This is an article I wrote that was printed in The Gazette in 2011 (now the Montreal Gazette), and turned out to be a fitting follow-up to one I’d previously written, which they printed eight years earlier in 2003.

It’s about how a friend and I became teenagers again for one magical night, how we managed to have the best time ever, and how it all came together.

(This article was originally printed in The Gazette in 2011 and has been edited for online publication at Life As A Human.)

* * *

Back in the spring of 2003, I wrote an article for The Gazette in the ‘Life Stories’ section called “What if I Wear Black and Sing in a Rock Band?” It was a story about hitting my forties and being cool. Now that I’m in my fifties, I still want to be cool and, well, when an opportunity arises, you gotta reach for that brass ring, as Holden Caufield would say. So when I heard that Fucked Up was the backup band for a Foo Fighters show on August 10th, I called my friend Alison. Her nephew, Damian Abraham, is the frontman for Fucked Up, a hardcore punk rock band from the Toronto area that has risen to success after many years of playing countless venues, including the washroom of MTV. You could say they’ve paid their dues.

Several months after asking Al about the upcoming show, she emailed me to say she had talked to Damian and we were going! I was ecstatic; how cool is that? She wasn’t sure where the seats were and I told her I didn’t care, as long as we were going. Now, I have to tell you, my friend Al has been a music aficionado for as long as I’ve known her; we grew up in Pointe Claire, and became friends when we were kids.

A couple of days before the show, Al messaged me on Facebook to tell me we were going backstage. I just about fell out of my chair! That was huge – these things don’t happen to the likes of moi! Not to mention, both my kids are huge fans of Fucked Up and Foo Fighters.

Alison picked me up the day of the concert and I felt like we were teenagers again. It had been a while since just the two of us had been out partying together. Al is a shameless groupie. She travels everywhere in her SUV and has met so many people. I could make a list here but let’s just say, when Alison gets something in her head, she does it.

I’ll use the movie Almost Famous to illustrate our night at the Bell Center: Alison is Penny Lane (played by Kate Hudson in the movie) and I’m William (played by Patrick Fugit), the inexperienced fifteen-year-old journalist trying to write the best rock and roll piece ever. Following Al around that arena was exhausting. I have to tell you, too, she’s in much better shape than I am. I fell down about three times during the entire walkabout backstage, mostly falling down stairs (okay, the wine might have had something to do with it but we won’t discuss that here.) It was like being in boot camp for old rockers, trying to keep up with her. And just like Penny Lane in the movie, Al seemed to know her way around the place.

After we watched Fucked Up do their set, we went backstage to meet them. They were very gracious and signed a shirt for my son and Damian signed the new CD they just released called David Comes Alive (which is brilliant, by the way). While we were talking to the band, Damian said, “Okay, I have to go see Foo Fighters, Sandra (from Fucked Up) hasn’t met them yet.” So Al said to me, “Come on, Marth” and she just followed Damian. I lagged behind with Al, who was prompting me to hurry up. I was just hoping I wouldn’t fall again, break a leg and miss the rest of the night. On the way to Foo Fighters’ dressing room, we bumped into one of the band members from Doughboys who Al later told me was the uncle of a friend of her son’s. The music world, I surmised, is smaller than we realize.

At this point, Foo Fighters were just preparing to go onstage. I was like William – completely baffled at the fact I was in Foo Fighters’ dressing room with Fucked Up! I thought for a minute there would be a phone call from my mother telling me not to do drugs. Yes, I felt like a kid. But how cool is that? It was pretty cool! I got to meet Dave Grohl, Nate and Taylor. Because the band was just heading onstage, they didn’t have a lot of time, but they were kind enough to take pictures with us and of course I told Dave that I loved him. He said, “I love you too”.

I think meeting a rock band was just as cool as singing in one, even when you’re fifty-something years old. Maybe even better – there’s no pressure. Just pinch me! Even two days later, I’m still on a high from it all!

Thanks Penny (aka Al) for the chance to be William and live out my Almost Famous fantasy. And thanks to those amazing and clearly-generous bands for entertaining us with some of the best rock and roll I’ve heard in a long while.

You made this old rocker feel fifteen again!

Photo Credits

Photos courtesy of Martha Farley – all rights reserved

For example, Elvis had about 50 top-ten hit songs and never wrote a single one. Why? In my humble opinion, Elvis internalized a song so well that whatever was meaningful to him, was relatable to anyone.

