Today’s big gaffe by the Obama administration was made by Secretary of Transportation Ray LaHood—-coincidentally, my former neighbor in East Moline, Illinois, and a great guy (also, a Republican, most recently residing in Peoria, Illinois and representing that district in Illinois before his decision to retire.)

Ray was testifying before Congress about the sticking pedal on certain Toyota models, a number of which have been recalled by the company for fixing. The problem seemed to be that Ray was not speaking officially…or he didn’t think that he was, at the time he was testifying…but the man-in-the-street heard Ray LaHood, Secretary of Transportation, telling them to quit driving their Toyotas and drive immediately to the nearest Toyota dealership for a fix of the problem. (Oh, oh.)

In Ray’s defense, he corrected himself within 2 hours and admitted he had “misspoken,” but the harm was done. In Florida, where I am now, various channels had Floridians from all walks of life saying things like, “How will I get home from work?” (I’m not making this up, Folks. One of the interview subjects actually told the reporter this, with a very worried look.)

I am the proud owner of 2 Toyota Prius vehicles (I’ve written on this subject on AC before). I also owned a third, which is now in my son’s possession in Chicago. Of course, currently I’m not in Illinois, where my green Prius (the grasshopper) is sitting in the garage, waiting for me to make the final five payments to say that I own it. But I can assure you that I would not be panicking at the thought of driving that car home from work (if I had work to drive home from, that is.)

I read, elsewhere, that the co-founder of Apple says that his Prius will automatically escalate up to 97 mph when he uses his cruise control. [My answer to that would be, “Don’t use the cruise control.”]

Where has common sense gone in all the hoopla over the really unfortunate, although isolated, incidents involving (some) Toyota vehicles? The Lexus accident that precipitated the recall (of floor mats, initially) was truly horrifying, and it did take an inordinate amount of time for Toyota to own up to the fact that there was something going on with their vehicles, but things seem to be getting out of hand.

As I type this, I’m watching a satirical take-off on “American Idol’s” auditions on Jimmy Kimmel.  I watched the young man talk about how his father was eaten by an alligator (leg shown sticking out of alligator’s mouth) and, on the way home from the funeral service, someone threw a bucket at his mother from a bridge overpass as she drove underneath in a convertible. She had to be buried with the bucket on her head. (Okay…questionable taste and graphic there, but it was Jimmy Kimmel, not me.)

Given the panic that a simple misstatement by our current Secretary of Transportation (Ray LaHood) caused on February 3^rd after his inadvertent remark before Congress, the Toyota Tempest caused by Ray’s remark today (not the need for a fix for a real problem, but the foot-in-mouth comment) is ripe for a “Saturday Night Live” skit. I can see it now:

First, a shot of LaHood telling people not to drive their Toyota vehicles, but to take them immediately to dealerships.

Next, a shot of hordes of screaming villagers jamming the entrances to Toyota dealerships, nationwide, demanding the chip or floor mat or whatever it is that is supposed to end this madness, and demanding it RIGHT NOW! Maybe some of them could be carrying torches. Or, failing that, discarded rubber floor mats.

Next, a scene depicting those wusses who are still at work as the hour grows late, sitting there staring timidly at their parked Toyota vehicles but too afraid to climb in and drive 3 blocks home.

I’m obviously watching too much television while on vacation in the Sunshine State, where a shark ate a surfer today. (New Smyrna Beach is “the shark bite capital of the United States.”) To quote David Letterman, “Hep me! Hep me! I been hip-no-tized!”  watching this Toyota Tempest play out on television.

 And, Ray: I mean no disrespect. You’re doing a great job. Just get us that railroad paralleling I-80 (Chicago to the Quad Cities to Des Moines) and all is forgiven. I’ll even ask “Saturday Night Live” to call off the skit.

“Beetlejuice’s Graveyard Revue” at Universal Studios on January 27, 2010 had showings at 12:30 p.m. and 4:00 p.m. this day, a day when zero-degree weather back home in Chicago made the light jacket weather feel just fine.

The Beetlejuice Graveyard Revue is hosted by a faux Beetlejuice (“the ghost with the most”) whose voice was a dead ringer (pun not intended) for Tom Arnold’s. The M.C. did some schtick, much of it very au courant, as with the Tiger Woods joke. There was also a Paris Hilton joke about her “availability.”

Venturing into the audience, the fake corpse asked a hapless female tourist if she had ever “made it with a dead guy.” Looking at the woman’s husband, seated in the audience, when she answered “No,” the quick-thinking host said, “Are you sure?”

The Mummy was the opening act, coming out of a coffin, and he was soon joined by Frankenstein, Dracula, the Wolfman, the Bride of Frankenstein, a Goth girl and two boob-a-licious girls in short cheerleader costumes, one with a “B” on her chest, and one with a “J” on her chest.

Then came the music. What kind of music, you ask?

