Chill Out -- You Could Be At Your In-Laws For Thanksgiving

 

Don't we all cherish this time of year, full of warm holiday memories and traditions? Well, I guess most of us do -- but if you seem to have a chronic streak of misfortune starting about the middle of November and lasting until January 15, I don't blame you for using whatever medication you can find to try and control the anxiety attacks  that happen when this time of year rolls around.

 

But be brave, my friends. It could be worse -- and to prove it, I've come up with a list of 10 things that, were they to happen, would let you know that you were really having a bad day on Thursday;  so cheer up and dig into that extra piece of pumpkin pie as you read:

 
TOP TEN SIGNS YOUR HAVING A BAD THANKSGIVING HOLIDAY

10. You ask Joe Biden to give the Thanksgiving blessing at your table, and he starts by saying “This is a big f***in’ deal!”

9. Macy's parade broadcast is spoiled by Matt Lauer's and Savannah Guthrie's constant on-air bickering over which one of them Ann Curry hates the most

8. Mitt Romney arrives after driving for 8 hours with your turkey on the roof of his car -- and his dog on top of the turkey

7. Over the river and through the woods to Grandmother’s house now involves a 50-mile detour through 3 states

6. You keep getting nasty text messages from Michelle Obama because the food you prepared isn’t on her approved nutrition list

5. John Boehner and Mitch McConnell are sitting at opposite ends of the table and refuse to pass anything

4. Just as you sit down to enjoy your holiday meal, your guests all look at their watches and get up and leave because Walmart just opened

3. Your fixins’ are all leftovers from Mitt Romney’s planned victory party, including binders full of cranberry sauce

2. General Petraeus asks you if he can bring “a special friend” to dinner with him

AND THE NUMBER ONE SIGN YOU’RE HAVING A BAD THANKSGIVING HOLIDAY….

You’re 50 years old, and they still make you sit at the kiddie table

 

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"Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."

-- Thomas Pynchon

"Trick or Treat -- You're Fired!"

(Note: The following is a re-post of my very first blog, from shortly before Halloween 2010. Thought it would be fun to bring it back  for this week.)

These days, there probably isn't anyone who hasn't either been, or knows someone who has been personally affected by the most recently added component of The Great American Dream, namely, being laid off... And whether it was temporary or permanent (or something that ultimately shoved you into going in another completely different direction as happened to me), it still hurts when it happens, to think that someone whom you were counting on to make sure your paycheck had your name spelled right and your security pass let you in the building every day no longer wants you to grovel for them.With me, it happened several years back the week before Christmas... I was hoping that maybe they would make it as painless as possible by having Andy Williams come around to my desk to break the news as only Andy could in his friendly easygoing manner -- in song:

“Happy Holiday... Here's your severance pay...
Please start cleaning out your office, and be out of here by two....”

But actually, since Halloween is a little over ten days away, once I started to think about it, while losing your job right before Christmas might be rough to deal with, what might be even more bizarre would be getting called into your Human Resources office on October 31, just as the HR department was getting ready for its Halloween party......

I headed down the hallway in response to the call that just came into my desk from one of the HR people, and entered the HR office to find the conference room being turned into a chamber of horrors. Orange and green floodlights set in fixtures on the floor now provided the only illumination in the room. Admins and staff, all dressed in Halloween costumes were busy setting the conference table with pumpkins, dishes full of candy corn, trays of donuts and bowls of cider, and the ceiling was being strung with orange and black streamers along with bats, ghouls and goblins.

As I took in the sight, I heard someone call my name from the other side of the open office area, and looked over to see the head of HR – only now he wasn't the head of HR, now he was Hannibal Lecter, complete with the mask and bound to a handcart by a series of leather straps and metal buckles... Funny, but I suddenly remembered that I'd had dreams of him looking exactly like that.

“Hello, Tom,” he spoke in a low deliberate, breathy, slightly sinister voice through the grille in the mask. “Last minute changes.“

I fumbled for a minute, then to kind of break the awkwardness of the moment, commented “I can see. Something big happening today I assume.” I gestured toward the conference room.

