[00:00:02] Speaker A: I don't want to be one of those guys that tells you what to do, but really, you should check out my YouTube page. Chris Rodells. I've been thinking, getting a lot of great reaction to those.
And here's one of them right now.
Right now.
Any second now.
[00:00:28] Speaker B: Hi, I'm Chris.
[00:00:28] Speaker A: Me too.
[00:00:31] Speaker B: True dreamers fly kites with no strings attached.
Facebook is the perfect venue for keeping up with old friends. Friends we really ought to call, but we do not. Out of fear that they might answer.
Some people keep bucket lists of the things they want to do before they die. I keep a bucket list of the things I want to do the day I die. I want my demise to happen after an afternoon spent carousing with family and friends in a local tavern. And that I step outside into the sunshine, so unaware of what's going on around me that I step right in front of a speeding bus. I want my friends to say that the bus was going so fast, they'll swear that they saw my soul squirt right out of my body and shoot to heaven. And that my soul was not wearing pants. The pessimist laments that smallpox killed 15 million people. The optimist points out that at least it wasn't big pox.
Pessimist laments that smallpox can did this one twice.
The optimist points out that at least it wasn't big pox.
[00:01:26] Speaker A: Oh, it's me pretending to fly a kite.
The visuals are just stunning.
[00:01:31] Speaker B: It's up there somewhere.
[00:01:36] Speaker A: Okay.
This is about a book project I've had for years, and I'm very proud of it. And here's the story of the last baby boomer.
You know, had it all gone as planned, you and I would never have been in this kind of relationship. I don't mean the inherent chumminess we have, one we share with many others.
But would I be different? More aloof, Arrogant? Who knows? Fame has a way of changing folks. And it was my intention to become famous. Famous by 40, in fact.
And I'm still in my hands, and I'm still holding in my hands the book that was going to do it all. It's the Last baby Boomer, the story of the ultimate ghoul pool. Here's the premise.
Martin J. McCrae is the last baby boomer on earth. The year 2076.
It is the year 2076, and he is 112 years old.
People are so sick of baby boomers by then that they take the last one, McCrae, and put him in a luxury museum suite where people pay $25 to be with him for 15 minutes.
If they're in the room when he dies, they win the jackpot.
One problem. The dude won't die.
He's indestructible. It's a coming of old old age story because every one of us gets to die, but only one of us gets to die last.
Want one? They're 20 bucks plus
[email protected] I wrote it in the late 90s, sure it would be a huge success.
I'd be in my 40s then and I'd spend the next 20 years on a very wild debauch involving hookers, caviar, extravagant golf vacations and booze, booze, booze.
Alas, it was not meant to be. No fault of mine.
The book just never found a publisher.
The rejection letters it accrued are dripping with praise so lavish it almost seems like they're pornographic.
The praise was heady. I decided the book that no one wanted was worthy of collegial I decided the book that no one wanted was worthy of collegial recognition.
I've seen and become envious of other books that had enjoyed the success I felt belonged to me.
They had lavish. They had stickers on their covers of their of their books telling people what they'd won from prestigious companies.
So I made up my own award. It's the Tenara award for outstanding satire. It was the first of three I'd eventually win.
Tenara stands for this is not a real award.
What's interesting is that the award I state every time I mention it is fraudulent, has sprung to life across the Internet. More than once I've been introduced as a two time Tenara award winner.
I mention all this now because the book is stumbling back to life. Me and a friend, esteemed by many, me included, believes the book and together believes in the book. And together we're turning it into a screenplay.
I think we'll succeed. One problem. I'm no longer in my 40s, I'm 63 and have Parkinson's.
If there would be another debauch today, it would last until Tuesday. That Tuesday after next.
I'm not complaining. You wouldn't want to miss a single day of it.
Here it is.
[00:04:59] Speaker B: I'm Chris and I've been thinking. Just one more note on the confusion about this weather warning and weather watch. The difference between a tornado warning and a tornado watch is a tornado warning is a forecast of dire consequences. A tornado watch is a timepiece that spins really, really fast.
Tell friends to start calling you the dust and tell them it's because you're fearing a zombie apocalypse and you want to survive it. And everyone knows zombies never bite the dust.
Weather forecasters always resort to the same bedroom metaphors to describe what we're about to experience.
They say there's going to be beds of snow, sheets of ice.
Anybody know where I could find me a good slush pillow? Theological question Were any of the apostles married and what did they do at their bachelor parties?
More evidence of our divided nation comes from the National Weather Service. They say that half the people are under a winter storm watch with expectations of heavy snows, strong winds and icy conditions, while the other half can expect a weekend of mild winter weather. I need to know which half of me is going to get what is the north half going to get the winter storm?
Is the south half going to get the mild weather?
How I dress depends on your answer.
I'm Chris and I've been thinking.
[00:06:25] Speaker A: This is another one that started at the pond. The site was demolished this weekend and I was feeling poignant about it. I went back and read some of the stuff I wrote while I was at the pond and in the pond.
This one I like very much, and I might try and find a place for it in some of the other books.