The King

‘MY WAY’ by Paul Anka’: Canadians fans know a great tune when they hear one… especially when it’s from a “hometown” boy. He didn’t create the melody; but, as a superb lyricist, he changed the original meaning of the song – popularized in 1969 by Frank Sinatra.

I’ve listened to it sung by Sinatra, Elvis (even Anka himself) and my preferred version is from Elvis. Once he decided to vocally lean into a ballad or gospel tune… well, mom was right: they didn’t call him “the king” for nothing.

It’s hard to say where he sent you; but, better have packed your emotional bags, it was a trip. I just know that his version brought a tear to my eye within the first few words.

‘HALLELUJAH’ by Leonard Cohen: It would be a rare Canadian who doesn’t know of our nation’s poet laureate. And, although, he won Canadian Male Vocalist of the year – which he joked could only happen in Canada – the great man was reduced to tears when singer extraordinaire, K.D. Lang, performed her definitive rendition… part of a televised tribute.

KD Lang – 2010 Olympics Opening Ceremonies

And, who can forget K.D.’s “gold medal” performance of the song at the opening ceremony of the Vancouver 2010 Olympics? Talk about there not having a ‘dry eye in the house’… what about the world?!

‘WOMAN’ by John Lennon: In his last interview, at age 40, the man of peace said he had precious little of it as a young man: he fought men and hit women – something he sorely regretted.

That’s what I find both amazing and remarkable – that he could admit this and write this beautiful song as a consequence. We all have pasts; but, that doesn’t mean we necessarily learn from our mistakes… mature and grow as adults. But, after reading his words of repentance, I believed him. It’s what makes ‘Woman’ much more than a typical “rock and roll” love song. History shows he beat the booze, the drugs, the crazy life style and, together, found peace with his wife Yoko.

“Woman, I know you understand
the little child inside the man
Please remember my life is in your hands”
~Woman by John Lennon

Interestingly, it was another Lennon original – ‘In My Life’– that my daughter Jessica chose for the traditional Father/ Bride dance at her wedding. Looking back, we were ‘talking about my g-g-g-generation’… while celebrating hers.

Throughout his life, Lennon sang with deep understanding and vulnerability, and reminded us that big boys don’t cry, but men do.

Photo Credits

Elvis – Wikimedia Public Domain

KD Lang – Wikimedia Creative Commons

First published at fredparry.ca

Guest Author Bio
Fred Parry
Fred Parry lives in Southern Ontario. He is a lover of people and a collector of stories, music, wisdom, and grandchildren. His newspaper column, Music in Me, can be found in ‘The New Hamburg Independent’ Metroland Media. His book, ‘The Music In Me’ (2013) Friesen Press is Available from Amazon and Indigo / Chapters.

Blog / Website: www.fredparry.ca

This happened to me with the recent passing of singer / guitarist Glen Campbell. I read many of the tributes and interviews and got up to date with the history of the man – like you would in an interview.

Initially, I found his Rhinestone Cowboy music video – he’s riding a star-spangled rodeo horse and decked out in a glittering cowboy getup – to be incongruous, as set against the reality of what I knew as serious world-wide issues. It seemed that everything they said about showbiz was true: you have to get through the superficial tinsel in order to find the real tinsel.

And, because of that perceived lack of credibility, I wrongly misjudged the man and his great talent and achievements. As imperfect human beings, we’re the first to ask for forgiveness and understanding; but, are we the first to extend it?

Of course, music insiders knew him as a virtuoso guitarist – who Alice Cooper said was one of the five best in the music business. Despite not being able to read music, Campbell was in great demand as a session musician – from Sinatra to the Beach Boys – and could hold his own with anyone.

Then, there was his pitch-perfect, warm tonal voice that made him a household name with such hits as Galveston, Wichita Lineman, By the Time I Get to Phoenix, Gentle on My Mind, and of course Rhinestone Cowboy – over 45 million in sales, six Grammy awards, his own national TV show, plus acted in a movie opposite John Wayne.

Yet, his demons were many: his cross addiction to cocaine and alcohol – with three failed marriages – hard times like he sang about in Rhinestone Cowboy.

