Generic demolished destination.

First off, never fear. The Gardens Mall and CityPlace are both intact and still in business.

The last few posts have been part of an ongoing experiment in which I posted the same photo of the demolished Palm Beach Mall but specified various locations for the caption to create the sense that there is a trend of demolition taking place, hopefully creating a sense of panic among tourists and residents of Palm Beach County who rarely venture outside their homes.

Then I came up with the words “Generic Demolished Destination” as the basis of the caption and began to explore the possibilities of its usefulness. For example, if your date wants to go out to dinner at an extremely expensive restaurant with entrees way out of your budget, you can just present the below photo and tell your date that the expensive restaurant has been demolished and that you’d rather grab some sandwiches to go from your local sandwich shop.


I foresee the Generic Demolished Destination photo coming in handy to get you out of various potentially uncomfortable and awkward situations, such as dinner at your in-laws or that expensive family vacation you don’t want to take. I already foresee the controversy of showing the Generic Demolished Destination photo to your kids and telling them that Disney World is no more. As a consequence, this would carve such deep emotional scars that your kids will conspire to have you moved into a nursing home long before you retire.

Use the Generic Demolished Destination photo at your own risk. I refuse to be held responsible for whatever happens afterwards.

Over the cliff we go.

On New Year’s Eve I was watching the news to see if a deal had been reached to avoid the fiscal cliff. As expected, there was none.

It turned out that during the late night session in which lawmakers attempted to work out a last-minute deal, the two sides were standing at opposite ends of the room, blaming the other side for the budget crisis and daring them to make the first move. This bickering and finger-pointing lasted well into the night and when the clock struck midnight there was a stunned silence. Everyone began wondering why nothing got accomplished despite President Obama’s insistence that a deal be worked out.

It was at this point that all the politicians began to float off the floor. The Republicans actually believed they could fly and House Speaker John Boehner was heard to say, “Actually, this is kind of cool.”

The Democrats on the other hand were not impressed. They knew what was really happening and wondered how long it would be before the Republicans realized that the very country under their feet had just fallen over the cliff. The Democrats hovered in mid-air with crossed arms and stern faces, watching the Republicans execute somersaults and flights across the room.

Then the United States reached the bottom of the cliff and struck the ground with a jolting force. The Democrats hit the floor and rolled to absorb the shock before they got up back on their feet. The Republicans weren’t so lucky. Every one of them crashed through the floor, leaving large holes where they landed.

For a brief moment it was only the Democrats in the meeting room with large holes in the floor. Then the Republicans, all at the same time, slowly emerged from below the floor and looked around the meeting room in a stunned silence.

And then the Republicans, all of them and at the same time, uttered in unison, “WHA’ HAPPENED?”

Chapter 7 – Fat Bubba.

It with with great regret that I tell you the story of how I met my idiotic producer Fat Bubba. I wanted to skip this part of my autobiography but my collaborator Dogman told me that if I want to write about my radio career, I should at least mention the story of how I met Fat Bubba. Apologizing in advance to the trees who died horrible deaths on account of having the following words printed on their mangled carcasses, here is the story of how I met Fat Bubba.

I had just moved to New York and began searching for a job so I could start interning at one of the local radio stations. As luck would have it, I got an internship at WWMU, home of the legendary Pancake Paul.

As a kid, I idolized Pancake Paul. I listened to his show on Saturdays and still have memories of how zany he was. The kids loved him but I’m sure the parents had their own opinions. But he was a legend, and there I was, working for him. It was a dream come true. I swear I’ve learned more about radio from him than anywhere else. I still owe my career to him, and here I was, finally on my way.
Unfortunately, also in that same building was Steven Richardson, an overweight, balding loser who was interning to be a producer. He worked along with the engineer who ran the Pancake Paul show.
As I got more involved in my internship, Pancake Paul even let me into the studio and chatted with me on the air. He loved my insights and my approach to comedy and had me writing comedy bits for the show.

The comedy bits were a huge success and Pancake Paul began giving me more and more air time so I could air my bits. Soon it reached the point where he devoted an entire hour of his show to me and my comedy and it too took off beyond our wildest dreams. Our ratings soared through the roof and finally, Pancake Paul decided I should have my own radio show. I remember balking at the idea, but he was most encouraging. He also made the big mistake of pairing me up with the balding producer intern who named himself Fat Bubba.

My first day of doing the show was a nightmare. I remember sitting at the mike, staring at Fat Bubba who was fumbling at the controls. He was panicky and sweaty, hitting buttons and switches, causing the lights in the studio to switch on and off. Me? I was ready but irritated that Fat Bubba was taking so long.

Click. Fat Bubba finally hit the right button and the intro played.

“And now, the Yors Truly show with your host, Yors Truly!”

I began speaking into the mike but was interrupted by the intro playing a second time.

“And now, the Yors Truly show with your host, Yors Truly!”

“Excuse me,” I said calmly, “you already played the intro.”

“Sorry,” stammered Fat Bubba, struggling with the controls.

“Good morning, everybud,” I began, “Welcome-”

“And now, the Yors Truly show with your host, Yors Truly!”

Fat Bubba played the intro a third time as he continued fumbling around with the controls, flipping switches and turning the knobs in panic as he struggled to bring things under control.

“Are you done?” I asked, with an annoyed tone.

“Sorry, I’m just-”


Fat Bubba’s elbow hit the button that played a sound effect of a loud burp I was going to use in one of my comedy bits.

I was furious and stood up. “What the hell are you doing!” I yelled.

All of a sudden Pancake Paul came into the studio, barely able to stand from laughing so hard. “You guys are great!” he gasped between fits of laughter. “This is the funniest show I have EVER heard!”
And so Pancake Paul left, leaving me infuriated at Fat Bubba, who never did get things under control that day.

See why I hate the guy?