Happy 2003! Due
to the holidays and an overabundance of reruns, it's been
a couple of weeks since my last column. But that doesn't
mean your faithful columnist is not hard at work. More on
that later. First things first: The big guy spending his
Christmas entertaining the troops over in Afghanistan.
How cool was that? Bringing along both Paul and Biff,
In the spirit of past reflections (Auld Lang Syne and all
that jazz) and the ever present New Years Resolutions, I
will be devoting this week's column not to a particular
LATE SHOW segment but rather to life lessons gleaned from
years of faithful viewing. Some people may get their
pearlets of wisdom from noted Oprah ex, Dr. Phil (when
ARE they gonna shut down that guy's little dog-and-pony
show down anyway?). Personally, I prefer to learn at the
foot of the master, our own Dr. Dave.
I admit it. I'm just an old softie. I'm a
sucker for tradition. Come on, it wouldn't be Christmas
without a visit from Jay Thomas, a big, splashy Darlene
Love production number, or witnessing the ceremonial
meatball and pizza combo as it hangs precariously on the
top of the LATE SHOW Christmas tree.
With the LATE SHOW on hiatus this week, long standing
tradition have finally been broken, namely, the much
imitated, never improved upon "Hey! That Ain't
Eggnog!!!" spit take and, more importantly, the
"Dave with leggy supermodel flashback/Paul
interrupting by plaintively asking, 'Dave, is that REALLY
how you spent News Years Eve?'" sequence.
Now, obviously, I am not one to disappoint. I will be
sharing with you, my loyal readers, how I chose to spend
the waning moments of 2002. At the end, you may be
asking, "Xander, is that REALLY how you spent New
Years Eve?" To which I can say, regretfully, yes and
I have the bruises to prove it.
As I rub my chin, the scene becomes blurry, it seems like
it happened only last night:
On New Years Eve, I found myself on stage. You see, in
college, I was in a band ("Say kids, do you like the
Rock and Roll?" asketh Dave.) At the time, we
thought we were pretty hot shit but you know the fickle
nature of the music biz ("It's important, in show
business, to be able to tell the pinheads from the
weasels"). I mean who didn't think a happenin'
little Ska band wouldn't make it big in 1994? To
give you a proper perspective, try to imagine No Doubt
but insted of Gwen Stefani, substitute a skinny, Japanese
guy, much like myself, out in front ("I AM Mr. Rock
And Roll"). Alas, after a handful of dates, Bad Juju
goes it separate way.
Fast forward eight years, we suddenly found ourselves
back in business...for one night only...and for
absolutely no pay ("big time show bidness").
Hey, a gig's a gig. But instead of Ska, I reached into
the songbook of one Warren Zevon. The reasoning behind
this: the group is missing a few key members and, to be
perfectly honest, I haven't so much as sang a note since,
I don't know, the mid nineties, so fewer high notes would
mean fewer potential screw ups ("He just ain't
hooked up right").
I entertained the throngs ("deadbeats and ne'er do
wells") with my inimitable covers of "EXCITABLE
BOY," "LAWYERS, GUNS, & MONEY,"
("just blew the roof off the dump") and for the
big finale, I sang what can very well be considered my
theme song: "MR. BAD EXAMPLE."
Let me give you a fast visual: For this performance, I
have chosen to wear a condom sized shirt from the
International Male collection ("I don't like dem
pretty boys"). Side note: Jeez, once you're on their
mailing list, you're on it for life. I am also wearing a
pair of very tight leather pants. Did I stuff and fluff?
Yes, but not out of vanity, mind you. It was simply my
personal homage to one of my favorite movies THIS IS
SPINAL TAP ("America's Favorite Preserved Meat
Giveaway"). That may have been too much information
("Paul, I seemed to have frightened the audience
For "MR. BAD EXAMPLE," I made a valiant attempt
at a Rick James super freaky 'bump and hump' before
segueing into a classic James Brown 'electric boogaloo
glide and slide'-white boy division ("There's no off
position on the genius switch"). For the final
chorus, I somehow got in touch with my scary inner
Michael Flatley in RIVERDANCE side, tore off my sweaty,
condom sized shirt, and sang barechested ("Diggity
Xander's New New Years Resolution: Join a health club
ASAP. ("Paul, IS Merv Griffin dead?").
XANDER YOUR COMMENTS ABOUT THIS
OR ANY OTHER ARTICLE HE HAS WRITTEN
WORDS OF WISOM FROM DR. DAVE
NIGHT DAVE VS. LATE SHOW DAVE
BOX OF PARTS