“There’s been a load of compromisin’ / On the road to my horizon /
But I’m gonna be where the lights are shining on me”

His salvation? With the faithful help and love of his fourth wife, Kim, he beat the booze, beat the drugs, became Christian and was there – and along with his five grown children – announcing he had Alzheimer’s and was doing a final ‘Goodbye’ tour. It was a sellout as fans welcomed the chance to honour this crossover legend.

The family’s ultimate aim was to bring awareness and support for Alzheimer’s victims and their caregivers: careliving.org

But, before Alzheimer’s reached its final stage, he co-wrote ‘I’m Not Gonna Miss You.’

“I’m still here, but yet I’m gone / I don’t play guitar or sing my song…
I’m never gonna know what you go through / All the things I say or do”

As psychiatrist Victor Frankl observed in his book ‘A Man’s Search for Meaning’, men like Campbell were “worthy of their suffering.” Can anyone ask more?

Perhaps, just a breath away, Glen Campbell’s riding tall in the saddle… again.

Photo Credits

Riding high again – Fair Use
Feature image – crop from video

Guest Author Bio
Fred Parry
Fred Parry lives in Southern Ontario. He is a lover of people and a collector of stories, music, wisdom, and grandchildren. His newspaper column, Music in Me, can be found in ‘The New Hamburg Independent’ Metroland Media. His book, ‘The Music In Me’ (2013) Friesen Press is Available from Amazon and Indigo / Chapters.

Blog / Website: www.fredparry.ca

Hal-Con is definitely a unique way for me to spend a weekend in Halifax. It was my trusty office nurse, Susan, who talked me into attending this event. I didn’t need much encouragement, because I have always been a fan of all things geekish and nerdish, though I had never attended a convention. While the words “geek” and “nerd” were rather generic pejoratives in my day, they are now differentiated, and many are proud of the designation. When you think nerd, you might think of Sheldon and his crew in “The Big Bang Theory”. Mind you, Sheldon is a bit extreme, even for a nerd, and I am certain he would be diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome if he were to be formally assessed. Nerds like ideas and are socially awkward, except when discussing some esoteric topic with a fellow nerd…but for most of the rest of the world, they may as well be speaking a foreign language (eg. “string theory” has nothing to do with tying knots or that gooey stuff you shoot from cans), and you’d better know a tachyon from a barion if you want to be taken seriously by a nerd.

A “geek” is more social and may superficially appear more normal. He or she may be more concerned about being accepted socially. Geeks also tend to concern themselves more with things more than ideas. The semblance of normality ends, however, when you realize how incredibly focused the geek is on some television show, movie series, Japanese cartoon or comic book. In general, the geeks come across as somewhat cuter than nerds and often dress as their favorite characters.

In preparation for my venture into Hal-Con, I taught myself about the world of “Steam Punk”. Imagine a futuristic Victorian society as Jules Vernes would envisage it. An idea of good costume ideas would come from a review of the Will Smith movie “The Wild Wild West”. Having a top hat and tails as a nucleus, I visited the local army surplus store and bought a pair of black army combat boots, old electronic parts and white utility gloves. The local Hallowe’en shop provided a monacle, the electronics were attached to a white gauntlet worn on my let wrist (my “temporal distorter”)…et voila! I was set.

That Hallowe’en, the halls of the Halifax Metro Centre and World Trade and Convention Centre resounded with the voices of elves, My Little Ponies, those dressed as characters from Mario Brothers video games, a multitude of Dr. Who doppelgängers and a plethora of those punked steamwise (myself included in that number). The Jules Verne Society had a booth with representatives who looked steam-punk ready-made for a Hollywood movie. I purchased two tickets to their 2015 Time Travellers’ New Years Ball. The vendor assured me that it had been wonderful, almost as good as the 2018 event…

The Society for Creative Anachronism is an international venue that promotes re-enactment of the Middle Ages, or at least its better moments. Some choose to battle with armour and swords, others to learn medieval music, dancing, needlepoint and textiles, and many other aspects of that time period.

I even found a vendor selling Harry Potter-themed memorabilia, including scarves embroidered with insignia of the four Houses of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She [the vendor] also sported a fine assortment of magic wands. Some great Christmas gift ideas for my 14 year old daughter.