“Jump,” an old Van Halen offering gave way to Bruce Springstein’s (Frankenstein’s) singing “Dancin’ in the Dark.” “I Will Survive” (Gloria Gaynor) gave way to the Rick Springfield chestnut “Jessie’s Girl,” revamped as “Frankie’s Girl.” Bon Jovi’s “You Give Love A Bad Name” featured 7 performers onstage: 2 cheerleaders (Hip and Hop), Dracula, Wolfman, Frankenstein, the Bride of Frankenstein and Betelgeuse. And, of course, with lines like “Shot through the heart” changed to “Shot through the head,” and AC/DC’s “You Shook Me All Night Long,” what’s not to like?

The entire free revue, which lasted about 30 minutes, was booty-licious, if that is the term that was used in the ‘70s and ‘80s, when most of this music was popular. He crowd filed out and Beteljuice, who had coerced the poor audience member into sharing her first name (Anne), said, out loud, “Call me, Anne…I mean it.”

Another free show fit for the family, as most of the double entendres will go right over the kids’ heads, just as the explosions from the volcanoes in the background of the stage will. Have fun!

Elvis recently had a birthday (he turned 75) and I ignored his birthday, at the time, just like I try to ignore my own birthdays.

A McCarthy newspaper writer named Valerie Kellogg wrote “75 Things You May Not Know About Elvis” at the time of his birthday. Some of them amused me…not all, but some. Plus, we recently visited Graceland in Memphis, so I decided to throw out the less-interesting or more well-known “things you might not know” about Elvis, insert a few of my own, and shorten Kellogg’s article to a mere fifty. So here goes:

1)      Elvis’ first 2 recorded songs cost him $4 at Sun Studios in Memphis, where he recorded “My Happiness” and “That’s When Your Heartaches Begin” as a gift for his mother, Gladys.

2)      Elvis is Norse for “all wise.”

3)      When he was 15 months old, Elvis almost died in a Tupelo, Mississippi tornado, which would have meant that he would have joined his dead-at-birth twin Aaron.

4)      At age 1, Elvis enthusiastically joined an Assembly of God church service choir in singing, wriggling away from his mother’s grasp to do so.

5)      At age 10, Elvis placed fifth singing “Old Shep” at a children’s talent show, thereby surpassing Michael Jordan, who got cut from one of his first basketball teams.

6)      Songs recorded: anywhere from 600 to 1,200. [With mixes like “A Little Less Conversation” being released many years after his death, that number could change.]

7)      Sometimes, Elvis would sign “Elvis” on a female fan’s left breast and “Presley” on the right. (There is no truth to the rumor that this gave rise to the term “double-breasted.”)

8)      Elvis’ maternal grandmother was Jewish, so Elvis added a Star of David to his mother’s gravestone in the mid-sixties. (Since most of the family is buried out back at Graceland in a weird circle that tourists visit, I assume it is this tombstone. It is just a stone’s throw from the really small tea-cup-sized swimming pool that looks like it belongs behind a Hampton Inn in St. Louis.)

9)      Other ethnic derivation for Elvis Presley:  Scottish, Irish, German, Welsh, Cherokee Indian and French. (A little something for everyone.)

10)  “Can’t Help Falling in Love”, a 1961 Presley hit, is set to the melody “Plaisir D’Amour,” an 18^th century French love song.

11)  Presley hated fish. He wouldn’t allow Priscilla to eat fish at Graceland. We all know he loved fatty, deep-fried goodies, and he also loved biscuits and gravy, potato/cheese soup and meatloaf with mushroom gravy. The dining room table at Graceland, however, was not very large, (considering Elvis’ fame and fortune). It is hard to imagine seating more than 11 or 12 comfortably in the cramped dining room. The room isn’t big enough and the table isn’t big enough.

12)  Presley preferred sponge baths.

13)  Presley worked as an usher at Lowe’s State movie theater in Memphis. He was fired when he was discovered taking free candy from the girl working the concession stand.

14)  Presley was honored, while in the Army, by his commanding officers for “cheerfulness and drive and continually outstanding leadership ability.”

15)  Germans called Presley “the rock-and-roll matador.”

16)  Elvis smoked thin German cigars.

17)  Elvis’ big disappointment while in Germany in the Army? He never got to meet Brigitte Bardot. (I think we can all relate to that.)

18)  Presley’s movie idol? Tony Curtis.

19)  Hair dye used? Miss Clairol 51D, “Black Velvet” and “mink brown” by Paramount, to make his hair look black onscreen in movies. He once dyed his hair with black shoe polish in his do-it-yourself days. He also dyed his eyelashes, which caused him health problems later in life. (Good thing he didn’t EAT the dye).

20)  In 1956, Elvis made “Love Me Tender” and in 1957, he did “Loving You.”  In the hiatus between filming these two epics, he had plastic surgery on his nose, had his teeth capped, and had his acne professionally treated.

21)  Elvis dated Natalie Wood, but only for a very brief period. He said he didn’t like the way she smelled. (No report on what Natalie Wood thought of the sponge-bathing Elvis’ scent.)

