MEMORIES OF THE SUMMER WHEN: I. WAS. A. KARAOKE. CHAMPION. (NOT. KIDDING.)
By JOHN YOUNGREN
Watching “Don’t Forget The Lyrics!” on Fox Thursday night, I couldn’t help but remember the summer that – despite the fact that I can’t hold a note and am utterly tone deaf – I was a Karaoke champion.
If you know me, or – especially – if you’ve ever heard me (try to) sing, that last sentence will have particular impact: I. Was. A. Karaoke. Champion.
The Fox show, like its very similar cousin, “The Singing Bee” on NBC, is based on contestants singing along with popular songs, Karaoke-style, with the lyrics on the screen. Suddenly, a minute or so into the tune, the lyrics don’t quite appear – and it’s left to the contestant to fill in the proper words.
It’s harder than it sounds, especially if you’re only vaguely familiar with a song and it’s a verse or two in. Everyone knows choruses. Everyone knows “Lucy in the sky … with diamonds.” How many people know, “Picture yourself in a boat on a river, with tangerine seas and marmalade skies….”?
No one cares that much about how well the contestants are actually singing – it’s pretty much beside the point, except for the fun factor of watching people squawk along, out of tune, and dance awkwardly while peering at a big screen full of words to sing along with before they don’t know what’s coming next.
Which is where it comes back to me.
It was the summer of 1992. I think. I was playing softball for the Harris & Love Advertising softball team. We played every Thursday night in an ad agency softball league. We mostly always lost. But after nearly every game (which was generally when we had the most fun), we went to a Salt Lake City club with an outdoor patio called Green Street (original location at Trolley Square). And you know what they did every Thursday night on the deck, sports fans?
Karaoke.
Or at least, some of us did. I started by accident. I had no problem heading toward the microphone and standing in front of a bunch of people singing out of tune, believe me. My problem, the first few times, was that I tried to sing songs I loved and would somewhat sing seriously, including Beatles numbers like “Yesterday” and “You Can’t Do That.”
And I shouldn’t have done that.
But then one night I stumbled upon a secret formula: I went up front with my softball T-shirt and New York Yankees cap and chose a song I could ham it up to. The first test case was Barry Manilow’s “Copacabana.” Yes, the song about Lola and Tony and the fact that she was a showgirl and wore yellow feathers in her hair and a dress cut down to there. (You know where. Don’t start trouble.)
Something clicked. I knew the song, for one, having grown up singing along to Barry Manilow (don’t ask – it was late grade school and I gotten beaten up a lot). So, though I couldn’t sing, I knew how to emote my way through the song. I knew how to bring the drama and do the dance (and I did do a dance, during the instrumental breaks). And, maybe best of all, I knew enough to take a tropical drink from someone else and stick a miniature umbrella or two through the vent holes in my baseball cap, to give me the proper tropical look.
And that’s where I began to gain traction.
It went over well, but that one song wouldn’t have done it. It might have made me a “Copacabana” contender, but certainly never a Karaoke champion. No, in my mind, the key was the second song I chose that summer – the tune that seemed to just fit with “Copacabana” and its cheese factor, plus gave me the ability to emote no matter how bad a singer I was:
“If you like Pina Coladas
And getting caught in the rain
And you’re not into health food
And you have half a brain
If you like makin’ love at midnight
In the cold and the rain
I’m the lady you looked for
Write to me and escape….”
I’ll double-check these lyrics, but I can basically still remember them to this day (meaning Wayne Brady would probably give me about $350,000 on “Don’t Forget The Lyrics!”). It’s “Escape,” better known as “The Pina Colada Song” by 1970s singing icon Rupert Holmes.
He was essentially a one-hit wonder and this song is, to this day, a guilty pleasure. It wasn’t a particular favorite of mine even during the Manilow years. Still, it was such a goddamn memorable song that it etched itself on my brain, which came in handy 15 years or so later.