Hal-Con boasts an assortment of celebrities and authors in-house whom you could line up to meet, get autographs from, photos with, and maybe even chitchat a bit. I didn’t do this until after Symphony Nova Scotia’s special sci-fi concert that Hallowe’en evening, complete with a costume contest and hosted by John Rhys-Davies, the Welsh actor who played Gimli the Dwarf in the film trilogy “The Lord of the Rings”. He has also acted in James Bond movies, Star Trek episodes and his career has encompassed many other roles including Macro in the BBC “I, Claudius” series. I lined up to meet Rhys-Davies after the symphony. A few moments of chat with a photo op revealed him to be an utterly delightful, charming and intelligent man, and as you can see from the photo, he is a good six feet tall, not dwarfish in stature at all!

Photo Credits

All photos from George Burden – All Rights Reserved

Performing with his famous guitar, Lucille

For decades, acknowledged as one of the greatest electric guitarists ever, is the legendary American blues guitarist and singer-songwriter B.B. King – winner of everything the music industry and governments can bestow on an artist – including 15 Grammy Awards, the ‘President American Medal of Freedom’ … and my youngest daughter’s enduring adulation.

Now this legend had come to town and was soon to be on stage, with me anxiously sitting in the audience. But, this was no ordinary outing for me … having had a ‘family’ connection to the event. In fact, I was on a mission that had started earlier in the day.

“Do you think he would?” The incredulous look on my daughter’s face was filled with expectations mixed with apprehension. With an optimism conditioned by experience, I said, “Well there’s only one way to find out”.

I happen to know the nightclub owner, Ben, through work and enjoyed a good business relationship. I was pretty sure he’d be at least 50/50 in favour of my idea of getting her guitar signed … but as for BB himself…?

My daughter and I quickly turn off the highway at New Hamburg to buy a permanent marking pen for Mr. King to sign. (Remember, we’re going for broke on this project!) Coming home we get the guitar; and as a last minute bit of inspiration, I suggest that she write a personal note to him – which she does – sealing it in an envelope.

I explain all this to the owner who seems so-so about this, but he calls in his manager who, after hearing the story, just rolls her eyes.

“There’s no way!” she says, as she explains that during the show he might throw out some souvenir guitar picks or after the show, autograph some official photos; but as to actually placing his signature on someone’s guitar?…

Her voice trailed off; but I knew she was probably right. It just seemed too commercially crass, even if I knew our intentions were honourable. And because of that, I pressed on explaining who was asking – a young girl with a dream.

“Well, all we can do is to try.” I offer – to which the owner nodded to the manager, who patiently secures the guitar and leaves.

Later, as I was nursing a drink in the club, I asked myself what was I thinking? “50/50?” It now seemed like a one-in-a-million long shot!

Suddenly, my concentration was broken as the opening rhythm and blues ensemble had finished and the B.B. King orchestra started playing. Then it happened!.. From somewhere off the stage … a soul-bending, guitar wailing sigh, the likes of which I’ve never heard before. As I scanned the stage, I can see that Mr. King has walked from the wings to centre stage. Was this what people must have experienced when they first heard Jimi Hendrix’s play? From his first reverent bow to his stellar musicians, the audience was never released from a magical spell all night long.

The next day, the manager explained when she tentatively presented it to him back stage after the show; he just raised his eyebrows and looked dubiously at her and the guitar. Reading his mind, she suggested that it was from a young fan and that maybe he could read her letter. He did. Asking for the specially supplied pen, he reflectively signed it … never saying a word.

To Brooke
Best Wishes
B.B. King
03-31-95

I asked my daughter what she had written in the letter; she could only recall that, in addition to telling him how much she admired his music, her only other wish was to be old enough to attend one of his concerts when he returns.

Slipping the letter into his shirt pocket, he patted it down as if he had found something of immeasurable value – and himself, being a father, indeed he had. For me that night, the music only played in the background to the real magic between B.B. & B. – two very special people, who hit the right note with me.

Brooke was a fifteen-year-old at the time BB signed her guitar, and finally got to see her hero play – some 18 years later! – not long before he passed.

Photo Credits

BB King – Wikimedia Creative Commons

Signed Guitar by Fred Parry – All Rights Reserved

First published at fredparry.ca

Guest Author Bio

Fred Parry
Fred Parry lives in Southern Ontario. He is a lover of people and a collector of stories, music, wisdom, and grandchildren. His newspaper column, Music in Me, can be found in ‘The New Hamburg Independent’ Metroland Media. His book, ‘The Music In Me’ (2013) Friesen Press is Available from Amazon and Indigo / Chapters.