22)  “Unchained Melody” was a song he only performed during the last 6 months of his life.

23)  Unverified reports claim Elvis’ range spanned three octaves, but unverified reports of the day also said that the Colonel (Tom Parker) would have another singer interpret the song while Elvis listened and then Elvis would  record the song after hearing it sung by someone else. It is also true that Elvis never did a World Tour, which was because of legal problems that Colonel Tom Parker, his dictatorial manager, faced in travel outside the country. (The Colonel had passport problems.)

24)  Presley had a slight stutter.

25)  Elvis used A&D ointment to keep his lips soft.

26)  Elvis recorded 15 songs with the word “blue” in the title.

27)  Some strangely titled Elvis songs include: “Queenie Wahini’s Papaya,” “Yoga Is as Yoga Does,” “There’s No Room to Rhumba in a Sports Car.”

28)  Elvis began using “Also Sprach Zarathustra,” a 19^th century Strauss tone poem and theme of the 1968 movie “2001: A Space Odyssey” because he liked its rhythm and movements.

29)  UK viewers couldn’t see Elvis much-vaunted TV special “Aloha from Hawaii” because the BBC refused to pay the price for the 1972 concert.

30)  Presley and the Beatles met at his BelAir, California house in 1965, after Colonel Tom Parker forced Elvis to invite the Fab Five over. That same year, Elvis talked about joining a monastery. No word on whether he discussed entering a monastery before or after meeting the Beatles, who ended his reign as undisputed King of Rock ‘n Roll.

31)  Presley met Brian Wilson of the Beach Boys in 1975 but Wilson says that the meeting went badly. Wilson made an unexpected karate move on Presley, after Presley had asked him specifically not to do so. (I now understand why Brian Wilson spent so many years alone “in his room”).

32)  When Presley met Richard Nixon in 1970, Tricky Dick said: “You dress kind of strange, don’t you? Elvis replied, “Well, Mr. President, you got your show, and I got mine.” We didn’t find out the extent of  Nixon’s “show” until Watergate, but it’s not hard to imagine Elvis drawling that statement to Nixon.

33)  The Washington Post broke the news of that secret meeting between Nixon and Presley. [I think we’ve all heard the stories of Presley’s fascination with law and law enforcement, his desire to be named a ‘special agent,’ etc.]

34)  When Presley met Muhammad Ali, he gifted the boxer with a robe that said “The People’s Champion.” Ali, for his part, gave Presley boxing gloves that said, “You’re the greatest.” [This surprises and confuses me. I thought Ali was “the greatest?” The two probably should have traded gifts.]

35)  Once, after receiving a kidnap/assassination threat, Elvis performed with a pistol in each boot.

36)  In the early 1970’s, Presley would impersonate a police officer and pull people over and hand out autographs. He had purchased police equipment for his 36^th birthday.

37)  Some members of the Memphis Mafia called Presley “Crazy.” He turned down the opportunity to play Kris Kristofferson’s role in “A Star Is Born” opposite Barbra Streisand, because the Colonel wouldn’t let him take the part. The chance was a career-making comeback opportunity, and ex-wife Priscilla urged him to take the role. Now THAT was “crazy.” What was NOT crazy was the way Priscila turned Graceland into a moneymaker after Elvis’ death.

38)  Once, while showing a woman a karate move in his Las Vegas hotel suite, he broke her ankle. (Sounds like an instant replay of the Brian Wilson bad meeting.)

39)  In Chinese astrology, Presley’s sign was “the dog.”

40)  Four psychics told actor Patrick Swayze that Elvis was his guardian angel. If so, Elvis didn’t do a very good job of watching over the recently deceased actor, who died too young of pancreatic cancer.

41)  The year before he died, Presley was prescribed about 10,000 pills. (I wonder what the count against Michael Jackson’s final year would be: which would score highest?)

42)  When Presley played Madison Square Garden in 1972, he rented the New York Hilton’s top floor.

43)  Presley’s pet turtle’s name was Bowtie.

44)  Other Presley pets:  a basset hound, 2 Great Danes, a Pomeranian, several horses, some donkeys, some peacocks and guinea hens, ducks, chickens, a chimpanzee, a monkey and a mynah bird. His golden palomino, Rising Sun, is buried at Graceland, along with his parents, his grandmother and his twin brother who died at birth.

45)  Presley’s pet chimp, Scatter, is thought to have died of liver disease, since the chimp had developed a drinking problem. Some think a maid, whom he had bitten, poisoned the chimp. (Wonder whatever happened to Bubbles, Michael Jackson’s chimp?)

46)  Presley believed he would die in his forties like his mother, Gladys.

47)  Presley had a strange “Madonna/whore” fixation. According to Priscilla Presley’s autobiography, once she gave birth to Lisa Marie, he no longer considered her sexually desirable because she was the mother of his only child. Presley did have a longstanding attraction to co-star Ann Margret, though, and always sent her a large floral tribute whenever she opened in Vegas.

