel Spring Break.
Now we come to the end of Tucker's second grade year. It is a week before school ends. Mr. Price is doing surprisingly well for the year he has had. Almost daily dealings with Tucker's mother have put him under a strain that, seemingly, only alcohol could ease. A brief covert dalliance with Nancy's mother, while fulfilling a fantasy, had left him even emptier. After a few months in AA, he is back on top, and even more surprisingly, his self-medicating was never seen in class, even escaping Tuckers' parents' microscoping eyes.
After school, Mr. Price is cleaning his room of all the crap that tends to accumulate over a year. He sees in his desk an almost empty bottle of Mad Dog 20/20. It was his first bottle from early in the year, a few nips after school, usually after an impromptu parent meeting, that started his troubles. He looks at the bottle, smiles sadly, and tosses it in the trash.
In comes Tucker's mom. She has the smile, the fake iciness that tells Price it's gonna be one of those days. "Hello, Mr. Price, how are you?"
Fuck me! "Hi. I am fine, you?"
"Oh, just peachy keen!" She looks around at all of the classroom walls. "Why, Mr. Price, these walls look absolutely bare!"
"And yet they look so lovely to me. Eye of the beholder, you know?"
"But the school year is not over yet!"
"Ma'am, the grades are in the system already. The last week we are performing the grade level play, which Tucker is NOT a part of for some reason known only to you. Then we will have a day of playing games and cleaning the desks. On the last day, we will watch a movie of my choosing, then we will release at 12:40."
The raisin wilted. "Released?"
"Dismissed, sent to terrorize their parents for 2 1/2 months and make the parents grateful there is a school system operating 9 1/2 months of the year. Of course, for the loving yet effectively strict parents who provide a balanced household, it's a family vacation."
Tucker's mom sits down. "And which are we, Mr. Price?"
You had to dig, didn't you? "Ma'am I don't think I've ever seen 2 parents so concerned over their kid in my life, which is a compliment."
A huge smile. "Thank you!"
"That being said, I think you focus on what most people think of as peripheral things and make them central to your son's life. In school, it has not served him well."
Tucker's mom looks down for a moment, then meet's Price's sober gaze. "We parent how we parent, Mr. Price."
"Indeed you do."
"About that play, Mr. Price..."
"It will not be canceled, ma'am. The kids have worked so hard."
A look of true surprise. "Oh no! Why would you think I-" She stops, thinks, and nods. "I've done a lot this year for Tucker, I can understand your frustration. But no, I was going to ask if...what I mean is...is there any room for Tucker at all?"
You shitting me? "No."
"Please!"
"Ma'am, you made such a big deal to me, the administration of the school, and the superintendent regarding the plants play! I even assured you that Tucker would not have the broccoli part, but you pushed and pushed, so I acquiesced and had Tucker do alternate learning activities while we practiced. Why the change so late in the year?"
Mother of Tucker is visibly weeping. "It's just that Tucker has felt so, so left out of things. He has been so upset over not being in the play. He even....he even said...he said BROCCOLI!"
Holy shit! "I'll be."
"Oh yes, it was such a breakthrough! Is there not any tiny way he can take part?"
I'll do it, but hate myself in the morning, afternoon, and night. "Tell you what I'll do. I'll create a non-speaking part of a gardener who waters the plants after two songs. That way he can earn the speaking and listening grade for this project."
"But-but he won't speak!"
"But he will listen for the end of the song so he knows what to do.. That counts."
She smiles so widely that Price thinks the extra oxygen will dry her face out permanently. "Mr. Price, I KNEW you were the right teacher for Tucker, I just knew it!"
Price drops another pice of trash into the bag and stares intently at the mother. "Not really."
"Why ever would you say that?"
"Ma'am, the only teacher who is right for Tucker is...I hate to say it...YOU!"
"What? But I'm not a teacher!"
"Oh but you are. You have taught Tucker so many things. Granted, you've taught him some bizarre ideas, but as you say, we parent how we parent. You have the time for it, and only you have the ability to bring Tucker up to grade level."
She is horrified. "Why ME?!"
"Because, simply, with you and your husband as teachers, the only ones who can interfere with your ideas and philosophies are, quite frankly, YOU...and your husband."
"But-but-but we have no educational background."
"Did you graduate high school?"
"Yes."
