My 06.12.2013 "All Over the Map" from Arkansas Weekly

Here’s my fabulous column from the 06.12.2013 Arkansas Weekly:

Don’t be surprised if the next time you see me, I am rocking a pompadour and wearing a rhinestone-studded suit with a matching flowing cape.

It’s going to be my new look.

Yes, dear reader, after watching the HBO film, Behind the Candelabra, which is a docudrama based on the love affair between the flamboyant pianist and Las Vegas legend, Liberace (played in the film by Michael Douglas), and his much younger boyfriend, Scott Thorson (played by Matt Damon, who – like me – looks fantastic in a bejeweled Speedo). 

Now I know what you’re thinking. What? Liberace was gay? I know. I had no clue either. But, apparently he was flaming – which not only suited him but also fueled his fabulous style. 

First, he had an amazing head of hair. I’m sure Elvis was quite envious of Liberace’s glorious pompadour. Yes, it was an elaborate toupee, but what a toupee it was: a brownish, hair-sprayed bundle styled in a swirl so perfect it would look at home on top of a delectable sundae. Damn! What a hairstyle he had! So, I’m currently in the process of growing my own hair. When it gets to the length where my barber can do the pompadour thing, I’ll probably also add a hint of color because -- and I know this will be as hard to believe as the fact that Liberace played for the other team -- but I do have a little silver in my mane.

Next, his wardrobe. I would bet money that when Liberace and Elvis hung out, they probably talked about clothes. They both had truly spectacular outfits, covered in glittery jewels. They both wore capes. And just about each of their fingers had shiny gold rings so big that one could probably see them from Skylab.

Naturally, if I’m going to being mirroring the style of Liberace, I’m going to have to save some money. I might even have to resort to my former career as a provocative male model, selling topless photos of myself lathered in baby oil to the local ladies. (Ladies: For more info, give me a call. The eight by tens start at $5. Color glossies begin at $10.)

But of course, Liberace’s style wasn’t all glamour and expensive glitz. As the film shows, Liberace had a simply lovely personality. When he glided into a room, he owned it with his charming smile, his energetic mannerisms, and his seemingly natural curiosity about others that would make them feel like they were the most interesting person in the room.

For instance, let’s pretend I met Liberace for the first time back in the mid-‘70s. 

“Hi, Mr. Liberace,” I would have said. “I’m Rob Grace.”

“OH! LOOK AT YOU!” he would have replied with a wave of his wrist. “I absolutely love the color of your hair! What do you use?”

“Well, actually, Mr. Liberace, it’s my natural color.”

“What?!? Nooooo!” he would have said as he feigned shock. “I can’t believe it! It’s so unique! If it had a name, I would call it ‘arctic blonde.’ And if it had a personality, I would describe it as…let’s see…Oh, I know -- vivacious!”

See how Liberace made me feel as if I was special person? I think if we all had such a gracious attitude toward each other, the world might be a better place.

Finally, the film also shows Liberace was an avid lover of baths. I would estimate he is portrayed lounging in his beautiful Jacuzzi with a glass of champagne at least 47 percent of the movie’s running time. By sheer coincidence, I, too, am a fanatic about my bath time. It’s unfortunate I have to come to the office every day because I think I would be much more productive if I could work from the tub while sipping some champagne. Obviously, I could not take most visitors while I worked from my bath, but the phone would be right there next to my champagne glass.

So, the process has started. I’ve gotten in touch with the most respected costume designer in Branson to help make my new wardrobe. I’ve been in touch with area jewelers for my new bling. And when you see me in Kroger, a school function or Hooters, I will treat you with interest, politeness and unfailing courtesy in the same welcoming manner Liberace treated all of his admiring fans.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, the men from the mental institution are waiting outside my office. Apparently, I’ve missed a few electro-shock sessions over the past two or three weeks, and they’re ready to recalibrate things with a few volts. 

Merry Christmas!

My 05.29.2013 "All Over the Map" from Arkansas Weekly - Letters from Readers

Here’s my “All Over the Map” from the May 29, 2013 issue of Arkansas Weekly:

Let’s open up the “All Over the Map” mailbag again, and take a few questions and comments from some of you.

