In late 1994, I was sitting in my bedroom listening to R.E.M.’s album “Monster” with headphones on, and during the song “Star 69,” I heard my dad intensely yelling “HEY, STOP THAT!!” I cringed hard and didn’t bother investigating, because I was used to my dad embarrassing me by yelling at me and my friends like that, and I didn’t want to know what this was about.

 

Later that day, my mom and dad offered the information to me, explaining that my classmate/neighbor Justin and this other boy Scott had taken their shirts off and began to fistfight on Justin’s front lawn. My dad spotted this happening across the street, and after yelling had started on his way to try and break up the fight, but thankfully Justin’s bigger and more robust father broke it up himself before my dad could make it over there. I was relieved that my dad didn’t get the opportunity to get involved (and likely hurt), and humiliated that such a dumbass hillbilly thing happened right across the street from me.

 

Anyway, that’s basically what’s happening at the White House right now. I still get chills when I hear “Star 69.”

1990

 

The recent mentions of Vanilla Ice in the news cycle made me think back to a specific and relatively short-lived time when my friend Kenny and I would hang out at the home of our dweeby neighbor Jason. The big sell for Jason is that he had a computer with a lot of games, one of which was a title in the legendary adult video game series Leisure Suit Larry.

While playing the video games that weren't necessary to hide, his mom would stop in to check on us and occasionally offer snacks. Jason had the cassingle of "Play that Funky Music" by Vanilla Ice, which we would listen to on repeat while playing computer games. There was one instance where Jason's mom was in the room, the song was just starting for the 50th time, and she looked at all of us boys and smiled contently as she walked out. (Ya know those moments where you realized that you were "different" from the others? Kenny and Jason were obliviously playing a video game while this dopey song was playing in the background, and Jason's mom was lovingly like "Oh, those boys!," and you realize how corny that is and that you had inadvertently become part of this geeky scene in this suburban home, and you're the only one who noticed?)

 

As I mentioned before, this was a relatively short-lived time where I would go to Jason's house, and he and I had an altercation on what was probably the final time I was there. The three of us were sitting in his bedroom hanging out, and for whatever reason he had put me in a headlock. I generally prided myself on being able to get out of headlocks put on me by kids who were even bigger wimps than I was, but he really had this one synched on. I eventually had to tell him to let go of me, and once he did I realized that he had knocked a tiny screw out of the side of my glasses, and that it had made a lens fall out.

 

I was furious, and even though he assured me it was an easy fix, I immediately grabbed a pair of glasses off of his dresser (newer than the ones he was currently wearing) and bent them all out of shape. He started wailing, and his mom ran in to see what was wrong. "HE DISCOMBOBULATED MY GLASSES!" he shouted, as his mom tried to console him. In a scene straight out of a TV sitcom, Kenny and I immediately turned to each other with a bewildered look. ("He discombobulated my glasses!" was phrase we repeated to each other for quite some time). I don't know if "Play that Funky Music" was playing while this was all going on, but it'd be a crime if it wasn't.

 

So while I admit my punishment didn't fit his crime, I was embarrassed that he had put me in a headlock I couldn't escape from, so his glasses got dealt with. I had to waste an afternoon going to the eye doctor to get the screw put back in my glasses (which seems absurd?), and I definitely held that against him. 

 

By the way, for a little while this kid had the Vanilla Ice stripes shaved on the side of his head. It was a hell of a thing.

Fall 1988

 

When my grades started to slip, I had no explanation for my parents. Had I been able to offer an explanation, I don't know if it would have made a difference. Back then when you were being observed as a 10-year old, people didn't assume that there was a complex reason behind a lacking school performance, they just assumed that you were lazy or had poor study habits. Looking back, I find it a bit ironic that as a "gifted" student that people assumed there were simple explanations for my grades going from 60 to 0 in a matter of months. To be fair, I've only been able to recently wrap my head around it.

 

5th grade was a hell of a thing, and I was an easy target for bullying. People's hormones were raging out of control, and who better to target than the smallest boy in the world. As time went on, it was collectively agreed by all interested partied that yes, anxiety and depression was the culprit, and that it wasn't "my fault." I can trace the beginning of the end back to a specific time, and that was Mr. Heller's class.