"You have background. Teach how your teachers taught you. Take what values you've instilled in Tucker, for better or worse, and apply them to the subject areas. Of course, you'd need a home-school liaison, but that's just to make sure you're teaching and not TV watching."
The mother looks down at her hands. She seems ashamed. "But, I was so happy with his growth this year."
I was, too, but the rash went away and he returned. "Growth? Ma'am I progress-monitored him on reading, letter sounds, and math all year. You saw the charts, he flat-lined most of the time, no matter what interventions I did because you intervened on the interventions. Only at the end, in late March, did we see any rise and that was mostly math, which often happens. Having ten fingers to count is a blessing when you know how to use them, and he finally can add and subtract 2 digit numbers with no regrouping."
"That is growth, though."
Price sighs. "It is. But it's not enough for 3rd grade. As we couldn't get him tested for special ed earlier, which I now see as a blessing in disguise, he will be kept in second grade." Price holds up a hand. "And before you protest, all powers concerned agree and will override your objections despite your tenacity."
"He CAN'T be held back!"
"It's done, unless you decide to home-school him. And, if he stays, he will not be in my class."
The raisin face is in danger of implosion. "No, no, only YOU! I insist!"
"No. I will be moving to a different classroom and doing 4th grade. I need the change. A lot of us do, but some teachers stay entrenched where they are too long. I know I did."
"Oh no....I didn't expect this at all."
"I didn't expect anything this year at all. It was an eye-opener on many levels." Price reaches into his bookshelf and finds a summer activity workbook. "I want you to have this, a present from me to you."
She looks at it, a tear flowing down her cheek. "Mr. Price, I feel so responsible for this."
Wonders never cease today! "Thank you for saying that, but the only one responsible for me is me. Now, I still have a lot to clean up before I have to go to a meeting."
She is puzzled. "But it's after school now. Most teachers have gone home."
Price smiles sadly yet proudly. "This time of year, they rush out after the kids do. No, a different meeting."
Mother of Tucker rises and extends a hand. "Thank you, Mr. Price, for everything."
Price takes the hand firmly. "Actually, thank you, ma'am. You and your son have taught me a lot. Have a wonderful summer."
When last we left Mr Price, it was at Halloween when the mother tried to blackmail him to agree to her demands, then got strangely cooperative when the attempt failed. Since then, similar battles occurred over Christmas, Valentine's Day, and an attempt to cancel Spring Break.
Now we come to the end of Tucker's second grade year. It is a week before school ends. Mr. Price is doing surprisingly well for the year he has had. Almost daily dealings with Tucker's mother have put him under a strain that, seemingly, only alcohol could ease. A brief covert dalliance with Nancy's mother, while fulfilling a fantasy, had left him even emptier. After a few months in AA, he is back on top, and even more surprisingly, his self-medicating was never seen in class, even escaping Tuckers' parents' microscoping eyes.
After school, Mr. Price is cleaning his room of all the crap that tends to accumulate over a year. He sees in his desk an almost empty bottle of Mad Dog 20/20. It was his first bottle from early in the year, a few nips after school, usually after an impromptu parent meeting, that started his troubles. He looks at the bottle, smiles sadly, and tosses it in the trash.
In comes Tucker's mom. She has the smile, the fake iciness that tells Price it's gonna be one of those days. "Hello, Mr. Price, how are you?"
Fuck me! "Hi. I am fine, you?"
"Oh, just peachy keen!" She looks around at all of the classroom walls. "Why, Mr. Price, these walls look absolutely bare!"
"And yet they look so lovely to me. Eye of the beholder, you know?"
"But the school year is not over yet!"
"Ma'am, the grades are in the system already. The last week we are performing the grade level play, which Tucker is NOT a part of for some reason known only to you. Then we will have a day of playing games and cleaning the desks. On the last day, we will watch a movie of my choosing, then we will release at 12:40."
The raisin wilted. "Released?"
"Dismissed, sent to terrorize their parents for 2 1/2 months and make the parents grateful there is a school system operating 9 1/2 months of the year. Of course, for the loving yet effectively strict parents who provide a balanced household, it's a family vacation."
Tucker's mom sits down. "And which are we, Mr. Price?"
You had to dig, didn't you? "Ma'am I don't think I've ever seen 2 parents so concerned over their kid in my life, which is a compliment."