This first letter comes from Vicki Gotti-Bigolecrack in Cave City.

Dear Rob,

Did you know there is an actual cave in Cave City? This is not a joke.

Sincerely,

Vicki Gotti-Bigolecrack

Thank you for your letter, Vicki. Why, indeed I did know there was an actual cave in the community of Cave City. In fact, according to local historian, Blake Byle, the cave was discovered in 1620 by the legendary Spanish explorer, Dora Marquez. The pint-sized Marquez was known for having conversations not only with her pet monkey named “Boots,” but also with her unique purple backpack. One day, near what is now known in the community as the Vertle Hamilton residence off Highway 167, Marquez spotted a caveman smoking a cigarette outside a large rock formation that looked to be a cave. Sure enough, the caveman confirmed to the little explorer that the formation was, in fact, an entrance to his home – an actual cave! The caveman, who introduced himself as Kenny, then gave Dora, Boots, and Dora’s backpack a tour of his cave as well as some souvenir shirts from his gift shop. 

Artist's rendering of the legendary Spanish explorer, Dora Marquez, with her talking backpack and her longtime friend, "Boots." 

My second piece of correspondence comes from “Crazy Eyes” Pickens in Batesville.

Dear Rob,

I recently saw you walking into Kroger. You were wearing a t-shirt and shorts. I have to ask: do you bleach your entire body?

Thanks,

“Crazy Eyes” Pickens

“Crazy Eyes,” I appreciate the note. (Full disclosure: I know “Crazy Eyes.” He frequents the bar I visit every morning. And his eyes really are crazy. In fact, his left one thinks the world is ruled by lizards, and his right one has been on lithium since 2003.) While some people consider my hair and skin tone borderline-Clorox, I tend to favor the description “Arctic Blonde.” I’ve also found that women are attracted to the fairer skin-toned men because of the long-held and somewhat infamous notion that pale guys know exactly how to treat a woman in every way. 

And by “every way,” I mean every way. 

And by “I mean every way” – where the “every” is emphasized with italics, I mean, “Yes, pale guys are very good at treating women well in every way because we overlook the many flaws women have in comparison to men. Flaws such as: getting emotional over The Bachelor; forgetting to bring our damn beer to the damn recliner; giving us the silent treatment because we came home late from a guy trip to Hooters; becoming needlessly emotional over the fact we don’t listen to your long, tedious stories about your non-eventful afternoons with the bridge club because all we’re simply trying to do is unwind from a hard day’s work with a strong cocktail; overcooking our damn eggs; etc., etc., etc.”

Our next letter comes from my mother, Nancy Grace. (Full disclosure: She is not the Nancy Grace of TV and flared nostrils fame.) Let’s see what Mom wants to know.

Dear Rob,

After you gave me the first draft of this particular “Q & A” column, I came to your response to “Crazy Eyes.” 

I’ve now realized I might have raised a misogynist.

Love,

Mom

Thanks, Mom! I love you, too.

Television pundit Nancy Grace -- who, despite having the same name, is not your humble host's mother, nor related to me in any way.

Oh, by the way, dear readers -- what the heck is a “misogynist”? I asked Suri, the digital “assistant” on my iPhone, and she says I keep mispronouncing the word. However, I know I’m correct because I’m a man, and the Bible says the man is always right. Suri, in my opinion, is just a typical clueless broad. So, if anyone can find the definition of “misogynist,” send me an email. I’m sure Mom was calling me a ‘handsome genius,’ or ‘Nordic god,’ or something like that. 

You know, for a woman, Mom knows some big words!

This edition of “All Over the Map” has been brought to you by the National Organization of Women (NOW) and the Greater Cave City Tourist Council, Bennie Johnson, chairwoman. 

My 05.22.2013 "All Over the Map" from Arkansas Weekly

Here be my “All Over the Map” from the 05.22.2013 issue of ArkansasWeekly:

Many people ask me, “Rob, what’s it like to resemble George Clooney?”

