#185. Donald Trump Jr. and You

Hi everyone,

My week veered unexpectedly towards the chill, and I steered into the skid. I woke up on Thursday to find out that the flight Maris and I were supposed to take to Chicago to celebrate Bill Kurtis's retirement as announcer and scorekeeper for Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me! had been cancelled on account of inclement weather. Every single alternative option would have transformed our leisurely two-day jaunt to the midwest into a wild scramble to get there and back without enduring additional cancellations if the weather stayed as crummy as the forecasts predicted. So, we stayed put instead.

I spent the morning cancelling the elements of the trip that hadn't self-combusted. Thank you for your flexibility, dog sitter, but your services are no longer needed. So long, hotel reservation. We'll always have the one night I had to pay for even though I wasn't even in your time zone. Fare thee well, restaurant reservation. We actually do things a little differently around here (staying home after all). Each item on the checklist left me feeling progressively deflated. I am a bad recreational planner, and when an itinerary falls apart through no fault of my own, it affirms the correctness of my usual philosophy: "Why do anything in advance?"

Once I'd unwound our plans, though, Maris and I took up the task of creating a new weekend agenda including tickets to see The Sheep Detectives (as charming and melancholy as people have been saying) as well as Belle and Sebastian's 30th anniversary show for their debut album Tigermilk (really excellent, can't believe I'd never seen them live before, also both charming and melancholy). I even picked up a gig for Sunday afternoon that was a lot of fun (more info on that sometime in the future). The weekend turned out lovely with a twinge of disappointment. I felt extra glad that I'd sent in a little video message of congratulations to Bill early last week. It includes my favorite story from the nearly seven years I worked with him at WWDTM. I'm going to (re?)tell it here for fun:

A couple of years ago, I was booked on the live Wait Wait recording at Carnegie Hall. The celebrity guest for the show's Not My Job segment was Bethenny Frankel, known for her work as a Real Housewives of New York cast member and for her Skinnygirl line of beverages and other sundries. Bethenny had the most intense energy I'd ever experienced in a person. She missed her cue to come onstage (she cited mic troubles as the reason why), and from the moment she walked out a few seconds late, she loudly disputed a word choice in her intro from host Peter Sagal. Her appearance in the room felt like a sonic boom.

At one point in the interview, I chimed in with a joke that had bubbled up in my head earlier in the week.

"Bethenny," I said, "you have created an empire with Skinnygirl Margaritas, but you're leaving money on the table. When will you create a beverage for people with my body type? Where are the Eggshapedman Martinis?" Not a perfect joke, but a clear one I felt. The mogul herself was completely flummoxed but tried to play along.

"Oh, like Eggslut, the restaurant?" she asked. It was not like that at all, so it was my turn to furrow my brow and try to roll with it.

"You make me the face of the brand, and I'll be your little Egg Slut," I replied. The audience laughed, and Bethenny Frankel continued to refer to me as "Eggslut" for the rest of her time onstage (why not?).

At the end of the show, I emerged victorious (spoiler alert!) in that week's news quiz. Bill, as always, announced the results.

"Today's winner is..." his signature deep voice boomed, "EGGSLUT!" The crowd went wild. Huge laugh, maybe the biggest of the whole show. When the commotion died down, Peter asked Bill to retake the line using my real name in case NPR Central decided that "Eggslut" violated standards and practices. Fortunately, they ruled in our favor, and Bill's announcement aired as originally delivered.

I'm going to miss working with him very much, and I hope he has a wonderful and relaxing retirement!

Speaking of topical comedy about the news! I'm on the most recent episode of The Bugle with genius host Andy Zaltzman and brilliant guest Alice Fraser! You can enjoy it as an audio podcast or as a video!

Also, this week's John Hodgman/Josh Gondelman/Jean Grae show at Union Hall is sold out, but there's another one on June 4th, and you have advance opportunity to purchase tickets before they're on sale to the general public!