A huge smile. "Thank you!"
"That being said, I think you focus on what most people think of as peripheral things and make them central to your son's life. In school, it has not served him well."
Tucker's mom looks down for a moment, then meet's Price's sober gaze. "We parent how we parent, Mr. Price."
"Indeed you do."
"About that play, Mr. Price..."
"It will not be canceled, ma'am. The kids have worked so hard."
A look of true surprise. "Oh no! Why would you think I-" She stops, thinks, and nods. "I've done a lot this year for Tucker, I can understand your frustration. But no, I was going to ask if...what I mean is...is there any room for Tucker at all?"
You shitting me? "No."
"Please!"
"Ma'am, you made such a big deal to me, the administration of the school, and the superintendent regarding the plants play! I even assured you that Tucker would not have the broccoli part, but you pushed and pushed, so I acquiesced and had Tucker do alternate learning activities while we practiced. Why the change so late in the year?"
Mother of Tucker is visibly weeping. "It's just that Tucker has felt so, so left out of things. He has been so upset over not being in the play. He even....he even said...he said BROCCOLI!"
Holy shit! "I'll be."
"Oh yes, it was such a breakthrough! Is there not any tiny way he can take part?"
I'll do it, but hate myself in the morning, afternoon, and night. "Tell you what I'll do. I'll create a non-speaking part of a gardener who waters the plants after two songs. That way he can earn the speaking and listening grade for this project."
"But-but he won't speak!"
"But he will listen for the end of the song so he knows what to do.. That counts."
She smiles so widely that Price thinks the extra oxygen will dry her face out permanently. "Mr. Price, I KNEW you were the right teacher for Tucker, I just knew it!"
Price drops another pice of trash into the bag and stares intently at the mother. "Not really."
"Why ever would you say that?"
"Ma'am, the only teacher who is right for Tucker is...I hate to say it...YOU!"
"What? But I'm not a teacher!"
"Oh but you are. You have taught Tucker so many things. Granted, you've taught him some bizarre ideas, but as you say, we parent how we parent. You have the time for it, and only you have the ability to bring Tucker up to grade level."
She is horrified. "Why ME?!"
"Because, simply, with you and your husband as teachers, the only ones who can interfere with your ideas and philosophies are, quite frankly, YOU...and your husband."
"But-but-but we have no educational background."
"Did you graduate high school?"
"Yes."
"You have background. Teach how your teachers taught you. Take what values you've instilled in Tucker, for better or worse, and apply them to the subject areas. Of course, you'd need a home-school liaison, but that's just to make sure you're teaching and not TV watching."
The mother looks down at her hands. She seems ashamed. "But, I was so happy with his growth this year."
I was, too, but the rash went away and he returned. "Growth? Ma'am I progress-monitored him on reading, letter sounds, and math all year. You saw the charts, he flat-lined most of the time, no matter what interventions I did because you intervened on the interventions. Only at the end, in late March, did we see any rise and that was mostly math, which often happens. Having ten fingers to count is a blessing when you know how to use them, and he finally can add and subtract 2 digit numbers with no regrouping."
"That is growth, though."
Price sighs. "It is. But it's not enough for 3rd grade. As we couldn't get him tested for special ed earlier, which I now see as a blessing in disguise, he will be kept in second grade." Price holds up a hand. "And before you protest, all powers concerned agree and will override your objections despite your tenacity."
"He CAN'T be held back!"
"It's done, unless you decide to home-school him. And, if he stays, he will not be in my class."
The raisin face is in danger of implosion. "No, no, only YOU! I insist!"
"No. I will be moving to a different classroom and doing 4th grade. I need the change. A lot of us do, but some teachers stay entrenched where they are too long. I know I did."
"Oh no....I didn't expect this at all."
"I didn't expect anything this year at all. It was an eye-opener on many levels." Price reaches into his bookshelf and finds a summer activity workbook. "I want you to have this, a present from me to you."
She looks at it, a tear flowing down her cheek. "Mr. Price, I feel so responsible for this."
Wonders never cease today! "Thank you for saying that, but the only one responsible for me is me. Now, I still have a lot to clean up before I have to go to a meeting."
She is puzzled. "But it's after school now. Most teachers have gone home."
Price smiles sadly yet proudly. "This time of year, they rush out after the kids do. No, a different meeting."
