Guide to Running a Weird Marine Corps Marathon (Without Scissors)

Two years ago, USA Track & Field removed the ban on wearing iPods during marathons. There was little enforcement of the "No iPods" rule to begin with – there was no way marathon organizers were going to confiscate iPods at the starting line since it seemed every other person had headphones on.

I have run four marathons and haven't brought my iPod to any of them. Two of them I ran with a partner, so that would be rude, even though we said almost nothing to each other during the race except maybe “oh my, you smell most foul.” As for the marathons I ran by myself, I thought I would be happier enjoying the sounds of the race and being inside my own head with my own thoughts. Well, being inside my head sucked. All I thought about was how much pain I was in and how much I wanted to stop running.

In October, I’m running another marathon. My second Marine Corps Marathon. And I am running with an iPod. And I am listening to Weird Al Yankovic for the duration.

An odd choice? Hardly. Many of the songs Al parodies are on my running playlists, and he makes them considerably more entertaining. (I still don't know the real words to "Smells Like Teen Spirit.") In addition, his originals (for which he doesn’t get nearly enough credit) are often very upbeat, catchy as hell, and have hysterical lyrics that can take your mind off the slog of a 26.2 mile race. Here is the playlist, in case you would like the same level of Aldrenaline that I shall enjoy. First, a few notes:

1. I have coordinated the list to coincide with different sections of the MCM race course. However, Al will get you through any marathon, I assure you.


2. I plan on running MCM at about a 9:00/mile pace (for you non-runners, that's minutes, not hours, and it's pretty damn slow). The reasons for this particular pace are many and varied, mostly having to do with the fact that I’m fat, uncoordinated, and a overall a very very poor runner. Feel free to delete songs as necessary to get your marathon in under four hours.


3. This is by no means a “greatest hits” list, or even a list of my personal favorite Weird Al tunes. If it were, “Frank’s 2000” TV” would be here, as would “Midnight Star” and "Good Old Days." It is simply the songs that I think are good to run to, which, as it happens, are all great freakin’ songs.


4. On a related note, I avoided songs that change tempo too much. I tend to run at the beats-per-minute pace of the song I’m listening to, so putting on one of Al’s polka medleys would likely make me run like Phoebe from Friends. Thus they are absent, as are other really good songs with frequent tempo changes, such as “Genius in France.”


5. I have added key lines from each song, designed to provide inspiration. You can use these instead of your horoscope for the next two months.
   

Now go run.

1. “Traffic Jam,” Alapalooza (4:01)

If you’ve run any sort of large race, you know that getting over the starting line – and usually the first mile – is a lot of hurry-up-and-stop, slight annoyance and the folks who clearly lined up in corral that is too fast for them, and the realization that, dammit, you already have to pee. “Traffic Jam,” therefore, provides the perfect opening number for a marathon. It’s peppy enough to get you going, and you don’t have to worry about pacing yourself because the thousands of people surrounding you will do that for you.

Key line: “Now my back teeth are floating and my nerves are shot / and I’m stuck right here in the middle of a traffic jam."

2. "Theme from Rocky XIII," In 3-D (3:37)

Hopefully by now you’ve got some room around you and you're not being jostled so much. Now you can settle in and concentrate on running your race. Might as well get going with a parody of one of the greatest running songs of all time. Al's version is no less inspiring than the original song. Perhaps more so, because really, what the hell was the original song about? “For we kill with the skill to survive?” At least this one has shish kabob in it. (And did you notice in the last Rocky movie, Rocky worked in a deli? All the world eventually bows to Al's whims.)

Key line: “Fat and weak, what a disgrace / guess the champ got too lazy.”

3. "Livin’ in the Fridge," Alapalooza (3:55)

I realize that we’ve stacked two Alapalooza songs near each other, but A) it’s a highly underrated album, but more importantly B) if you listen to this song later in the race, it will make you sick. The things we ingest while running are bad enough (flavorless GU is the most disgusting thing that’s ever been in my mouth, save for the few times my son managed to whiz on me while I was changing him), and the stuff Al describes will only exacerbate your nausea. But since this is a great running song, we need it on this list and out of the way early.

Key line: “If you can name the object in that baggie over there / Then mister you're a better man than I.”

4. “One of Those Days,” Polka Party (3:18)

Every runner has had "one of those days," and it’s sometimes remarkable how early on in a race you know you’re having one. Thus, this song will either make you say “I've got it,” or “well crap, I will likely keel over and die at some point, but at least there are things other than tater tots for dinner.”

Key line: I am constantly losing one running sock, so the line “I lost one of my socks in the drier / I can’t find my wallet and my hair is on fire” hits home. Running stores should sell individual socks.

5. “Whatever You Like,” Alpocalypse (3:41)

I’ve put almost every song from Al’s new record on this list - besides being a great record, it's full of very good running songs. Since we’re still pacing ourselves (going for negative splits, as the runners say) I’m frontloading the tunes that are slightly slower. This ode to frugality will hopefully remind you that, not only are you voluntarily running 26.2 miles, odds are good you paid a lot of money to do it. Fortunately, as Al reminds us, a lot of the foods we carb load with (pizza, mac and cheese, ramen) are cheap, so it evens out.

Key line: “You can always ride the city bus.”

6. “Craigslist,” Alpocalypse (4:53)

We’re coming up on mile 3 which, for me, is the time I like to zone out for a few miles. Take in the scenery, enjoy the day, and relax, before it all goes to hell and I feel like poop and want to murder everyone. The spot-on Doors pastiche “Craigslist” begins a short set of songs that, while very funny, are also able to be used as background music if you feel like tuning out for a bit. Though I don’t recommend that, because you’ll miss the “open letter to the snotty barista at the Coffee Bean on San Fernando Boulevard.” Worthy of McSweenys.

Key line: “You were a blonde half-Asian with a bad case of gas / I was wearin' red Speedos and a hockey mask.”

7. “The Biggest Ball of Twine in Minnesota,” UHF Soundtrack (6:50)

Possibly my favorite Weird Al song of all time, this sprawling, Harry Chapin-esque tune details the amazing journey of a family (and their new friend Bernie) on their way to visit America’s most important landmark - Darwin, Minnesota’s twine ball. It works as traveling music for your run and inspiration from the amazing things that any individual, properly motivated, can accomplish. Sadly, none of the landmarks you’ll pass in DC even come close to the “huge majestic sphere” that is the twine ball, but you will get to see the breathtaking, awe-inspiring beauty of the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, so you’ve got something to look forward to.

Key line: “Then we all just stared at the ball for a while and my eyes got moist, but I said with a smile, ‘Kids, this here's what America's all about.’”

8. “Skipper Dan,” Alpocalypse (4:01)

If you’re as slow as me, it’s about this point in the run that you’ll be running down the George Washington Parkway, right alongside the Potomac River. Odds are good you’ll see one, if not several, Duck Boats or other boat tours out there, full of people snapping pictures of you and thinking what a fool you are. Don’t think about them; sympathize with the poor boat driver, who has to spend the majority of his days on the polluted waters of the Potomac with all those damn tourists. His plight may be worse than yours.

Key line: “Now my hopes have all vanished and my dreams have all died.”

9. “Airline Amy,” Off the Deep End (3:50)

Congratulations, you’re running over the Key Bridge, and there are planes flying over your head bound for Reagan Airport. What could be better than a song about a flight attendant and the delusional passenger that thinks they’ve got a little thing going?