48)  When Elvis was alive, there were about 170 Presley impersonators (1977). Today, it is estimated that there are around 250,000.

49)  Presley had one room of his Graceland mansion (the house that grew like Topsy and has many wings that were added to the sprawling structure) completely carpeted in shag carpeting and sometimes recorded there. The Jungle Room, a strange futuristic circular bed with fake fur: many “Elvis’ taste was all in his mouth” moments while touring Graceland.

50)  Elvis’ last words (to his girlfriend Ginger Alden, who had cautioned him against falling asleep reading in the bathroom) were; “Okay, I won’t.”

[*With thanks to all the hard-working English teachers who collated and contributed the actual analogies and metaphors from their high school students’ essays into one hilarious article, which I am going to “lift” for my analysis of January 13, 2010’s “American Idol” Atlanta tryouts. If you are the nameless student, condolences and apologies.]

Mary J. Blige joined the regulars as guest host. Ellen DeGeneres won’t join the judges until February 7^th, when the contestants reach Hollywood.

First up this night was a 27-year-old African American singer (I use the term “singer” loosely) named Dawon Robinson who said that his uncle had discovered Gladys Knight and the Pips and his father was known as Motown Bobby.  Dawon kept pronouncing the word “lady” (while singing) as “lay tee.” The free associating thoughts Dawon shared tumbled in his head “like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.”

Another black male singer who sang in an extremely high voice, like someone who has undergone castration, followed Dawon. We were saved by the appearance of Keia Johnson, who wore bright lime-green pants and was once named Miss Congeniality in a preliminary to a Miss America contest. (Simon ventured that, were it him, he’d rather win the beauty part.) Keia sang the love song from “Titanic” and she sang well. Keia was given a golden ticket to Hollywood and was followed by singers named Meriam Lemnoumi and Noel Reese.

Then came one of the diamonds of the day, Tisha Holland, 18, of Georgia, a waitress. She was followed by another star, Germaine Sellers from Joliet, Illinois, a 17-year-old church singer who cares for his mother, who suffers from spina bifida. The comments? “I think that’s the best we’ve seen all day.” Germaine sang Joan Osborne’s “What If God Is One of Us.” He’s going to Hollywood. Mary J. Blige said, “You’ve got skills. Best we’ve seen of all the cities.  That was incredible. It was anointed.” Plus, Germaine has the all-important back-story that this year’s competitors seem to need. (Talent, alone, isn’t going to be enough, it seems.)

A TV hostess from “Hotlanta,” Christy Marie Agronow, then regaled the group with a Pat Benatar song. The revelation that the judges did not share her feeling that she was a great singer hit her “like a guy who goes blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.” She left in a huff. (“How dare they!”)

Next up was Vanessa Wolf, who shared the news “I jump bridges.” She is either from Baltimore, Tennessee or Vonore (population 658) and shared this sad statement: “I’m stuck in Vonore. I can’t get out.” She had purchased her dress for $4.50 at a Dollar General store in Smyrna, which I seem to remember was Julia Roberts’ birthplace. Tennessee must be so proud, at this point in time, of the way their state is being portrayed. Vanessa was very likeable, but “her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.”

Jessie Anison, 26, of Alabama, #99342, shared several near-death experiences he had recently endured, which allowed “American Idol” to make several “cheap dramatizations” related to Jessie’s riveting stories. Jessie grew on us “like he was a colony of e coli and we were room temperature beef.” As for his audition, it didn’t help that Jessie couldn’t remember any of the words in the song he had selected and had never before sung in public. Mary J. Blige collapsed in helpless mirth and had to be comforted by Kara. Jessie had a mind “like a steel trap, but one that has rusted shut.” ”The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and ‘Jeopardy’ comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30 p.m.”  Jessie, also, left in a semi-huff. He traveled down the 47 stories in the elevator, “hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.”

After Jessie and the “cheap dramatizations” (once, at band camp, Jessie was almost hit by a stray bullet or a falling flute or some damned thing) we were treated to Holly, age 27, who sang Loretta Lynn’s “You Ain’t Woman Enough to Take My Man.” Holly proclaimed, “I’m the next great thing.” She was as modest as Donald Trump during one of his Rosie O’Donnell rants. “She had a deep throaty voice like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.” Holly made it through to Hollywood.

At one point, Simon actually said, to one contestant, “You sound like a cat barking; it shouldn’t happen.” The gargling noise of contestant Hansel Enriquez was not well received. Blake Smith of Covington, California came to his audition attired in a tee shirt that read “Britney Spears Changed Her Life.” (It didn’t change Blake’s).  “Guitar Girl” (attired in a guitar outfit with guitar glasses) lucked out. She caught your eye “like a wet nose hair glistening after a sneeze.”