Blog / Website: www.fredparry.ca

 These names represent only a small portion of the brightest lights of the artistic world that have been extinguished; and we are only talking about the last hundred years. Think also of Janis Joplin, Michael Jackson, River Phoenix, Montgomery Clift, Jim Morrison, Elvis Presley, John Belushi, Lenny Bruce, Sylvia Plath, Hank Williams…. One has to wonder how much our lives would have been enriched had these artists remained with us and grown to their full potential.

Then again, there are those who were troubled but still managed to live a reasonably long life; in many cases, though, their demons stifled their artistic evolution. Tennessee Williams, acclaimed playwright (A Streetcar Named Desire, The Glass Menagerie, Cat on a Hot Tin Roof), lived to be 71 but following enormous success in the 1940s and 1950s, increasing alcohol and drug consumption affected his creative output and plays he wrote in the 1960s and 1970s were critical and box office failures.

And now there is Philip Seymour Hoffman. I first saw him in The Talented Mr. Ripley, the wonderful Anthony Minghella film in which Hoffman played the effete but edgy Freddie Miles, stealing every scene he appeared in, and I loved him from that moment. In fact, Freddie is my favourite Hoffman part.

From minor or supporting roles, like Oakland A’s manager Art Howe in Moneyball and Gust Avrakotos in Charlie Wilson’s War, to leading turns in Capote, Doubt, and Owning Mahowny, Hoffman consistently displayed the characteristics of a brilliant actor: subtlety, nuance, integrity, range, utter believability.

One of the great advantages enjoyed by Hoffman as an actor was the fact that he did not have a pretty face. It was a face full of character but Philip Seymour was not Brad Pitt or Tom Cruise in the looks department, meaning of course that while on the one hand he was never a huge box-office draw, on the other, he was never typecast, allowing him to play a wide range of characters on screen. Not being a classic beauty also meant that he was able, like the great Meryl Streep, to disappear into every role and virtually become the character he played.

 Hoffman was also a risk taker. One can imagine the challenge of taking on the role of the eccentric, haunted, and cunning Truman Capote; mastering the voice alone must have been a daunting enterprise, one that I cannot believe the likes of Pitt or Cruise could ever assume with credible results.

Or the risk involved in playing the single-mindedly self-absorbed compulsive gambler Dan Mahowny. Here is how Hoffman is described in the role by critic Roger Ebert: “Philip Seymour Hoffman, that fearless poet of implosion, plays the role with a fierce integrity, never sending out signals for our sympathy because he knows that Mahowny is oblivious to our presence. Like an artist, an athlete or a mystic, Mahowny is alone within the practice of his discipline.” The risk here is of course that Mahowny’s narrow focus will bore the audience, but Hoffman’s portrayal is so nuanced and subtle – and so compellingly believable – that the viewer cannot be anything but riveted.

Ebert: “Philip Seymour Hoffman’s performance is a masterpiece of discipline and precision. He hardly ever raises his head from the task at hand, or his voice from the detached reserve of a – well, of a bank functionary. He spends a lot of time adjusting his glasses or resting his fingers on his temples, as if to enhance his tunnel vision. He never meets the eye of the camera, or anyone else. Even when a casino security guard is firmly leading his fiancée away from his table, he hardly looks up to notice that she is there, or to say a word in his defense. He is … gambling.”

Finally, the big challenge in Doubt is to match performances with the notoriously scene-stealing Streep, who plays Hoffman’s bitter and determined adversary. Hoffman, clearly well prepared, does not allow his co-star to defeat him before such a defeat is called for by the screenplay.

 I shall mourn Philip Seymour Hoffman as I have not mourned many other passing artists, especially those in film. But I will regret even more the loss of what we might have expected over the next twenty years of his career. But then again, perhaps Hoffman’s early exit from the stage, like the exits of Parker and Thomas and Ledger and Evans, was the gods telling us that he had already reached the apex of his artistic achievement and that his sudden death was a blessing. For if he had lived, like Tennessee Williams,  he might have had to suffer – and we might have had to witness – a painful and humiliating decline.

And it is a rare artist that can tolerate humiliation.

Image Credits

“Philip Seymour Hoffman, 2011.” Wikipediaa.

“_MG_0749” by Justin Hoch. Creative Commons Flickr. Some rights reserved.