Key line: “Airline Amy, this is my new mission / Gotta get you in an upright locked position.”

10. “My Baby’s In Love With Eddie Vedder,” Running With Scissors (3:25)

Nothing spruces up a long run like a little zydeco music, and Al hits the nail on the head with this tune about a dude we probably all wish we were – or did, until he put out an album of ukulele music. (That's right, a guy who's a huge fan of a musician primarily known for the accordion just took a potshot at a ukulele album. Suck it, Hawaii.) Still, I’ll bet Eddie Vedder would finish this marathon in like 2:40. And his non-ukulele music is really good to run to. And he’s rich. And probably gets tons of chicks. Jerkoff.

Key line: “But my girl can't get enough of his sullen demeanor / Like he's some big tortured genius and I'm some kinda wiener.”

11. “Weasel Stomping Day,” Straight Outta Lynwood (1:34)

Time for some comic relief from all those highbrow serious songs. As you start down Canal Road, you’re entering a stretch where there won’t be many spectators, but there will be lots of woods and animals and other nature. This song reminds you that, should you see a weasel, this marathon can double as practice for the greatest day of the year.

Key line: “All the little girls and boys / Love that wonderful crunching noise.”

12. “I’ll Be Mellow When I’m Dead,” “Weird Al” Yankovic (3:39)

As you run through the Georgetown area you’ll notice the massive houses full of the very kind of people Al rebels against in this tune. Oddly enough most of the things in this song have never really gone away except maybe Joni Mitchell 8-tracks, but the hipsters will find a way to bring those back too.

Key line: “I don’t really like to jog.”

13. “Bob,” Poodle Hat (2:29)

“Nurse, I spy gypsies -- run!” might be the best palindrome in history. My dad once told me that if this really was a Dylan song people would still be pondering its meaning. "Is life the same forward and backwards? Is it because everything is cyclical? Is his name really Adam, madam?"

14. “I’ll Sue Ya,” Straight Outta Lynwood (3:51)

Some nice views of the Potomac and the huge houses on the Virginia side, but for the most part there are no crowds and not much to see. You need some loud, Rage Against the Machine-esque power chords to drive you through. You also need to be reminded that if you hurt yourself on this long run, it’s not from lack of training or following standard safety procedures. It’s not your fault at all. You should totally sue. The organizers, the company that made your running shoes, the city of DC and commonwealth of Virginia. They are all ripe targets.

Key line: “I sued Coca-Cola, yo / 'Cause I put my finger down in a bottle and it got stuck!” (Can’t help but wonder why the singer of “One of Those Days,” who got a Coke bottle stuck on his tongue, did not sue…)

15. “Jurassic Park,” Alapalooza (3:55)

Right around the 6.5 mile mark, you’ll be turning from Canal Road onto MacArthur Boulevard. You get it? MacArthur Boulevard? Jurassic Park? Anyone?

Key line: “What a crummy weekend this has been.”

16. “Albuquerque,” Running With Scissors (11:22)

This is the closest you’re going to get to New Mexico Avenue, so it’s a perfect time for this song about a guy who…uh…well, lots of things happen, and there’s a hermaphrodite, and someone called “torso boy”…at any rate, it’s an easy song to get wrapped up in. And all Al is really trying to say is…

Key line. “I. Hate. Sauerkraut.”

17. “Cavity Search,” Bad Hair Day (4:19)

This one is admittedly more personal for me, as this area is relatively close to the dentist I used to go to. This tune is analogous to running only in that both marathons and going to the dentist hurt. A lot.

Key line: “Help me out here / 'Cause I'm in severe pain.”

18. “Nature Trail to Hell,” In 3-D (5:50)

It’s likely you that if you die during your run, it won’t be because of a homicidal maniac. No, it’ll be dehydration or a heart attack, so buck up partner! On the plus side, it’s about this time that you’ll start to see the many tourist attractions on your run, including, on your left at about mile 8.5, the incredibly steep staircase from The Exorcist. If you listen carefully to this song, you can hear Al saying “Satan eats Cheese Whiz” backwards, which is why someone spray-painted “Your mother eats Cheese Whiz in hell, Karras,” on the steps. Or something like that, I don’t remember the exact quote.

19. “Dare To Be Stupid,” Dare To Be Stupid (3:25)

You’re out of the spectator-less Georgetown hills and heading into downtown DC where there will many cheering fans, so it’s important to keep the music peppy. One could make a solid argument that by agreeing to run a marathon, you are definitely daring to be stupid.

Key line: “You can be a coffee achiever / You can sit around the house and watch Leave It To Beaver.”

20. “Close But No Cigar,” Straight Outta Lynwood (3:55)

You would think that this song should be saved until the end of your run – at about the 20 mile mark you’re going to have extremely annoying people yelling “you’re almost done!” even though you’ve still got a 10K left, your legs are barely functional, and you’re hallucinating. But no, the place for this tune is as you’re running by the Watergate, where the line “She had me sweating like Nixon every time she was near” will be appropriate.

21. “When I Was Your Age,” Off the Deep End (4:35)

As you continue down the Rock Creek Parkway you’ll run through oodles of Georgetown and George Washington University students. Or you won’t because they slept in because they’re hungover, or it was too cold, or they couldn’t find anything to wear. Bottom line is these kids today don’t know how to show respect to their elders. Actually they’re probably all running the race and ahead of you, but it’s easier to be old and bitter.

Key line: “Nobody ever drove me to school when it was ninety degrees below / We had to walk buck naked through forty miles of snow.”

22. “Party in the CIA,” Alpocalypse (2:56)

This song is appropriate here for two reasons. 1) This is about the closest you’ll get to the CIA’s original headquarters at 2430 E Street, and 2) This is also where you’ll start seeing a flood of street vendors selling CIA t-shirts that seemingly every tourist who has ever come to Washington buys by the bagful.

Key line: “We’ve got our black ops all over the world, from Kazakhstan to Bombay / payin’ the bribes like yeah, pluggin’ the leaks like yeah.”

23. “I Love Rocky Road,” “Weird Al” Yankovic (2:36)

Sure, you’ve got all the lukewarm watered-down Gatorade you can drink on this course, but you know what you could go for right about now? Ice cream. You’re still not nauseous enough to be sickened by the mention of any kind of food (which is good, because this is Al we’re talking about – dude has a record with nothing but songs about food on it) and if someone offered you an ice cream cone and a comfy chair you’d almost certainly take it. This song also works on two levels – you’re just starting down Ohio Drive –mind the massive unmarked potholes.

Key line: “If I get fat and loose my teeth that's fine with me.”

24. “Let Me Be Your Hog, ” UHF Soundtrack (:16)

FYI, I’m gonna go ahead and put this classic in there more than once. It’s 16 seconds of pure joy.

25. “I Remember Larry,” Bad Hair Day (3:56)

The reasons why some tunes click as running songs are many and varied. Often times, it is because they are anthems of empowerment, allowing us to feel like we can overcome our shortcomings and become better people. After all, that is why we are runners, to improve ourselves, find inner peace, and ultimately make the world a better place. Right after we take out the jerkwad who lives next door.