I would normally alternate the tunes, and do both on that summer deck at Green Street. There was a couple of times when – seriously – our game went long, or we were too slow in getting to Green Street after softball and the hostess (and I can still see her in my mind; she was fun and she could sing and she would often get me back on tune if I drifted for whatever reason) would be looking for “John” and I would come bouncing up the stairs, much to her relief and much to the joy (or so I imagined) of the Karaoke crowd looking for a few of the summer favorite performers that year.
Usually, I would do “Copacabana” first. It was a relatively popular Karaoke song and I didn’t want to lose it to someone else. The key move to “Copacabana” was when I would call out, “And now we dance!” during the song’s major instrumental break, when Barry & Co. sing “Copa ….. Copacabana…” and kind of make it a disco song. I would jump around in my cap and K-Swiss, holding a Bud Light in one hand. This usually got a laugh, especially in the relatively dark of the outdoor deck. (I always sang with a beer in one hand and the microphone in the other, furthering my reputation as an everyman. Later, friends recommended I bite into a lemon prior to singing, to soothe my throat. I took their advice, which wasn’t so much “everyman,” but was a strategic secret.)
I was often a favorite for the comedic aspect of my approach, at least that long summer at Green Street. I couldn’t really sing. But I could make people laugh, and they normally did, unless it was a particularly serious evening on the Karaoke deck and someone was really into Willie Nelson, or someone. (And people were very serious, at times. I can still remember guys with dress boots and Member’s Only jackets earnestly crooning whatever tune they did, something like “Suspicious Minds.” No room for laughs.)
As I recall, “Escape” would be the second song in my arsenal. It would generally come up 10-15 songs after we arrived and set up camp, meaning by this time my softball teammates and I would have not only established a presence on the deck but we would have pretty much taken it over, which was crucial. People would be coming and going after the game, but having a built-in rooting section was a big key to Karaoke. And by an hour or two after the game, we would all be properly lubricated – meaning I’d be counting 8 or 10 or 14 Bud Lights by that point and just ready to go when it came to Rupert Holmes.
And, much like Manilow, I could sell “Escape.” It wasn’t that magical. I didn’t suddenly get blessed with perfect pitch or the ability to work a note. But I knew the song, and I knew its story, and there was one line I growled – bigger and better than anything else, yelled rather than sung, spoken rather than crooned…
“If you like makin’ love at midnight….”
I can still hear it now. I would yell.
And that always got the laugh and the hoot. It was that simple. I was playing with people by that point. People would sing along. Couples would nudge each other. Everyone pretty much knew I got so little action that they would laugh and smile at one another and then glance at me, the way you might a sad animal in a zoo.
People I knew would report hearing me sing from all over Trolley Square. My sister and her husband Craig, at that point just dating, could hear me “singing” from the outdoor deck at what was then known as The Pub (now Desert Edge Brewery) at Trolley.
But you know what? Fuck it. I did it. I was so hot that summer I could do no wrong. And that’s why, late that year – summer leading into fall, the end of the softball season on the docket – I think I finally captured the title. I had my posse with me and I basically outlasted everyone else. Weekly wins were awarded based on audience applause. One Thursday night, I had more fans there than anyone else. We got to the end of the evening and they asked the crowd to vote by clapping. I came up after my two songs and they went nuts. Or at least that’s how I remember it.
Either way, I walked home that night with a free Green Street T-shirt and a $25 Green Street gift certificate (which I believe we used the next week to help pay for our tab).
I’ve long since outgrown the T-shirt.
I’ve long since redeemed the certificate.
Green Street has changed locations, and they no longer do Karaoke on that particular outdoor deck.
Harris & Love no longer exists.
That softball team has long since broken up.
I don’t do the Karaoke much anymore.
I’ve tried it since and never had that much success.
“Copacabana” and “Escape” (The Pina Colada Song) always bring back memories.
Of the summer. That summer. 1992. Or was it 1991?
It doesn’t matter.
I was a fucking Karaoke champion.
Really. Really.
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Sunday, August 26, 2007
OK, NOW WE TAKE ON MAXIM’S “24 HOURS TO LIVE” – AND IT’S DISTURBING!