This weekend I'll be in Bristol, TN for my only real road weekend this late spring/summer! I'm excited for what's somehow (the how is I am hard to pin down) my first weekend at my friend Shawn Carter's comedy club!

And on Monday 6/1 (June starts in a week by the way) I'll be co-hosting Frankenstein's Baby with Alison Leiby at Union Hall also!

PEP TALK FOR DONALD TRUMP JR.

Hey, man. On one hand it probably feels bad to see your dad publicly announce that he's skipping your wedding for reasons that are such obvious lies that 60% of America laughed out loud upon hearing them. You were probably hoping that things were coming down to the wire with his important government responsibilities, which he totally understands and remembers despite having the intellectual capacity of nearly-dry cement, but he was ultimately going to hand the workings of the executive branch over to his cabal of decrepit phrenologists for the weekend and show up to offer you his emotional support, a thing he has literally never cared about.

On the other hand, you almost definitely experienced some relief knowing that one of history's worst assholes wouldn't be in attendance on your big day to ruin it by talking during his toast about how he could probably have sex with your new wife if he wanted, or trying to deport the caterers. That's good, right? Plus his absence gives you the illusion that you've accomplished anything on your own in this life. I mean, until you consider that your dad slapped his name on you like a midtown high rise, except unlike those buildings, your whole existence actually is a direct result of your father's actions.

Given how much of a debacle the current war in Iran has been, it's almost conceivable that the president started and prolonged it specifically so he'd have an excuse to skip your wedding. You probably hadn't considered that though! That's so healthy of you even if it is a result of you doing so many nose drugs (allegedly!) that you're incapable of that kind of reflection. Either way, good for your brain for keeping those troubling thoughts at bay by any means necessary. I mean seriously, it doesn't sound like your father to avoid an opportunity to stick the American taxpayers with the expenses for a quick trip to a warm climate while he should be governing the nation. He must really not want to spend time with you, which again, is a blessing in disguise. I wouldn't want the guy responsible for the cancellation of The Late Show with Stephen Colbert at my wedding the weekend after the show went off the air either. People really don't like or respect him! You're better off with him feeling nothing towards you! It's the things he cares about that he really ruins.

In any case, congratulations on your second of what are sure to be many weddings. In that way, you are close to your father in spirit even as he actively avoids you in the flesh. And that's a beautiful thing when you're the Donald Trump that the second most people in the world hate.

PEP TALK FOR A READER

I made a couple of little tweaks to this request! Nothing substantial! (I also added the nickname as I often do.)

I'm struggling to get back in the dating scene while going back to school. Could use some encouragement.
- Class (Down To) Clown

I don't get a ton of dating-related pep talk requests in this newsletter. Hopefully it's because the readers have lives full of love and satisfaction and not because I seem unfit to approach with matters of the heart. Honestly, hurtful, people who would think that! What have I ever done to you?

On to this request, though: I'm not sure I know anyone whose life feels all the way in balance. All of my friends seem to either be stuck under three feet of mud at work, or have been under-employed for half a decade. That goes quintuple for anyone with kids and has to navigate having a personal life, going to work, and stopping their precocious toddler from googling footage of guys getting sucked into jet engines by accident (or on purpose if they are very precocious).

Dating is always an especially delicate element to introduce into the fragile ecosystem of a busy schedule. First of all, thanks to apps, you can burn through hours of time "dating" without going on a single date. I don't mean "dating" as a genteel way to say "hooking up." I mean the HR pre-screening of scrolling and messaging with strangers who might be looking for a connection or could just be trying to make an hour at their office job pass quicker. Maybe this is a married-guy thing of me to say though, but if you are tired the dull buffet provided by dating apps, every single person on your phone screen exists not on your phone screen as well. And lots of other people too. Hinge and Bumble don't conjure those folks into existence. It's not like Pokemon Go. Everyone you could possibly make out with exists tangibly in three dimensions at all times.