Key line: “If the cops ever find him, who knows what they'd say / But I'm sure if ol' Lar' were still with us today / He would have to agree with me it was a pretty good gag.”

26. “Hardware Store,” Poodle Hat (3:45)

My son recently told me he liked this song more than “Polkamon,” and that’s saying something. This tune may throw off your timing somewhat; if you’ve never heard it before you’ll be very tempted to listen to it two or three times just to ensure you heard everything (“did he just say ‘automatic circumcisers?’”) I live about a quarter mile from a Home Depot and I can’t say I get this excited about it, though they don’t sell gerbil feeders or waffle irons. Hey, speaking of waffles…

27. “Waffle King,” Alapalooza (4:25)

This song is on here less because of the subject matter (though who doesn’t like waffles?) and more for the fact that upon completion of this marathon you will share the singer’s rampant egomania. It’s impossible not to; you just ran a damn marathon and all these other fat bastards can kiss your sweaty behind.

Key line: “Can't you tell the universe revolves around me? / Don't you know you suckers owe me everything? / And can't you see that I'm the highest form of life that there could ever be?”

28. “Trigger Happy,” Off the Deep End (3:46)

The good news is you made it to Haines Point. The bad news is there are no people. Anywhere. The spectators that are out here are lost or stumbling home after passing out on the grass the night before. Maybe you did the Cherry Blossom 10-miler here and thought hey, that wasn’t so bad. But you had cherry blossoms to look at. You know what you have to look at now? Nothing but the fanny on the person in front of you. You’re going to want to shoot someone. Enjoy this tune.

Key Line: “Now why'd you have to get so mad? / It was just a lousy flesh wound, Dad.”

29. “The Night Santa Went Crazy,” Bad Hair Day (4:03)

This song may seem seasonally incompatible, but it keeps with the theme of you slowly losing your mind because of the isolation of this stretch of road. Also, remember you’re running this race the day before Halloween, so the odds are good that the department stores are putting up their Christmas sections at that very moment.

Key Line: “Down in the workshop all the elves were making toys / For the good gentile girls and the good gentile boys.”

30. “Why Does This Always Happen to Me?,” Poodle Hat (4:52)

Hopefully at this point you’ll be thinking “yes, I’m halfway done!” instead of “holy crap, kill me now, I’m only halfway done.” If it’s the latter, this song will appeal to you in a glass-is-half-empty sort of way.

Key line: “Well there’s five bucks that I’m never gonna see again.”

31. “CNR,” Alpocalypse (3:21)

Perhaps you’re running well. Feeling good about things. Maybe even thinking you’ll break a personal record. Just remember, as fast as you are – and I don’t care if you win this race – you’re not as fast as Charles Nelson Reilly. Even though you’re halfway done, he could start right now, catch up to you, run past you leaving only two flaming trails similar to the DeLorean in Back to the Future, and beat you to the finish line by 90 minutes, and he’s dead.

Key line: “He ran a four minute mile blindfolded with an engine block strapped to his back.”

32. “That Boy Could Dance,” In 3-D (3:34)

As a somewhat geeky kid, this song was incredibly inspirational when I was young. I had all the same problems Jimmy, the titular hero of the song. My hair was a mess, my clothes didn’t fit, I smelled pretty bad, and I drooled just a bit. Unlike Jimmy, however, I couldn’t dance, nor can I now. As a result I do not own half of Montana. Fortunately I can recapture my smelly, drooling old self by running 26.2 miles.

Key line: “Picking teams he was always the last / He couldn’t run very far, he couldn’t think very fast.”

33. “Everything You Know Is Wrong,” Bad Hair Day (3:48)

The best song They Might Be Giants never wrote, this is a good message to carry with you as you slog off Haines Point and back into civilization. Things that you thought you knew, such as “this will be easy,” and “I really won’t poop my pants,” are all going out the window. It’s time to just let it go man. Shut your eyes and keep on trucking.

Key line: “And as I'm laying bleeding there on the asphalt / Finally I recognize the face of my hibachi dealer.”

34. “You Make Me,” Even Worse (3:06)

I’m sure many academic papers have been written about the recurring themes in Al’s oeuvre. This one has at least two – weasels, which in this case are in the singer’s shorts instead of on his face like in “Albuquerque,” and hamsters, which…well, if you don’t know about Harvey the Wonder Hamster, you, sir, are not truly an Al fan. Which makes me wonder why you’ve been reading for this long.

Key line: “You make me wanna break the laws of time and space / You make me wanna eat pork.”

35. “I Was Only Kidding,” Off the Deep End (3:31)

Sure, this is a great running song and will keep you going at a good pace, but who cares, because look to your right at mile 15! It’s the BUREAU OF ENGRAVING AND PRINTING!!! RIGHT THERE! FOR REALLY REAL! THAT’S what you’ll be telling the folks about at work next week. You ran by THE Bureau of Engraving and Printing. Stop and take a picture! Well done, runner.

Key line: “When I swore that you're just getting more and more beautiful every day / Well, I was only kidding, honey, what's the matter with you anyway?”

36. “A Complicated Song,” Poodle Hat (3:39)

Regardless of talent, I believe that every marathon runner can be put into two categories – those that have to hit the porta-potty midrace, and those that don’t. I fall into the latter category but have watched enough marathons on TV to know that sometimes the professional runners just let ‘er rip while they’re running, should it be necessary. It’s fantastic to watch the announcer’s reactions (or lack thereof) when it happens. Perhaps those runners should eat more pizza before the race.

Key line: “Right now I’d do anything to just get my bowels evacuated.”

37. “Gump,” Bad Hair Day (2:10)

Seeing as you’re coming up on your best view of the Lincoln Memorial, you might as well picture Forrest giving that great speech we never actually heard. That’s all I have to say about that.

Key line: “His girlfriend Jenny was kind of a slut / He went to the White House, showed LBJ his butt.”

38. “Another One Rides the Bus,” “Weird Al” Yankovic (2:40)

Another thing that they have at the Lincoln Memorial – tour buses, and lots of 'em. This begins a stretch of the course where you’ll have to watch for people running across the road with little regard for their safety. They seem to think that you’ll stop and not plow right through them, which you most certainly will. They’re running 8 feet, you’re running 26.2 miles. You win.

Key line: “I haven’t been in a crowd like this since I went to see the Who.”

39. “Fat,” Even Worse (3:37)

Obviously we were going to get to this one eventually. I will say my favorite thing about marathon training is the week before the race – very little running and you can eat whatever the hell you want. Ding dong, yo, ding dong. Also, I like it when spectators yell “you look great!” as I run by; my response is “thanks, I’ve been working out!”

Key line: “The pavement cracks when I fall down / I've got more chins than Chinatown.”

40. “Perform This Way,” Alpocalypse (2:53)

You’re now on Constitution Avenue, where you’ll have the most spectators of any part in the race save the finish line. Time to strut your stuff, even if you’re not wearing a meat suit. Speaking of which, during the four marathons I have run, I have been passed by people dressed as:

- A cheeseburger
- The Statue of Liberty
- An English bobby, complete with hat and baton (which he twirled while he passed me)
- Elvis
- Mr. Potato Head
- A storm trooper
- An 80-90 year-old man (at least I hope it was just a costume, because otherwise I was really passed by an 80-90 year-old man.)

Key line: “Hope you won't think it's cliché if I go nude today / Don't call the cops now, baby, I perform this way.”