Mother of Tucker rises and extends a hand. "Thank you, Mr. Price, for everything."
Price takes the hand firmly. "Actually, thank you, ma'am. You and your son have taught me a lot. Have a wonderful summer."
Wednesday, May 15, 2019
Delighted As Hell...part 4
And thank you for joining me, your overly optimistic and cannabis blessed radio personality Dr Delighted! And I am delighted as a Kardashian ass doctor. Sorry for the long sabbatical, but I had to see the world. I had to see beyond this DJ booth world to see what was there. Believe me, the parking garage isn't much better!
While I was gone it looks like I have a bunch of fan mail. Well, 4 of them are fan letters, anyway. The rest look like forwarded bills from the apartment I "vacated", but more on that later. Our first letter looks like...oh my....I did NOT know that was considered as a penetrable orifice, ma'am! We'll tuck this away until the end of my career, thank you. Wow, that's extreme even for prison.
OK, here's a real letter. "Dear Dr Delighted, I am a teacher in Las Vegas. Well, maybe not much longer. I like my job and all, but in the process I lost my husband who couldn't get into what I do. There are a lot of other headaches, too, in my job, salary freeze being one of them, and I wonder if the loss of a relationship was a worthy price. Sorry if I sound like I am whining, but I've had it up to here. I need advice. Love, Overloaded." Wow! Dr Delighted is touched by this, because he knows all about the world of teachers...he used to be one (a teacher not a world), and apparently the pot has made him talk in the 3rd person, so let me get back to normal! Overloaded, I know nothing about your relationship and I do not know if it is salvageable as a result. This is the end of a school year, and I have met teachers who think as you do. Some need a change of location and some need a change of vocation. And some just need the summer to get their thoughts and spirits up to tackle another 9 months. Whatever it is you need to do, take care of yourself first, Overloaded. And coming your way is a gift card for a local spa. I thought about a gift card for teacher supplies, but nobody who has all the cheese on their cracker wants that shit in May! Bless you!
Holy Toledo Spain! We have some callers. Isn't that nice? Guess I have to play catch-up. Dr. Delighted on the air!
"There IS no air!"
Well as I'm breathing and not keeling over, I beg to differ.
"No, I mean radios aren't on the air anymore. It's all digital now."
While the Doctor enjoys being educated, school has been dismissed in my brain for the day, possibly decade. What can I help you with?
"Well, I love a woman...."
Uh-huh....
"And I'm frustrated that she might not love me back."
Oh good, finally a good old-fashioned problemo. You're frustrated, understood. You been dating her?
"A few times, yeah."
Does that mean you've been on a few dates or you two have had more than one 'era' for lack of a better word?
"We went out a few times."
O-ho!
"You can help me?"
Er, no, I just spotted Luscious Lucy on the street corner. But maybe I CAN help you. What have you and girl wonder done together?
"We've had dinner...gone roller-skating....went to the movies...played some slots together."
I see. Any kissing or hugging in there?
"Well, hugs and cheek pecks."
Oh ho ho ho indeed! And how many times have you gotten together?
"Seven."
Well, my boy...what's your name, anyway?
"Marv."
Marv, read this closely: you're not going to win her slot, no matter how many times you hit play.
"Huh?"
I don't know if it's love you seek or merely the act of love, but you have a better chance with Luscious Lucy if you carry 20s and 50s.
"But I love her!"
Luscious Lucy? You had your vaccinations?
"No, I mean Eve, the girl I'm striking out with."
Marv, let me play you a tune that'll explain it further.
(plays "You Can't Touch This or This or This" by the group Friend Zone and the Platonics)
And while we all stew over Marv's problems further, let's have a word from our sponsor, which is....do we even have a sponsor anymore?...Oh yes, Ned's Bail Bonds and Lieutenant's Fried Chicken, coincidentally right next to each other.
....And we're back! I've been to that chicken place and I wouldn't pay a bond for the owner with all the botulism coming out of there. All righty then, let's have another letter.
"Dear Dr Delighted,
We have been trying to reach you for three months, with no response. Our company has no choice but to ram you up the keister with a never-ending barrage of harrassing calls until you pay us "$67.67" you owe for services rendered.