“Well, sort of,” he replied. “Miss Jones, would you please bring in Mr. Quigley's file?”

“Cominnnnng!” I heard in a trilly, high-pitched warble from around the corner. In an instant, in breezed his admin, no longer the sweet kindly old woman with the blue hair that I'd always run into in the break room when I stopped to get a beverage to wash down my anti-depressants with. Now she was Glinda, the good Witch of the North. She directed a bright, sparkly smile towards me as she placed my file on his desk and then, perhaps as if to try and make the file open itself, waved the wand over it several times. I started to sweat.

”Have a seat,” Hannibal breathed.

With my body shaking, I lowered myself into the chair nearest his desk and waited for what was next...

“Tom,” he began, “you know we've always had the utmost respect for all our employees, and have tried to treat everyone as fairly as possible.” I glanced over at the conference room where they were starting to hang skeletons and severed heads from the ceiling.

“But...” I replied, anticipating something negative was about to be divulged.

“You seem to be way ahead of me, Tom.” God, there was that deliberate voice again. “Which is why I've always enjoyed matching wits with you. Your powers of cogitative reasoning have probably already led you to conclude what I'm about to tell you.''

I started to hyperventilate. “You – you mean I'm being let go?!!!” I stammered back.

Hannibal tried to nod his head but the restraints kept him from doing so.... He glanced over at Glinda. “Uh, Miss Jones, could you please...”

“Oh! Sorr--e-e-e-e!” she warbled as she loosened the strap around his forehead.

“Yes, Tom. I'm afraid we have no other choice.”

I was stunned. Speechless. I started to think, what could I have possibly done to merit this? Could it have been the fact that every time one of my bosses visited my cubicle they caught me playing Sudoku on my computer?... The extra pens, staplers and reams of paper I'd pilfered from the copier room in the hopes that one day I'd realize my lofty dreams of running my own business supplies store out of the trunk of my car?... Or how about the dartboard with a picture of the company president I had hanging up over my desk? All minor offenses to be sure, requiring no more than a slap on the wrist... I just couldn't fathom it.

I began to rise out of my chair. “But – but... This isn't real! This can't be happening!”

“Look at it this way," Glinda trilled as sweetly as possible. “This will be so much easier to accept if you were to just start clicking your heels together three times and keep repeating 'There's no place like home.... There's no place like home....There's no place like home...'”

“Oh, wait! I see what's going on here -- what the two of you are trying to do!” I retorted, sitting back down. “I can see it perfectly! Give the man the bad news and then try and make it not hurt so badly! It's the old good cop, bad cop thing!”

“Actually,” Glinda replied, “It's more like the old 'Are you a good witch or a bad witch?' thing.”

Hannibal continued. “In any event, we've been given the orders from top level management that costs have to be cut and uh, 'sacrifices' have to be made – in a manner of speaking of course.” That voice was really starting to grate on me.

“So that's all there is to it then, is that it?” I replied. “No ifs, ands, or buts. Just 'Here's your coat, what's your hurry?' Tell me, how many other poor Bozos around here are you letting go today?"

At that moment, a side office door opened and some guy dressed like a clown walked through it, slowly shaking his head and looking down at the floor with the most sullen expression I've ever seen.

“Only one,” Hannibal breathed as I watched Bozo head towards the outer door. “Mr. Jarvis, head of sales. Too bad. He was our number one guy when it came to presenting our dog and pony show to clients. But we caught him trying to juggle too many things in the process.”

“Like what?” I asked.

"Mainly his expense reports," he breathed. "But I think that's it."



“Oh, and don't forget, Toto too!” Glinda chimed in.

“Oh, right. Akiyama Toto over in the IT department. Need to remember to pull his file.” He gestured with his one free finger towards a filing cabinet by the wall. Glinda dutifully headed in that direction and I heard a filing cabinet drawer open as she sing-songed “Come out, come out wherever you are!”

Hannibal breathed again. “Now, then Tom...” God, that voice was really creeping me out. “If you don't have any questions, there's some paperwork we have to sign.”

