Tiptoeing through the Tulips

So I was dining in this Indian restaurant a few days ago.  We’d pushed a couple of small tables together as we were a party of seven.  Six of us were Americans and the seventh, my wife, was Egyptian.  We weren’t drinking alcohol or anything, but the conversation was still silly and random as hell.  Many of us giggled and guffawed as the talking occurred.  If my memory serves me correctly, I believe there were even a few instances of people chortling.  That tells you what kind of evening it was.

At one point, just before the food was brought to the table, Ruthann, a fellow Texan from Dallas, turned to me and said, in a voice loud enough for everyone to hear, “Let’s talk about obscure celebrities from yesteryear.”  That prompted me to respond, “Hey, does anyone know whatever happened to Tiny Tim?”

Of course, Azza, my better half, had no idea who this miniscule person was.  One other individual, a child of twelve, was equally in the dark.  Everyone else immediately fell silent.  You could literally hear cogs turning in heads as people thought about my question.

I was the first person to break the silence.  I said, “Tiny Tim is actually an interesting study.  He’s a great example of how far an untalented person can go in show business.”

“It wasn’t necessarily that he lacked talent,” Lori retorted, “It was just that he had the right sort of talent for the 1960s.”

“Right,” said Ruthann.  “Weirdness was really in in the 60s, so he had what people wanted.”

I’ve embedded a video so you see an example of what Mr. Tim provided to the public during his heyday.

Now, days later, I’m almost embarrassed to admit it, but I’ve been spending a lot of time thinking about Tiny Tim.  In addition to the clip I included, I’ve looked at a zillion videos of him performing and being interviewed.  I even called several colleagues into my office, showed them a few of the things I had watched, and asked them to respond, taking careful notes as they spoke.  Like I said, I’ve been a bit obsessed recently.

Perhaps that was his ultimate goal (and genius?) as a performer?  To create a persona and a sound we couldn’t turn away from and couldn’t get enough of?

If that was Tiny Tim’s goal, then he certainly succeeded bigly.

I’m Your Boogie Man!

So this dude got pissed off about my last blog about The Price Is Right and tweeted the following:

price is right blog

I guess he thought I was talking crap about Bob Barker and the early-70s version of the show.  I guess he thought I was some kind of youngster who couldn’t appreciate the “progressive” nature of the program.  I guess he made quite a few assumptions about me, so I had to set him straight.

I messaged him and said that I both personally experienced the 1970s and wore my hair big (and my clothes tight) as was the custom at the time.

Let it be known that he did not respond to my retort.

This talking about the 70s has got me reminiscing.  Those were the days of disco, and like many red-blooded American males of that era, I enjoyed blow-drying my hair, getting tipsy (on beer before leaving home), hauling ass to the nearest bar—one with strobe lights and a dancefloor—ordering rum and Cokes (upon arrival at said joint), and finally, after drinking away any and all inhibitions I might ever have had, getting down in the manner of John Travolta in Saturday Night Fever.

All this recollecting got me so fired up that I went online and prowled around until I found this video from 1976.  It shows a live performance of Dazz, by Brick, one of the all-time best boogie songs and dance bands from an era when folks really knew how to shake their groove thangs.

That performance inspired me to dig a whole lot more.  I ended up unearthing I’m Your Boogie Man (that’s what I am!) by none other than KC and the Sunshine Band.

If these don’t make you want to shake your booty, I’m pretty sure you’re either dead or ain’t got no booty to shake.  Either way, you’re screwed.

 

If the Price Is Right!

Woe is me!  It’s Monday, but not just any Monday.  It’s the first one after the end of last week’s Spring Break.

Now that I’m a middle-aged fart, I’m no longer disentangled enough to have the sort of foot-loose-and-fancy-free spring holidays I once had.  Way back, when I had real freedom, I would (with a long-haired friend or two) load up into some fast car, ice down a case or two of adult beverages, drive to the beach, pitch a tent, and then go walleyed nuts.

Now that I’m a home owner and such, I spent a lot of last week mowing the grass and using one of those buzzy Weed Eater thingies.  I did manage, two mornings in a row (Tuesday and Wednesday, I believe), to watch The Price Is Right on CBS.  Here in Texas, they put the long-running game show on at 10 a.m. sharp.  Right after that, on the very same station, there’s a soap opera that goes by the title The Boastful and the Bashful (or something like that).

Drew Carey is the emcee now.  Pardon me while I write that he’s a poor substitute for Bob Barker, Mr. Have Your Pets Spayed and Neutered.  (Of all the great needs in this world, I always wondered why he’d chosen to focus on the fairly minor problem of what comes from animal fornication, but that’s beside the point.)

It was my first time to have seen The Price Is Right in like forever.

Watching it again got me curious so I went online and Googled “The Price Is Right 1972” and found the following video.  It happens to show the very first episode of what they were calling The New Price Is Right.

Here are some of my thoughts after watching the vid:

  • The 70s seem nearly like ancient history (even though I remember them quite clearly).
  • That was some truly trippy background music (especially the xylophone stuff).
  • The show certainly looked amateurish (to say the least) and I’m surprised the TV powers that be didn’t discontinue it after such a start.
  • Boo-Boo (the first contestant) perhaps wasn’t a ditsy blond in real life, but she certainly played one on TV.
  • I’m amazed that a person could buy a real live automobile for such a price.

By the way, those who didn’t finish reading this blog all the way to its conclusion will receive a lovely parting gift, courtesy of American Tourister.