That Brother Gets Plagiarized (Kind Of...)

I just finished perusing the latest scorching issue of The Rhino. And as I read Scotty Roast's weekly column, it struck me that the kid is, if not exactly plagiarizing me, at least copying my blog style - pretty blatantly I might add (he even ended his recent column with music lyrics). If you're a resident of the fine Gate City, I encourage you to pick up this week's Rhino and judge for yourself. I know for a fact (don't ask how - I have my methods) that Scotty Roast has read this blog. I don't mind him copying me so much, but it would be nice if the kid at least acknowledged what he's doing. He could just say it's an homage or something approximating an homage. Whatever. God knows that I owe my writing "style" as it were, to several others - chiefly JD Salinger. I feel like with every post I do him further injustice. Anyway, if what Rhino readers want is a watered down version of this blog, then fine. At least here you get the real thing, unfiltered by any editor or sense of good taste...

Speaking of JD Salinger, I've been checking about every month or so since his death last year to see if any news has come out about new material being published. Rumors are that he left behind like a vault full of work. I can't swear to that of course. But I keep checking. So far nothing other than some letters he wrote to a pen pal in England or someplace - some guy Salinger met as a kid in Vienna or some other city where they make tiny sausages. As for me, I keep revisiting Salinger's work on a fairly regular basis. I recently reread Raise High The Roof Beam, Carpenters & Seymour An Introduction for example - for probably the 15th time in my life (still not even close to the number of times I've read Catcher - which is, embarrassingly enough, over 50; and some of you wonder why I'm crazy...). I was thinking about the Glass siblings earlier as I worked out and which one is my favorite (I'm keenly aware that this whole paragraph will be lost on many readers of this blog, the Geilfusses...). And I do have a favorite Glass sibling. Now, I like Buddy well enough, and Seymour is fascinating (I once again urge everyone to read A Perfect Day For Bananafish), and Zooey is messed up as well. But my favorite has to be Franny. If a girl like that ever actually existed, well, she'd be exhausting, yes. But I'd buy her a drink or 2, let me leave it at that.

Speaking of a drink or 2, I made my way out to Wing Joint for the 1st time this year last weekend. And it was fine, blah, blah, blah. Dave was there as usual, absent-mindedly tending the bar. Brandon was there monitoring his hoops bets. And random servers who I'd never seen before were screwing up the most routine of work tasks - everything was normal (in fact 2 of the new servers were, you guessed it, dead ringers for meth addicts). Anyway, after awhile one of the few folks I really look forward to seeing when I get the chance to, Tracy to be exact, stopped in. So I'm sitting there shooting the breeze with Tracy, Brandon, and Dave when a dead drunk brother stumbles into the bar. He sat just to the left of Brandon. And things got interesting. This drunk brother started in on being divorced and finding his new love via the Faceshit. He was repeating himself, as drunks will do, pretty terribly. I kept saying, "You just told us that." I pegged this drunk brother as a salesmen. And sure enough in due time, he revealed that he sold Fords for a living. The best part of the "conversation" as it were, was when the drunk brother inquired what I do for a "living." And I'm always very vague about that. My mother for example never had a clear picture of my line of work - she was baffled by it. Those of you in that line of work who read this blog have had the same experience, I'm sure. Anyway, this drunk brother kept telling me to be more specific about what I do. And instead I got more vague and esoteric with him. Brandon and Tracy were getting a big kick out of the whole thing. Eventually he speculated that I work with the CIA (which is ironic because Dave, who was standing nearby, swears I work for the NSA - at least when he's drunk he does...). We kind of left it at that. The other interesting that that happened is that Tracy got up and left while this drunk brother and I were still having some semblance of a conversation. And he said, "Wait, man. Where's she going?" I said "Home, I guess." The drunk replied, "I thought she was your girl." And that was not the 1st time I've had that exact experience at Wing Joint. It's at least the 3rd time that a brother has assumed that Tracy and I are together, and asked about it after she has gotten up to split. Now, I know Tracy looks in on this blog from time to time, and I'm not sure when I'll run across her again, but I know she'll be mortified by the this news. I'm not sure what gives drunk brothers the impression that she and I are together, but something does. Having read this, I wouldn't be surprised if Tracy never shows up at Wing Joint again. Because that has to be tragic news for her. She could do way way better than yours truly. I mean almost any girl with at least one leg, 3 fingers, and 6 teeth could do better than me. Alas, ...

Speaking of Dave, I have in my possession a piece of paper he gave me that contains the names of 2 movies that he recommends I watch. One is Big Bubba Hotep, although I don't think "Big" is in the actual title. And I have been meaning to see this film for a number of years. It's a black comedy about Elvis, JFK, a nursing home, and mummies. The other film is called Human Traffic - another movie I've been meaning to see for years. These 2 film choices may be the best cinematic suggestions Dave has ever given me. The whole world is flipping upside down...

The Tiger is back in the news, this time for spitting on a green in the Middle East. I just wanted to type that last sentence. You can't make stuff like this up. Not even my furtive imagination...

Oh, one last thing - I miss you too, Andy.