 

I had Mr. Lindberg as my primary teacher, and for the first time another teacher for English, Mr. Heller, as a way to get students acclimated to changing classes. He was the football coach for the middle school, kind of a tough guy but in a lovable way. I believe our class met in the mid-morning, and I had never had any interaction with him before. He started out by calling role, and he never stopped. For each student he called, he started a conversation with them and made jokes while they spoke to each other. When he asked about the name of a girl in the class, she told him "I'm New," and he replied with "Oh, nice to meet you, 'New'!" (He called this poor girl "I'm New" for most of the rest of the year) He ridiculed a jocko boy he already knew for saying he was "related to his dad," and by the time the bell rang, it turned out we hadn't done anything the entire class except laugh and have fun. My friend got up from his chair and was like "I like him!," and I sure did too. I later told an older friend on the bus that we didn't do anything during class, and he said that he heard "He does that."

 

As it turns out, Mr. Heller didn't do that. It was the first day, and he was trying to make things light for everybody. His class was usually fun, but he gave us work to do every day after. I kept waiting for another day of laughing and doing nothing, but it never came. Instead, I kept doing nothing, and my parents weren't laughing. On my mid-semester progress report, I got a 'D', something that had never happened to me before. I don't think I'd ever even gotten a 'C' grade up until then, at least not on a report card. My parents were furious, and even debated cancelling the plans we had made for my birthday (they didn't in the end). I had no explanation to give for the grade - I knew deep down that the reason was "I prefer to laugh and not do anything," but of course that would never fly. In retrospect, I think I was just awakened (see photo) to different possibilities, and there was no turning back. I became instantly addicted to this feeling, and I couldn't regain any motivation for school from then on.

 

Things just got worse from then on - in 6th grade I got my first 'F,' and by the time I got to 7th grade an 'F' was the norm. It makes me sad to think about how disappointed my parents were after I had previously shown so much promise, but I also wasn't trying to hurt them. In all my youthful moments of rebellion and acting out, none of it was ever done with the intend to hurt them. It's just how I was and how I kind of still am, and there was/is really no changing it. I eventually ended up flunking the 10th grade, and dropping out in the middle of the next school year. A month later I was almost killed in a car accident. Good times.

 

*******

Once caveat to my story is 9th grade summer school. I had flunked everything except for gym that year, and so I ended up going to summer school in a different city so I could get enough credits too advance to the 10th grade. I took two classes, and I got an 'A' and a 'B.' A flunky friend of mine did the exact same as I did, we had the two highest grades in our English class. And you know what? It's because we were both there to do a job and go home. No social anxiety because of others, because we'd never have to see them again after that. Something to think about, I suppose.

Electric Grandmother: Hello Man.

Fred Trump: Hi Man.

EG: Please state your name for the record.

FT: Frederick Christ Trump Sr.

EG: Wow.

FT: Yes.

EG: So you died in 1999, correct?

FT: Right-o.

EG: So you never saw 9/11.

FT: What’s that?

EG: It was a terrorist attack on the United States.

FT: Ok.

EG: There’s something else you never saw.

FT: Lay it on me.

EG: Your son Donald became President in 2016, tried to overthrow the government in 2020, then became President AGAIN in 2024.

FT: That’s wild.

EG: You’re not surprised?

FT: Well, maybe a little. I didn’t know you could be President in non-consecutive terms. I guess Taft did it, come to think of it.

EG: You’re thinking of Grover Cleveland.

FT: Do we own any real estate in Cleveland?

EG: I think so? The Trump name is on a lot of property.

FT: Like Trump Plaza! Is Mike Tyson still the champion?

EG: As far as I know. Why did you die?

FT: I was sad.

EG: I see. I read that Donald said that your funeral was the closest he came to ever crying.

FT: That’s kind of weird.

EG: Why does your ear look like cauliflower?

FT: From years of boxing. 

EG: Boxing Helena?

FT: My mother? Hardly. I boxed in boxcars in railroad stations until I died.

EG: Ever beat Tyson?

FT: *laughs* Get real, smarty.

EG: I bet you could beat Tyson and Holyfield at the same time.

FT: Yeah, maybe in my dreams.

EG: Are you proud of Donald for becoming President?

FT: I guess a little. I was hoping he’d maybe build a giant building.

EG: He still could. You seem sad, are you sad?

FT: I miss my son.

EG: You died.

FT: Correct.

EG: What is the last thing you remember?

FT: Going to church.