I’m ready for my 15 minutes of stupid

By the time you read this, my 15 minutes of fame will be over. 

Hopefully, I will not have squandered that time foolishly; I will not have said or done anything overtly stupid, offensive or illegal.

But the odds are not in my favor. Anytime I’m forced to speak in public, something terrible happens; my mouth moves, my lips part, my teeth rise and fall and sound escapes.

What comes out is usually stupid, offensive or illegal.

Tomorrow morning (as I write this) I’ll be doing two morning radio shows and one television appearance in Grand Rapids. I’m promoting an upcoming benefit concert* my band, The Guinness Brothers, is hosting with our all-girl “sister band,” The 6Pak.

We’re raising money for the Veteran’s Facility in Grand Rapids, so it’s a Really Good Cause and deserves to be promoted. I just wish someone other than me was doing it.

Fortunately, I’ll have Cindy with me, the drummer from The 6Pak. She’s a smart, articulate cookie and I’m hoping she’ll do most of the talking.

But at some point, that show’s host is sure to ask me a question or two. That’s the point at which things are going to get dicey.

I’ll try real hard to sound clever, witty, or at least sane, but I know from bitter experience that never works.

Oh, sure, I have a daily radio show on WGLM in Greenville. I’ve heard myself there and I sound OK. Garrison Keeler’s losing no sleep over my little two-minute program, but it’s not terrible. 

That’s because it’s scripted and I can do all the “takes” I need. I edit out the stupid, offensive and illegal parts. Listeners who tune in to the show (mostly my ex-wives, to see if I’ve told any more lies about them) hear me at my heavily edited and judiciously censored best. 

All the appearances tomorrow are live. Live! As in, back the truck up, open wide and unload a heapin’ helpin’ of dumb.

It’s inevitable.

The radio shows are during “drive time,” when there are, so I’m told, a lot of listeners. Thousands of chances for me to sound like a fool.

I don’t know if I’ll come up with something as memorable as “I am not a crook,” or “I did not have sex with that woman.” But I’m guessing I’ll blurt at least one spontaneous utterance that’ll rank up there with the most unfortunate comments of all time.

All I know for sure is, I’ll be glad when that 15 minutes is over.

I’ll soon be the wallflower on the radio

My life keeps serving up dishes I’m not sure I want to eat. 

Despite my gregarious personality, I am at heart an introvert. I know, I know … those who know me personally are rolling their eyes right now.

I have a big mouth and I know how to use it. But honestly, I’m a lot more comfortable sitting in a dark corner somewhere, a wallflower watching the party from a safe distance.

I’m happiest in a small fishing boat on a quiet lake, an ultra-lite rod in one hand and a cold Bud in the other.

I know the trend in this country is to seek out fame (or at least notoriety) at all costs. We’re constantly bombarded with the message that you’re nobody unless you’re famous. The timid among us get their fame fix by posting endless selfies on Facebook. The more desperate climb water towers and take potshots at student nurses.

It all comes down to the same thing: being the little kid on the playground jungle gym yelling, “Hey! Look at me!”

At any rate, the itch to be well known is a condition I’ve never really developed. But I am, at least a little bit. 

I’ve been writing this column for decades. It appears in a lot of different newspapers and online outlets. So every once in a while, someone will walk up to me at the grocery and say, “Hey, aren’t you that guy that writes that column?” 

Now, I like people and it’s nice to know someone’s reading my work. But while I like people, I like them best in small numbers; preferably in groups of one. 

Crowds freak me out. Even “virtual” crowds. Writing this column for a relatively large audience is easy, mostly because I pretend I’m not. I pretend I’m writing for my girlfriend, my kids or sometimes, for myself. I try not to think about all the eyes that’ll be looking once it comes out in print.

Fooling myself like this is going to be harder with my radio show. Yup, radio show. Beginning Nov. 10, I’m going to be on the radio. It wasn’t my idea, but when Jim at WGLM 106.3 made the offer, it sounded too fun to turn down.

It’s not live, thank Heaven. But it’s still me; my dorky-sounding voice (and it does sound dorky, make no mistake). My inane comments and observations. My big mouth yammering away.

Every time I record an episode, I feel like a fool and a fraud. I’m hoping this doesn’t come out in the broadcasts (which will air weekdays at 5:30 p.m., by the way) but I’m afraid it might.

Ah, if I bomb, I bomb. It won’t be the end of the world and I will have at least tried. But I’d really rather be in that dark corner or out on a fishing boat.

Instead, here I am again, stepping up to the jungle gym and yelling, “Hey! Look at me!”

mtaylor@staffordgroup.com

(616) 548-8273