This was said to ol' Tricky last night:
"if you shaved you could pass for white."
No, it wasn't just a typical Saturday night for me. It was a family occasion. Here's the recipe: take the angriest man in America, my Dad, let him age for one year, insist on celebrating the day God brought him into the world (he'll claim he doesn't want to and it is true that he has never quite forgiven God for this sentence), and gather up his friends and family. These should consist of:
1: wife whose saintly patience borders on the pathological (true of all who smell of sainthood) and whose name in the sordid world of hip hop is "lil' Slap"
1: suicidal philosopher son
1: very perverse aging chickenhawk (if by some naïve twist of fate you don't know what that is go Google "nambla"--it'll be your special Easter treat)
2: middle aged homosexuals with devious moustaches
1: seventy-five year old devoted patron of the QVC home shopping network who is a dead ringer for former governor of Texas Ann Richards.
Marinate everyone over the age of forty in a hearty mixture of alcohol (gin, vodka, whiskey, scotch, beer, wine) for four or five hours. Only then should the son be added to the mix. Douse him in Irish whiskey. When it runs out, substitute Jack Daniels. When governor Richards is thoroughly saturated with Scotch, have her announce loudly to everyone just how handsome the son is. This will elicit a terribly crude sexual comment from the Chickenhawk. Repeat until the buzz really sets in. Give the bitter Birthday victim a bottle of champagne and chase it with a bottle of red wine. Get out the oysters. Introduce some ill conceived, self-pitying racial bigotry. When you can smell the alcohol from ten feet away proceed to light the match. Step back and watch as hilarity ensues. Oh the hijinks!
Warning: the sight of intoxicated members of the American Association of Retired Persons freestylin' off a RunDMC rhyme has been known to induce an existential crisis in those whose blood alcohol level is not well above the legal limit.
(How, you ask, did I manage to make it to work today, not just on time, but early? In the midst of drunkenly setting the alarm I apparently set the clock ahead an hour and woke up thinking I had to hurry. An Easter miracle!)
