I'm A Professional Child
by The Cranky Media Guy
If you've ever read anything I've written on this web site and
suspected that I was, shall we say, learning-impaired, this will
convince you you're right.
A few short weeks ago, I was a lowly book editor in Virginia;
then, through the kind of series of unlikely events that have
become a kind of hallmark in my life, I became part of a semi-big
time morning drive radio show on a kick-ass rock station in Boise,
Idaho. Other than the fact that I'm a fat load of goo and I realized
today that I now have thighs that look like cottage cheese stuffed
into pantyhose, life is pretty good at the moment.
Imagine for a moment that this was happening to you. You'd feel
pretty good about life, too, right? How would you celebrate? You
might go out and get drunk. You might go to a topless bar. Maybe
you'd buy and smoke a big cigar. You might, not me, though.
See, that's all grown-up stuff. I may have a middle-aged fat
guy's body, but I have the cerebellum of a ten-year-old. I don't
do grown-up stuff. That's for grown-ups. Fortunately, I have a
job that pays me reasonably well to be an over-annuated juvenile
on the air. (Jealous yet?)
So, no drinking, no cigars, no lap dances. What did I do? Uh,
well, I went to a video arcade. Two, actually. I dragged along
Chris, my on-air partner. We played every stupid shoot-'em-up
game in the joint like sugar-addled adolescents; then, when we
wore out the entertainment possibilities of Pojo's (featuring
Idaho's only indoor carousel), we went to Gameworld and started
Yes, you're absolutely right--I should be wearing a hockey helmet
and riding a short bus to work. I'm a total 'tard. I'm like Tom
Hanks' character in the movie Big, just a stupid kid in
a aging, lumpy body. I don't do grown-up stuff; that's for grown-ups.
I kick ass at that Daytona 500 driving game, though.
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