Okay, okay. FINE. I sold Tatum O’Neal the crack she was buying this weekend. Or at least, I would have sold it to her had the damn fuzz not busted the whole transaction and arrested her. But the good news is, I made out with the cash AND the drugs AND my freedom. Hoo boy. That coulda been a BAD situation. I just thank the lord the cops were more interested in cuffing a celebrity than arresting a dealer. Of course, I had my story all ready to go. “Dude, I’m selling WHAT?! OH MAN. I swear I thought it was rock candy. I’m legally blind! How the frack was I supposed to know? Jeez Louise. That is the last time I get candy at that bodega.” Listen, you think New York State pays well? Think again. I gotta pay the bills somehow. Anyway, I do feel kinda bad for Tatum. I mean, she tries. But it’s a lot of pressure. First of all, her name’s TATUM. That alone is cause for trauma. Second, she achieved greatness at such an early age, taking home that Oscar in her little girl tux-ette. But then … real success eluded her. Except for “Little Darlings.” And that other movie with the chick from “Facts of Life.” And of course, her rock solid marriage to Johnny. So, don’t be so quick to judge her. We all need our outlets.
Archive for the ‘Uncategorized’ Category
Daily Confession – June 4, 2008
June 4, 2008Daily Confession – May 31, 2008
June 1, 2008The character “Big” — made famous by Carrie Bradshaw in “Sex and the City” — is based on me. And I don’t think I need to tell you exactly what “big” refers to. Let’s just say … it ain’t my nose and it ain’t my biceps, although they’re not puny either. Now, I know what you’re thinking as you desperately try to get tickets for a showing of the movie — ANY showing! — this first weekend of its theatrical release. You’re thinking, “But Gov! Big is WHITE. And he’s a FINANCIER. WTF you talking ’bout?” And what I’m talking ’bout is this. Many years ago, long before she was a smash success, I had a fling with Candace Bushnell, the brains behind “SATC” and the woman who gave Carrie life. And when she hit it BIG, she called to tell me she’d be basing one of the characters on me. She said she just couldn’t get me out of her head. That no man she’d been with since had even come close. I didn’t mind at all, of course — I just hoped I wasn’t about to have another stalker on my hands. Then I saw the episode in which “Big” made his first appearance. Correct me if I’m wrong, but the last time I checked, I was a handsome black man enjoying a nice glass of Courvoissier. Immediately I called Candace. She felt terrible — she’d so wanted to maintain the integrity of my identity and the experience she had with me. But even at HBO, bastion of liberalness, “they” hadn’t been comfortable depicting the love of a white main character’s life as a man who was, well, not white. So John Preston, aka Big, was born. You keep that in mind as you watch the girls sipping their Cosmos and shove Junior Mints into your face. I’m Big.
Daily Confession – May 29, 2008
May 29, 2008I had some ulterior motives for authorizing New York State legislators to recognize the rights of same-sex couples legally married in other states. I like gay people as much as anyone, and I’m truly ashamed of the way this country treats its homosexual population. I give money to the Human Rights Campaign! But I have to be honest. I ALSO need a top-notch interior decorator, a certain very rare Barbra Streisand recording and two hot lesbians willing to let me watch them … you know, do stuff. And you know how close I have to get to what I’m watching. So you see, I needed to show my support for gays and lesbians in a big way. So now, at long last, I think I might finally be able to re-do the conservatory in the Albany manse … in beige, of course.
Daily Confession — May 28, 2008
May 29, 2008I ghost-wrote What Happened: Inside the Bush White House and What’s Wrong with Washington, the scandlous critique of the Bush administration “by” former White House Press Secretary Scott McClellan. You remember old Scott — kind of paunchy, bit of a doughboy, quite the antithesis of scary Ari Fleischer, his take-no-prisoners neo-con predecessor. No, Scotty was a bit of a tentative character. Something kind of wishy washy about him. I suppose he was just a sign of the chinks appearing in W’s armor. He never quite seemed in control of the stituation. When he was trying defend Karl Rove and Scooter Libby over the Valerie Plame affair, you could see him sweat. Nah, he just didn’t have it in him to stonewall the public. And, as we know, if you can’t keep cool while you’re lying to the American people, you have no business being in politics. (Jut ask MY predecessor.) Anyway, Scott was feeling a little hard-up and a little envious off all the others who were cashing in on the W gravy train. I think he had lunch with Richard Clarke and went bowling with Paul Bremer and before you knew it, he had made up his mind. It was time for him to cash in on the lying liars and the liars who lie with them. So, he signed a book deal, and went to work. One problem. Scott not only doesn’t talk a good game, he can’t write. So, in a fit of generosity, his old buddy David P. agreed to help him out. That’s just the kind of guy I am. And, let it be known, I’ve already told President Bush that if he needs someone to read it to him, it will be my pleasure.
