Yesterday I had a conversation with Steve Martin, my idol/hero/favorite person ever. Before twitter this would have been impossible. Thank you twitter!
I have been a Steve Martin fan forever. You haven't really laughed until you've rolled on the red shag carpeting in the basement of Dave Cunningham's house laughing at "Let's Get Small" while really high.
Just like Sam from "Freaks and Geeks," I had a Steve Martin Best Fishes Poster hanging on my closet door. And if I had ever managed to get a girl into that bedroom, while she gazed at the greatness of Steve, I could have recited word for word every SNL bit, every track from every album and every scrap of dialog from "The Jerk." Poor girls didn't know what they were missing.
"I was raised a poor black child" was my standard pickup line throughout the 80s.
So,when the REAL Steve Martin tweeted this yesterday I was ready, willing and able to respond.
Okay, its not his best work. I think it probably falls somewhere between the 82nd rendition of the Wild and Crazy Guys when Bill Murray replaced Dan Akyroyd and "Cruel Shoes."
Within a minute I replied with "When my twitter account isn't funny I put bologna in its shoes." And then followed within seconds with a carefully crafted additional reply, "Darn it, should have been I put bologna in the little bird's shoes." I had created comedy gold, spontaneously, within the constraints of 140 characters. I awaited my idol's response, confident that my genius could not be ignored and that a possible mentor relationship might arise with little bird wings.
While I waited, I was disappointed to see that a guy nemed Chesney had snuck in and broken up my comedic run with a little ass kissing. Oh well, maybe it actually added to the timing.
So what did I get from Mister Bigshot Steve Martin? Nothing. Nada. Zilch. A bupkis sandwich.
Could it be that Mister Bigshot Steve Martin's personal assistant doesn't remember that bit?
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