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January 9, 1997

Hearing Voices
Copyright 1997 - Greg Bulmash - All Rights Reserved


On New Year's Eve, I stayed up and watched some of the comedy specials on HBO. Lucky me, I got to watch Kathy Griffin's half-hour of "songs my donkey sang me."

If you're not aware who Kathy Griffin is, she is the redhead on "Suddenly Susan" (on NBC) and she's also a stand-up comic. As I was watching her special, listening to her voice, one thought ran through my mind. "Jesus, it took Suzanne Pleshette until she was fifty to sound like that." On the other hand, it's an unfair comparison. Suzanne Pleshette's voice sounds more like Harvey Fierstein while Kathy Griffin's voice sounds, well, like a wood-chipper shredding a set of bagpipes.

But I say all this just to prove a point about why so many people are afraid to get involved in relationships nowadays. We're always finding fault. It used to be that the faults were simple things... like leprosy. No lepers. I just have this thing where I can't bring myself to date someone with open sores and missing body parts. It's not you, it's me. I know, I've been trying to deal with it in therapy. I'm working my way up to it, and I've been seeing an amputee for about a month now, but until then... let's just be friends.

We'd like to blame it on celebrities, wouldn't we? People like Bradd Pitt and Vendela. We think everyone is looking for someone just like that, and since we don't measure up, we are scorned. I've heard people say "if I had a team of personal trainers, make-up artists, hairdressers, vocal coaches, photographers, and plastic surgeons at my beck and call, I could be that awesome too."

No, you couldn't. What do you think, somewhere there's a secret cabal of media giants having a lottery? There's this huge fishbowl with the names of all the people in the entire world in it, they reach in with a really big pair of tweezers, and voila. "Send a team to Uzbekistan, Bob! We've got a winner!"

I know that no matter what I do in my life, short of delving into the occult and finding some way to evict his soul and take over his body, I'll never look like Brad Pitt. I've accepted it. In fact, I believe we all realize these things in some way or another. It's part of growing up.

So I start thinking that maybe even Kathy Griffin deserves a break. I mean, she's not bad looking and she's pretty intelligent. Who knows? Maybe we could be a really great couple. Maybe I wouldn't mind her voice after a while. Maybe I wouldn't even find it tedious waking up in the morning, grabbing that plastic handle on the back of her neck, and giving it a yank to pull-start the wood-chipper.

But I realize that if I did meet her and we fell in love, someday she'd find out that I wrote this about her. She'd get all mad, tell me I was no good in bed, tell me she never cared about me. Then she'd dump me, I'd never get back that Frank Zappa album I left at her apartment... And I realize what's really wrong with Kathy Griffin. She's a lying, mean-spirited, album-stealing bitch.

I could never get involved with someone like that.

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