Larry

Don’t ever name your child Larry. I think at this point people are pretty hip to that, but just in case, let this passage serve as a reminder. I don’t remember any contemporaries of mine named Larry in grade school, although there might have been a Lawrence or two (and they fucking preferred it that way). The Larrys I’ve known are at least 10 years older than me (for the sake of argument, around 40 years old or older), and always the sleaziest motherfuckers to claim hetero-male status. I think that the name sort of dictates the life events and decisions that ultimately derive you of morals or any sense of right or wrong. For example, one Larry that I (would prefer not to) know, is a friend of my parents and is probably about 60 years old now. When I first moved to SF 7 years ago, he insisted that my parents give him my phone number in case of an emergency (which makes no sense, as if anything went wrong, I would need his phone number and not the other way around). To put things into perspective, up to this point, this jerk-off had moved his entire family to Amsterdam (he was a consultant that ultimately made millions of dollars off of large companies, by doing basically nothing except trivial amounts of research) so that he could smoke weed all day, and get hookers. His wife and kids hated living there, and as a result, his wife developed a vicious drinking problem, and his kids stopped talking to him. After 2 or 3 years, she filed for divorce and took the kids back to the states. He also had to return to deal with the divorce, which is where I enter the story, at 22 years old, freshly arriving in San Francisco, and getting a phone call from some friend of my parents, that I had met maybe 3 or 4 times in my life (who was in his mid 50s) to “hang out”. At this point in time I didn’t realize that the name Larry itself would likely harbor negative effects on its subjects. Still I had no desire to hang with a 53 year old in San Rafael for no apparent reason. After a few months, and several weird phone calls (and a few which I had to duck), I ended up having to go over to the dude’s house to drop off some of his stuff which he had left (purposely?) at my parent’s house, which they insisted I return to him. Long story short, he invited me to jump on his trampoline, got me a beer, smoked me out, and then told me that he wanted to hit bars with me in the city and meet girls “closer to my age”. Sleaze!

Now, I’m aware that everything that I’ve just written relates to one person named Larry, which is no reason to tarnish the name, but, there are other Larry’s of recent history which also validate my sentiments: Larry Flynt, Larry the Cable Guy, Larry Singleton (Rapist and Mutilator), Larry Eugene Phillips (Bank Robber), Larry Craig (Vile Republican Senator of Idaho), Leisure-Suit Larry (it was a video game about a gynecologist, but I think the programmers really hit the nail on the head), the character Gary Shandling played on the Larry Sanders’ Show was pretty shady in his own regard, Cyclone Larry (a destructive category-5 cyclone in Australia in 2006, resulting in nearly $1 billion in damage and one fatality), etc… Even saying the name Larry aloud, conjures images of polygamy, connivance, and freaky sexual deviance.

In other news, I just checked google analytics, and it’s nice to see that the word “mangina” is still getting my blog a significant number of visitors.
Sister Sledge - You Fooled Me
Sister Sledge - Pretty Baby