George

When someone asks George about a CD or movie, or someone doubts that he has something right, he likes to say this:

"Listen, I've been memorizing this stuff since I was ten years old/since 1948, I know what I'm talking about!"

He says this at least three times a day. I mean, I hear him say this at least three times a day; God knows how much he actually says it.

---

I was putting some CDs away. George walked up to me.

"You know, someone just called from Europe. They asked for me, they said 'over here we call you the movie genius.'"

This may well be true. George knows a lot about movies, and his personality is almost inhumanly outgoing, and this is in New York City and all, so it's very possible that some European tourist remembered George and decided to give him a ring. Why did they call all the way from Europe? I don't know. It really is possible that George inspired this kind of devotion in someone, and it is also possible that he's grossly exaggerating or completely making it up.

What I don't believe is that all of Europe refers to George as the movie genius, which is what this European man seemed to be saying, unless George quoted him inaccurately, which is extremely possible.

Anyway, he said "You know, someone just called from Europe. They asked for me, they said 'over here we call you the movie genius.' I wanted to say, 'you should hear what they call me over here.'" I chuckled. He walked away.

About an hour later, I will hear him repeat this story to a couple, who laugh heartily.

---

I was looking up this book on the computer. It looks interesting.

George saw what I was looking at. He pointed.

"I cannot tell you how much I disagree with that."

I thought, what, the thesis of the book?

"Making fun of the President, making fun of America, is the easiest thing in the world you can do. All that negativity, it just makes me sick. People are so negative about America. I mean, I could make fun of your blue shirt" (pointing at my blue shirt) "all day long, does that make me any kind of person?"

I was tempted to point out that my blue shirt had not, say, bungled the response to Hurricane Katrina so grievously that one could be forgiven for thinking it was completely unaware of the situation or that it was its responsibility to do something about the unthinkable devastation (which, in fact, was the case, since it was a shirt), but I kept quiet.

I should point out here that George was not, say, shaking his head mournfully as he spoke out against the negativity of late-night comedians (!) and how they were destroying America (!!) and how making fun or even pointing out the faults of the government was not just pointless (!!!) but morally wrong (!!!!!). He was angry. He was shouting. I could feel his spit landing on my arm.

"I mean, provide some solutions!" he went on. "If you take this," holding up a CD, "and you say, 'this is good.' Build on it!" He paused, realizing, I think, that he had lost the plot.

I am not sure he literally meant that the particular CD he was holding was a good thing that should be built on, or even that it represented all CDs. It may have simply been an aborted metaphor.

But anyway, George wasn't done. I can't remember the order in which he told the following stories, but here they are:

"I had throat cancer and I was in the hospital, they said I might never speak again. I woke up after the operation, the doctor said, 'George, can you move?' I said, 'what do you think, doc,' and I jumped out of bed and started humping his leg." (and again, he was angry. there was real anger in his voice telling these stories.) "I talked to everyone on the floor. Finally the nurse said, 'George, we're moving you to a better room upstairs,' I said, 'why.' She said, 'you've inspired everyone down here, there are people up there who need to hear from you.'"

"I've been cut, I've seen kidnappings, I've seen depression, I've seen suicides. I've negotiated with kidnappers. And I can tell you, negativity will get you nowhere."

"I mean, these protesters in San Fransisco, climbing the bridge. What have they done?" (raised awareness? made themselves heard? indulged in the sublime beauty of the pure Act?) "They climbed a bridge, whoopdie-doo. Have a solution if you're going to criticize, otherwise keep your mouth shut."

"I was on the phone with someone from North Korea, I was supposed to go over there as a motivational speaker. I heard the guy I was talking to get murdered over the phone because he wouldn't give up my last name."

All this, I remind you, was his way of proving that late-night comedy was morally repugnant and wrong.

On the one hand, I kind of understood where he was coming from. Not that I agreed, obviously, but I could almost understand how someone might adopt this kind of anti-negative attitude. He had obviously been through a lot of shit in his life (I'm not saying that I necessarily believe everything he told me word-for-word, but it is also possible that it really did happen that way, and regardless, he's clearly been through something) and when life beats you down enough, being happy you're alive is probably the best response. And denying that there's anything wrong with the world isn't the best way, maybe, to confront pain, but it's one way, and if it worked for this guy, then it worked. But why redirect this rage from the fucked-upedness of the world where it belongs (or, at least, where it originated) onto late-night comedy? On satire? On criticism of a government that can be very very wrong?

So on the other hand, I wanted to tell him, "shut up, you're an idiot."

I didn't. I stood there, very conscious of my facial expressions, not really knowing how I should react. I was smiling most of the time, even when he told me the most horrible stories, because how could I react to this absurd tirade? It was unimaginable. I have to work with this guy, after all.

Go ahead, reader. Go ahead and say it. I'm a coward, an ingrate, a scoundrel for standing there and listening to this incredibly long and incoherent rant disparaging my hobby, my passion, my trade. Pretty much the only thing I care about in life. Go ahead, say it. I'm a coward! Well, maybe I am. Maybe I should have told him how he was wrong, how criticizing the government was the only way anything will ever change (he was literally saying that criticizing the government was wrong and pointless negativity, in the United States; I have to keep writing it because I can hardly believe it), and how satire is the only force powerful enough to alert me to the fact that something is wrong, more powerful than tragedy or sadness or positivity or motivational speaking hokum. You should have defended comedy, you're saying. After all it's done for you, you owed it at least that much.

A fair point. I will say this, though. He was standing only inches from my face. He was literally shaking with anger. Shaking.

And I was thinking to myself, if he finds out what I do outside of this music department, he just might murder me.

So I kept my mouth shut and waited for him to stop and he stopped and we both walked away.

---

I was putting CDs away. Michael Jackson was playing (very loudly) over the speakers (they won't fucking turn down).

George came up to me. "You know, they said I was the only one who was able to pull Michael Jackson out of his depression."

I thought, and look how that turned out.

"He came over to Tower Records when I was over there, this was about ten years ago, it was just me, a clerk and a security guard, after the place had closed. And they were buying everything. They spent thousands of dollars that night, his entourage was just throwing things to each other and they bought it all."

"Uh huh."

"Michael was there and I was singing and dancing around and he was laughing so hard he said 'I'm going to pee the floor.' And I said 'NO. You don't pee, you SING.'"

"Wow."

"And Michael started dancing and you could just see the confidence come back to him. And all the security closed around him, because they knew, this guy was money." (?) "So the next morning, I was working the cashier and I was the only cashier there, it was just me and this clerk and this security guard. And one of Michael's entourage came up to me--because he was staying just over at the Trump Towers--and said 'Michael wants to have breakfast with you.' And I said 'thank you for the invitation, but I have to work here, I have to keep this job.' And the guy looked at me, because you know, he's thinking, this guy is saying no to having breakfast with Michael Jackson. So I wrote him a note--because I had been writing notes to him, I knew he would love it--that said 'thanks for the invitation, but I can't make it, I have work.' And I signed it Happy--for the clerk--Handsome--for the security guard--and Horny--for me."

I chuckled. He walked away.