It’s a fair question, I suppose. Lots of folks might think that it’s a wonderful thing to look like a handsome and debonair movie star. Sure, I get double takes -- particularly from the ladies and effeminate men. I mean, I get it. People love eye candy like George and me. We’re treated differently.

But, being blessed with the extraordinary good looks of a popular celebrity does carry its burdens. For instance, I’m constantly interrupted at meals by strangers wanting an autograph or asking to have their picture taken with me. It’s extremely irritating, so I’ve started to do things a little different whenever I go out to eat. This past Thursday, I went to lunch with my son, and before the maître d’ seated us, I announced to the entire restaurant that though I was a dead ringer for George Clooney, I was, in fact, not George Clooney. There was sort of a disappointed silence as my fellow diners then realized an international superstar was not in their midst, but no one bothered my son and me for our meal, and we were able to enjoy our Hooters burgers in peace.

I also get very uncomfortable by people staring at me all of the time. I can be at a stoplight next to another vehicle thinking about how good looking I am, and suddenly, I can feel the people in the other car looking at me. I want to turn to them and say, “I know you think I’m George Clooney, but really, I’m not George Clooney.” But then I don’t want to disappoint them, so I go ahead and let them gawk and let them think I really am George Clooney. Sometimes, I’ll turn and give ‘em a knowing wink, like, “Yep. It’s me – George Clooney, and you just caught me in a private moment at the traffic light.” Then, they can go and tell all of their friends and family they saw George Clooney reflecting on life while stopped at the traffic light today. What’s the harm, right? And if it gives these folks a good feeling on their insides, well then, I guess the only thing I can ask is that they pass it along and “pay it forward,” as they say, and spread some cheer to other strangers.

I have thought of using the fact that I look just like George Clooney for other positive purposes. I’m tinkering with the idea of approaching businesses and offering to be seen buying their products. This will cause people who see me to think George Clooney is actually using these items. A good example would be something like going to Kroger and purchasing a tube of Preparation H. Other customers would say, “Why -- there’s George Clooney! Oh, and look! He must prefer Preparation H over other hemorrhoid remedies!” I would then look to them, hold up the box, and with a grin and one arched eyebrow, say: “There’s nothing more soothing than Preparation H. Preparation H. Use as directed.” And suddenly, throughout social media, word would spread like blazing wildfire that George Clooney was seen purchasing Preparation H! Then, sales of the ointment would skyrocket, and Preparation H would reward me for my services with a $20 Golden Corral gift card!

And I don’t even suffer from hemorrhoids!

So, there is good and bad with looking exactly like George Clooney, but let’s not kid ourselves: the former definitely outweighs the latter. I enjoy the subtle perks of my uncanny resemblance to George Clooney, and I’m happy to shine some light into the eyes of really gullible people, even if it’s only for a few moments.

Oh, excuse me, someone is handing me a note. Let’s see what it says: “Dear Rob: You look nothing like George Clooney. However, if there is ever a market for Edgar Winter impersonators, then you be the man! Thank you and good day.”

(EDITOR’S NOTE: The legal department at Arkansas Weekly has informed us this disclaimer must be printed at the end of Rob’s column this week:  George Clooney does not endorse Preparation H, and as far as we know, does not suffer from the condition for which the ointment is intended.)

My 05.15.2013 "All Over the Map" from Arkansas Weekly

Here’s my “All Over the Map” from the 05.15.2013 Arkansas Weekly: 

North Little Rock was ground zero for fun when Fleetwood Mac rolled into town Friday, May 3. The Grammy award-winning group performed to a nearly sold out Verizon Arena, and judging from the reports of many attendees, the evening provided lots of memorable moments.

Before the concert, Cleavon and Debra Canker of Timbo, were giddy with excitement. This was their first concert since seeing Air Supply at a goat cheese convention in 2009 as well as their first trip to Little Rock since Debra had minor surgery for her corns in 2011. No doubt, they were ready to make an evening of it.

“Well, we were just so excited to get out of town,” said Cleavon. “We stopped by the Pier One and Deb here bought a lovely lamp there, and then we just finished at the Red Lobster. We love those cheese biscuits, don’t we Deb? And on the way over here, we had Fleetwood Mac blaring on the van’s stereo. We were singing ‘…don’t stop thinkin’ about tomorrow’! Remember, Deb? Deb, remember?!?”