41. “This Is The Life,” Dare To Be Stupid (3:06)

I realize that in the intro I said we’d leave out songs with frequent tempo changes, but come on – you’re running down the middle of Constitution Avenue, thousands of people are screaming for you, and you’re about to go by the White House. This IS the life. If you only you weren’t in so much pain, you could really enjoy it.

Key line: “I got a million pairs of shoes / this is the life.”

42. “Dog Eat Dog,” Polka Party! (3:15)

Thousands of government bureaucrats work in the offices you’re running by now (Department of Commerce, Department of Justice, the IRS) and this Talking Heads pastiche will make you sympathize with their plight. Those poor, poor souls. You’re just running a marathon – they’re workin’ for the guvment.

Key line: “Nobody’s sure what I do here, and oh, that’s just fine with me.”

43. “Bedrock Anthem,” Alapalooza (3:43)

Coming up on the Natural History Museum, so what could be more appropriate than a parody song about fictional cavemen? Side note: I was on a run recently and “Give It Away” by the Chili Peppers came on my iPod. I wasn’t feeling it, so I skipped it. “Bedrock Anthem” came on next (a fairly amazing coincidence as there are 4,000 songs on that iPod) and I thought, yeah, I could get into this. That’s what separates Al’s fans from the normals, I guess.

Key line: “Got a car, gonna push it with my feet now.”

44. “Canadian Idiot,” Straight Outta Lynwood (2:23)

There is only one building in all of Washington, DC that can hold a candle to the beauty and majesty of the Bureau of Engraving and Printing, and that, of course, is the Canadian Embassy. Sadly, you will not actually get to run by the Embassy – a gross error by whoever designed the Marine Corps Marathon course – but at the corner of 4th and Madison at about mile 18.5, you will be just one block from its splendor. Close your eyes and perhaps you can smell the bacon and syrup instead of the sweat and possibly poop of the other runners. Listen closely and you’ll hear the Call of the North instead of the people around you holding one nostril and expelling huge streams of snot. O Canada.

Key line: “Well maple syrup and snow's what they export / they treat curling just like it's a real sport.”

45. “The Check's in the Mail,” “Weird Al” Yankovic (3:13)

You’re running in the shadow of the U.S. Capitol. This song selection is, much like the folks who work in that building, a no-brainer.

Key line: “Well we’re working on the problem, we’ll get back to you soon / but don’t try to call me, I’ll be in a meeting every afternoon / for a year, maybe longer, keep in touch, thanks for stopping by, and have a nice day.”

46. “Your Horoscope for Today,” Running With Scissors (3:59)

If horoscopes were remotely accurate, yours would say, “You will voluntarily run until you literally fall apart. What are you braindead?” Side note: Al mentions nude pictures of Ernest Borgnine in this tune, and George Carlin had a routine about losing things in which he also talks about nude pictures of Ernest Borgnine. That’s two mentions of naked Ernest Borgnine too many.

Key line: “Your birthday party will be ruined once again by your explosive flatulence.”

47. “White and Nerdy,” Straight Outta Lynwood (2:50)

This seems appropriate for running by the Air & Space museum and some of the smaller art museums.

Key line: “First in my class here at MIT / got skills I’m a champion at D&D / MC Escher that’s my favorite MC.”

48. “If That Isn't Love,” Alpocalypse (3:48)

This is dedicated to all those folks with spouses/significant others/etc. that happily offer to come cheer you on, but would never actually run the race with you. They say they’ll be there “in spirit,” which is another way of saying “I’m sleeping late, see you at the finish line, if I remember to reset the alarm.”

Key line: “Every time I see you trying to lift some really heavy thing / you can always count on me to help by saying something encouraging.”

49. “Eat It,” In 3-D (3:21)

Just as “White and Nerdy” works by Air & Space, it seems appropriate to crank this tune as you run by the USDA. If, however, you’re like me and the thought of eating anything makes you nauseous this far into a race, you might want to skip this tune. (That’s why “Trash Day” isn’t on this list, even though it’s a great song.) I admire those of you that can crank Clif bars and bananas at the mile 20 mark.

Key line: “Have a banana, have a whole bunch.”

50. “Young, Dumb & Ugly” Alapalooza (4:24)

I’m waiting for the AC/DC/Chamillionaire hybrid “Young, Dumb, Ugly, White, and Nerdy,” but this will do in the short term. You’ve crossed the 20 mile mark but are entering a long stretch of highway where there won’t be a lot of people around, and it’ll likely be hot as hell. You may be thinking you’re at least one of the three things in the title of this tune.

Key line: “We drink milk right from the carton / and keep our library books 'till they're way overdue.”

51. “Truck Drivin' Song,” Running With Scissors (2:27)

Runnin’ down ole’ 395 south, bound for the Old Dominion. Cross dressin’. If your feet are starting to hurt, remember it could be worse, you could be doing this race in heels.

Key line (even though it has little to do with the cross-dressing theme of the song): “It’s time to put the hammer down / just watchin' as the miles go flyin' by.”

52. “Don't Wear Those Shoes,” Dare To Be Stupid (3:36)

Speaking of shoes, by this point, you’re looking for any excuse as to why you’re not running as well as you thought you would. One of my main sources of blame is always my shoes. “Should have gotten new ones, shouldn’t have gotten new ones, should have broken the new ones in, should have worn insoles,” etc. Just keep reminding yourself that there are no shoes that make running 26.2 miles fun.

Key line: “You can spit in my face in you're so inclined / Baby, I don't mind, but please don't wear those shoes.”

53. “Smells Like Nirvana,” Off the Deep End (3:42)

The good news is you’re getting off the highway, the bad news is you’re reaching the level of mileage where bonking usually happens. Thus the upbeat tempo of the tunes from here on in. Side note to those people lucky enough to interview Al – we all know he chatted with Kurt Cobain by phone while Kurt was doing Saturday Night Live and got permission to do this song, and that Kurt asked if it would be about food. Really, that anecdote has gone as far as it’s going to go.

Key line: “So have you got some idea? / Didn't think so / Well, I'll see ya / Sayonara.”

54. “It's All About the Pentiums,” Running With Scissors (3:34)

If you live in the DC metro area, at some point you’ve seen me bombing around in my car singing this song at the top of my lungs. I love that in a song that alludes to how fast computers become obsolete, many of the references are now themselves obsolete. Doesn’t stop me from singing about how I ain’t afraid of Y2K. Side note: Drew Carey was in the video for this tune and he did the Marine Corps half-marathon earlier this year.

Key line: “You're just about as useless as jpegs to Hellen Keller.”

55. “I'm So Sick of You,” Bad Hair Day (3:26)

There are a lot of spectators in the Crystal City area, and they can be pretty darn loud which, for some people, is very helpful. I hate to sound unappreciative but after about the 20 mile mark I don’t even notice the spectators anymore and when I do, it’s usually because they’ve said something annoying like “you’re almost done!” No, I’m not, dammit. Nor am I “looking good,” “running strong,” or “finishing hard.” To sum up, I’m sick of you. It's cool to just stand there and scream, and hold funny signs.

Key line: “You don't have an ounce of class / you're just one big pain in the neck / how much more can I take now, give me a break now.”

56. “Let Me Be Your Hog, ” UHF Soundtrack (:16)

There, now I feel better.

