Crazy-Pops

Well, I was on the radio today. Not as in, "Boy, there's a radio, I think I'll sit on it," but as in actually on the radio airwaves. The Avenue Theater had a thing last night where they recorded a radio pilot called "Avenue Radio" at their theater, and I was invited to do a 90 second "rant." So I took a couple of jokes I had laying around and I came up with this:

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You know what really fries my clams? Trying to keep up. Sure, when I was younger, a long long time ago, I was hip and cool and all that. With my Flock of Seagulls haircut and my Jordache jeans, it was easy to be hip and cool and with it. Now? Now I have responsibilities. And children. And a wife. And no time to keep up. The other day, I go to my grandparents house. They’re getting quite old, but they just got cable ‘for the golden years.’ I get over there and my grandfather’s sitting in his easy chair watching “Best Week Ever,” laughing at something some celebrity did, and I ask him, “Where’s gramma?” And he replies, “She’s out back pimpin’ the garden.”

So, realizing that my grampa is more hip than I, I study. I read. I go on this thing called the “Internet.” I try to keep up. But that’s hard to do when you’re balancing being a conscientious parent with being a hip playa, ya know? The other day, my 5 year old was walking around the house, looking for me. And I hear, clear as day, from the other room, “Daddy, daddy, where are you, bitch?” Um, what? “What’d you say, son?” “Where are you, bitch?” “What’s that word, son?” “Bitch?” “Yes, son, that word. Where’d you learn that?” “It’s just a word I know.” Wow. Um, I gotta do something, right? I mean, he can’t say that. He just can’t. So I call him over, I give him my best “Daddy’s gonna lecture you” look, and I say, “Son, you can’t say that. It’s be-yotch. Be-yotch. Unless you want to be thought of as a dizz-ork or a gizz-eek at the playground, you better say it right. Now go back and try it again.”

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The funny thing? That's almost a true story. The Mix Master actually said that. The rest of it I made up (with a little help from my friend Deletta, who came up with the "pimpin' the garden" line). Anyhow, so I got up in front of the live studio audience last night and I read it and got some laughs...and it was on the radio today. But it was cut. That's right, my shtick got neutered. So to speak. And it bums me out a little, because I don't think the piece flows as well the way it came out on the radio. Here, you have a listen, if you'd like. Go here and click on the "Metro" show from 6-16-06: Avenue Radio