“Yes! Yes!” said Debra, clapping her hands in excitement. “And Fridays is usually our bridge group-slash-supper club night, so they were all over at Helen and Herb Huddlelittle’s tonight. And -- oh, Cleavon -- you tell the man!”

“Oh okay!” said Cleavon, clapping his hands in excitement. “So, we call the Huddlelittle’s house over our speakerphone in the van, and Herb answers, and Deb and I start singing ‘…don’t stop thinkin’ about tomorrow’! And they were…so…jealous! Herb even said, ‘gosh darn it,’ or something!”

Cleavon and Debra most likely had a wonderful time as other attendees reported an evening of delightful music after the show had concluded.

“When our sister onstage started singing ‘Silver Springs,’ everyone in our group was simply in tears,” said Ethel Mank of Smackover. Mank chartered a limo from her community to the show with her fellow members of the Red Hat Ladies of Smackover. The ‘sister onstage’ referred to by Mank is Stevie Nicks from Fleetwood Mac, who is a member of the Red Hat Ladies of Malibu, California.

(Later, there was tension when Mank’s group traded looks and some words with the Red Hat Ladies of Thida, but Verizon Arena security quickly intervened and saved the evening from being marred by a vicious senior catfight. Chad Plinkton, head of security at the arena, gave this comment on the incident: “It’s unfortunate that these people have to bring their petty gang thug attitudes to a evening of wonderful entertainment.” Because of the event, Verizon has announced a ban of red hats of all types on women over the age of 50 for future concerts.)

Ethel Mank (right) of the Red Hat Ladies of Smackover speaks with fellow Red Hatter outside Fleetwood Mac's May 3 concert in North Little Rock.

But it wasn’t just Stevie Nicks that many people came to see.

“Oh my, that Lindsey Buckingham looked so delicious,” reported Mary Ann Finkweather. “He was a-struttin’ around that stage with his shirt open and that tan chest of his. Why, I could’ve slathered butter all over him and gobbled that boy up like a bowl of warm blackberry cobbler and vanilla ice cream!”

Finkweather made the trip with fellow residents from the Bubbles Choates Retirement Village which is located a few miles outside of Bald Knob. Marge and Jim Pusser, who share an apartment next to Finkweather, decided to hop on the bus at the last minute even though Jim was having issues with his new catheter.

“Well, you see, they have these new catheters that I saw advertised on the Sean Hannity program,” said Jim as he watched the village’s bus driver load Marge’s electric scooter on the bus after the show. “And, I said to Marge, ‘Why, Marge, would you look at that? Catheters you can take in your pocket!’ Why, I had never seen such a thing. And so I ordered ‘em on the intranet there, and overnight shipping was just $10, and so I said to Marge, ‘Why, Marge, overnight shipping is just $10!’ and so I -–”

“Honey, I think he only wants to hear about the concert,” said Marge as she gently tugged his sleeve.

Jim flashed a look to his wife and jerked his arm away.

“MARGE! WHAT HAVE I TOLD YOU ABOUT INTERRUPTING ME IN FRONT OF OTHER PEOPLE?!? I’M TELLING THE MAN ABOUT THE DAMN CATHETERS I ORDERED OFF THE SEAN HANNITY PROGRAM!!!”

Not everyone was in such a festive mood, however. Outside the concert, one lone protester stood across the street from the venue, holding a sign that said: “FLEETWOOD MACK IS FOR SINNERS AND OBANA LOVERS!” (Spelling is correct, by the way. – Ed.)

The owner of the sign, Vurl “Buddy” Reeves of Batesville, stood glumly with a scowl.

“Look at all these here hippies,” he said. “Son, the reason this country is goin’ to hell in a hambasket is because all of these here dope-smokin’, Obana-lovin’ hippy freaks! And who is this here Fleetwood Mac character, anyway? Please. Never heard of him. The greatest entertainer besides Elvis and Englebert Humperdickle was George Jones, and George Jones could kick this here Fleetwood Mac fella off the stage! And I tell ya one more damn thing: I betcha dollar and a Coke Cola that George Jones didn’t vote for no Obana either!”