57. “TMZ,” Alpocalypse (3:39)

Don’t forget to check the gossip sites for photos of any famous people running the MCM; remember Oprah did it once.

Key line: “That's the story that they are gonna feature / with exclusive pics of your flabby behind.”

58. “Velvet Elvis,” Even Worse (4:30)

A slightly slower tune, yes, but I like to dial things back a hair before making the final push over the last few miles. Elvis, as I’m sure you know, was a very avid runner himself.

Key line: “(Velvet Elvis) Never ages / (Velvet Elvis) Never puts on weight.”

59. “Pretty Fly for a Rabbi,” Running With Scissors (3:02)

You know what would be a great place to play this song? A Bar/Bat Mitzvah! Think about it! You can say you came up with the idea yourself, it’s all good! Thank me later.

Key line: “He’s doing well, I gotta kvell / Yentas love him even shiksas think he’s swell.”

60. “Another Tattoo,” Alpocalypse (2:49)

Dedicated to the many people I see out there who get a tattoo for every marathon they run. Some people get permanent ink, I opt for permanent joint pain and plantar fasciitis. Also works because once again you’re not too far from Ronald Reagan Airport.

Key line: “Over here is Clay Aiken, here's a side of bacon / and a minotaur pillow fightin' with satan / Next to Hello Kitty and a zombie ice skatin' / Wait... it's Ronald Reagan.”

61. “Happy Birthday,” “Weird Al” Yankovic (2:50)

This marathon will take place less than two weeks after my birthday, so this song still works. Also, since you’re running by the Pentagon, it’s important to remember that the monkeys there are going to cook our goose. Which, if you don’t understand jargon and idioms and whatnot, makes no sense.

Key line: “The monkeys in the Pentagon are gonna cook our goose / Their finger's on the button, all they need it an excuse.”

62. “Callin' in Sick,” Bad Hair Day (3:40)

I can only hope that you weren’t under the mistaken impression that you were going to work the day after you run this race. By now, you know that you are not. And that’s okay, you’ve earned the sick day. Sit on your fanny and crank some Arby's.

Key line: “I can do anything I want to / I am invincible now / I'm on fire, baby.”

63. “Couch Potato,” Poodle Hat (4:18)

And what are you going to do with your day off? Not run. Maybe do nothing but watch TV all day, including the rebroadcast of the marathon. Just remember to roll off the couch long enough to stretch every hour or so or you’ll never get up again.

Key line: “I love shows with or without a plot / I'll stare 'til my legs are numb, my eyes bloodshot.”

64. “Amish Paradise,” Bad Hair Day (3:20)

I’ll say this for the Amish, they rarely run marathons. There is, however, an Amish Country Half Marathon, which is run in Intercourse, PA. I shall now giggle like a schoolgirl.

Key line: Dude, this is “Amish Paradise” – it’s all good.

65. “Such a Groovy Guy,” “Weird Al” Yankovic (3:02)

Yes, you are. You are almost done. Let Al guide you across the finish line. Actual running tip: If there is one and only one piece of advice I can give to MCM runners, it is that last two-tenths of a mile is uphill. A pretty intense uphill. You will hate them for making you do it. But when you get to the top and a Marine puts a medal on you you’ll think you’re, well, a groovy guy.

Key line: “I know that you'll never be as wonderful as me but at least you can try.”

66. “Let Me Be Your Hog, ” UHF Soundtrack (:16)

Ending on a high note, baby.

NOTE: At a 9:00/mile pace, this playlist will end about a minute prior to the finish, but you’ll probably want to hear the cheers at the finish line anyway. If that’s not the case, I recommend ending with:

67. “She Never Told Me She Was a Mime,” Alapalooza (4:54)

Next year: Running the Boston Marathon while listening to nothing but Too Much Joy.

Back in the Big Easy, Pt. 2

It’s wonderful when conference planners choose a beautiful city like New Orleans as the place to hold their conference. There's all kinds of amazing stuff here! It’s beautiful! The food is fantastic! And they need our dollars! So let’s keep you shacked up ALL DAY inside the goddamn CONVENTION CENTER which seems to SMELL LIKE PEE no matter WHERE YOU ARE and only CERTAIN PLACES get air conditioning and your place is NOT ONE OF THEM!

I don’t mind meetings like this so much if I’m a participant, moving from room to room and listening in on panels and whatnot. It’s infinitely harder to be an exhibitor. Standing in a booth trying to get the attention of passerby is not something I do well when I’m sober. I learned I am a master at it when I’m drunk and throwing beads from a balcony, but we’ll get to that.

I was in New Orleans for a meeting of the National Conference of State Legislatures (NCSL), where hundreds of elected state officials from across the country convene to talk about best practices, good governance, and fiscal responsibility, all while being wined and dined at the expense of organizations like mine. As I mentioned, we had a booth, one of hundreds, in the massive exhibit hall. There are many different methods of getting the legislators' attention as they walk through. For example, the Beer Institute gives away samples of – you guessed it - urinal cakes. Ha. In actuality they set up a beer tasting each day of the convention. They were much more popular than the International Bottled Water Association. Larger organizations with key issues, such as PayPal, set up massive booths that look like something from the Jetsons, with crazy multimedia presentations on huge flat-panel TVs. Other groups with issues that are, let's face it, extremely dull, such as the American Dental Hygienists Association, add spark to their booth with truly exciting giveaways such as stress balls shaped like teeth. Wow! Other groups simply hire attractive young women to staff the booth, a crude maneuver but one that never fails to work on your average aging state legislator.

The truly smart groups, however, such as both NRAs, use a combination of all of these techniques. The National Rifle Association had three HOT young blonde women giving out hats, t-shirts, and backpacks. I tried to engage them in conversation about the recent overturning of the DC handgun ban, but it was a bit like talking to the Mona Lisa – a blank stare and a vapid smile. The other NRA, the National Restaurant Association, hired chefs to work their booth, a brilliant strategy given the unbelievably horrible convention center food. You’d think of all places New Orleans could get convention center food right, but when you find yourself thinking that the best option is the Starbucks across the street, you know you’ve hit rock bottom.

After working my booth from 9-4 on Wednesday, I was happy when it was time to adjourn to the conference’s networking event at the Superdome. Last year, NCSL was held in Boston, and we were given access to pretty much everything in Fenway Park – the locker room, dugout, press boxes, even the underground batting cages. The only place we couldn’t go was on the field. I thought we’d get this same level of freedom at the Superdome. Imagine my chagrin when, ironically, the only place we were allowed was…the field. No locker room, no press box, not even the stands. Just the turf. I’ll grant you that being on the field in any major sports facility makes me go a big wet one, but we were really hoping to see not only where hundreds suffered and several died during Katrina, but also where Drew Brees puts on his jockstrap. Interesting footnote, four days after our event, the Arena Bowl was held at the Superdome. Two teams played and one of them won. Since Arena Football reminds me watching my five year-old’s soccer team (Goal! Goal! Goal! Goal! Goal!) I don’t really follow it.