Yours,
The Parlor"
Yes, that is a very serious problem when people don't pay up. But then again, maybe your services weren't the cat's meow. I told you I wanted feathers and you gave me quills, as well as something else that just cleared up last month. In any case, the poor schmuck who stole my phone will be glad to hear from you I'm sure.
All right. Golly, another call? Must be my lucky night. Dr Delighted has beamed you aboard.
"You bastard!"
No, my dad is on the birth certificate, or at least he humored me with a forgery.
"I hate you!"
You sound less than thrilled, ma'am. You should always drink good stuff before you call me.
"F*** OFF!"
I don't know exactly how one fasterisksasterisksasterisks off, but either a lube or astringent sounds like a requisite.
"You told my husband I was cheating on him!"
I see, and how do you feel about that?
"I want to kill you!"
Hmm, how was your relationship with your mother?
"What the hell are you talking about?"
I'd show you some inkblots, but not sure how that'd work on the airwaves...er, digital waves as Marv the schmuck insists on.
"Why did you tell him that?"
Not sure, might have seemed amusing at the time. No, seriously, what is your husband's name?
"Tucker."
(suppressing a giggle) That brings a rhyme or 2 to mind. But I do remember F- I mean Tucker. He told me several things.
"Like what?"
Oh, your Tinder account, some used condoms in the bathroom waste can, suggestive texts on your phone, a strange car in your driveway...it just didn't seem like you were planning a surprise party for him...or maybe you were depending on the party's theme.
"I KNOW I cheated on him, and now everyone else knows!"
And as you just confirmed it instead of creating some story to destroy my credibility, yep, now everyone DOES know. Anything else?
"Yes! I mean...I don't know. I'm pissed!"
You can be pissed at me all you want. It's none of my business. In fact, nothing any of my listeners do and experience are my business, until they ask me for advice. They make it my business and one thing I will not do to someone who makes that effort...is lie to them about what I think. I've been around and seen and done too much to bullshit anyone. Understand me?
"Um...yes. I just...I...I love my husband, you know?"
I think so.
"But...I did things...not because I was mad or angry. I just...needed. I needed. I have needs, you know?"
So I hear. Question: do you need to make it right with him or do you need to continue needing?"
"Both."
Impossible. The world now knows, or at least the 5 people listening. He knows. You know. You know?
"Good-bye." (click)
Folks, there you have it. And quite frankly, I've had it. I've had it with people who can't take responsibility, I've had it with people who whine, and I've had it with people who bill me at my workplace. And as long as I get a paycheck, I'll continue having it! Til next time!
While I was gone it looks like I have a bunch of fan mail. Well, 4 of them are fan letters, anyway. The rest look like forwarded bills from the apartment I "vacated", but more on that later. Our first letter looks like...oh my....I did NOT know that was considered as a penetrable orifice, ma'am! We'll tuck this away until the end of my career, thank you. Wow, that's extreme even for prison.
OK, here's a real letter. "Dear Dr Delighted, I am a teacher in Las Vegas. Well, maybe not much longer. I like my job and all, but in the process I lost my husband who couldn't get into what I do. There are a lot of other headaches, too, in my job, salary freeze being one of them, and I wonder if the loss of a relationship was a worthy price. Sorry if I sound like I am whining, but I've had it up to here. I need advice. Love, Overloaded." Wow! Dr Delighted is touched by this, because he knows all about the world of teachers...he used to be one (a teacher not a world), and apparently the pot has made him talk in the 3rd person, so let me get back to normal! Overloaded, I know nothing about your relationship and I do not know if it is salvageable as a result. This is the end of a school year, and I have met teachers who think as you do. Some need a change of location and some need a change of vocation. And some just need the summer to get their thoughts and spirits up to tackle another 9 months. Whatever it is you need to do, take care of yourself first, Overloaded. And coming your way is a gift card for a local spa. I thought about a gift card for teacher supplies, but nobody who has all the cheese on their cracker wants that shit in May! Bless you!
Holy Toledo Spain! We have some callers. Isn't that nice? Guess I have to play catch-up. Dr. Delighted on the air!
"There IS no air!"
Well as I'm breathing and not keeling over, I beg to differ.
"No, I mean radios aren't on the air anymore. It's all digital now."
While the Doctor enjoys being educated, school has been dismissed in my brain for the day, possibly decade. What can I help you with?
"Well, I love a woman...."
Uh-huh....
"And I'm frustrated that she might not love me back."