By JOHN YOUNGREN (sort of)
I’ll admit it – I’m kind of phoning these in. The last two or three entries have been entirely ripped off from magazines (which obviously rip off each other) with quickie little Q&A featurettes that don’t require a lot of heavy lifting.
But everyone’s complaining – no recent updates. And I’m in a ponderous mood. So I decided to take on Maxim’s “24 Hours to Live” feature, in which a celebrity is confronted with those last-minute questions all of us would prefer to avoid for as long as possible.
(And for those of you wondering, yes, I get Maxim. Not bad on a lonely weekend night with a cigar and a bottle of Chardonnay. “John Youngren Is 42 And Not Married.”)
Henceforth … their Qs, my clever As…
–How do you want to leave this Earth?
Heroically.
–Any woman you always wanted to sleep with?
A few. That cute little vampire slayer will do just fine.
–What’s the best advice you ever received?
People have given me advice without really meaning to. Years ago, playing golf with my father and my two (then) young half-brothers, I threw an absolute profanity-filled fit after hitting a bad shot. Throwing the club and everything. Dad looked at me and said, “You’re not good enough to be mad.”
–If you could haunt someone, who would it be?
Any of my former bosses. But I’d always be 31 minutes late and scare the fuck out of them when they weren’t expecting me.
–What would you say is your greatest accomplishment?
I’ve done a lot of odd semi-related things: Writing newspaper columns, hosting radio talk shows, emceeing charity events, getting letters published in The Sporting News and USA Today, winning a Pet Rock on KRSP 1060 AM Radio in the ‘70s. Always just a step away from fame.
–What book do you most regret not finishing?
I regret never getting into the stories written about that fucking Harry Potter.
–Do you have a longstanding lie you’d like to clear up?
I was screwing around when I got stuck under the garage door, Bruce and Saundra. It wasn’t slipping on the grease, no matter what we said that night.
What has been your greatest source of strength?
Liquor.
Your last meal?
A club sandwich from just about anywhere. And yes, I’ll take the fucking fries.
–What is your biggest regret?
That I wasted so much time, energy, money, wine and emotion on the wrong women in life. And that I didn’t get up and try the stand-up comedy again somewhere else.
–You can punch anyone and get away with it…
Jay Leno. Fuck him.
–Who gets what in your will?
Not sure anyone will want much. My mother can take all the idiotic DVDs she thinks I buy. My colleagues can have my action figures.
–What’s on your epitaph?
“Nice Try.”
–Tell us about your ideal funeral.
Women sobbing that they never gave me more than a thought when I was alive and every single person I’ve ever known gathered together – we’ll have to hold it at Yankee Stadium. Gretchen Wilson sings.
–What are people saying over your casket?
“God, he looks so thin.”
–What lesson do you know now that you wish you’d learned earlier?
Love is a bitch.
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
By JOHN YOUNGREN (sort of)
I’ll admit it – I’m kind of phoning these in. The last two or three entries have been entirely ripped off from magazines (which obviously rip off each other) with quickie little Q&A featurettes that don’t require a lot of heavy lifting.
But everyone’s complaining – no recent updates. And I’m in a ponderous mood. So I decided to take on Maxim’s “24 Hours to Live” feature, in which a celebrity is confronted with those last-minute questions all of us would prefer to avoid for as long as possible.
(And for those of you wondering, yes, I get Maxim. Not bad on a lonely weekend night with a cigar and a bottle of Chardonnay. “John Youngren Is 42 And Not Married.”)
Henceforth … their Qs, my clever As…
–How do you want to leave this Earth?
Heroically.
–Any woman you always wanted to sleep with?
A few. That cute little vampire slayer will do just fine.
–What’s the best advice you ever received?
People have given me advice without really meaning to. Years ago, playing golf with my father and my two (then) young half-brothers, I threw an absolute profanity-filled fit after hitting a bad shot. Throwing the club and everything. Dad looked at me and said, “You’re not good enough to be mad.”
–If you could haunt someone, who would it be?
Any of my former bosses. But I’d always be 31 minutes late and scare the fuck out of them when they weren’t expecting me.