After the Superdome I was invited to an event held by the National Beer Wholesalers Association (whose booth was, ironically, not too far from Mothers Against Drunk Driving, which was almost as funny as the Ringling Brothers' booth being close to the Humane Society’s, who were only there to protest Ringling Brothers). If there’s anyone who knows how to throw a party, it’s Beer Wholesalers. The event was held at a prime location on Bourbon Street with a huge balcony, replete with hundreds of strings of beads to throw, and, most importantly, all the free booze you could drink. An open bar on Bourbon Street is like a sundae station at a Weight Watchers meeting; it’s a miscalculation of almost dangerous proportions. Fortunately, the attending business professionals, association executives, and legislators were able to imbibe and socialize in an orderly fashion, ladies and gentlemen all, and a quiet evening of cards, baccarat, and good conversation was enjoyed by the attendees. Or, everyone got Preakness infield drunk and the affair rapidly degenerated to the maturity level of a fraternity party, only with more alcohol. I was not immune to the debauchery; in fact I'm told at one point I played a washboard with the house band, though I have no memory of it.

The main sport of the evening was, of course, hurling beads and the crowd below. I saw one legislator throw his beads at an attractive young woman, when an older bearded guy reached over her and snatched them out of midair. This politician, elected by the good people of his district and sworn to uphold the laws and regulations of his state so help him God, then dumped a FULL cup of beer (an official Beer Wholesalers cup, in fact) on the guy’s head, and yelled “GIVE THE CHICK THE BEADS YOU FUCKING DOUCHEBAG!”

I had another conversation with a politician who has helped my organization in the past, to the point where we’re throwing him a fundraiser in his home state next week. This is a stunningly stereotypical politician – fat, rich, drunk, and smoking a big cigar. About ten minutes into our very one-sided conversation (my side was “uh-huh….yup….exactly…uh-huh…) he started in on his belief that marriage is “one man one woman” and it’s up to groups like mine to try to promote Christian lifestyles. My immediate thought was, lifestyles like the one you’re living now, urging young women to show you their tits for a twenty cent string of beads made in China by a kid making a buck a week? My next thought is, who the hell does he think I work for? He either forgot who I am, never knew who I was, or he thinks that the medical specialty organization I work for gets a lot more intrusive than simply cutting you open during surgery. It all became a moot point when he spilled a hurricane on a colleague of mine and stumbled away mumbling incoherently.

On Friday morning, the NCSL held their annual “Walk for Wellness,” a 5K (3.1 mile) walk/fun run that aims to raise awareness of something and promote a healthy something else. It’s a great cause. I had been excited about this year’s race as I’ve been running a lot more in the past year, which isn’t hard given that, prior to that, I never ran at all. Unfortunately, even at 6:30 a.m., it was 85 degrees and humid. As if that wasn’t enough, there had been a massive oil spill (or “awl speel,” as they call it on the bayou) on the Mississippi river two days before, and the stench was absolutely overwhelming. Regardless, I had a good race, very nearly keeping pace with the 12 or 13 year-old kid who was in front of me the whole damn time. The frustrating thing about running is not my inability to win races – I’m never going to be fast and that’s fine. It’s that I get beat by people who I could clearly pound the holy living fuck out of. You are not my physical superiors, dammit, you’re just faster. Get me my gun (which you can do now in DC) and I don’t care how fast you can run, pipsqueak.

Anyway, I came in sixth, which will easily be the highest I ever rank in anything. There were two reasons for this:

1) It helped that of the 80 or so participants, roughly 60 of them walked. Slowly.

2) It did not help that this little blonde girl blew by me at the very end, ruining my potential top five finish. I asked her how long she’d been waiting to pass me. “2.9 miles,” she said. Again, I need my gun. I’ll have to have a longer talk with the hot blonde girls at the NRA booth.

So that was New Orleans. As a footnote, I’ll add that as I was flying out of MSY, I heard the following coming from the gate across from mine:

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’re wondering why we haven’t started boarding the aircraft…our technicians have told us that the two aft lavatories are malfunctioning. It’s up to the pilot whether or not we can go, so we’re awaiting his word.”

Later:

"Ladies and gentleman our technicians have deplaned and were unable to fix the problems with the two aft lavs. I’m working with the pilot to get this resolved and I’ll let you know if we’re going to Philadelphia in just few minutes."

Obvious grumbling. Some cursing. One vow to “pee in the sink.” Finally:

“Ladies and gentleman, I’ve convinced the captain to let us go to Philadelphia. I’m looking out for number one, so to speak. What I need you to do, before I begin the boarding of this aircraft, is to GO TO THE BATHROOM. Now. You’ve got a long flight to Philly and your options are...well, you’ve got no options. Please take a few minutes and go to the restroom, and you might want to think about skipping the coffee or soda or iced tea on your in-flight service, maybe just have those pretzels.”

Back in the Big Easy Pt 1

The allusion has been made many times by blues musicians, but New Orleans is like a hot woman that’s way out of your league but for some reason keeps sleeping with you anyway. The blues guys say this much more skillfully than I - blues musicians can say things like “squeeze my lemon ‘til the juice runs down my leg” and make it sound saucy instead of ridiculous. The first time out, you’re just amazed you’re there. You don’t want to make any big mistakes or fuck it up (so to speak) so you take it easy and don’t go to crazy. Second time you figure you’ve got more leeway, so you go a little harder. Leaving the woman metaphor for a minute and returning to the Big Easy, you drink a little more, stay out a little later, and maybe even throw a couple of stings of beads off a balcony. Third time out (and each subsequent visit) you’re in a comfort zone. You’ve done the touristy stuff (hopefully we’re really away from the woman metaphor now) and you’re settled in, relaxed, and able to go at your own pace and enjoy the beauty and splendor of one of the finest places on earth (okay, maybe we are still with that metaphor).

I’m currently in New Orleans for the sixth time in my life, the fourth trip this year alone. I’ll be back one more time – maybe even twice – before the year is out. I am not guilty of hyperbole when I say I could probably pass for a native at this point. I know which streets go where, where the good, out-of-the-way restaurants are, and where the best music can be found. I can also tell you where to get your bike fixed. Where to buy three pounds of the best crawfish in the city. Where you should go running.

Bottom line, lost in all the post-Katrina hooplah is the fact that this is still one of the most fun cities in the world, Bourbon Street notwithstanding. Which isn’t to say that Bourbon isn’t good for a larf. My room here at the Hotel Monteleone is just a block away, on Royal Street. But there’s so much more to this city than boozing. Take this hotel, for example. I had a roster of hotels where I could have stayed, some closer to the convention center (where I’ll be spending most of my time over the next three days), and some nicer (I once stayed at the Ritz at the same time as the Tampa Bay Buccaneers. I don’t know a lot of guys on that team by sight, but you could pretty much tell who was on the team and who wasn’t. If the dude was 6’6” and 350 pounds, odds are good he was on the team. Or just a local named Tiny who likes his alligator tail and bread pudding.) Instead, I chose the hotel that was haunted. Not just one of those “they say there’s occasionally a strange presence in room 237” type of haunted, but a flat-out, there-are-ghosts-everywhere-in-the-place haunted. No way I was gonna turn that down. So far I’ve been ghost free, though for some reason my room has five smoke detectors, all with spooky little green blinking lights. Perhaps the ghosts frequent this establishment because of all buildings in the French Quarter it’s the least likely to burn down.

