THE WYMAN WEEKLY

Underemployed. Unattached. Unimpressed.

Issue 30 November 7,1996

 

 

                                                                  

Society invents a spurious convoluted logic tae absorb and change people whae’s behaviour is outside it’s mainstream...They won’t let ye dae it, because it’s seen as a sign ay thir ain failure. The fact that ye jist simply choose tae reject whit they huv tae offer. Choose us. Choose life. Choose mortgage payments; choose washing machines; choose cars; choose sitting on a couch watching mind-numbing and spirit-crushing game shows, stuffing fuckin junk food intae yir mooth. Choose rotting away, pishing and shitting yersel in a home, a total fuckin embarrassment tae the selfish, fucked-up brats ye’ve produced. Choose life.

 

 - Irvine Welsh, Trainspotting

 

These days I’m reading Trainspotting, which is of course what the excellent scary/depressing/hilarious movie of the same name was based on. The book is excellent also, but you need a strong stomach for either it or the movie. Sitting on the bus last Friday after work reading this one and the smart-cute (attractive and wearing glasses) girl next to me made some small talk about the road construction. She kept glancing at the book in my hands, and after I couldn’t think of anything to say (I never can), I went back to my book and then she asked how the book was and I said pretty good and then mentioned how the dialogue was written in Scottish and difficult to understand. They should have a glossary of terms for this one, I said, and then opened the book to the back and wahla! there was a glossary. I showed it to her and she thought it was funny and laughed, although not real hard like Stacy Hamilton to Ron Johnson or anything. Then when she got up to leave at her stop, she made sure to pause and wait for me to acknowledge her (I was back in the book, after you get The Laugh you quit while you’re ahead - Gino Gasparini taught me to wait for them to overcommit, and then pounce when the odds are in your favor) so I said have a nice weekend and she smiled and said thanks and left. I came home and drank a Schell’s German Pale Ale in disbelief, as girls never talk to me on the bus. Cynics might say that I read this book just to meet girls, but I didn’t realize that books about Scottish drug addicts could be so appealing.

 

TV

 

David Letterman is my hero. Do not believe the crapola that he was funnier in the old days. For a while a year ago or so he was getting lame, but he’s back in the saddle. I think it’s because he doesn’t give a shit and has gone back to his open-fire ways. A couple of weeks ago, Cindy Crawford was on and looking really hot (no shit, Wyman) in this retro/sixties/mod outfit, complete with this dark blue eye shadow and she was talking about this virus that she had a few weeks ago. Letterman said “so when will the swelling of your eyes die down?” Yeah!

 

FUNNY HOW?

 

The other day I was in the Uptown Taco Bell waiting for my order. A couple of fourteen year-olds sitting in a booth were looking at me and giggling. I glanced over and they were pointing at my legs. I think they were laughing at my jeans, which were straight-legged faded Levi’s. These youngsters were wearing some of those big ol’ jeans, which are bound to go on to become the nineties equivalent of big bells. I had to smile, because back in 1979 when I was fourteen, the rest of the fourteen year-olds at Schroeder Junior High were making fun of my new straight-legged Levi’s. I was the first to move from the flared look then popular. Won’t you be my fashion victim?

 

HI MOM

 

This week I was talking to Mom on the phone about my life and times at Big Finance and she compared me to George Costanza. My own mother did this. Oh well, it didn’t involve me and a Glamour magazine, so I guess it could have been worse.

 

TURK’S IDEA

 

Tomorrow night I will be making a toast to the five-year anniversary of one of my all-time great quotes. I remember it like it was yesterday...

 

Boss: Aren’t you a team player?

 

Wyman: I’m too good to play on the junior varsity.

 

I WANNA BE ELECTED

 

Watching the election night coverage was kind of like watching some boring Division I college football game in late November. I didn’t really care who won the Big Game, but I kept my eyes peeled on the local results on the bottom of the screen, just like they were like those Division II and III playoff results. Channel 11 not only had Maria Shriver on their national coverage (if she even took her shoes off, it’d be hasta la vista for this kid) but they had Tim Penny on their local coverage and he’s one of my favorite politicians. He served in Congress for twelve years and then two years ago decided not to run again. For some reason, I appreciate anyone who walks away from something they’re fed up with. ‘Twas encouraging to see Wellstone vow to stick it to The Man. And now maybe that Dole doesn’t have to campaign any more, he can go back to being the dark comedian with the destructive one-liners. As for Clinton, Letterman said “Congratulations, Tubby!”

 

P.S.A.

 

If you should ever happen to stay up all night and it’s 6:02 a.m. on the VCR clock and you’re stone cold sober because you don’t drink much these days but nevertheless you are sipping on a can of Schlitz, not for the taste or the chemical reaction, but maybe because your team is undefeated and you wonder how long that can last or maybe because if you’re not asleep at this hour why not pop one? You wish you had the Sunday paper to read, but the sun won’t be up for a while and you don’t feel like venturing outside, so you sit there looking out your window onto the darkness of 36th Street. If you’re ever in this situation, a listen to the Rolling Stones’ Exile on Main Street will bring out whole new meanings.