I spent last weekend with him and my sister. During a drive, I took notes on his various complaints about the options on satellite radio, etc. It went like this:
My sister mentions John Mayer, who's on the radio. My dad: "Who's John Mayer?" Sis: "He dated Jennifer Aniston." Dad: "It certainly didn't do much for his singing."
My sister changes the station. Now a recent Bob Dylan track is playing. My dad loves Bob Dylan. Dad: "Do you have any country?" Me: "Dad, this is Bob Dylan." Dad, realizing it's true: "It's not one of his best."
My sis switches to Howard Stern, who is interviewing Jerry O'Connell. O'Connell says, "I told my wife if she gets another dog, I'm leaving." My dad: "Sounds like a good deal for his wife." Keep in mind he has no idea who Jerry O'Connell is.
We pass a California Pizza Kitchen. My dad: "California pizza!? California pizza is THE WORST."
My sister switches to a hip-hop station. Dad: "How can they call this music?"
Dad: "Matt, did you see Ken Burns' jazz documentary?" Me: "No, how was it?" Dad: "Pretty good but not perfect. Too much about new jazz, not enough about old. He should have had more about Scott Joplin."
My sister switches to the "rock and blues" station. Dad: "Rock and blues? There's no chemistry between the two." Take that Eric Clapton!
That was all within a ten minute span. And the truth is my dad doesn't even like music. Or pizza. He's just constantly on the complaint warpath. (Hmm, a character that complains a lot onstage. I should totally explore that, eh?)
Also, he reminded me of this: He's a real neat freak. When I was a kid, he would constantly make sure that I washed my hands and brushed my teeth. I remember being young when Marvin Gaye's father shot Marvin Gaye. I asked my dad, "Why did Marvin Gaye's father kill him?" My dad's answer, without missing a beat: "Because he wouldn't brush his teeth."
Permalink | 4/29/2009