But, terrifyingly, dating is the rare field where input doesn't necessarily equal output. Dating isn't like crochet or lifting weights where doing it "the right way" yields at least some positive results over time. You can look at diminishingly wobbly needlework or the ability to hoist more than the heft of the barbell itself and think...look how far I've come. Going on dates, exhilaratingly and unfortunately, requires equal participation from another person, often a total wildcard. And, like, think about the strangers you've encountered in the past. Most of them were not the love of your life, or even the like of your month.

But, you can do this in a way that is additive to your life rather than consuming of it. You can do it for fun. That's why you hang out with most people outside of the context of work and family, right? For fun? Most of us need to have jobs to get by. We have certain obligations to relatives (including parents and kids). Maybe some parameters based on health and ability and financial constraints. But outside of those factors, we get to choose what we do. That can include as much or as little pursuit of romance (or even flirtation, or just mushing your face up against another person) as you want.

If things go well, maybe you'll want to skip bar trivia with your friends to get to know a compelling new person. Or better yet, you might want to bring them along! If it is bad, you can stop at anytime. I mean, obviously the gradations of bad date include waking up at the bottom of a well, but we're talking about bad as in encountering someone who can't stop talking about their online betting regimen or who laughs at your career path. You go on a date to have a nice time, not to find someone to launch a baby into you (or into whom you can heave a baby). You are not looking for your soul mate unless you find your soul mate. It's like looking at every tree branch you see as a part of your future house. It's probably not going to be that. But what it is can be lovely on its own.

It's crucial to remember that you could do anything if you weren't on a date. You could watch the Survivor season finale live at a friend's apartment or read the book that's gathered a quarter-thick layer of dust on your nightstand. A date is like a potential friend whose butt you might want to see later. And if you're not having at least a friendship amount of fun, you've still got that book at home or an already-friend to visit out in the world.

PICK-ME-UP SONG OF THE WEEK:
Coconut Records - "West Coast"

With my Chicago trip cancelled, I had a little extra time in town to get ahead on some work stuff, so Leiby and I met up to start brainstorming a next project to write together. Our usual spot plays a widely divergent selection of music depending on who's in charge. This song popped on the stereo and I remembered enjoying it when I heard it but never knowing much about it. I assumed it was something like a lesser Bastille hit from the mid 2010s.

"I still have Shazam!" Leiby offered. After the app did its thing, the song turned out to have been the biggest hit by Coconut Records, solo project of mostly-actor Jason Schwartzman. (Alison had guessed it was Phantom Planet, which was WAY closer than my stab at it.) It's wistful and not super upbeat, but twee enough to fit the theme of the newsletter section. Also, this song was from 2007, so it had been lurking in the periphery of my awareness for NEARLY 20 YEARS. That's so long to ALMOST know something. But now I know it, and now you know it too.

UPCOMING SHOWS

I'm mostly bopping around NYC this spring and summer doing spots, but I'm ramping up my road schedule for the fall! Where should I go?

5/27: Josh Gondelman, Jean Grae, and John Hodgman in Alphabetical Order at Union Hall (Brooklyn)

5/28: Do It Live w/ Chika at Caveat (NYC)

5/29-5/30: Blue Ridge Comedy Club (Bristol, TN)

6/1: Frankenstein's Baby at Union Hall (Brooklyn)

6/4: John Hodgman/Jean Grae/Me at Union Hall (Brooklyn)

6/3: Fundraiser Gig (Burlington, VT)

6/9: World's Best Dads at Caveat (NYC)

6/11: Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me! Live Recording (Chicago)

6/14: Decalogue Short Film Fundraiser at Bell House (Brooklyn), Beauty Bar (NYC)

6/21: Father's Day Daytime Show at Harpoon Brewery (Boston)

7/23: Wait Wait...Don't Tell Me! Live Recording (Chicago)

10/21: Dallas, TX (DETAILS COMING SOON)

10/22: Houston, TX (DETAILS COMING SOON)