–What would you say is your greatest accomplishment?
I’ve done a lot of odd semi-related things: Writing newspaper columns, hosting radio talk shows, emceeing charity events, getting letters published in The Sporting News and USA Today, winning a Pet Rock on KRSP 1060 AM Radio in the ‘70s. Always just a step away from fame.
–What book do you most regret not finishing?
I regret never getting into the stories written about that fucking Harry Potter.
–Do you have a longstanding lie you’d like to clear up?
I was screwing around when I got stuck under the garage door, Bruce and Saundra. It wasn’t slipping on the grease, no matter what we said that night.
What has been your greatest source of strength?
Liquor.
Your last meal?
A club sandwich from just about anywhere. And yes, I’ll take the fucking fries.
–What is your biggest regret?
That I wasted so much time, energy, money, wine and emotion on the wrong women in life. And that I didn’t get up and try the stand-up comedy again somewhere else.
–You can punch anyone and get away with it…
Jay Leno. Fuck him.
–Who gets what in your will?
Not sure anyone will want much. My mother can take all the idiotic DVDs she thinks I buy. My colleagues can have my action figures.
–What’s on your epitaph?
“Nice Try.”
–Tell us about your ideal funeral.
Women sobbing that they never gave me more than a thought when I was alive and every single person I’ve ever known gathered together – we’ll have to hold it at Yankee Stadium. Gretchen Wilson sings.
–What are people saying over your casket?
“God, he looks so thin.”
–What lesson do you know now that you wish you’d learned earlier?
Love is a bitch.
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Thursday, May 03, 2007
INSIGHTS FROM MY SO-CALLED LIFE: MY TAKE ON THE PROUST QUESTIONNAIRE
By JOHN YOUNGREN
Each and every month, Vanity Fair magazine features a celebrity or newsmaker responding to a survey of questions in what they call the “Proust Questionnaire.” This is the Vanity Fair spin on the Q&A that many magazines do.
Who’s Proust? Andre Maurois's Proust: Portrait of a Genius explains. The young Proust was asked to fill out questionnaires at two social events: one when he was 13, another when he was 20. His responses became famous as part of his overall makeup and history.
Last time I updated this site, I spent the space on what my responses might be if I responded to Esquire’s “Lessons in Living” feature. That went over well. So I gave this one a spin. (Remember, buy the premise – buy the bit.)
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
–A cigar and a glass of Chardonnay on the summer deck at Arlington Place. Or, a beer down and another in hand while dining on a hot dog during the fifth inning at Yankee Stadium.
What is your greatest fear?
–People laughing at me when I’m not in on the joke.
Which historical figure do you most identify with?
–Thomas Jefferson.
Which living person do you most admire?
–Bill Clinton, Paul McCartney.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
–That my “charming” insecurities sometimes bloom into out-and-out neuroses.
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
–Arrogance. Or arrogant people reminding me how important they are.
What is your greatest extravagance?
–DVDs, books and CDs, sports memorabilia, action figures and men’s shoes, not necessarily in that order.
What is your favorite journey?
–The ride home to Newburgh.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
–Punctuality.
On what occasion do you lie?
–If I’m running late. If I miss a deadline. Or if a client won’t have it any other way.
What do you dislike most about your appearance?
–My nose and hairline are the obvious things. Lately, there’s a little more gut than I’d like.
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
–"FYI,” “evidently” and “yeah, I’ll have another.”
What is your greatest regret?
–Far too many to list here. That’s an entire blog in itself.
What or who is the greatest love of your life?
–Not sure anyone has fully qualified yet, though there have been a few who have (wittingly or unwittingly) sparked a lifetime of therapy.
Which talent would you most like to have?
–To be able to sing or play a musical instrument. Well, that is.
What is your current state of mind?
–Searching for a signal.
If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be?
–That I’d have ended up with an Italian surname.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
–Editor of my junior high newspaper. Editor of my senior high newspaper. Editor of my college newspaper.
If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
–A 1995 Saab Turbo SE.