Daily Confession – May 27, 2008
May 28, 2008This morning, like always, I logged in to Yahoo to check my personal email (BigDPer@yahoo.com). And I cried. Man, did I cry. I just could not stop the sobbing.
No, it wasn’t because I got some mean spam and no, it wasn’t because my Steve Madden Friends & Family discount expired before I got to use it. It was because of a news story I noticed on Yahoo’s homepage, about the Ugandan boxer Bashir Ramathan. He is intimidating. He is feared. He is called “The German.” And guess what? He’s blind.
Every day, I pat myself on the back for all that I’ve managed to accomplish with my disability. But look at THIS guy! Abandonned by his wife and daughter. Training day in and day out. Listening to his opponents instead of watching them. Unable to participate in the Paralympics because he’s sans sponsor. What unbelievable spunk. I saw in this man a young me. And so moved was I by the plight of the sightless champion that I could not control my emotions. I began to bawl.
My wife, still feeling a bit guilty about the whole Fudgie the Whale cake incident and desperate to comfort me, did the only thing she could think to do. She pulled out the big guns. She pulled out the Fruity Pebbles. And I ate them, sniffling.
Daily Confession – May 23, 2008
May 23, 2008I don’t think this one will come as a shock to anyone. But there’s more to my “full and unconditional” pardon of rapper Slick Rick than meets the eye. Ha! I slay myself sometimes. Yes, Slick Rick was a model prisoner while he served those six years for attempted murder of his cousin. And yes, he did all kinds of good things for his community and underprivileged kids. AND it’s true, I don’t want to see the guy get deported back to the U.K. and have to leave his wife and children. But I gotta tell it like it is. Slick Rick, as you may or may not know, wears an eye patch over his right peeper. I always thought it was just part of his shtick — you know, like Flava Flav’s giant watches. Then I found out that he’s actually been BLIND in that eye since infancy, after an accident involving shattered glass. Well, how on earth could I NOT pardon a fellow card-carrying blind man? There was no way. I’d never be able to sleep at night. He is, as they say, my bruth-uh from uh-nuh-thu muth-uh. So pardon ME.
Daily Confession – May 21, 2008
May 21, 2008My birthday (which was yesterday, thanks for asking) sucked and I’m pissed. I know it’s immature. I know birthdays don’t matter at my age. But the thing is, THEY DO. And I spent this one in the hospital, with an excruciating headache, then undergoing glaucoma surgery. On my FREAKIN’ birthday, people! But that’s not the worst part. The worst part is that I missed a very special birthday tradition because of all this. Every year, without fail, my wife has traipsed all over God’s creation — wherever we were, no matter what was going on between us – to make sure that the tradition wasn’t broken. To make sure that my birthday was special. To make sure that my birthday involved … chocolate crunchies. That’s right. Every year on May 20, I get a big ol’ super-delicious FUDGIE THE WHALE cake from Carvel. Mmm … Fudgie. Until yesterday, that is, when the edible mammal was replaced by red jello. It didn’t even have a candle in it! Yes, yes, Michelle offered to go find a Fudgie today, but it’s too late. The damage is done.
Daily Confession – May 19, 2008
May 19, 2008I will be replacing Andy Roddick at the French Open. I got the call just minutes after Andy withdrew due to a bum back and shoulder. I’ve been an avid tennis fan for most of my life, and have trained secretly with some of the most renowned coaches in the history of the sport. Under the tutelage of greats like the Gulliksons, Jose Higueras and Robert Lansdorp, I became lightning on the courts of Brooklyn. I couldn’t see the ball very clearly, but I played by sound. My family and the coaches urged me — begged me, even — to go public with my gift. But I knew a career in tennis wasn’t for me — politics called. And frankly, I didn’t trust anyone. Was I really as good as they claimed? Or were they all trying to get rich of the incredibly unlikely combination of legal blindness and tennis prowess? So I continued to hone my skills, and to move up the ranks in Albany. Never once had I been told that when a top player pulls out of a Grand Slam, the player can choose his replacement. But apparently, thanks to an obscure and little-known rule in the NSTA handbook, that’s true. And Andy Roddick picked me. What an unbelievable honor. Now, if only I got to “serve” his swimsuit model ladyfriend. Get this — her name’s Brooklyn Decker. DECK-ER? I hardly know her!