At one point during her talk Oprah asked the question, “Why are you here?” What she meant by that question encompasses answers from around the world and would take years to debate. Why are you here? Why did I go to see her at the Bell Center seems to be a question I can answer succinctly and without prejudice.

Oprah has been a part of my life and my friends’ lives for much of our adulthood. While my children played outside every day after school I would tune into Oprah on the little black and white television in my kitchen. After I made sure my children were safe and as a started getting the dinner ready, Oprah would join me for that hour while dinner cooked and while my kids let off some steam from a long day at school.

My friend Norma, who lived down the hall from me, was a teacher and so she too would be at home doing what I was doing: watching her children, getting dinner ready and watching Oprah. We would even call each other when we heard the topic of discussion and realized that it might be of interest to both of us. Often Norma and I would spend some time – sometimes hours – debating or talking about the show. And that conversation would carry on with other friends as well. No doubt about it, Oprah got people talking!

Oprah was a fixture in the culture in which our children grew up and in which we aged. Most of my friends watched Oprah religiously. My friend Sandy invited our group of friends on many occasions to use a calendar book she would give us at our retreats at her cottage to write everything we were grateful for. During one of our retreats we even had Oprah join us! It was a surprise for Sandy’s birthday. We decided after writing to Oprah on several occasions and asking her and Gail to join us at the cottage that she was not going to come. So we made an effigy of her and put her in the back of Norma’s SUV and she travelled with us up to St. Donat for a weekend retreat.

That weekend Oprah was with us in spirit as we celebrated Sandy’s birthday and referred all of our questions to Oprah the effigy. If anything, it made for a weekend of laughter and fun as we lugged Oprah around pretending she was real. She sat with us at the dinner table, joined us for lively conversation in the living room, and helped us drink some lovely wine on those brisk autumn nights.

So last night was special for all of us who were there at the Bell Center. We shared some common bonds with each other and with Oprah. After all, she had aged with us over the years, gaining and losing weight and changing her hair color, just as we did. Most importantly, though, was how we were all growing spiritually and emotionally.

Having watched Oprah grow over the years on television just as we have grown over the years, it was delightful to actually see her in person. Dressed in a classic white linen blouse and a gorgeous ankle-length turquoise-greenish skirt, Oprah looked stunning. The crowd was hysterical – as women can often be on occasions like this – as she entered the side entrance and walked up the stairs to take the stage. After chanting “Oprah, Oprah, Oprah,” the audience settled down to listen to a wise motivational speaker talk about her life and the events that took her from Mississippi to Montréal. It was absolutely inspiring. She had all of us riveted to her stories, stories of joy and hope and pain. There she stood on that huge stage, offering her wisdom and sharing her passion and her gifts. She regaled us with her stories of the hardships of growing up poor and abused and told us how she climbed up out of that despair by simply putting one foot in front of the other.

Each of us no doubt took something different away from our Evening With Oprah and although my friends and I shared the experience with fifteen thousand other people, it felt as though Oprah was finally with us up at our retreat in St. Donat. It felt as if she was speaking to us, four middle-aged women, friends, who really have learned a lot from watching Oprah over the years. From her inspirational stories on her shows to reading her Book Club selections, Oprah truly has opened us all up to a world or worlds that perhaps we never would have explored if not for her show.

So Sandy, I will write in my calendar book for April 11th 2013: “Went to see Oprah tonight with four of the lovely ladies, and ‘O’, what a night it was. To share this experience with my friends, to see Oprah live and in person, well, that I can be truly grateful for.”

Image Credits

All photos by Martha Farley. All rights reserved.