If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be?
–A successful TV talk show host.
What is your most treasured possession?
–My Michael Jordan autographed basketball or Joe Montana autographed football.
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
–When my stomach makes me pay for my indulgences.
What is your favorite occupation?
–Newspaper columnist.
What is your most marked characteristic?
–My storytelling ability, despite what some might say.
What is the quality you most like in a man?
–Humor and humility.
What is the quality you most like in a woman?
–Humor and patience. And nice legs.
What do you most value in your friends?
–Humor and loyalty.
Who are your favorite writers?
–Bob Greene, Chuck Klosterman and Nick Hornby.
Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
–Captain Kirk, Jack Bauer and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Or Hamlet.
What is it that you most dislike?
–Stupidity.
How would you like to die?
–Heroically.
What is your motto?
–"Just give me the damn thing and I’ll do it.”
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
By JOHN YOUNGREN
Each and every month, Vanity Fair magazine features a celebrity or newsmaker responding to a survey of questions in what they call the “Proust Questionnaire.” This is the Vanity Fair spin on the Q&A that many magazines do.
Who’s Proust? Andre Maurois's Proust: Portrait of a Genius explains. The young Proust was asked to fill out questionnaires at two social events: one when he was 13, another when he was 20. His responses became famous as part of his overall makeup and history.
Last time I updated this site, I spent the space on what my responses might be if I responded to Esquire’s “Lessons in Living” feature. That went over well. So I gave this one a spin. (Remember, buy the premise – buy the bit.)
What is your idea of perfect happiness?
–A cigar and a glass of Chardonnay on the summer deck at Arlington Place. Or, a beer down and another in hand while dining on a hot dog during the fifth inning at Yankee Stadium.
What is your greatest fear?
–People laughing at me when I’m not in on the joke.
Which historical figure do you most identify with?
–Thomas Jefferson.
Which living person do you most admire?
–Bill Clinton, Paul McCartney.
What is the trait you most deplore in yourself?
–That my “charming” insecurities sometimes bloom into out-and-out neuroses.
What is the trait you most deplore in others?
–Arrogance. Or arrogant people reminding me how important they are.
What is your greatest extravagance?
–DVDs, books and CDs, sports memorabilia, action figures and men’s shoes, not necessarily in that order.
What is your favorite journey?
–The ride home to Newburgh.
What do you consider the most overrated virtue?
–Punctuality.
On what occasion do you lie?
–If I’m running late. If I miss a deadline. Or if a client won’t have it any other way.
What do you dislike most about your appearance?
–My nose and hairline are the obvious things. Lately, there’s a little more gut than I’d like.
Which words or phrases do you most overuse?
–"FYI,” “evidently” and “yeah, I’ll have another.”
What is your greatest regret?
–Far too many to list here. That’s an entire blog in itself.
What or who is the greatest love of your life?
–Not sure anyone has fully qualified yet, though there have been a few who have (wittingly or unwittingly) sparked a lifetime of therapy.
Which talent would you most like to have?
–To be able to sing or play a musical instrument. Well, that is.
What is your current state of mind?
–Searching for a signal.
If you could change one thing about your family, what would it be?
–That I’d have ended up with an Italian surname.
What do you consider your greatest achievement?
–Editor of my junior high newspaper. Editor of my senior high newspaper. Editor of my college newspaper.
If you were to die and come back as a person or thing, what do you think it would be?
–A 1995 Saab Turbo SE.
If you could choose what to come back as, what would it be?
–A successful TV talk show host.
What is your most treasured possession?
–My Michael Jordan autographed basketball or Joe Montana autographed football.
What do you regard as the lowest depth of misery?
–When my stomach makes me pay for my indulgences.
What is your favorite occupation?
–Newspaper columnist.
What is your most marked characteristic?
–My storytelling ability, despite what some might say.
What is the quality you most like in a man?
–Humor and humility.
What is the quality you most like in a woman?
–Humor and patience. And nice legs.
What do you most value in your friends?
–Humor and loyalty.
Who are your favorite writers?
