[190] in Humor
HUMOR: DAVE - Revenge of the dorks
daemon@ATHENA.MIT.EDU (abennett@MIT.EDU)
Fri Apr 8 17:01:45 1994
From: abennett@MIT.EDU
Date: Fri, 8 Apr 94 16:55:32 -0400
To: humor@MIT.EDU
Cc:
REVENGE OF THE DORKS
by Dave Barry
4/8/94
>
> "Rob," I said to my 13-year-old son, who was -- this
>being a school morning -- sleeping face-down in his breakfast.
>"How would you like it if I picked you up at school in the Oscar
>Mayer Wienermobile?"
> "DAD!" he said, coming violently to life, horrified. "NO!"
> So right away I knew it was a good idea. Your most
>important responsibility, as the parent of an adolescent, is to be
>a hideous embarrassment to your child. Fortunately, most of us
>parents have a natural flair for this.
> For example: I'll be driving Rob and some friends
>somewhere, and they'll be in the back seat, talking the way young
>people do, in a series of statements that sound like questions
>("So Mr. Neeble? He had this gross thing? In his nose? Like the
>size of a GRAPE? And so Wesley Plunkington? He put an eraser? In
>HIS nose? Then he raised his hand? And then ... ") While the
>young people discuss academic matters, I'll tune the radio to a
>station that plays Old People's Rock, and sometimes a good song
>will come on, such as "Brown Eyed Girl," and I'll hum softly
>along, but when Van Morrison gets to the part that goes, "Do you
>remember when, we used to sing," I'll forget myself, and, right
>along with Van, belt out:
> "Sha la la la la la la la la la la te DAH"
> Then I'll realize that the young people have stopped
>talking and are staring at me, and my son's expression clearly
>indicates that he wishes that an alien spaceship would kidnap him
>right then and take him to a distant galaxy where alien scientists
>might drill experimental holes into his brain, but at least nobody
>would know that his father is a dork. And at that moment, I know I
>have done my parental duty.
> So that's why I picked Rob up in the Oscar Mayer
>Wienermobile. Perhaps you've seen this: It's a legal motor vehicle
>shaped like a 23-foot-long, 3-ton hot dog, with wheels in the
>buns. There are actually six Wienermobiles, which are driven
>around the country by peppy and perky recent college graduates.
>Recently, Oscar Mayer offered me the opportunity to drive a
>Wienermobile, no doubt hoping this would result in favorable
>publicity, although of course I'm far too ethical to promote Oscar
>Mayer meat products, which are known to cure heart disease.
> My Wienermobile was under the command of Tina Miller and
>Shannon Valrie, who have managed to remain both peppy and perky
>despite having spent nine months hearing the hilariously clever
>suggestive remarks that men everywhere feel compelled to yell at
>young women who are driving around in a giant wiener. (NOTE TO
>THESE MEN: If you think YOU'RE clever, you should hear what gets
>said about YOU, inside the Wienermobile.) After a thorough
>training lecture ("Here's the Wienermobile"), Tina and Shannon
>let me take the wheel.
> My first destination was South Miami Beach, a world-famous
>trendy glamour hotspot where beautiful people sit at sidewalk
>cafes discreetly admiring their own pectoral muscles. The fashion-
>photo industry is active there, and you often see fabulous 7-foot-
>tall Euro-babe supermodels swooping past on Rollerblades. I wanted
>to find out, as a journalist, whether a supermodel would be
>overcome by the charisma of the Wienermobile and want to go for a
>ride in it. So I cruised slowly up the main drag, and you would
>not BELIEVE the response. The response was: Nothing. You'd have
>thought these people got hourly visits from the Wienermobile, the
>way they ignored it.
> So I got on the microphone and spoke through the
>Wienermobile's PA system.
> "FABULOUS EURO-BABE SUPERMODELS!" I announced. "DO NOT
>BE AFRAID TO BE ATTRACTED TO THE WIENERMOBILE!"
> A few people glanced up from their pectorals, but that was it.
> I got a slightly better response later in Central Miami,
>where I pulled into a used-car lot. The owner walked up, staring
>at the Wienermobile.
> "I'm thinking about trading this in," I said. "I'm
>looking for something that is not shaped so much like a giant hot dog."
> He was genuinely interested. He was clearly thinking: Sale.
> "OK," he said, looking around the lot, "I have ..."
> "What I want," I said, interrupting, "is a vehicle
>shaped like a SMALLER hot dog. A more COMPACT hot dog. You have
>anything like that?"
> He stood there, thinking hard. "Give me your card," he
>said, "in case something turns up."
> You have to admire that kind of determination.
> The highlight of the day was picking up Rob at school. He
>was out front, with all his friends, when I pulled up,
>broadcasting on the PA system.
> "ROB BARRY, THIS IS YOUR FATHER," I said. "PLEASE
>REPORT TO THE WIENERMOBILE IMMEDIATELY."
> To his credit, he did. Rather than run off and join a
>fringe religious cult, which is what I would have done at age 13,
>he got into the Wienermobile. I could tell that, deep inside, he
>was proud of his old man, although he did not explicitly say so.
> "I can't believe you did this," were his actual words.
> "It's my job," I pointed out.
> Of course I did not expect thanks. My reward is the
>knowledge that some day, somehow, Rob will be a hideous
>embarrassment to HIS son. That's what makes this country great: an
>older generation passing along a cherished tradition to a younger
>one, in very much the same way that a row of people at a baseball
>game will pass along those tasty Oscar Mayer wieners, which by the
>way also have been shown in laboratory tests to prevent baldness.
>
>(C) 1994 THE MIAMI HERALD
>DISTRIBUTED BY TRIBUNE MEDIA SERVICES, INC.
