Here's my "All Over the Map" for the Oct. 27, 2010 Arkansas Weekly:
In May, my good friend and journalistic colleague, T. Blanston, Jr. announced his candidacy for constable of Prim, Arkansas. With the November election just around the corner, I thought I would call T. for an update on how the race is going.
As most of you know, T. is a world-renowned writer, photographer, recording artist, playboy, wild game hunter, and Speedo model, and I managed tracking him down by phone to a studio in midtown Manhattan where he had just finished shooting a “saucy” (his adjective) photo spread for a new upscale men’s magazine he said he was co-founding with his good friend, comedian Buddy Hackett.
Since Buddy Hackett died in 2003, I was naturally confused by the collaboration.
“Could you clear that up for me, T.?” I asked.
“Wait,” he said. “Did you say Buddy was dead? No wonder he hasn’t been returning my calls. That explains everything. Hmmm…well, I’ll dedicate the first issue of the magazine to his memory. So – Rob, how are things back home?”
“Things are well,” I said. “As you know, I haven’t spoken to you in a few months, and I was wondering how the run for the Prim constable is going for you.”
“Oh, Rob, my good friend, it’s going fantastic! Of course, with my schedule, I haven’t had much of an opportunity to head back to my ranch on the shores of Loch Greers Ferry. I was in the south of France for most of the summer working on my memoirs as well as opening a Hooters franchise in Cannes. Oh, and you may have read that, last month, I had a short, but torrid affair with Snooki from Jersey Shore.”
“Yes, I saw that in the National Enquirer,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “Sweet girl, but when she argued with me that there actually was a place called Sesame Street and that it was somewhere in the Bronx, I realized what I was dealing with and had to move on. Nice tan, though.”
“So, about the campaign?”
“Yes! The campaign! Well, I’ve had many of my campaign supporters canvassing the Prim area, and the response – particularly from the male demographic – has been overwhelmingly positive. Honestly, Rob, I’m amazed no other candidates have utilized the entire group of Miss Hawaiian Tropic contestants going door to door clothed in nothing but whipped cream. I’m breaking new ground here in spreading my word.”
“Well,” I said. “I did hear there were a few complaints about that tactic.”
“Oh, sure -- but those were mainly from housewives, many of whom had uni-brows and large moles with hair sprouting from them, so they understandably had some confidence issues.”
“Now, one other controversial aspect of your campaign has been your revelation that in the mid-80s, you – quote, unquote – dabbled in witchcraft.”
“Yes,” T. said with a sigh, “but that’s been blown out of proportion. At the time, I was in Delaware working on an investigative piece for Grit magazine concerning Joe Biden’s hair plugs, and I was at a rally sponsored by an organization that was against a particular activity that results in hair growth on palms and, in some cases, blindness. As you know Rob, my palms have always been extremely hairy, so I was interested in what the group had to say. And I remember, there was this really cute brunette in a black gown and a large black pointy hat at the rally, and we started talking, and the next thing you know, we’re in the back parking lot of a Safeway at midnight, sitting inside a pentagram she had just painted, and drinking from a box of merlot. I think she was simply experimenting at the time, and I was just looking for a fun evening. It was all really innocent. I’m no disciple of black magic or anything like that unless it involves putting a hex upon Keith Olbermann.”
“I see,” I said.
“Yeah, and the funny thing is I could swear I saw this chick on Glenn Beck’s show the other day. Looked just like her – only without the black pointy hat. Weird, huh?”
“Yes, it is. So, when are you heading back to the area?”
“As you know, the election is next week, but before I leave Manhattan, I’m having dinner with Joy Behar from The View where I’m very hopeful she’ll choke on a large piece of shrimp, and I have an interview with Anderson Cooper on CNN this Friday regarding my new foundation that promotes more cleavage in public discourse. And after that, I’ll be flying home, and I hope to be having a victory party at the Prim Diner on election night!”
“Well, T.,” I said, “you know if I lived in Prim, you’d have my vote. You are a class act, and this part of Arkansas is lucky to count you as a resident.”
“Thanks, Rob. I very much appreciate it. And I really wish I could say the same of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get off the phone and shave my palms.”