All in all, though, the reports of frivolity and good times were many. The following day, the Little Rock chapter of the AARP reported a record number of sign ups at their booth outside Verizon, and Ernie Slims, spokesperson for Depends undergarments, reported a spike in purchases of their product at various stores around the Little Rock area before and after the concert.

“I tell ya, I haven’t seen anything like it since the George Strait concert three weeks ago,” said Slims.

This edition of “All Over the Map” has been brought to you by Geritol.

Geritol: We’re all getting old, and we’re all going to die. Geritol.

My "All Over the Map" from the 05.01.2013 issue of Arkansas Weekly -- Plans for the Peabody Ducks:

My "All Over the Map" from the 05.01.2013 issue of Arkansas Weekly (with corrections*):

When the Peabody in Little Rock switches to the Marriott brand this week, the hotel’s signature ducks will waddle one final time through the lobby.  With the iconic birds leaving their longstanding home and theatrical tourist-pleasing days behind, many people are asking: Where will the little fellas go now?

I’m pleased to report that I have worked out an arrangement to purchase the ducks, and their legacy will live on for the name of charity.

Rob’s Charity Peabody Duck BBQ will be held Saturday, May 11, in the parking lot of W.R.D. Entertainment, the parent company of Arkansas Weekly, located at 920 Harrison Street in Batesville.

I mean, really, can you think of a better way for the Peabody ducks to go out? For years, they’ve basked in the limelight of being admired and cherished by thousands of tourists, and now, instead of living their remaining days on some dreary backwoods farm where a fox or coyote will likely rip them to shreds in a violent and painful death, the ducks will spend their last days comfortably relaxing in my enclosed garage at the house, complete with a kiddie pool and lots of duck food. And when they’re eventually prepared and grilled by an esteemed chef from Little Rock on May 11, their tasty remains will be auctioned off with proceeds going to the Rob Grace Charity Fund for Ladies Between the Ages of 21 and 46.

The fun will begin at 8 a.m. when I’ll present the ducks in one final red carpet waddle across the W.R.D. Entertainment parking lot toward the grill. Be sure to bring your camera because the ducks will be available for pictures with individuals for just a $5 donation to the Rob Grace Charity Fund for Tasty Imported Beer. So, don’t miss out on a chance of spending the final moments of these iconic ducks while they’re still alive.

For the kids (and kids at heart), bounce houses and face painting will be offered. And in case your children are sensitive, clowns will be available to perform while the ducks are being put down and cleaned. (There will be a $10 clown performance fee with proceeds going to the Rob Grace Charity Fund for Tunica Outreach.)

And speaking of putting down the quackers, I’ve enlisted the services of a local chiropractor who will quickly and humanely snap the ducks’ necks. The down collected from the ducks will be utilized for a jacket I’m having custom made to wear next winter, and an artist from Eureka Springs will be creating fashionable earrings from the ducks’ beaks that will further immortalize these adorable creatures.

Finally, our little friends will be prepared by Chef Ronny Crabstone, former lead chef at the Geyer Springs Waffle House in southwest Little Rock. Crabstone, whom I met early one morning after being viciously attacked by a pack of redneck women jealous of my boot scootin’ skills at the Electric Cowboy, has offered to donate his culinary talents in exchange for a carton of Marlboro Reds and a baggie of meth.

Each duck will then be auctioned off to those with appetites for a taste of Little Rock hotel history. Auctioning will start at $25 per duck. A limited number of Peabody duck wings will also be available for $3 a wing with proceeds going to the Rob Grace Charity Fund for Tanning and Eyebrow Threading.

Don’t forget. It’s Saturday, May 11, so circle the date on your calendar, and bring the entire family to Rob’s Charity Duck BBQ at W.R.D. Entertainment.

Let’s send the Peabody ducks out in style – and in barbecue sauce! 

*Our proof writer was asleep last week and missed my mistakes and typos, so naturally, I blame her. 

In fact, you might even come across others she missed. You never know… 

I keed. 

I keed.