They may be frightened away by my odor this evening though – I went to K-Paul’s restaurant tonight, third time I’ve eaten there. K-Paul’s is owned by Paul Prudhomme, a chef so astoundingly fat he is no longer able to stand up under his own power, instead wheeling around on one of those electric scooters you see advertised on daytime shows like the Price is Right. I’m in danger of catching Paul on the scale after just one meal – frog legs, onion rings, gumbo, jambalaya, a chicken leg stuffed with (really) a chicken breast, and bread pudding. And here I have ambition to run tomorrow. We’ll see how that goes. Tomorrow, a tour of the Superdome, a place of death, sorrow, and disappointment. And that’s just the Saints.

The Williamsburg Coniglium

We spent this past weekend in colonial Williamsburg, Virginia enjoying the beautiful history and splendor of the area, and getting in touch with our country’s roots. For example, we spent almost a full day at the historic Water Country, USA, plunging down the same chutes and slides enjoyed by George Washington in the 18th century. We spent the next day at the very same go-kart track where Thomas Jefferson would drive his beloved #23 car for hours on end back in the mid-1770s. To spend such quality time embedded so fully in our nation’s history is nothing short of breathtaking.

The fact is, you could spend weeks in Williamsburg and come across nothing of historical significance. Sure, they try to force it on you - there are fife and drum players everywhere, most places (including Chinese restaurants) will sell you a tri-corner hat (which my son the superJew refers to as Hamen hats), and there are markers everywhere with years on them, some dating back to 1619, when a young John McCain visited the colony. But the fact is it’s more theme park than history lesson. Which was fine with my kids who have not yet developed any sense of time - if it hasn’t happened in their lifetime, it just hasn’t happened. For example, my son is insistent that there will be more Star Wars movies because they’ve had six since he was born, so clearly they’re on a roll.

I will say this for the place; amidst the history, the buildings dating back to 1699, the Revolutionary War sites, even the rampant evidence of the destruction of Native Americans, there is one thing that overcomes all of them, one thing that rises above all else to become the one thing you take away from Williamsburg when you leave - pancakes. There are probably 100 different places to get pancakes in a two mile radius of Williamsburg. No one could tell me why. I’m assuming because everything you do there requires physical activity, whether it’s going to the water park, Busch Gardens, or eating large piles of pancakes. It could also be that the College of William and Mary is smack in the middle of town and all of their students are stoned. (Most restaurants seem to have really old autographed pictures of W&M's most famous alum, Jon Stewart. One pancake house had an autographed picture that was signed “Dear Mario, Are you Jewish? Jon Stewart.”) Each pancake house seems to have a hundred ways to serve pancakes, the best of which was something called “pigs in a blanket,” massive sausage links wrapped in buttermilk pancakes. While not nearly the gastronomic orgasm that is Eggspectations’ construction pancake (“A layered high rise of pancakes, sausage, bacon and grilled potatoes”) it’s still more food than any human should eat in one sitting. And meal at which I can just pour syrup all over everything on my plate is a good meal.

Two highlights stand out for me on the weekend, both involving my son. He is timid kid by nature which is to say that everything everywhere with the possible exception of bunnies scares the hell out of him. (Fortunately, for some reason, there were bunnies all over Williamsburg. Geese too.) I was leery to get him on a water slide of any size, as he’s scared of heights and more specifically falling from them. And the dark. Fortunately not water, so that’s how I talked him up the very tall ladder and into our little raft, in which we plunged almost 400 miles an hour into a pitch-black tunnel which looped and rolled and seemed to go forever, before finally emerging through a very heavy waterfall into a large pool, which we went skimming across with the grace of a birdshot mallard before tipping over and going underwater. Fortunately Jake was wearing a life vest, so he popped up laughing and asking if he could go again.

At the go kart track, he was eager to go on the kiddie roller coaster, primarily because it was the only thing that was built for kids his age. They had several rides that were built for infants, and many more rides that were built for adults, but the kindergarten set seemed to have been passed by save for a tiny roller coaster called the Python Pit. I witnessed not one but two kids who appeared to have been at least second graders ask to be let off the Python Pit because of its severe intensity. Jake, on the other hand, loved every minute of it, screaming to go faster. (I taught him to say “damn carnies” for the occasion, but being a gentleman he refused to say it in front of his mother.) Unfortunately for Jake, his sister is even more ballsy than he is and ended up riding the Python Pit about five times, much to the chagrin of her father’s body which took a freakin’ beating from the tightness of the safety bar and the g-force pushing him up against the very unpadded side of the car.

So if pancakes and children’s roller coasters are your bag, I suggest Williamsburg. Apparently there’s history there too, but damn if you can find it.

That's Some Bullshit

I was on a Southwest Airlines flight a couple of weeks back and they gave me a bag of peanuts. On the back of the bag were these words and these words only:

CONTAINS: Peanuts, Salt

WARNING: Processed in a facility that processes peanuts

Then there's this.

Happy Memorial Day

Nothing says Memorial Day like thousands of bikers...

...and babies drinking Jack Daniels.

Mike Franzione Gets Married

Remember the show Silver Spoons? Remember, Mikey Franzione, the kid that lived across the street from Ricky Shroeder? Of course you do – little overweight kid who’d come panting into Ricky’s house with big news and deliver that timeless catchphrase “You’re not gonna BELIEVE this!” And the crowd would just erupt with laughter because they just knew that line was coming? No? Think hard now. That's him, on the left. Ringing a bell yet? No? Then you must not be drunk on Bourbon Street.

Let me back up.

I’ve known Josh for twelve years. When I met him, I liked him because he was fat and poor and therefore made me look good by comparison. Sadly (for me, anyway), he has shed his extra pounds (through both rigorous exercise and shaving his back) and become a lawyer (in fact chief council at a major DC lobbying firm). He has also gotten digits from a stripper and been hit on in a crowded pool hall by a hot woman who, for whatever reason, was there by herself. These are all accomplishments that have thus far eluded me. Yet despite his apparent superiority (and my hatred of superior people) we remain friends, mostly because we have criminally immature senses of humor and the social graces of a drunken orangutan. Both of these came in handy at his bachelor party, for which we travelled to the Big Easy.

I’ve been to post-Katrina N’awlins quite a few times but only for business. I was pleased that because the shackles of the business world were thrown off, I could drink heavily, eat expensive meals, ogle woman like I was Bill Clinton, and throw money at strippers like you’d throw bread to starving ducks. Come to think of it, it would be exactly the same as my business meetings. The only major difference was instead of staying at a company-bought hotel in the French Quarter, we would be staying in a large mini-mansion in the Garden District. The mini-mansion turned out to be purple. And there were dozens of small handwritten notes from the owner pasted in various locations, warning us about flushing only toilet paper and not using certain balconies. Since we found no signs about having naked women dance in the living room or leaving massive piles of crawfish pieces all over the backyard, we weren’t too concerned.

There was far too much comedy to recount in one blog entry, so I shall present the highlights. However, we must begin with the story of Mikey Franzione, or else, to paraphrase Dickens, nothing that follows shall seem wondrous.

1) Mikey Franzione

Josh spent his youth trying to make it big in Hollywood, finally landing the coveted role of Mikey Franzione. He played the role for two years, until Alfonso Ribiero took over the role of Ricky’s best friend. Franzione had a catchphrase, a unique style of dress that was copied by pre-teens all over the country, and a very popular haircut. Unfortunately, after leaving the show, his had trouble finding work as an actor, so he finished high school and went on to become a lawyer.