“You bet. Good luck next week!”
In May, my good friend and journalistic colleague, T. Blanston, Jr. announced his candidacy for constable of Prim, Arkansas. With the November election just around the corner, I thought I would call T. for an update on how the race is going.
As most of you know, T. is a world-renowned writer, photographer, recording artist, playboy, wild game hunter, and Speedo model, and I managed tracking him down by phone to a studio in midtown Manhattan where he had just finished shooting a “saucy” (his adjective) photo spread for a new upscale men’s magazine he said he was co-founding with his good friend, comedian Buddy Hackett.
Since Buddy Hackett died in 2003, I was naturally confused by the collaboration.
“Could you clear that up for me, T.?” I asked.
“Wait,” he said. “Did you say Buddy was dead? No wonder he hasn’t been returning my calls. That explains everything. Hmmm…well, I’ll dedicate the first issue of the magazine to his memory. So – Rob, how are things back home?”
“Things are well,” I said. “As you know, I haven’t spoken to you in a few months, and I was wondering how the run for the Prim constable is going for you.”
“Oh, Rob, my good friend, it’s going fantastic! Of course, with my schedule, I haven’t had much of an opportunity to head back to my ranch on the shores of Loch Greers Ferry. I was in the south of France for most of the summer working on my memoirs as well as opening a Hooters franchise in Cannes. Oh, and you may have read that, last month, I had a short, but torrid affair with Snooki from Jersey Shore.”
“Yes, I saw that in the National Enquirer,” I said.
“Yes,” he said. “Sweet girl, but when she argued with me that there actually was a place called Sesame Street and that it was somewhere in the Bronx, I realized what I was dealing with and had to move on. Nice tan, though.”
“So, about the campaign?”
“Yes! The campaign! Well, I’ve had many of my campaign supporters canvassing the Prim area, and the response – particularly from the male demographic – has been overwhelmingly positive. Honestly, Rob, I’m amazed no other candidates have utilized the entire group of Miss Hawaiian Tropic contestants going door to door clothed in nothing but whipped cream. I’m breaking new ground here in spreading my word.”
“Well,” I said. “I did hear there were a few complaints about that tactic.”
“Oh, sure -- but those were mainly from housewives, many of whom had uni-brows and large moles with hair sprouting from them, so they understandably had some confidence issues.”
“Now, one other controversial aspect of your campaign has been your revelation that in the mid-80s, you – quote, unquote – dabbled in witchcraft.”
“Yes,” T. said with a sigh, “but that’s been blown out of proportion. At the time, I was in Delaware working on an investigative piece for Grit magazine concerning Joe Biden’s hair plugs, and I was at a rally sponsored by an organization that was against a particular activity that results in hair growth on palms and, in some cases, blindness. As you know Rob, my palms have always been extremely hairy, so I was interested in what the group had to say. And I remember, there was this really cute brunette in a black gown and a large black pointy hat at the rally, and we started talking, and the next thing you know, we’re in the back parking lot of a Safeway at midnight, sitting inside a pentagram she had just painted, and drinking from a box of merlot. I think she was simply experimenting at the time, and I was just looking for a fun evening. It was all really innocent. I’m no disciple of black magic or anything like that unless it involves putting a hex upon Keith Olbermann.”
“I see,” I said.
“Yeah, and the funny thing is I could swear I saw this chick on Glenn Beck’s show the other day. Looked just like her – only without the black pointy hat. Weird, huh?”
“Yes, it is. So, when are you heading back to the area?”
“As you know, the election is next week, but before I leave Manhattan, I’m having dinner with Joy Behar from The View where I’m very hopeful she’ll choke on a large piece of shrimp, and I have an interview with Anderson Cooper on CNN this Friday regarding my new foundation that promotes more cleavage in public discourse. And after that, I’ll be flying home, and I hope to be having a victory party at the Prim Diner on election night!”
“Well, T.,” I said, “you know if I lived in Prim, you’d have my vote. You are a class act, and this part of Arkansas is lucky to count you as a resident.”
“Thanks, Rob. I very much appreciate it. And I really wish I could say the same of you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to get off the phone and shave my palms.”
“You bet. Good luck next week!”