Tony Skiboski, contestant #91870, actually could sing, but his attempts to make himself sexually appealing, in the process of singing “I Heard It Through the Grapevine” by Marvin Gaye were about as enticing as “ maggots just before you fry them in hot grease.”  When it was pointed out to Tony Skiboski that he was missing a letter on his shirt, he replied, “That’s what they’ve got discounts for.” Skiboski actually made it through, which seemed “as unlikely as a little boat gently drifting across a pond, exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.”

We were treated to Loren Sanders, age 19, of Baxley, Georgia, and her BFF Carmen Turner, 19, also of Baxley, Georgia. Unfortunately, only Carmen sang well. The news that she was being cut from the competition hit Loren as a rude shock, “like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.”

Police officer Bryan Walker sang “SuperStar” and earned a golden ticket to Hollywood, but he looked very old. “He looked as old as a 60-year-old retiree.” (Or as old as General Larry Platt).

Lamar Royal sang Seal’s “Kiss from a Rose” song. Before he went up in the elevator for his audition, Lamar was quite pleasant, saying how much he was looking forward to meeting Mary J. Blige. After Lamar delivered the loudest version of a Seal song ever heard and would not shut up (security had to be called to stop his audition), he changed his tune considerably and uttered the night’s most hostile remarks, yelling, “F*** Y’all” as he left. This earned him a round of applause from a passing carful of motorists. (At least Lamar said “Y’all”).

Last, and certainly least, General Larry Platt, age 62, sang his own original composition “Pants on the Ground.” “General Larry was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But, unlike Phil, General Larry actually works.” General Larry earned praise for his attempts to break dance for the judges, although, in his case, the word “break” is meant literally.

And congratulations to former contestant Jason Castro, who, in addition to his budding career as a performer, got married. I noticed his smiling dreadlocks on the “American Idol” website while scoping out the schedule, and it reminded me that I heard this news somewhere. Ah, young love.  “Jason fell for her like his heart was a mob informant and she was the East River.” Imagine “the star-crossed lovers racing across a grassy field toward each other, like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 66 mph; the other from Topeka at 4: 19 p.m. at a speed of 35 miles per hour.”

Stay tuned for next week’s shows on Tuesday, January 19^th, from Chicago and on Wednesday, January 20^th, from Orlando

High school metaphors and analogies.

Every year, English teachers from across the country can submit their collections of actual analogies and metaphors found in high school essays. These excerpts are published each year to the amusement of teachers across the country. Here are last year’s winners…..

1. Her face was a perfect oval, like a circle that had its two sides gently compressed by a Thigh Master.

2. His thoughts tumbled in his head, making and breaking alliances like underpants in a dryer without Cling Free.

3. He spoke with the wisdom that can only come from experience, like a guy who went blind because he looked at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it and now goes around the country speaking at high schools about the dangers of looking at a solar eclipse without one of those boxes with a pinhole in it.

4. She grew on him like she was a colony of E. Coli, and he was room-temperature Canadian beef.

5. She had a deep, throaty, genuine laugh, like that sound a dog makes just before it throws up.

6. Her vocabulary was as bad as, like, whatever.

7. He was as tall as a six-foot, three-inch tree.

8. The revelation that his marriage of 30 years had disintegrated because of his wife’s infidelity came as a rude shock, like a surcharge at a formerly surcharge-free ATM machine.

9. The little boat gently drifted across the pond exactly the way a bowling ball wouldn’t.

10. McBride fell 12 stories, hitting the pavement like a Hefty bag filled with vegetable soup.

11. From the attic came an unearthly howl. The whole scene had an eerie, surreal quality, like when you’re on vacation in another city and Jeopardy comes on at 7:00 p.m. instead of 7:30.

12. Her hair glistened in the rain like a nose hair after a sneeze.

13. The hailstones leaped from the pavement, just like maggots when you fry them in hot grease.

14. Long separated by cruel fate, the star-crossed lovers raced across the grassy field toward each other like two freight trains, one having left Cleveland at 6:36 p.m. traveling at 55 mph, the other from Topeka at 4:19 p.m. at a speed of 35 mph.

15. They lived in a typical suburban neighborhood with picket fences that resembled Nancy Kerrigan’s teeth.

16. John and Mary had never met. They were like two hummingbirds who had also never met.

17. He fell for her like his heart was a mob informant, and she was the East River.

18. Even in his last years, Granddad had a mind like a steel trap, only one that had been left out so long, it had rusted shut.

19. Shots rang out, as shots are wont to do.

20. The plan was simple, like my brother-in-law Phil. But unlike Phil, this plan just might work.

21. The young fighter had a hungry look, the kind you get from not eating for a while.

22. He was as lame as a duck. Not the metaphorical lame duck, either, but a real duck that was actually lame, maybe from stepping on a land mine or something.

