Huey

Bitches love me cause they know that I can rock.
Bitches love me cause they know that I can rhyme.
Bitches love me cause they know that I can fuck.
Bitches love me cause they know that I'm on time.

However, bitches apparently don't love me when it becomes clear that I might be smarter than they are (Bitches in this case being the various 20-something brainiacs who found their way out to the bar Wednesday night to see their buddies play acoustic guitar).

Hey, if you want to start up a conversation with me out of the blue, that's fine. But if you're gonna get all huffy that I actually know things about the topic we're talking about -- then kindly allow me to introduce my foot to your crotch.

Yes, I know you're in college -- which means you know everything, and I'm just some old dude at a bar sitting next to you who must surely believe whole heartedly in the mad deadly worldwide conspiratorial gangster computer god communism with wall to wall deadly gangster protection, life long sworn conspirators murder incorporated organized crime, the police and judges, the deadly sneak parading of the gangsters using all of the deadly Frankenstein controls -- but the simple fact is that my 30 plus years on this planet might have provided me the opportunity to read a fucking book once in a while, which yes -- sometimes does make me an authority on many of the things that you have chosen to engage me in conversation with while waiting your turn to get on stage and pretend you can sing.

So if I tell you that "No I've never thought Pauly Shore was gay since the first time I saw him," and then go on to support that assertion with evidence including the fact that he used to date a porn star named Savannah back in the day -- you're first response should not be a quip like, "What are you, some kind of smart guy?" followed by a look that indicates you're worried that some of my knowledge cancer might accidentally rub off on you should we continue this line of conversation any further.

You asked the question, douchebag.

I know that the correct social response to that sort of question is supposed to be something like, "Oh yeah, total butt pirate" -- but sometimes when you're faced with abject idiocy draped in latent homophobia as an icebreaker, it's hard not to want to match it with a factual correction.

Is that "Old Dog Trey?" -- That sounds like "Old Dog Trey" to me.
Pardon?
Stephen Foster. You know -- "Oh, Susannah," "Camptown Races." Stephen stinking Foster!
Ah, yes. Well, this happens to be a nocturne.
..A which?
You know, Frederic fucking Chopin.

Look, I never really asked to be the Wikipedia of Pauly Shore's sex life, but the simple fact is that I happen to recall that particular piece of information about him. In fact, now that I stop and thing think about it I apparently seem to know quite a bit about Pauly Shore -- which is disturbing, but is probably easily explained by the fact that for many years he was one the best friend of one of my favorite comedians -- the late Sam Kinison, who was a fixture at the Los Angeles comedy club that Shore's mother owned and managed before his career took off.

But then again that's the problem, isn't it?

I know too many stupid things.

Maybe it's better said that my problem isn't so much knowing stupid things (because everyone probably has a corner of their mind that's crammed with useless facts), but that for whatever reason I tend to feel a need to share them out loud, which I guess indicates to the people I'm talking to that my apparent knowledge base may be a hindrance to them being able to freely pontificate about which celebrities on TV they feel might be "teh gay."

And of course, there's nothing nubile young co-eds love more than the guy who can (off the top of his head) help the bartender remember the name of the actor who played the pervert FBI agent who was worried about his skinny penis in "Deuce Bigalo" (William Sanderson), or who knows the name of the band that played the song "Long Cool Woman in a Black Dress" (The Hollies), or that American Idol judge Randy Jackson actually was a renowned studio musician and the touring bass player for the band Journey before he began producing records for pop artists in the early 90's and not just some guy they got off the street because he is black -- all of which came up during the course of that evening.

"What are you, some kind of smart guy?"

I don't know -- I guess when it comes to know it all people -- especially (but in no ways limited to) bars, the best policy sometimes is to shut up and let them dig their own holes. But as a former schoolteacher and more importantly a regular human being who feels that unchecked stupidity is one of the most unattractive qualities any person can possess, it's hard not to want to help a dumbass out once in a while.

Besides, you people apparently know who Sam Lufti is. How is that any different?

I guess when people are shooting their mouths off, facts aren't really as important as the level of confidence you're brandishing when you talk. You'd think I'd know that, considering the amount of time I spend on the Internet every day -- but sometimes it's hard just to stand by and let people tell me how some people out there in our nation don’t have maps which is why you believe that our education like such as in South Africa, and the Iraq, everywhere like such as, that they should -- our education over here in the U.S. should help the U.S., or should help South Africa, it should help the Iraq and the Asian countries so we will be able to build up our future, for our children -- without wanting to slap them upside their damn heads.

Bitches better recognize.

[Listening to:  From Zero – "Myself" ]