Usher– I think Usher started singing when he was two years old and then dropped “Nice and Slow” when he was Seven. I really have no idea how old Usher is, and I refuse to look it up. To me he is an R&B cyborg with sweet dance moves who faintly looks like a duck. I have vivid memories of popping b’s on girls at Middle School dances singing along to “They call me U-S…_H-E-R…R-A…-Y-M…O-N-D, now baby tell me what you wanna do.” I was driving the other day and his new song came on and I said to myself, “Hell yea Usher. Keep doing your thing.” There is no other artist I can think of who was popular in 1998 and still enjoys the kind of radio play in today’s mainstream that Usher does, and that deserves some major recognition. My greatest wish is that Usher stays relevant forever. That my children and my grandchildren and great grand children will all have the pleasure of popping their first b’s on a girl to his music and then growing old with it.
Derek Fisher– Here he is again. Subbed in late in the 4th quarter of an important NBA finals game. Why is he still in my life? I watched him hit dagger after dagger with the Lakers during their first title run. I cursed him and his sick daughter for playing an important role is dismantling my 2007 “We Believe” Warriors. I watched his biceps fluctuate between Lou Farrigno buff and Sly Stallone swole. I sat idly by while he rejoined the Lakers again for their second title run. Now, just when I think I’ve rid myself of the Fisherman, here he comes trotting out on the court sporting a Thunder jersey and considerably more modest arms. Will this dude have a fucking seat! D Fish has to be the luckiest player ever. Every team he goes to makes a deep run in the playoffs, and I’m always there to watch him wait on the wings to hit that lefty corner 3 that validates his existence and frustrates mine.
Mario Lopez– Most know him as A.C. Slater. The gerry-curled jabroni (yea I used it) of Bayside who wrestled with men for pride and tussled with Zach for Kelly’s heart. When Saved by the Bell ended, I expected two things: Zach Morris would go on to do big things, and everyone else would vanish into Hollywood obscurity. What really happened is Zach really didn’t do all that much, Kelly got slightly hagstown, Screech made a porno, Jessie played a stripper, Lisa remained Black, and Mr. Belding drinks heavily at dive bars in Sherman Oaks. The only one to truly stay relevant was spandex Slater. He got a haircut, but pretty much looks the same as his yearbook photo and maintains a high profile in the industry by reporting on celebrity trysts and nonsense awards. I’m proud of you Mario. No one had you beating Zach Morris in the game of life, but you really did.
Jokemon– One of the biggest deals of my life was being allowed to walk down Telegraph Ave. in 5th grade. Telegraph is a street that spans Berkeley and Oakland and plays host to some seriously strange shit. From a dominatrix spanking her sub outside the now defunct Cody’s Books, to Regan ordering a tear gas assault on Cal students in the 1960’s, this street has some history to say the least. It’s no wonder why parents are apprehensive to let their privileged little shitgoats wander around this wackiness. Telegraph is also home to some of the most unique characters I’ve had the pleasure to share my strange with. My favorite is a guy named Jokemon. It was never clear if he had in fact seen an episode of Pokemon, but as you can guess he would call you over and proceed to tell you a joke for free, alms appreciated of course. By 7th grade I had heard his entire routine, and I must admit the material wasn’t top notch, but he would sell the shit out of it. Even jokes I already heard I was eager to hear again because Jokemon brought it every time. Just to put things in perspective, my comedic idols at the time were Adam Sandler, Monty Python and Jokemon.
Eventually CD’s went extinct and my visits to Telegraph became less frequent, but on a recent trip to Top Dog while visiting home, there he was, entertaining a group of Middle Schoolers with his animated delivery. It made me smile.
My Dentist– I have been going to the same dentist my entire life. She is a family friend and a lovely lady. She is primarily a kid’s dentist, but has always made an exception for me. I used to hate going, but now I find it hilarious. I’m too big for everything. The waiting room chairs, the dentist chair, my hands are to stubby for the treasure chest to collect my lolly, my face is too wide for the sunglasses when they x-ray my teeth, and all the dental assistants have a good laugh when the big idiot pays a visit. A grown man reading Dr. Seuss while he gets his fluoride treatment bewilders the other children, but I continue to go year after year and if she will allow it, forever.
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