Oh good, finally a good old-fashioned problemo. You're frustrated, understood. You been dating her?
"A few times, yeah."
Does that mean you've been on a few dates or you two have had more than one 'era' for lack of a better word?
"We went out a few times."
O-ho!
"You can help me?"
Er, no, I just spotted Luscious Lucy on the street corner. But maybe I CAN help you. What have you and girl wonder done together?
"We've had dinner...gone roller-skating....went to the movies...played some slots together."
I see. Any kissing or hugging in there?
"Well, hugs and cheek pecks."
Oh ho ho ho indeed! And how many times have you gotten together?
"Seven."
Well, my boy...what's your name, anyway?
"Marv."
Marv, read this closely: you're not going to win her slot, no matter how many times you hit play.
"Huh?"
I don't know if it's love you seek or merely the act of love, but you have a better chance with Luscious Lucy if you carry 20s and 50s.
"But I love her!"
Luscious Lucy? You had your vaccinations?
"No, I mean Eve, the girl I'm striking out with."
Marv, let me play you a tune that'll explain it further.
(plays "You Can't Touch This or This or This" by the group Friend Zone and the Platonics)
And while we all stew over Marv's problems further, let's have a word from our sponsor, which is....do we even have a sponsor anymore?...Oh yes, Ned's Bail Bonds and Lieutenant's Fried Chicken, coincidentally right next to each other.
....And we're back! I've been to that chicken place and I wouldn't pay a bond for the owner with all the botulism coming out of there. All righty then, let's have another letter.
"Dear Dr Delighted,
We have been trying to reach you for three months, with no response. Our company has no choice but to ram you up the keister with a never-ending barrage of harrassing calls until you pay us "$67.67" you owe for services rendered.
Yours,
The Parlor"
Yes, that is a very serious problem when people don't pay up. But then again, maybe your services weren't the cat's meow. I told you I wanted feathers and you gave me quills, as well as something else that just cleared up last month. In any case, the poor schmuck who stole my phone will be glad to hear from you I'm sure.
All right. Golly, another call? Must be my lucky night. Dr Delighted has beamed you aboard.
"You bastard!"
No, my dad is on the birth certificate, or at least he humored me with a forgery.
"I hate you!"
You sound less than thrilled, ma'am. You should always drink good stuff before you call me.
"F*** OFF!"
I don't know exactly how one fasterisksasterisksasterisks off, but either a lube or astringent sounds like a requisite.
"You told my husband I was cheating on him!"
I see, and how do you feel about that?
"I want to kill you!"
Hmm, how was your relationship with your mother?
"What the hell are you talking about?"
I'd show you some inkblots, but not sure how that'd work on the airwaves...er, digital waves as Marv the schmuck insists on.
"Why did you tell him that?"
Not sure, might have seemed amusing at the time. No, seriously, what is your husband's name?
"Tucker."
(suppressing a giggle) That brings a rhyme or 2 to mind. But I do remember F- I mean Tucker. He told me several things.
"Like what?"
Oh, your Tinder account, some used condoms in the bathroom waste can, suggestive texts on your phone, a strange car in your driveway...it just didn't seem like you were planning a surprise party for him...or maybe you were depending on the party's theme.
"I KNOW I cheated on him, and now everyone else knows!"
And as you just confirmed it instead of creating some story to destroy my credibility, yep, now everyone DOES know. Anything else?
"Yes! I mean...I don't know. I'm pissed!"
You can be pissed at me all you want. It's none of my business. In fact, nothing any of my listeners do and experience are my business, until they ask me for advice. They make it my business and one thing I will not do to someone who makes that effort...is lie to them about what I think. I've been around and seen and done too much to bullshit anyone. Understand me?
"Um...yes. I just...I...I love my husband, you know?"
I think so.
"But...I did things...not because I was mad or angry. I just...needed. I needed. I have needs, you know?"
So I hear. Question: do you need to make it right with him or do you need to continue needing?"
"Both."
Impossible. The world now knows, or at least the 5 people listening. He knows. You know. You know?
"Good-bye." (click)
Folks, there you have it. And quite frankly, I've had it. I've had it with people who can't take responsibility, I've had it with people who whine, and I've had it with people who bill me at my workplace. And as long as I get a paycheck, I'll continue having it! Til next time!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)