–Bob Greene, Chuck Klosterman and Nick Hornby.
Who is your favorite hero of fiction?
–Captain Kirk, Jack Bauer and Buffy the Vampire Slayer. Or Hamlet.
What is it that you most dislike?
–Stupidity.
How would you like to die?
–Heroically.
What is your motto?
–"Just give me the damn thing and I’ll do it.”
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
Wednesday, January 31, 2007
INSPIRED BY “FROM THE PAGES OF ESQUIRE: LESSONS IN LIVING FROM 65 REMARKABLE LIVES”
By JOHN YOUNGREN
Buy the premise, buy the bit. That's what I'm asking you to do with this one. The Esquire book led to some personal rumination.
So you have to accept the premise that I'm at least WORKING on a "remarkable life..."
I SHOULD HAVE GIVEN IT ANOTHER GO after my first-and-only standup comedian try – in a bar where there was no standup comedy, ever. And I still should. But I was embarrassed and frustrated it hadn't gone well. And that's no way to be funny. At least intentionally.
NEVER FEEL LATE BEFORE YOU ACTUALLY ARE LATE. I run late all my life. But I don’t feel guilty when it’s, say, 8:22 a.m. and I’m trying to make the 8:30 a.m. meeting. I don’t feel guilty until it’s 8:37 a.m. and I’m still not there.
FEELING GUILTY is for fools. Or Catholics. And yes, I'm both.
I'VE NEVER REGRETTED getting out of journalism for advertising – though I have sometimes regretted losing track of advertising for public relations.
STILL, IF I HAD TO DO IT ALL AGAIN, I would have stayed in journalism. I’m absolutely designed to be a newspaper columnist – the best mix of stand-up comedian and radio talk-show host I can find.
IF I COULDN'T do that, I’d be a stand-up comedian or radio talk show host.
Or David Letterman.
Or David E. Kelley.
And I should have stuck with my real radio show longer, though the hours were killing me.
DON'T STOP thinking about tomorrow.
IT'S STILL possible to learn the bass guitar.
The 1995 Saab isn’t a classic. IT'S JUST OLD.
I CAN'T STAND KIDS who want to major in Communications – PR or journalism, or whatever – and don’t read a newspaper every day. They don’t watch TV news and they don’t have any idea what’s going on in the world. You want to be my PR advisor? Fuck you.
NOBODY READS ANYMORE. I read a book a week, sometimes more. I read five magazines a week, sometimes more. I read three newspapers a day, sometimes more. I read all the time. I consider it the greatest gift God has given me, besides the ability to write.
I NEED TO WRITE – whether it’s a blog, freelance shit, my Great American Novel, whatever. I need to fucking write.
WOMEN ARE RARE AND MYSTICAL CREATURES. Like unicorns. They can be scared away. When I'm into someone, I frequently come on too strong. When it’s a potentially romantic, potentially sexual relationship, I become a fucking loud dweeb. I’m nerdy Bob Saget. On only an occasion or two have I have pulled out of that tailspin, and it’s all with girls whose names begin with “J.”
BUT A PLATONIC GIVE-AND-TAKE? I’m an ace. No pressure, no hype, no dweeb. Romantic chemistry all over the place. Or married chemistry.
I DO WELL with married babes.
And Moms.
I'D BE GOOD in a sitcom.
FOR THE RECORD, I’m not fucking gay. Not that there's anything wrong with it.
I'M ALWAYS about taking the room. Because I can. Because it’s like I still have that Mr. Microphone in my hand.
TO THIS DAY, I want to get the laugh and take control. Maybe I’m funny, maybe I’m not, but I’ll give it the fucking roll – and most of the time I’m going to get the laugh.
THAT'S MY PERSONALITY. Since I was in second grade (literally; ask Ms. Cannon) I’ve understood the ebbs and flows of humor and response, finding the funny in the situation. I used to love to get the laugh out of the classroom around me. Just ask Ms. Spackman-Moss (her name now), my sophomore year English teacher. But I eventually found the true happy place to be: Get the laugh, bring the people in, and advance the conversation. Teachers love that. You’re helping them do their job.
