I am in a moral dilemma, because I want to write a blog post about the undisputable fact that he’s a bozo, but I feel guilty about calling a brother in Christ a bozo. Oh heck… he’s a bozo, here goes.
It’s been quite a weekend here at Casa Del Chad and Erica. First, a certain 30th birthday romp at the Getty. Then, an Apple Store opening. Then to top it all off, my lovely wife and I attended the 20th anniversary gala celebration for the Conejo Valley Women’s Resource Center. The event was held in the Ronald Reagan Presidential Library’s brand spanking new Air Force One Pavilion. It’s really quite a sight to behold. They have got the 707 propped up on pillars so that the cockpit of the plane is actually three stories above the lowest floor, where all the tables were set up. I got pretty geeked out when I realized that Marine One, the chopper sitting on the lowest level of the pavilion, was where this happened.
My mother was in charge of producing this event. She had wrangled quite an interesting smattering of celebrities to show up. She had negotiated a truce between the Catholics who wanted an open bar and the Fundies who wanted the hardest drink to be Sprite. She has been busting her tail to make this thing happen, and we were there to bring the support. Dudes; Puddy, Jesus, and Mike Seaver were all within feet of one another, and I was there, man. I was there.
Everything was humming along great until there was a horrifying lapse in judgement involving an open microphone and one Pat Boone. I found out later that he had asked to speak and was told he could have three minutes between the director of the clinic and the auction.
Well, the first three minutes passed, and then seventeen more passed. Please allow me to hit some of the highlights for you.
1. A delightful recounting of the time young Debby came home from school and told mom and dad about the fetus in a jar that they had been shown in science class. This experience, as you can imagine, was the flashpoint for Pat’s political activism.
2. A complete history of the international hit “Let Me Live,”
(note: if, god forbid, you click on this link, I must insist that you listen to the complete piece before returning to this blog, because I don’t think you, as of yet, really feel my angst.)
3. A recicitation of just a few stanzas of the song, “A Better Way.” Dylan lyrics sound stupid when read aloud, for pity’s sake! Just in case you were wondering… love is a better way.
4. Praise for the other celebrities there and some examples of other Hollywood personalities who are allegedly sympathetic to a pro life worldview but unwilling to take a public stand. Example #1: Jack Nicholson. Example #2: (I swear, I swear, I swear I am not making this up) Robert Blake.
I had the singular pleasure of watching my mother’s face during this train wreck of a speech. It was like watching someone go through the five stages of grief. Denial : “Surely he’s not going give his complete personal history with the Reagans, is he?” Anger : “We have a gold record from Amy Grant’s living room and an autographed Passion of the Christ poster to auction, GET THE HELL OFF THE STAGE!!!!” Barganing: “Alright, you can have two more minutes, as long as you don’t ever say the words ‘Robert’ and ‘Blake’ again.” Depression : “Oh the Boonemanity.” Acceptance : “Praise God the Catholics are here… where’s the bar?”
This went on for twenty minutes. It felt like sixty. At around the 15 minute mark I slipped a note across the table to my mom that read something like, “Pat has agreed to release the hostages for one beeellion dollars, but everyone has to take a copy of ‘Let me Live.’”
Look Pat, I know you’ve sold like 50,000,000 records. I believe that you’re a man of deep convictions. I know that you’re my Brother in Christ. I know that you wear shiny white shoes with a dark suit. If you, or anyone who respects you, reads this, and is offended or hurt, I am truly sorry.
But brother, you got all jiihad up in my momma’s event and hijacked us and forced us to a grinding, crunching, painful stop, and for that my friend, I mock thee.
Robert. Effing. Blake.