Glinda set some papers down on the desk and offered me a pen – actually she offered me her magic wand which turned out to have a pen on one end of it. “Courtesy of our printer cartridge supplier,” she smiled, “Twinkle Office Supplies.”

“Not out of the trunk of a car, I hope,” I muttered. She smiled and demurely pointed to the place I needed to sign on the document. I took the magic wand and looked at her. “Any chance that if I wave this thing over it, it'll disappear?' I asked.

I scrawled my signature on the severance papers, then pushed them across the desk for Hannibal to sign. He tried to free a hand, but those leather straps – well you know. “Uh, Miss Jones...?”

“Oops! Sorr-e-e-e-!” She loosened one strap just enough for him to reach out to the desk. “Nice lady, but just a little bit flighty sometimes,” he told me as he picked up the magic wand and signed his name.

“No kidding,” I observed.

“Well, I guess this means that this is the end of our 'relationship', Tom.” he said, then lowering his voice to as quiet and deliberate a level as he could and still be audible. “Sorry to have it end under such ad...verse cir...cum...stances... At the very least, perhaps I could offer you some cider and donuts?”

“Uh, no thanks,” I replied. “Not really in the mood for cider and donuts right now.”

“Well then, maybe, how about a glass of very dry chianti?”I shook my head.

“Fava beans?” he added with a small chuckle. I pulled myself up out of the chair. God, that voice...

“Uh, nah...”

“Liver?”

“Liver?!” I yelped. “Whose?!!... Boy, you really enjoy taking this to the max, don't you!” I began to head for the door.

“Sorry,” he said, finally in his normal voice. “I just got a little carried away. By the way, if it means anything to you, this wasn't my first choice for a costume. They ran out of the Bernie Madoffs.”

“Uh, yeah, that makes me feel a whole lot better,” I replied.

I turned and stormed out the door. As I tramped down the hallway, Glinda, who practically floated along beside me, tried to make me see the bright side of the whole ordeal. “Think of it this way, Tom,” she offered cheerily. “You could have gotten up this morning and had a house fall on you.”

“Gee, thanks for the uplifting thought,” I replied. “Have a nice day.”

“You too!”

And as I headed out of the building, and across the parking lot and unlocked the door of my car , I could still see that witch, waving her wand and calling out in that high warbly trill, “Good-bye!... Good-bye!... Good-bye!...”

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"Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."

-- Thomas Pynchon

I'm At WKRP in Cincinnati (In My Head), pt. 2

Here it is, the second part of a spec script I wrote a long time ago (in a galaxy far away, named Los Angeles), which I hope will be fun to read for anyone interested in scriptwriting, or comedy, or both.

Several weeks ago, old bad sitcom lovers, I posted the first scene (teaser, actually)  from a spec THE NEW WKRP IN CINCINNATI I wrote about 20 years ago titled "The Carlson Legacy", and for that first scene and a short overview of how and why I came to write it,  you can go here.  Have the time now to post the next scene in which Mr. Carlson is awaiting good news about his family being named to one of Cincinnati's 200 most prominent families as part of the city's "Countdown to 200" bicentennial celebration, while the station has just scored its hghest listener ratings in years.  So let us proceed --  annnnnd.... ACTION!

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ACT ONE, SCENE A

INT. DJ BOOTH - DAY (A WEEK LATER)

(Razor)

                     RAZOR D

(INTO THE MIC)

     All right, rock and rollers,

     you're with the Razor Man, and

     we're here on the mighty K-R-P

     where we've been number twelve

     in the Queen City for the past

     week. Which is a lot better

     position than my lady friend

     had me in last night.  Baby,

     if you're listening, the

     camper's still shakin'!

CUT TO:



    ACT ONE, SCENE B

INT. RECEPTION AREA - DAY (A FEW MOMENTS LATER)

(Nancy, Carlson, Donovan)

(NANCY IS AT THE DESK.  CARLSON ENTERS FROM OUTSIDE JUST AS DONOVAN ENTERS FROM THE HALLWAY)

                    CARLSON

     Morning, everyone.