Now reread the last paragraph with the understanding that only the last twelve words are true. The rest is crap. The picture is from Josh’s bar mitzvah. But damn if we didn’t tell that story to nearly every attractive woman we met on Bourbon Street, as well as some very unattractive ones. I would say that 95 percent of the people we told this story to claimed to remember Mike Franzione and his catchphrase (which we made Josh repeat ad nauseum). In a stroke of pure genius, one of Josh’s friends printed copies of the atrocious bar mitzvah picture on card stock and handed them out to people to help jog their memories of this character that didn’t exist. Most didn’t even need it. “Oh YEAH!” they’d yell. “I REMEMBER that kid!” There were a hundred hilarious moments that developed out of our ruse, including:

• Asking any restaurant or bar that had pictures on their walls (and some that didn’t) to add one of Josh. Most happily accepted. With those that didn’t, we just put one up anyway. For example, here is Josh on the wall of Pascal’s Manale, right below Bonnie Raitt:

I would imagine that if you were to hit Bourbon Street right now, at least half the bars would have a picture of Josh somewhere. I’m headed back in July, and I’ll report back.

• Several people asked Josh to sign the pictures, and some were not joking. Josh happily accepted with an “aw shucks, I’m just a regular guy” humility, writing “All my love” on each photo.


• We ended up giving a photo to a tall tattooed gentleman who was in a band that, he claimed “was opening for David Allen Coe’s nephew.” He said it with the same reverence that a musician in mid-1992 would say they were opening for Nirvana. After his girlfriend showed us her recently pierced nipples (yay Bourbon Street!) he began asking Josh about his agent. Fortunately, Josh’s friend Carlos stepped up and claimed to be said agent. Musician guy immediately asks for phone numbers and claims he can get us VIP treatment at one of the lesser strip clubs. Apparently it didn’t occur to musician guy to ask why, if Carlos was such a good agent, Josh hadn’t had any work since 1984. I get the feeling that opening for David Allen Coe’s nephew doesn’t get you a lot of exposure. (And for the record, we did get VIP treatment at the strip club, if only because we made up 80 percent of the crowd the moment we walked in. As one of Josh’s brothers observed, the women dancing in this place would be on the Sunday 10 a.m. to noon shift at any other establishment.)

2) Shooting
Friday night at about 12:30 a.m. we wandered into a club that had a live blues band downstairs and a DJ upstairs. After being there a few minutes, Josh and some other folks wandered out onto the balcony, a beautiful view of the sea of humanity that is Bourbon Street on a Friday night. Then gunshots rang out. As Josh told it, the crowd below parted like the red sea, and the people on the balcony ran back inside. Immediately rumors started circulating, the most common being that a young woman was shot in the head and that right there, see that stuff? That stuff was her brains. No, really, gray matter. You can tell from up here. And look at the blood. Gross, huh?

The area was promptly cordoned off and a fire truck came, but the amazing thing is life just kinda went on on Bourbon Street. People found their way around the roped off block, found another bar and more booze, and the music continued. The resolve of the true partier is amazing – it’ll take more than just a girl caught in the crossfire to ruin their good time. Turns out she was only shot in the leg and ended up fine, but it did provide a story. Probably not as good as the story she’ll be telling in HER blog, but still.

3) Food
Josh is a true epicurean and I suspect that half the reason he chose New Orleans as a location for his bachelor party was that, beyond drinking and carousing, there is nothing to do but eat. Which is what we did. We at K Paul's on Friday night and Pascal's Manale on Saturday night. Massively over sized portions of good Cajun food. However, the highlight may be on Saturday afternoon, when after consuming massive amounts of hangover-curing food at a Garden District diner, we ducked into a small fish market and bought several pounds of boiled crawfish and andouille sausage. By the time we were done, the back deck of our mansion looked like the beach at the beginning of Saving Private Ryan if Spielberg had opted for crustaceans instead of human actors. There was crawfish shrapnel everywhere.

4) The Hour-Long Hora
At some point during the weekend, Josh revealed his plans to do an hour-long hora at his wedding. (The hora is a traditional Jewish dance in which the wedding guests dance in circles while lifting family members up in a chair.) This was agreed upon ages ago by his fiancee and him, and was ironclad and unbreakable. Josh's brother Mitch, the best man, spent the better part of the weekend trying to put a stop to this. Bad enough we had to were tuxedos, Mitch told his brother, but to make us lift you up and down in a chair for an hour...well that's just torture. Mitch began an email dialogue with his future sister-in-law, and pleaded to anyone who would listen about the insanity of this request.

But we knew Josh. We knew that if Josh's fiancee told him that he was to come down the aisle wearing a leopard-print loincloth and riding on a wild boar, he would ask if he was allowed to wear synthetic leopardskin or if he needed to book passage to Africa to hunt down a real one. Thus, this one-hour hora was happening no matter how much protestation was to go on. But that didn't stop us, the future wedding guests, from trying. Every time something of difficulty arose, it was met with "at least it's not an hour-long hora." When one of us dropped out of a Hold 'Em tournament early, he was met with "you lasted about an tenth as long as Josh's hora." As we waited for strippers to arrive, we asked if we should get a chair so Josh could lift them up and down for an hour. Josh became increasingly agitated as the weekend went on, which made it all the more funny. At one point, he "threatened" to walk out of a diner at which he had just ordered an omelet with chili on top and a milkshake. Unfortunately, he came back.

5) Strippers
The beauty of the successful bachelor party is that, no matter where you choose to have it, no matter who you choose to invite, no matter how classy you pretend to make it, there will always be one constant. At some point at least one, and usually more than one, woman will get naked in exchange for money. Without that, you just don’t have a bachelor party.

Surprisingly, given the post-Katrina economy, strippers were hard to come by. We ended up getting two women, one of whom claimed to be 29. If you know anything about strippers, you know their ages are distorted in proportion to how old they actually are. It’s a complex mathematical formula, but by way of example, if she says she 29, she’s 36. If she says she's 18, she’s 54. It’s complicated. We perused dozens of websites and called dozens of phone numbers, looking for just the right ladies. Most of the ladies we called had names like "Princess" or "Diamond." I'm always amused when strippers name themselves after inanimate objects like Diamond or Platinum; essentially you're telling me that you look expensive but in truth are going to lie there and not do much. A stripper calling herself "Gyrating Whore" would get a lot of business. One of our strippers was named "Judi," a name that I felt was better suited to a librarian or flight attendant.

We decided to have our entertainment perform on what was left of our pictures of Josh, so we scattered them on the floor:

The image of two strippers gyrating all over pictures of a young Mikey Franzione is the stuff of True Hollywood Story. Luckily the strippers asked that towels be laid on the floor; otherwise Josh’s attempt at a comeback may have been thwarted.

Here’s the other funny thing about bachelor parties (or at least the ones I’ve been to): men, despite all their bravado and boisterousness and bragging and testosterone, usually go a big wet one in front of two strange naked women. The 14 gentleman attending Josh’s bachelor party, who up until then had been howling-at-the-moon wild, sat and stared as if they were watching a Truffaut film. All except Josh, who was very busy being alternately mauled, tortured, and abused by the ladies. For me to do what they did to Josh would require much more money than what we gave them. I almost felt bad. They may have given him a discount, however, as he is a former child star.