23. The ballerina rose gracefully en Pointe and extended one slender leg behind her, like a dog at a fire hydrant.

24. It was an American tradition, like fathers chasing kids around with power tools.

25. He was deeply in love. When she spoke, he thought he heard bells, as if she were a garbage truck backing up

On Thursday, October 15, 2009, humorist/writer David Sedaris visited Davenport, Iowa’s Adler Theater to share his musings on jury trials, breast milk, condoms, and our “God-given right to mimeograph.” He lived up to Toronto Globe & Mail writer Bill Richardson’s assessment: “He’s smart, he’s caustic, he’s mordant, and, somehow, he’s well, nice.”

Sedaris has the unique vocal rendering(s) of Truman Capote before him, and, yes, both were openly gay. Hear Sedaris read just one time on NPR, where his career blossomed, and you won’t forget the tone. It’s one of the lovable eccentricities of the man that you learn to like, just as you learn to make your peace with his aversion to having his picture taken.

Sedaris has a way with words. When he describes his son, Todd, as being “the artistic one in the family” and goes on to describe him as having “a useless degree in dance history,” audience members smile with recognition. Everyone has someone in his or her family with a useless degree in something. We can all relate. Some of Sedaris’ sharing is painful, tinged with a deep pathos that gives his humor greater humanity and, with it, greater emotional weight. Whether it’s the needless cruelty that man inflicts on man or his mother’s drinking problem or his own dalliance with drugs back in the day, Sedaris has suffered and it shows in his writing. His humor is a shield and he wields it with bravado.

This night, Sedaris vamped his way through the acronym A.S.S.H.O.L.E. (don’t ask) and what it stands for in a boundary-pushing way that has garnered him 3 Grammy nominations for Best Spoken Word and Best Comedy Album(s). With 7 million books in print in 25 languages, the 2001 Thurber Prize for American Humor and Time magazine’s anointing him Humorist of the Year, it’s pretty clear, as the San Francisco Chronicle put it, “Sedaris belongs on any list of people writing in English at the moment who are revising our ideas about what’s funny.”

On Thursday night in Davenport, Iowa, the funny bits that amused me were about jury duty, possibly because of my own experiences on several coroners’ juries in Illinois. He describes his late mother, Sharon, saying to him, “How can you not want to sit in judgment of your fellow man?” and “Whoever thought a gun could be so tedious?” Reminiscing about a defendant in the trial he drew who had been knifed three times, the line that resonates is “If you’re the type that everybody stabs, maybe you need to make some fundamental changes.” As a member of a jury himself, Sedaris couldn’t quit fixating on the fact that the defendant was wearing “a cross the size you’d reach for if you wanted to crucify a hamster.” The image is vintage Sedaris.

We were treated to Sedaris’ ramblings about depictions of a soulful Jesus on the cross and how easy that is. He pines for an obese, repulsive, balding, Jesus with “fur-covered man titties”…a vision he ultimately referred to as “comb-over Jesus.”

Sedaris’ irreverent observations had the nearly full house amused and laughing throughout. He was kind enough to not only plug his own books which, this night, were his newest (When You Are Engulfed in Flames), but also his best ones of years past, such as 1997’s Naked, 2000’s Me Talk Pretty One Day, and 2004’s Dress Your Family in Corduroy, but also to plug Our Dumb World from The Onion and a book he is currently reading while on the road for 34 days, Everything Ravaged; Everything Burned. Sedaris says he actually enjoys meeting his fans. He doesn’t get a day off until after Day 33 on the road, tours which he typically does on a certain schedule that takes him away from his home in France, where he lives near Normandy with partner Hugh Hamrick. This day, he praises the Davenport YMCA for its kindness and hospitality in letting him swim laps in its pool, (which he must have done less than four hours before show time, because he had not yet checked in at 3:30 p.m. and the show was at 8 p.m.)

A bit of research into how Sedaris got his start (above and beyond his autobiographical tales in the books) reveals that, while living in Chicago, Ira Glass heard him reading aloud from his diaries at a Chicago club. (*Note to self: find out what Chicago club and go read excerpts from Both Sides Now!)

Sedaris was invited by Glass to read Santaland Diaries on the radio. The humorous essays described his experiences working as an elf at Macy’s at Christmas-time and debuted on NPR on December 23, 1992 on “The Morning Edition.” From that start, he has never looked back. Sedaris himself has said, “I owe everything to Ira…My life just changed completely, like someone waved a magic wand.”

Sedaris typically writes about his family members, one of whom is Amy Sedaris, formerly of Saturday Night Live. Amy and David have worked together writing plays as the Talent Family. This night, however, when an audience member practically cooed, “How cool is Amy, your sister,” David seemed less-than-thrilled with the over-the-top enthusiasm for his sister that the audience member was projecting. He acknowledged the comment without joining the love fest. He also said he was not writing about his brother, currently, because his brother loves being written about and owes him money. He told us that he is writing a book with animals, similar to fables (one was read aloud) and that he was collecting stories about rudeness from his audience.