I don't remember exactly when my brother and I started concluding nearly all our phone calls with I love you, but it's become a natural declaration because I do love him. Since the sandbox, he's always been a sort of hero to me. He's one of those great big brothers that never minded when I tagged along. I remember being the bat boy for his sandlot championship baseball team.
When he left home to attend Ohio University. He shepherded me along on the getaway weekends where I had the kind of fun that ensured I'd go there, too.
It was one of the best things that ever happened to me.
After I graduated from ou, I went to visit him in Nashville, where he was working, and I landed a job at the newspaper. There we became roommates. I'll never forget the two of us sitting on the little back porch drinking beers and watching the big jets glide in over Old Lake Hickory.
Old Hickory Lake, I think. After our father died in 2004, we began to appreciate a special closeness, having been sons to a man so fun and rare.
None of that's really surprising. Sure, many siblings war throughout their lives and cause wicked tension at the family get togethers, but the reverse is also true. Many enjoy the warm closeness that Eric and I have always felt.
What's unusual Is that I'm beginning to feel strange urgings to tell other male friends that, yes, I love them too.
Not in the way I love my brother, but I have many close friends, male friends, three in particular, that I love deeply.
I'm struggling with how to share these forbidden emotions.
Like most guys, I'm emotionally repressed in how I deal with my dear male friends.
I certainly feel a deep love for them, but I wrestle with how I should express those feelings.
I was thinking of this while I was listening to Kieran Cain's lovely rendition of the Louis Armstrong classic what a Wonderful World.
I see friends shaking hands saying, how do you do?
What they're really saying is I love you.
Why is it so wrong for me to tell my male friends that I love them?
Barack Obama is taking steps to bridge the historic gulfs between Christian and Muslim and Israeli and Palestinian. And how did that go? Can I, for the love of God, unshackle the societal constraints and convey what goes on in my heart to the men that matter most to me? What would happen if instead of our standard buddy, buddy, sign off, hey man, you take it easy. Go pens.
What if I took a different approach?
What if instead of that breezy happy hour send off, I looked soulfully into Frank's cappuccino colored eyes and said, frank, I love you. Go pens.
I know exactly what would happen. Frank's bushy mustache would start to twitch the way it does when a bartender says he's shut off.
[00:09:22] Speaker B: Why?
[00:09:22] Speaker A: He'd be outraged. He wouldn't want my love, even though I suspect he's always loved me too.
An awkward silence would descend on the bar. I'd be his instant pariah. Then all the cruel Brokeback Mountain jokes would start.
It's a strange fact of life in my still redneck corner of the world that I could lose a friend because I dared to reveal how much he means to me. It's not like I'm going to leave my wife and kids for Frank. But guys like us are so emotionally remote that we have a difficult time acknowledging the genuine love we feel for.
And this is even difficult to type our boyfriends.
Not anymore.
As of today, I'll no longer deny the urges that are becoming too momentous to ignore. I'm going to freely expose myself to the risks that come with saying without reserve, hey, I love you to other men.
I'm going to start right here by telling the whole world of my earnest feelings for three darling buddies who've always touched me deepest in my soul.
Here goes.
I love you, Mo I love you, Larry. And I love you, Curly.
That wasn't as difficult as I thought it would be.
[00:10:37] Speaker B: I'm Chris, and I've been thinking.
I got nothing better to do.
Studies show 72% of Americans don't get enough sleep. I question the validity of these studies. How do you study sleeping people? Put me in a room with somebody that's asleep and tell me to study them. I'll fall fast asleep myself.
I'd like to see a study of people who study sleeping people.
New York magazine.
Do you have a moment to talk about how Mormons conquered pop culture? A report from Utah by Bridget Reed.
I like it when people's names come with instructions. You have a writer whose name is Reed. It'd be like having a dentist whose name is Floss or a firefighter whose name is Waters. Or maybe a funeral director whose name is Barry after you've been living in it for several months. Ask the people who sold you the property if they had a habit of hiding bags of cash in different places throughout the house.
When they ask why, say, oh, no reason.
Last time I was in Athens, we were all flirting with some of the young bartenders. One of the patrons said, you're old enough to be her grandfather. I said, yes, but we're immature enough to be her prom date.
[00:11:47] Speaker A: I'm the kind of guy who loves
[00:11:48] Speaker B: to eat at Applebee's. It has a childish fear of bees on apples. I'm Chris and I've been thinking.
And no, I didn't have to pass a drug test.
[00:11:59] Speaker A: I continue to struggle with ways to make these endings less sloppy, less meaningless.
The dog's in the room, so if you're a clicking sound that snickers or as I call him, clickers.
But I won't have the tidy ending for this week, but I do ask that you share rate and I don't know what else you do. You know you know what to do. But try and get the podcast some lift and have a great weekend. I hope you're doing good. Looking forward to the horse racing season coming up. And I want you to think about this. Would horse racing be more interesting if the jockeys weighed 300 pounds? Or if there were no jockey at all?
Something to think about. Check out Chris Rodell.
I've been thinking on YouTube and have a great day.