I LOVE THE COMEDY OF GOSSIP. I love the “what’s next?” and “he really?” aspect of it. People don’t like what they call “gossip.” I don’t care. For me, it’s just talking about life.
NO ONE ANNOYS ME MORE than a dumb person who doesn’t realize how dumb they are. Someone so dumb they don’t know what they should know.
I HAVE LESS PATIENCE than ever with arrogant people, or people who need to explain to me their authority or position. If you have to tell me how powerful you are, I’m guessing you’re really not all that powerful.
IF YOU CAN'T LAUGH AT YOURSELF, fuck you.
ALCOHOL is the great equalizer.
I'M BETTER LOOKING the further East I go – a stud in Chicago, Boston or New York.
I'M HALF-ITALIAN but didn’t end up with any kind of fun surname that could scare thugs or get me good seats at Italian restaurants. Youngrenelli?
MOST OF THE TIME, I'm making it up on the fly.
IF YOU DON'T KNOW THIS ALREADY, trust me: If you’ve got a relative in the hospital with a serious illness, you’re going to be running the case.
I LIKE clothes. I especially like jeans, boots, jackets and caps, but it’s not like I’m a farmer, or a cowboy. (Not that there's anything wrong with farmers or cowboys, either.)
MY SEVEN FAVORITE (NON-FAMILY, NON-SEXUAL) THINGS TO ENJOY IN LIFE: 1. My music mixes; 2. Cigars on the deck; 3. Chardonnay; 4. A good book on a lazy Sunday; 5. Club sandwiches; 6. DVDs of TV series; 7. Breaking up the room.
MY SEVEN FAVORITE THINGS IN THE WORLD: 1. Paul McCartney on bass; 2. David Letterman's second take; 3. Derek Jeter in the hole; 4. Peyton Manning with a minute left and the ball; 5. Joe Buck or Bob Costas on play-by-play; 6. Red Rock Brewing Co., Salt Lake City, Utah; 7. Jennifer Aniston, anytime.
A LONG TIME AGO, I decided to be me. It's working out OK, but it's definitely a work in progress.
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ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
By JOHN YOUNGREN
Buy the premise, buy the bit. That's what I'm asking you to do with this one. The Esquire book led to some personal rumination.
So you have to accept the premise that I'm at least WORKING on a "remarkable life..."
I SHOULD HAVE GIVEN IT ANOTHER GO after my first-and-only standup comedian try – in a bar where there was no standup comedy, ever. And I still should. But I was embarrassed and frustrated it hadn't gone well. And that's no way to be funny. At least intentionally.
NEVER FEEL LATE BEFORE YOU ACTUALLY ARE LATE. I run late all my life. But I don’t feel guilty when it’s, say, 8:22 a.m. and I’m trying to make the 8:30 a.m. meeting. I don’t feel guilty until it’s 8:37 a.m. and I’m still not there.
FEELING GUILTY is for fools. Or Catholics. And yes, I'm both.
I'VE NEVER REGRETTED getting out of journalism for advertising – though I have sometimes regretted losing track of advertising for public relations.
STILL, IF I HAD TO DO IT ALL AGAIN, I would have stayed in journalism. I’m absolutely designed to be a newspaper columnist – the best mix of stand-up comedian and radio talk-show host I can find.
IF I COULDN'T do that, I’d be a stand-up comedian or radio talk show host.
Or David Letterman.
Or David E. Kelley.
And I should have stuck with my real radio show longer, though the hours were killing me.
DON'T STOP thinking about tomorrow.
IT'S STILL possible to learn the bass guitar.
The 1995 Saab isn’t a classic. IT'S JUST OLD.
I CAN'T STAND KIDS who want to major in Communications – PR or journalism, or whatever – and don’t read a newspaper every day. They don’t watch TV news and they don’t have any idea what’s going on in the world. You want to be my PR advisor? Fuck you.
