A stolen rant

Before you read this, check out my friend Dan's rad website

www.baldandeffective.com

(Once I learn how to do links I'll set him up proper.) In the meantime, he had an article about celebrity kids (featuring Art Garfunkel's lad) and I posted this comment. I liked it so damn much that I'm stealing it back and posting it here too. That's probably bad form but hey.


I was working at the Jekyll and Hyde club one day long, thank-God-it-was-oh-so-long, ago and who showed up but the Garfunkel scion. It was his birthday (7th? 8th?) and his fuzzy-headed pop thought it'd be fun to bring him to a tourist trap/theme restaurant to celebrate. I was playing the club's suicide counselor (it was a "theme" thing, whatever) so obviously I was the natural choice for the role of Birthday Entertainer. I was supposed to drag the poor kid up on stage and interview him while an anamatronic bat sang him Happy Birthday. Needless to say, the kid wasn't having it. I was stuck in front of a crowd of inebriated tourists with a spotlight trained on me, while this celebrity spawn stared me down like I was the biggest loser on the face of the freaking planet. And at that moment I was.

I hate that kid.