I’m the Voice of Freaks Everywhere, Tribune of the Radical Middle, etc.?
I’m the cat rocking Dolce & Gabbana who delivered the famed briefcase full of “medicine” to my (ex-)customer Charlie Sheen at his pad in Beverly Hills the night his current unpleasantness (i.e., rehab, Two and a Half Men production hiatus, even MORE media scrutiny) began.
I am currently in (temporary, ONLY temporary) exile from that city I love, the City of Angels. It all depends on whether a certain movie star keeps his pie-hole shut around the LAPD.
You’ve got the picture.
Well, I am SO gratified at the overwhelming outpouring of love from all my new fans.
Brandon in Williamsburg, Brooklyn, says, “Syd, you’re a burning hot bag of nuts, man. Don’t go changing.” Thanks, Brandon. Give my regards to Henry in the 14th Ward.
Mindy of Montpelier, Vt., says, “Syd, you’re a sociopath. Call me. I want to help.”
Thanks Mindy. That’s the kind of encouragement I need. Especially when I’m crashing with an old buddy in a Pacific Northwest college town. I can’t tell you where, but the name rhymes with “blue jean” and the football team goes “quack.” It’s boring here—like I’m already dead.
But I’ve got time to plot my next move, and like I said before, this writing stuff ain’t hard, even though it’s a little tough sometimes to fill a column.
Last night, I thought I had the answer—a parody of that horrible column former CNN talk show host Larry King wrote for the USA Today lifestyle section for 20 years, until 2001.
After all, the Kingster is in the news again. According to the AP, King (who is 77 going on 112) is going on the road with a new one-man show in which he will “dish about his storied career.” And the name of the show? “Larry King: Stand Up.” Hey, the man has all the vitality of King Tut’s mummy. Long before he makes it to the Mirage Hotel in Vegas for the final dates, they’ll have to change the name of the show. They’ll have to call it “Larry King: Sit Down,” then “Larry King: Is There a Doctor in the House?”
Greig Dymond at www.cbc.ca recently took a look back at King’s column. “Before there was Twitter, there was Larry King’s column … an unintentionally hilarious stream of non-sequiturs and lame observations about life and showbiz that had many readers questioning the TV host’s analytical powers, if not his sanity,” he says.
Dymons supplies a sample of King’s work: “Angelina Jolie, whose film Original Sin opened Friday, tells me she has nothing in the works right now ... Julie Andrews tells me she is ‘certain’ she will sing again ... A salute also to my man, Don Imus ... I’m very proud of my wife, Shawn. She’s a great singer and a terrific talent who chooses to be a mother first ...”
Yeah, that’s the Kingster’s wife Shawn who repeatedly banged their kids’ baseball coach, at least once on the desk in Larry’s home office. Oooooooh, I bet Larry was PISSED.
Anyway, I found in my desperate Google search early this morning that there are already scores of King parodies out there. Every inkstained media wretch from Miami to Walla Walla has written a cheesy imitation of King’s column.
But it’s too late for me to turn back now. I just have to make my King-ster parody as rude and flagrant as possible. Let’s rock.
For my money, gang, nobody has an ass like Kimmy Kardashian. In fact, her butt wouldn’t even fit into her Kaufman Franco gown at the Grammy awards. Baby got back!
You know, according to Marilyn Monroe, Joe Dimaggio was hung like a horse. “Sex was never the problem,” she said.
OK, so Frank Sinatra was a psychopath, but what a voice, huh?
Don’t you hate trying to peel the cellophane off a CD jewel case. Man, what a headache!
This is driving me crazy. I can’t write that many short sentences. Maybe I can make them a little longer.
“He’s an extraordinary man,” daddy Martin Sheen says of troubled son Charlie, according to TV’s Entertainment Tonight (that foul pox on our culture). Marty, babe, I LOVED you in Apocalypse Now, but the most extraordinary thing about your boy is his HUGE taste for booze and drugs. Jesus, he makes Errol Flynn look tame.
Kim Kardashian says that she’s seen Justin Bieber’s new haircut and “it’s really cute.” Hey, watch it Kimmy. The kid’s only 16. And don’t encourage him. Tina Fey is still trying to get him to stop stalking her after that SNL gig. That horny little Canuck will be humping your leg before you can say “Kourtney & Khloe Take Miami.”
That’s enough. I’ve got to order another iced coffee from that stoned barista. I’m on the patio, staring up through a sun break, thinking big thoughts. Like maybe I should become a real reporter and cover the revolutions in the Mideast.
After all, it was a real “gas,” so to speak, getting right in the middle of those riots in Seattle in ‘99 during the world trade conference. But who am I kidding? Those mobs in Egypt beat people up. If I need that, I’ll visit my bookie.
No, I’m a show business whore. I should keep writing about entertainers and politicians.
And hey… The Huffington Post is flush with cash now after the AOL deal. They should hire me as a columnist. Arianna, honey. Call me. I want to help.
Syd Amerika has a gift for gab and a vaudeville trunk full of memories. He is a graduate of the Ed Anger School of Journalism in Port-au- Prince, Haiti. He is a former consultant to felon and presidential candidate Lyndon Larouche. Send your comments to email@example.com.