(NO RESPONSE) 
  
                                CARLSON  (CONT'D) 

     Oh, Donovan, congratulations again on

     the new ratings book. Mother says

     her phone hasn't stopped ringing all

     week.       

                                      

                                                 DONOVAN

      Well thanks, Chief, but it was really

      the work of everyone. No matter how

      small or insignificant their job was. 
                                              

                                                     NANCY

      Does that mean you're finally going

      to thank me for unclogging your coffee

      maker?

(TO CARLSON)

      It drips again.

                    DONOVAN

 

      Oh, yeah.  Tell you what.  Have a cup

      when you get the chance.  On me.

                    NANCY

(NOT THRILLED)

       Gee, thanks.

(AS DONOVAN EXITS)

       It'll be on you all right.

(CARLSON WANDERS OVER TO THE DESK. STARTS

GOING THROUGH THE PAPERS AND ENVELOPES ON

IT)

                    CARLSON

        Did the mail come yet?

                    NANCY

        Sorry boss, but you specifically told

        me to throw out anything that looked

        like it was junk mail from an

        insurance agent, a cable company,

        or Ed McMahon.  I remember.

                    CARLSON

(POKING AROUND IN THE WASTE BASKET)

        This isn't from any of those places. 

        It's from  the Countdown to Two

        Hundred committee and looks exactly

        like --

(HE FISHES A PACKET OUT OF THE TRASH AND

SHAKES IT OFF)

                    NANCY

        He-e-e-re's Johnny!

                    CARLSON

        Uh, right.

(HE HEADS FOR HIS OFFICE WITH THE PACKET)

                    NANCY

         Who knows?  you may have already

         won a ten million dollar policy and

         your beneficiary will be announced

         on the all-"Star Search" channel.

(CARLSON EXITS INTO HIS OFFICE)

RESET TO:

INT. CARLSON'S OFFICE
(Carlson, Donovan, Herb, Les)

(CARLSON GETS SETTLED, THEN:)

                    CARLSON

(INTO iNTERCOM)

          Nancy, could you please tell Herb,

          Donovan and Les to come into my

          office?

(HE LOOKS OVER THE ENVELOPE AS HERB, DONOVAN AND LES ENTER.  HERB IS AGAIN GASPING, BUT CARLSON DOESN'T NOTICE)

                    DONOVAN

          You called, Chief?

                    CARLSON

          Ah, you're all here.  As you know,

          Les was nice nenough to submit the
      
          Carlson name for the list of the

          city's two hundred most prominent

          families, and since I consider you 

          all part of my family, I wanted to

          have you all here for what will most

          certainly prove to be one of the

          proudest --

(NOTICES HERB)

          What's wrong with him?

                    LES

          Another Mona incident.  This time it

          was a riding gear and tack shop.

                    HERB

          I don't know, Big Guy.  I was just 

          sitting there, and sudddenly all I

          could see were all these whips and

          leather...

(HE STARTS GASPING AGAIN)

                    CARLSON

          Herb, maybe you should see a shrink.

                    DONOVAN

          Or a veterinarian.

                    CARLSON

          How about some water?

                    HERB

          Thanks.   But I'll get it myself.

(HE DASHES OUT OF THE OFFICE)

                    CARLSON

(TO DONOVAN AND LES, AS HE STRIDES BACK AND FORTH)

          Well, as I was saying before, this

          is certainly going to be one of the

          proudest --

SFX: BEEPER

(DONOVAN CHECKS HIS PAGER)

                    DONOVAN

(TO LES)

          Whoops, that's me.  Gotta run.

(D0NOVAN EXITS. CARLSON DOESN'T NOTICE)

                    CARLSON

(STILL STRIDING, REALLY INTO HIS ORATORY NOW)

          ...So when I open this envelope,

          we can all share this wonderful

          moment together.

(HE TURNS AND SEES NO ONE BUT LES.  THEY LOOK AT EACH OTHER FOR A BEAT)

                    LES

         And we're all extremely

         flattered to be sharing it with

         you, Mr. Carlson.

                    CARLSON

(OPENING THE ENVELOPE)

         Well, at any rate...