1. You would never have to keep a drawer full of grey cotton knickers because you made a mistake in the washing and you can’t afford to replace them at the moment.
2. Ditto bras.
3. You could have all your bras made to fit perfectly.
4. You could have all matching sets of undies instead of ones for “best”.
5. You could keep all your favourite clothes because you would have tons of cupboard space.
6. None of your clothes would smell of mothballs.
7. You would always be able to find stockings or tights with no runs.
8. You wouldn’t have to wear Lycra T-shirts to make ironing easier.
9. You wouldn’t have to iron.
10. You wouldn’t ever have to clean your shoes or your husband’s.
11. You wouldn’t have to clean the house, the dog’s mess, the baby’s bum.
12. You wouldn’t have to wash the nappies.
13. You wouldn’t have to sit around in your dressing gown feeling tired because you couldn’t cope with the kids and the cooking and cleaning.
14. You wouldn’t have to walk the dog
15. You wouldn’t have to cook meals or even plan them.
16. You wouldn’t have to go to the supermarket again.
17. Your food would always be fresh and of the best quality.
18. You would drink only the best wines and not have to choose between CAVA and Veuve Cliquot when you invited friends around.
19. You could take umpteen travel bags on holidays without being charged extra.
20. You wouldn’t even have to carry them or even pack and unpack.
21. You can ask to have Harrod’s department store all to yourself to do your Christmas shopping in private.
22. You can get free tickets to every exhibition you ever wanted to see, go to all the best shows, get tickets for the ballet and best opera performances.
23. You can meet all the best people.
24. You get a handsome prince as a husband.
25. You can have as many houses as you want – all decorated for you.
26. You would never have to get rid of books or records when you moved house.
27. You wouldn’t have to wonder who to leave your Grannie’s chamber-pot to because it would be in a museum collection.
28. You could buy the latest technology as soon as Apple or Google produced it.
29. You could have your mobile phone made to your own specification so you couldn’t be traced.
30. Your hairdresser would come to you.
31. You won’t have to shop till you drop.
32. You will be able to return an item without having to have the bill.
33. You won’t have a cowboy plumber.
34. Your heating will be repaired instantly.
35. Your electricity will never be cut off.
36. Your car will always start (it will probably be warmed up for you).
37. Your car will never break down ( difficult as it will have to be a British car).
38. Y our children will go to the best schools and you won’t have to drive them.
39. You won’t have to put the rubbish out.
40. You will never have to wear dentures.

Mind you, I can see that having Elisabeth Regina as a mother-in-law might be a bit daunting, but there isn’t a mother-in-law who isn’t so it’s a small price to pay.

I haven’t owned a TV for years, nor do I really pay attention to TV shows on the internet. Rarely do I care at all about an American-made movie enough to go see it in any form. I mostly skim the newspaper these days, and get 95% of my news and information online. I occasionally listen to five or 10 minutes of talk radio just to get a snicker, or hear what the latest bullshit tag lines are on the days social issues.

And yet, the meltdown of actor Charlie Sheen has still made it into my world. Repeatedly, from several angles.

So, I don’t do much pop culture. It’s one of the ways I’m “different” you might say. Until I saw a photo of Sheen in a Cleveland Indians jersey, I’d completely forgotten he was a star in a movie I watched over and over again as a baseball obsessed teen. I have a very strong memory, even for tiny details, but remembering such things as the stars of movies or TV shows is completely irrelevant to me most of the time.

However, since good old Charlie has been tossed into my pop-culture-deprived life, I’m gonna offer a few bones about it all.

I have long felt dismayed at the amount of celebrity and hero worship in U.S. culture. Certainly, this is not a uniquely U.S. phenomenon , but perhaps the level of pervasiveness is. It’s tainted everything, from the way we elect public officials to how we view our spiritual leaders. Riding the elevation to a peek with a celebrity, as well as participating in an almost ritualized form of character destruction when they fall, are both elements of a collective addition around famous folks.

Tiger Woods, who featured heavily in parts of the Buddhist blogosphere last year, is a great example. Millions upheld this man as an image of the perfect modern man. He was astoundingly good at his sport. He was articulate, mostly polite, and rarely combative with those competing against him. He was a “family man.” As a man with a diverse racial background, he was also considered — like President Obama — to be a “representative of a more racially balanced future.” Lots and lots of projections. And then, when it came out that he was a serial cheater, all hell broke lose. The man on the pedestal, the great role model for young people, suddenly was a lightning rod for pent up hatreds and grudges which often had nothing, really, to do with him.

Lost in all of that was the small sliver of intelligent criticism looking at, amongst other things, the way some celebrity men embody deeply abusive attitudes toward women, and how often their sexism, and even violence towards women, is dismissed or minimized in an attempt to keep the celebrity around, doing what they do best.

Charlie Sheen is also a great example of this. His drug abuse has been long known, and yet it was, for a long time, just considered part of the “bad boy” image that looks good on TV and movie screens, never mind that it is cause of a hell of a lot of suffering. Incidents of domestic abuse were dealt with lightly by the legal system, and apparently had little impact on the hyper popularity of Sheen’s recent show Two and a Half Men. In fact, running the line between laughing at the stupidity of sexist behavior and finding sexist behavior funny seems to be a theme of the show itself.

