Bask in my Glory, People!

I want to let you people in on a little secret … I am descended from greatness! Now, before I get a reputation for self-aggrandizement, let me say that I’m fully aware how pretentious that sounds. I will, however, prove unequivocally that my ancestry shall put all others to shame, except perhaps for these guys. (Even I’m not cooler than the coolest cats in Cook County!)

The first part of my tale takes us to a simpler time – an age of reason, class, and distinction. Of course, I speak of the late 1970’s, when Wink Martindale unveiled the greatest game show of all time, a scrawny scientist taught us we wouldn't like it when we got him angry, and Empire was still a glint in George Lucas’s eye. Back then, I was a young lad living in Natchitoches, Louisiana. Natchitoches is a small town in the central part of the state best known for being the oldest continuous settlement in the Louisiana Purchase, serving as the setting for the greatest diabetes-themed chick flick ever made, and originating the finest deep-fried, meat-filled pastries known to man. I'm not sure why we lived there - I'm sure it had something to do with Dad's job.

Our first house there was a relatively new abode on a single street on the outskirts of town. I believe it was supposed to be the start of a new neighborhood, but I never saw any additional development going on during our stay there. Our backyard abutted an expansive pasture, which was a fantastic place for flying kites. I distinctly remember the day we bought a 4-foot deep above-ground pool, and I stayed outside in it for approximately 12 hours straight. My sunburn from that day resulted in every inch of my skin peeling off ... I essentially molted that summer!

I also remember the time my dad took the sawed-off ends of 2 x 4’s and made a model of Sesame Street for me. I "drew" different characters on old pieces of wood, and then ... well, I'm not sure what I did then. I guess I played Sesame Street, although that sounds an awful lot like playing with dolls. Maybe it's best that we just move on ...

Right now, you may be saying to yourself, “Jim, that doesn’t sound all that much like greatness to me.” Allow me to retort by saying:

1) You apparently can’t envision how awesome that Big Bird was.
2) I can’t hear you, genius! This is a written medium.
3) Be patient ... I'm getting to the good stuff.

Anyway, we had this massive pasture behind the house. The grass would get pretty tall, making it an ideal place to run around and hide or whatever (as dumb kids tend to do). One day, I noticed a lot of construction going on all the way on the other side of the pasture. I didn't walk over there, as I was just as lazy back then as I am now; however, I watched as a new, two-story house was being constructed. This wasn't any ordinary house, though. It had a wood siding and white trim. The bottom story was some form of purple, but the top story was lime green. Perhaps your mind can't conceive of such a color scheme. In that eventuality, please take a glance at the following conceptual drawing:



Now, a kid my age got his sense of style from The Super Friends, so this house didn't seem abnormal. Apparently, though, this multi-chromatic dwelling raised a few inquiries around the area. Eventually, my Dad let me know that he learned the identity of the newest neighbor: Mr. Sylvester Ritter. Of course, you may know him better as THIS GUY:



That’s right, True Believers ... we lived next to the freaking Junkyard Dog! The J-Y-freakin'-D! This man, this bastion of greatness, this prince among men lived mere minutes away from my lowly home.

Now, I'm aware the uninformed or uneducated amongst you may see him as just some dude wearing a chain and spandex; however, those of us with class and sophistication know the JYD was truly one of the greatest men of our age. Hell, he even made it onto Hulk Hogan’s Saturday morning cartoon! Have any of you ever been depicted in a cartoon? I didn’t think so!



I never met the Dog, and 8 to 12 months later, his house burned down. (I have no idea why, but I like to think it spontaneously combusted from sheer bad-assitude!) We moved away, and that was that ... but for that brief time, I was living next to a true American Treasure. How many of you punks can say as much?

Well, after all that, I know it seems like I fell a little short, huh? That rambling tale of wrestling celebrities and their atrocious color choices just doesn't seem to match up with my claim of greatness. But see, I only told you that story to tell you the NEXT tale. Our next saga will provide such hard-hitting evidence as to the very greatness within my genes that even you, my harshest critics, will understand that the Mantle of Greatness truly is mine to bear.

And we'll get to that in a little something I like to call ... Part II!

(OK, maybe I need to work on the title a little, but it's still going to be good!)

Until next time,
The Jim