                    LES

         Ooh, this is exciting!  You'll be

         right up there among all the

         other bigwigs and muckymucks!

(CARLSON PULLS A SHEET OF PAPER OUT OF THE EVNELOPE AND STARTS READING IT)

                    CARLSON

         Let's see...  Brinkman, Browning,

         Butterworth, Carter, Cashman...  It's

         not on here.

(READING AGAIN)

         Butterworth, Carter, Cashman...

         Something's wrong.  I should be in

         here between Butterworth and Cashman.

                    LES

         Maybe it's a printer's error.

                    CARLSON

         What do you mean?

                    LES

         Well, remember when the government

         printed all those dollar bills that

         said "In God We Thrust"?

                    CARLSON

          This is more important than a few

          silly billion misprinted dollars,

          Les. The good name of my family is

          at stake.  In fact, right now it's

          apparently nonexistent.

(HE PEEKS INTO THE ENVELOPE AGAIN) 

                    CARLSON

(PULLING OUT ANOTHER SHEET OF PAPER)

          Ah, here we are.

(READS)

          "We regret to inform you that upon

          further research, the Countdown

          Committee has decided that it cannot
 
          include the Carlson name in our list

          of Cincinnati's two hundred most

          prominent families.  Have a nice 

          day."

                    LES

(CRESTFALLEN)

          Mr. Carlson, you're not a bigwig.

          You're not even a muckymuck.

                    CARLSON

          Les, what's going on here?  You were

          in on this.  You gave them my name.

                    LES

          I was only on the nominating board,

          not the selection committee.  Don't

          blame me! I'm not responsible for

          something you're trying to cover

          up!

                    CARLSON

          I'm not trying to cover up

          anything!  I haven't got a family

          that's got anything worth covering

          up! I mean, well you know what I

          mean.  That committee has made a

          monumental error!


(LES'S FEATHERS HAVE BEEN RUFFLED BY WHAT CARLSON SAID)

                    LES

          Boy!  You work for someone all these

          years and you think you know him,

          then wham!  Smitten with the cold

          hard reality that your boss is

          some kind of charlatan.  A fake.  A

          phony.  A misprinted three

          dollar bill! And if you think you're

          going to include me in some

          dastardly scheme to hornswaggle

          that committee into changing its

          mind, which apparently in some

          circles your family must be known

          for, I'll tell you right now that I

          will not allow the sterling image of

          Les Nessman, holder of eight Silver

          Sow awards, to be dragged through

          the mud!

(LES STORMS OUT IN A HUFF.  A BEAT, THEN CARLSON LOOKS AT THE LETTER AGAIN)

                    CARLSON

          They want reputation?  All right,

          I'll give them reputation.

(HE THINKS FOR A MOMENT, THEN PICKS UP A PHONE BOOK AND STARTS THUMBING THROUGH IT.  HE FINDS WHAT HE'S LOOKING FOR.  PICKS UP THE PHONE AND STARTS DIALING, WITH A PURPOSE.  THEN AFTER A BEAT:)

                    CARLSON  (CONT'D)

(INTO PHONE)

          Hello, Heritage Genealogical

          Society?  This is Arthur J.

          Carlson.  The Arthur J. Carlson.

          That's right, of the Cincinnati

          Carlsons, one of the city's most

          prominent families and I demand to

          be immediately connected with

          someone who can -- what's that?... 

          Yes, I'll hold.

DISSOLVE TO:


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What will Mr. Carlson find out about his family?  Stay tuned for future scenes!
                                                                     

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"Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."

-- Thomas Pynchon



Did Her Majesty Really Just Say That?

Now that all the pomp, circumstance and nonsense is past over the Queen's 60th anniversary jubilee, and with a week's perspective between it and us, I thought it might be a good time to review some of the pictures that appeared of the royal family on the balcony at Buckingham Palace and try and determine what they were REALLY  saying and thinking during the proceedings. And so, based on some reliable sources (those voices in my head) I decided to offer you what I expect was transpiring while we were all watching and being dazzled by the whole affair:

ELIZABETH: "How much longer must we stand out here?  My Spanx are beginning to sweat!"