NOBODY READS ANYMORE. I read a book a week, sometimes more. I read five magazines a week, sometimes more. I read three newspapers a day, sometimes more. I read all the time. I consider it the greatest gift God has given me, besides the ability to write.
I NEED TO WRITE – whether it’s a blog, freelance shit, my Great American Novel, whatever. I need to fucking write.
WOMEN ARE RARE AND MYSTICAL CREATURES. Like unicorns. They can be scared away. When I'm into someone, I frequently come on too strong. When it’s a potentially romantic, potentially sexual relationship, I become a fucking loud dweeb. I’m nerdy Bob Saget. On only an occasion or two have I have pulled out of that tailspin, and it’s all with girls whose names begin with “J.”
BUT A PLATONIC GIVE-AND-TAKE? I’m an ace. No pressure, no hype, no dweeb. Romantic chemistry all over the place. Or married chemistry.
I DO WELL with married babes.
And Moms.
I'D BE GOOD in a sitcom.
FOR THE RECORD, I’m not fucking gay. Not that there's anything wrong with it.
I'M ALWAYS about taking the room. Because I can. Because it’s like I still have that Mr. Microphone in my hand.
TO THIS DAY, I want to get the laugh and take control. Maybe I’m funny, maybe I’m not, but I’ll give it the fucking roll – and most of the time I’m going to get the laugh.
THAT'S MY PERSONALITY. Since I was in second grade (literally; ask Ms. Cannon) I’ve understood the ebbs and flows of humor and response, finding the funny in the situation. I used to love to get the laugh out of the classroom around me. Just ask Ms. Spackman-Moss (her name now), my sophomore year English teacher. But I eventually found the true happy place to be: Get the laugh, bring the people in, and advance the conversation. Teachers love that. You’re helping them do their job.
I LOVE THE COMEDY OF GOSSIP. I love the “what’s next?” and “he really?” aspect of it. People don’t like what they call “gossip.” I don’t care. For me, it’s just talking about life.
NO ONE ANNOYS ME MORE than a dumb person who doesn’t realize how dumb they are. Someone so dumb they don’t know what they should know.
I HAVE LESS PATIENCE than ever with arrogant people, or people who need to explain to me their authority or position. If you have to tell me how powerful you are, I’m guessing you’re really not all that powerful.
IF YOU CAN'T LAUGH AT YOURSELF, fuck you.
ALCOHOL is the great equalizer.
I'M BETTER LOOKING the further East I go – a stud in Chicago, Boston or New York.
I'M HALF-ITALIAN but didn’t end up with any kind of fun surname that could scare thugs or get me good seats at Italian restaurants. Youngrenelli?
MOST OF THE TIME, I'm making it up on the fly.
IF YOU DON'T KNOW THIS ALREADY, trust me: If you’ve got a relative in the hospital with a serious illness, you’re going to be running the case.
I LIKE clothes. I especially like jeans, boots, jackets and caps, but it’s not like I’m a farmer, or a cowboy. (Not that there's anything wrong with farmers or cowboys, either.)
MY SEVEN FAVORITE (NON-FAMILY, NON-SEXUAL) THINGS TO ENJOY IN LIFE: 1. My music mixes; 2. Cigars on the deck; 3. Chardonnay; 4. A good book on a lazy Sunday; 5. Club sandwiches; 6. DVDs of TV series; 7. Breaking up the room.
MY SEVEN FAVORITE THINGS IN THE WORLD: 1. Paul McCartney on bass; 2. David Letterman's second take; 3. Derek Jeter in the hole; 4. Peyton Manning with a minute left and the ball; 5. Joe Buck or Bob Costas on play-by-play; 6. Red Rock Brewing Co., Salt Lake City, Utah; 7. Jennifer Aniston, anytime.
A LONG TIME AGO, I decided to be me. It's working out OK, but it's definitely a work in progress.
# # #
ON THE DOT: Now back in business (with a modified rating system) the “John Youngren Dot Com” blog (once known as “Pop Stew”) should be updated regularly. And remember, as always, this is just an exhibition; it is not a competition – so please, no wagering. To contact John, e-mail johnyoungren@mac.com
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