I wrote Mr. Sedaris a fan letter (only the second of my life) after completing When You Are Engulfed in Flames and he wrote back from France. I don’t think he will consider it a violation of this private (and unexpected) correspondence if I share with you that, on a tour of the Hastings Bookstore chain in the Southwest he was placed in the Christian fiction section for his reading. Anyone who knows of Sedaris’ past brushes with drugs (now, he doesn’t even smoke regular cigarettes) or his open homosexuality has to smile at the thought of him delivering his material in the Christian fiction section of any bookstore, just as the audience this night laughed outright at his tale of wheeling an entire cart full of condoms (to give to his readers as gifts) through the aisles of a CostCo store accompanied by his 59-year-old brother-in-law.

After the evening’s performance, which was a great success, at least 100 of us waited in line patiently for 3 hours to shake David Sedaris’ hand…but only after we were offered hand de-sanitizer (probably not a bad idea in these times of H1N1 flu pandemics). [Let New Yorkers attempt to wait so patiently and so politely for so long!) The evening’s artist seemed in no hurry to brush off any of the hundred or so fans who waited it out until nearly 1:00 A.M.

I heard him ask the young couple ahead of me if they were married. They told him of their plans to marry next October. I turned to my line-mate and said, “Well, I had been married for nearly 42 years before I made my husband wait 3 hours outside in the lobby tonight. But that’s ancient history now.” They laughed. [Maybe some Ira Glass/David Sedaris person will recognize my wit and talent and launch me on a reading career of my own humorous essays (I’m very good at it, after years spent reading to 7^th graders who couldn’t read well for themselves; I always loved performing “The Night the Bed Fell on Father.”) Ah, if life were only so simple, she said to herself with a sigh. Maybe budding humorists like me should sing a chorus of “Put Me In, Coach. I’m Ready to Play. Today.” Or not. One never knows. I did almost perform a limbo along about Hour Two, in an attempt to shimmy under the metal restraining line to give my long-suffering husband the funny Onion book I had bought.

Earlier, the woman from Cedar Falls who gave up and left early tried to give it to him for me. She came back and told me there was no man with a red umbrella sitting in the lobby, which gave me pause. The cab situation in downtown Davenport is not like that in Chicago, and I was across the river from home. (Later, when placated with reading material given him after my daring limbo dance—which, at my age, could be described my as death-defying limbo dance—he lightened up a little, but I kept seeing one man’s angry face, a swarthy fellow, appearing at the door and mouthing the words to his wife in line, “Hurry up!” (How, exactly, was the poor woman supposed to do this, I wondered? Was she to trample us in a mad rush to the front, like Mad Cows set loose in a pasture? At least my husband merely left the building. And me. But he did return.)

When I finally made it to the front of the line to get the author’s autograph on 3 books and to tell him my “rude” story, I was not sure if Mr. Sedaris remembered my letter that prompted his personal response, or if he realized I was the woman who had left him the books at his hotel (difficult to tell whether that was a bad move or a good move, since the novel has, as its protagonist, a time-traveling rock star, for which I will be eternally remorseful, and a cover of a naked couple that generally catches your eye for all the wrong reasons.) He asked my name. Was I a complete mystery, then? There are multiple pictures of me in the books, so he must have already round-filed them. David (if I may use his first name) was friendly, but not effusively so. He offered me hand sanitizer as I went totally blank on my own name, while struggling to open the small bottle of gel. I’ve never used hand sanitizer. Just as I poured a huge glob of this stuff into my open palm (think KY Jelly, with which I am much more familiar), he extended his hand for me to shake. My timing, as usual, stinks.

I began my rude story of being sold out by a Pulitzer Prize-winning author who not only lied to me in print (an e-mail of August 25), but also lied to my face, ruining an expensive (over $3,000) trip to the Hawaii Writers’ Conference and destroying my faith in “getting it in writing,” since I had gotten “it” in writing and the man still flat-out lied to my face. For some reason (Nerves? Stress?) I was suddenly overcome with the emotion of retelling the sad episode that still has not resolved itself, financially or emotionally. As I finished my story, I almost choked up at telling it so soon after it had occurred. I felt like a complete dork as I said, “So I don’t like that author any more.” David Sedaris, in his distinctive voice, looking sympathetic, responded, “Well, then, I don’t like him any more, either.”

Now you see where the “nice” comment comes from. Here’s another with which the audience on Thursday night agreed, as articulated by the Chicago Tribune: “Sedaris’ droll assessment of the mundane and the eccentrics who inhabit the world’s crevices make him one of the greatest humorists writing today.”

Amen to that!

From “the running of the bulls” in Pamplona comes the news that a charging bull gored a young Spanish man to death Friday at the San Fermin festival.  It was the first such fatality in nearly 15 years. Nine other people were also injured, but 27-year-old Daniel Jimeno Romero from Alcala de Henares (outside Madrid), who was vacationing with his parents and girlfriend, will not be running with the bulls—or anything else—ever again.  He was gored in the neck and lungs by a rogue bull named Capuchino which separated from the pack. The festival ends tuesday.