CHARLES; "Look, Camilla, I believe I've just spotted Sir Nigel Tittlewood-Plinth -- of the  Shropshire Tittlewood-Plinths."

CAMILLA: "Oh, Charles  do ask him to come up here and join us, and we can all wave to the riff-raff."

WILLIAM: "Look, Kate, there's that idiot polo friend of my father's, Sir Nigel Tittlewood-Plinth. I hope he's not coming up here.  The man always smells like a horse."

ELIZABETH: "Camilla dear, let me show you the proper way to do the royal wave.  You simply hold your hand erect and then just keep repeating to yourself  'Twist the wrist... Twist the wrist... Twist the wrist...'"

HARRY (to himself): "Well, here I am, the only man standing on this balcony without a woman on my arm. How gay is that?"

ELIZABETH: "Charles, I do wish you would please refrain from putting your hands in your pockets and fiddling with your bits and pieces."

CHARLES:"But Mummy -- "

ELIZABETH: "Enough, I say! It's a nasty habit and terribly unbecoming for an heir to the throne."

CHARLES: "Yes, Mummy.  Hands out of the pockets."

WILLIAM: "Well, Grandmum, it's been a little over a year now since the wedding. What do you think of my wife?"

ELIZABETH: "I think she's a lovely girl, William. But for the sake of your progeny, I still have my misgivings that she's far too narrow in the hips."

KATE (to Harry):  "You mean to tell me that there's eight hundred rooms in this palace and not a single loo on this side of the building?  Good lord, when is this family going to find its way into the 20th century?"

 

 CHARLES: "Camilla, how much longer must we stand out here?  My Spanx are beginning to sweat!"

ELIZABETH: "Charles, isn't that your friend Sir Nigel Tittlewood-Plinth?  For some strange reason, the man always reminds me of being at the Epsom Derby!"

CHARLES: "Look at that amazing sight, Mummy!  An absolutely stupendous flyover by the RAF!"

ELIZABETH: "Yes, I certainly do think -- wait, that isn't the RAF... It's a squadron of Luftwaffe!... Quick! Everyone head for the bunker! INCOMING!"

HARRY: "Is it just me, or do we all seem to be getting smaller?"

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"Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."

-- Thomas Pynchon

"Have A Good One!"

I don't know if this phenomenon is happening in your part of the world these days, but it seems lately, every time I visit my local bank or grocery store, my transactions with those establishments always conclude with the clerk or teller bestowingupon me his or her good wishes to "Have a good one!" in a cute, pleasant, tuneful kind of sing-songy voice.

In fact, I had one say it to me a just the other day, and I was just about to reply with a smartass "I have a great one! How's yours doing?" when I realized that  in some perverted deviant way, a 16-year old cashier might regard such an answer as inappropriate, resulting in my name being ultimately showing up on some state agency's list of social undesirables.  So I politely said through a clenched-tooth smile "Thanks! And you too!"

But it didn't settle my mind to think that I'd just wished someone something  about which I still had no idea of its meaning, and I certainly wouldn't have a problem with saying it myself -- if I only knew what it was they were referring to when they use the words "Have a good one!"  Have a good what?  A good day?  A good hour?  A good shopping trip?  A good hernia operation?  A couple of weeks ago, my niece returned from a trip to England with a kidney stone and I began to wonder if, in an expression of sympathy, I should have told her "Sorry to hear about your kidney stone attack, Sweetie...  And I hope should you suffer through one of those again, well... have a good one!"

Now I don't think I'm too old to keep up on what Gen Y uses for hip language and expressions these days, and I think for the most part, I manage to do a pretty good job of keeping the colloquialisms my own generation used, like "groovy," "far out," and "Right on!" out of my speech.  But at least those words were pretty definitive and were understood by most generations, both older and younger than mine. 

But "Have a good one"?!...  I'm still trying to wrap my brain around the expression "Back in the day..."

However, the more I wondered about it, I started to think about what it would be like to use that  expression as an all-encompassing phrase of convenience, whenever you couldn't come up with somethng to describe exactly what you meant, but yet which everyone else seemed to be able to vaguely understand and would nod their heads approvingly at whenever it was used. 