Sheen’s history of using racial slurs (here’s one example, also, apparently had little impact on his overall public image. It seems that like the slow downfall of Mel Gibson, it took a lot of odd, public ranting in the media and some strange twisting around anti-semitism to finally bring the guy down a notch. But odds are he’ll now just be dismissed as wacko who hates Jews and believes in conspiracy theories, which really does nothing to address the cultural sickness around celebrities, nor the worst behavioral manifestations amongst the “fallen icons.”

Then, there is the Elephant Journal post I linked to above, which is not only one of many Sheen posts on that spiritual website, but also one of many Sheen posts on many spiritual websites. Again, the guy is everywhere. Author Kristoffer Nelson (of the Elephant post in question) is trying at humor, while also offering a bit of spiritual wisdom in the process. He writes:

What I find most interesting about our social obsession with Sheen’s insanity is that his ramblings aren’t too far from what the tradition’s masters claimed as the enlightened experience. There is a fine line between insanity and freedom. If Rajneesh said, “I have tiger blood flowing through my veins” would we laugh in dismiss or sign-up for a retreat? If a Yogi Bhajan said, “I closed my eyes and in a nanosecond I cured myself… I have a disease? Bullshit. I cured it with my brain.” would we completely disregard the comment or buy his book hoping to achieve the same? Make a vision board, anyone?

Given a different context, less porn stars and blow binges, Sheen could possibly be our next Eckhart Tolle: “Apocalypse Now will teach you how to live inside of a moment between a moment.” Sound familiar?

Sheen is easy to dismiss because we think we’re not him.

Yeah, I like the last line. It’s a good reminder.

But the whole post is also too damned cute, and represents this sort of amused, compassionate gaze that some spiritual types like to offer that takes the bumbling idiocies of celebs and uses them for some individualized spiritual development offering. Which is fine in one sense. Recognizing the suddenly strong reactions against a fallen pop culture icon are probably more about yourself than about the icon is healthy. And that celebrity X’s “bad behavior” is something you could easily do under the right causes and conditions — again, a healthy attitude.

However, the same amused, compassionate gaze fails to address the systemic, root reasons behind both the allowed excesses and abuses of the celebrities themselves, as well as our collective additions around the rise and fall of these people. There have been numerous articles and discussions online in recent months about the role of unquestioning, fawning students and sanghas in the rise of Buddhist teachers who abuse sex and power. Also numerous articles and discussions pointing out that there’s something seriously wrong with just blaming a fallen teacher for their bad behavior. The way I see it, this could easily be expanded to pop culture, politics, and other areas of life — because all of it has been deeply tainted by forms of celebrity and hero worship.

The title of this post is “Why Charlie Sheen Kind of Matters.” I say “kind of” because it’s not really about him particularly, but about what he represents. Like Kobe Bryant, Ben Roethlisberger, Mel Gibson, Rush Limbaugh, John Edwards, Newt Gingrich — the list goes on and on — Charlie Sheen is a highly privileged male celebrity who has done plenty wrong, gotten away with more than the average person would, and now has become the fodder for jokes, gossip, hatred, and general public abuse. The lovable, charismatic bad boy paid millions to entertain is now a lowly, crazed thug.

Aren’t you all tired of going on this roller coaster ride already? I know I have been for awhile now.

About eight or nine years ago, a friend of mine asked me if I had seen Benny & Joon. The film has a wonderful cast including Johnny Depp, Mary Stuart Masterson, Aidan Quinn , Julianne Moore & Oliver Platt.

I loved this movie right from the first few moments and it immediately became one of my favorites. To me, this movie speaks volumes of the human spirit and it never fails to put a smile on my face. If you have not seen Benny & Joon, you have missed a great movie and I highly recommend that you track it down and watch it.

In the following video clip, Johnny Depp does an amazing Buster Keaton impression. I could watch this over and over. I hope it puts a smile on your face!

href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=iBafYlgSCXs

Here is a higher resolution version though it is often slow to load
and is missing 35 seconds at the end of the clip.

href='http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=osAHjOPYOyE

Photo Credits

Buster Keaton Thumbnail – Public Domain