We’re here on the beach at the Royal Sands, and Ava and Elise seem to have taken to the native culture.

Our trip will be cut short by about 2 days as a result of my passport going missing at O’Hare on Saturday. (Never was found.) Fortunately, on Monday, we learned all you ever didn’t want to know about what you have to do if you have a passport that is lost or stolen. Thankfully, we were not abandoned in Canada (yes, Canada) with no jackets and only summer-weight clothes, which might have happened, has I not discovered the MIA passport just as we were to board to fly to Ottawa (Canada) from Chicago and then transfer to Air Canada to fly to Cancun. I can hear you saying, “Wh-a-a-a-a-t?” Such is the world of “free” air miles.

As a result of the loss of the passport, we spent 4 days in Chicago sorting everything out and ended up buying the more “direct” route, AND, since I shared the news of the mishap with the daughter (in NYC), she shared the information that she was on “spring break” right then, and I said, “Well, buy yourself a ticket and ‘Come on down!’” She said, “isn’t it too late?” My response: “I bought 2 tickets at 3 p.m. yesterday for Wednesday at 9 a.m., so I don’t think so!” She ended up flying through Philadelphia and the son and wife and twins (not quite 3 months old) and the daughter (just turned 21) are all here with us…through Saturday, anyway.

We’ve not done too many ‘daring’ things, although there was an attempt to rent jet skiis today, which was foiled by the high winds and treacherous waters. The weather, so far, has been perfect: balmy, a bit windy, but warm. Coolest it has gotten is 79.

Take a look at today’s activity for the little girls. First, it was the Obama Inauguration. Then, it was the Super Bowl. Now, it is watching the ocean while enjoying their favorite beverage.

Life doesn’t get any better than this.

During a recent stint on two panels at the “Love Is Murder” writing conference the first weekend in February at the Westin Hotel in Wheeling, Illinois, we shared the space with a re-enacters convention.

Apparently, re-enacting is big and popular business, with all eras and all sorts of costumes depicted. You couldn’t help but smile as you watched a Roman Centurion clanking around in the lobby or a minister chatting with a WWI-clad soldier,

Here are a few of the pictures of the re-enacters I took that weekend. Submit your own captions.

Sean Leary is a freak magnet.
It must be true. It’s even the title of his collection of 13+ essays, detailing how unusual people flock to him. (My Life as a Freak Magnet, from Dreams Beach Productions).
If Sean is magnetic north for weird bag ladies on the Chicago bus who call him “anchyman” and/or various trailer park types who (usually) end up in some sort of physical or verbal altercation, then the back “teaser” on this 156-page collection gives an idea of the David Sedaris-like flavor of the total series of recollections from Sean’s youth and adulthood: “Call me a psychic, call me a genius, but I knew something was awry when I saw the two-year-old, clad only in a diaper, scampering across the gravel, two-fisting a full beer can. It was a tall boy. The beer, I mean, not the child.” (from “Last Train to Charlenesville”).
And so it goes.

Leary has a wry sense of humor and a way with titles such as “You Never Forget Your First Stabbing.” (No, you don’t, I suppose). He wishes each of us experiences similar to his own, saying, “May you live in interesting times, surrounded by interesting people.”
I particularly enjoy(ed) opening lines like “Never go to a wedding dressed in leather chaps and a spiked mask,” or titles such as “The Yeast Infection Girl Who Kidnapped Me.” It’s hard for me to decide which essay I enjoyed most: “It’s All In Your Head,” about the weird duo in the bookstore, (one of whom later shows up in an obituary as a man who commits suicide by jumping off the Centennial Bridge in Rock Island, Illinois) or “Riot in the Food Court,” a blow-by-blow account (literally) of all-out war waged in the North Park Mall Food Court in January, 2007. And you are there. Or, rather, Leary was there, watching and letting us know how the mayhem went down.
I enjoyed reading about Sean’s childhood and his circle of friends. Many of the phrases and figures of speech were funny as hell (If hell is funny…and we really don’t know, do we?)
My only English-teacher criticism (from 36 years of teaching), for which Sean will have to cut me some slack, would be: Always put yourself last when mentioning a group of people (eg. “If, not when, I and my family would finally be able to move away” but “If, not when, my family and I would finally be able to move away,” or , as on p. 67, “…I, my sister Tara, 9, brother Craig, 7, and sister Heather, 6, ..rifled down the stairs and out the front door…”). It definitely used to be a grammar rule.
If it’s not, excuuuuuuuuuuuse me. I, also, started writing at age 10, so I’ve been at this a lot longer than Sean, and the grammar rules keep changing on me.
I look forward to reading Sean’s short story collection Every Number Is Lucky to Someone next, and giving you some reactions to that no doubt equally enjoyable work, too.

Links to Sean Leary’s books:

http://www.amazon.com/My-Life-As-Freak-Magnet/dp/0977281949/ref=sr_1_1?ie=UTF8&s=books&qid=1230742545&sr=1-1