Further, how great would it have been to have had  such a phrase that could be used for virtually any situation or occasion, and under any circumstances?  Think back for instance throughout the course of history and all the times that expression could have really been useful...

In the Old Testament, the book of Genesis could have started right out with the words "In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth... and he saw that it was a good one."

Or how about Moses trying to exhort Pharaoh to free the Hebrews? -- "Thus says the Lord God of Israel: Let my people have a good one!" (Somehow, though,  I have the sneaking feeling that knowing the Jews, they couldn't "have a good one" without letting some issues of guilt creep in somewhere along the way.)

Now let's move ahead to the 17th century, and William Shakespeare would have found that dropping it in whenever he was stuck for a catchy phrase or some colorful wordplay would have made his writing go so much more simply and quickly...

Like in ROMEO AND JULIET: "Good night, good night!  Parting is such sweet sorrow, that I shall say have a good one!"

Or HAMLET: "To be or not to be, that is the question. Whether 'tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to have a good one!"

And think of the time it could have saved ol' Will if he could have used it whenever it was convenient in JULIUS CAESAR:

Julius Caesar, as the final knife is being plunged into him: "Et tu, Brute? -- then, have a good one!"

And later, during Antony's funeral oratory scene: "Friends, Romans, countrymen, lend me your ears!  I come not to praise Caesar, but to have a good one!"

Jump ahead  another century, when Georg Frideric Handel is writing his monumental oratorio, MESSIAH, and instead of creating the inspiring "Alleluia Chorus," we end up hearing the choir give us a rousing "Ha-a-a-ve a good one! 
Ha-a-a-ve a good one! Have a good one! Have a good one! Ha-ave a good one! ... For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth (Have a good one! Have a good one!)... For the Lord God Omnipotent reigneth! (Have a good one! have a good one!)..."  Well, you get the idea.


But now we come to the greatest moment on our own country's history, the American Revolution.  Think of the  memorable rehetoric that might have been recorded...

The brilliant intellect of Thomas Jefferson, in writing the Declaration of Independence, could have either totally clarified our reasons for rebellion or totally obscurred them (depending on your point of view) if he had included the words "We hold these truths to be self-evident that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable rights, that among these are Life, Liberty, and the purfuit of a good one."

Or what about Patrick Henry's own stirring declaration in the Virginia House of Burgesses: "I know not what course others may take, but as for me, give me liberty or give me a good one!"

And how about the bravery shown out on the open seas by Commander John Paul Jones, who, when challenged by the British admiral calling to him "Captain! Do you strike your colors? Do you surrender?" could have valiantly replied "On the contrary, sir.  I have not yet begun to have a good one!"

If we march forward now to 1863, how much reverence and honor would Abraham Lincoln have given our fallen soldiers at the battlefield of Gettysburg by beginning his remarks with "Fourscore and seven years ago, our fathers brought forth on this continent a new nation, conceived in liberty and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created to have a good one..."

Now move ahead to the 20th century, and recalling President Kennedy's inspiring inaugural speech -- would it have been even more memorable if we had heard the following?  "And so my fellow Americans, ask not what your country can do for you, but ask what you can do to have a good one!"

Or how about Neil Armstrong, setting foot on the moon and thrilling us all with the words "That's one small step for Man, one giant good one for Mankind."

And finally, during the last days of communism's grip on Eastern Europe, how different history might have been if Ronald Reagan had stood at that podium in Berlin and declared "Mr. Gorbachev, tear down ths wall -- and let these people have a good one!"



In the end I've decided that it's not worth it to fret or worry or let my mind be boggled over a phrase that I'll probably never be comfortable with, no matter how hard I try.  Matter of fact, the next time I hear it from a teller or cashier, I think I'll simply come back with "You know, you might just be famous someday for saying those words."  And I'll walk away smiling while they stand there with the most puzzled look on their face.

If only I knew what the hell it meant!

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"Every weirdo in the world is on my wavelength."

-- Thomas Pynchon