When you combine natural narcissism with the basic need for self-esteem, you create a creature who has to feel himself an object of primary value: first in the universe, representing in himself all of life.
Ernest Becker, “The Denial of Death” In the interest of fairness and full disclosure, I must admit to committing an egregious act of plagiarism last week.
I lifted the first two paragraphs of my column from a little-known novel I have on a flash drive. I probably shouldn’t have done a lazy thing like that, but the deadline sometimes forces you to take desperate measures.
However, when I was looking at myself in the mirror this morning, I asked the exceedingly handsome author of the novel if he was upset with me.
“Well at least somebody got to read the first two paragraphs,” he replied. “That’s a good start. Why don’t you steal some more this week?”
“That won’t work,” I said to the striking figure in the mirror. “The column is on the sports page, and the novel is a love story.”
“Dude, there’s a lot of sports references in it,” he said. “What about Tom Brady?”
“Good point,” I said to the smoldering Greek god in the mirror. “But wouldn’t that account for shameless and narcissistic self-promotion.”
“If you don’t promote it, who do you think will?” perhaps the sexiest man alive said.
He had me there. So, at the risk of appearing a shameless narcissist … From Part 1: This is two 90-year-old prison inmates talking after a movie shown in the prison.
“Do you know why they chose the number 53 for Herbie in ‘The Love Bug’ film?” Cagney said.
“Was that a horror movie?” Rawlings said.
“Horror movie?” Cagney growled.
“Well, it’s about bugs, isn’t it?” Rawlings asked. “Those ghastly two-headed insects that infest the Gulf Coast.”
“Good Lord, but you’re a dolt,” Cagney said. “Herbie! The Love Bug. The movie was about a VW Beetle race car that had a mind of its own. Dean Jones, Michelle Lee. Buddy Hackett. It’s a classic.”
“Never heard of it,” Rawlings said.
“Not that it matters, but the producer of “The Love Bug” was a Dodgers fan, and they used the number 53 because that was Don Drysdale’s number,” Cagney said. “And just in case you get a shot at Jeopardy one day, Don Drysdale and Robert Redford were high school classmates.”
“I thought Mr. Drysdale’s name was Milburn,” Rawlings said.
“Confucius say: ‘Ignorance is the night of the mind, but a night without moon or star,’” Cagney said.
Cagney breaks out of prison the next day.
And here’s a scene from Part 2: A man named Jack is interviewing for a job at a newspaper with a woman named Helen.
“The mayor has a goat named Tom Brady that he brings to all city council meetings,” Helen said.
“You’re kidding,” Jack said. “No pun intended.”
“Nope,” Helen said. “The Athens daily newspaper does a feature on the mayor and his goat about once a year, but our publisher won’t allow us to even mention the goat, which he considers a tacky publicity stunt. Although we did write a story about the time Tom Brady managed to accidentally crank the mayor’s tractor by chewing on the ignition wires. The tractor was in gear, so after the goat started it, the tractor ran across a field and into the Oconee River.”
“Why did he name it Tom Brady?” Jack asked.
“He didn’t,” Helen said. “He struck up a friendship with a member of the Board of Selectmen in Lakeville, Massachusetts, at a convention a few years back. His friend named the goat Tom Brady and shipped it to Mayor Capra with a Tom Brady name tag around its neck after the Falcons lost Super Bowl 51 to the Patriots.”
“That’s funny,” Jack said. “I find no humor in Super Bowl 51,” Helen said. “None whatever.”
“Can’t Mayor Capra* just change the goat’s name to Matt Ryan,” Jack said. “Then it would be a scapegoat.”
And a little more Tom Brady: An out-of-breath Jack Valentine suddenly blundered into Helen’s office followed by Anthony Smith.
“Who’s this?” Krystal said. “Riggs and Murtaugh?”
Jack glanced at the unfamiliar woman but did not respond to her remark.
“Tom Brady is dead!” Jack announced.
“Just found out!” Anthony said.
“Oh my God!” Krystal said. “That’s terrible. What happened to him?”
“It appears he was poisoned,” Jack said.
“I guess he won’t win another Super Bowl,” Krystal said.
Jack smiled. “You don’t understand,” Jack said. “Tom Brady was a goat.”
“I know,” Krystal said. “That comeback against the Falcons in the Super Bowl was nothing short of amazing, but I wanted him dead myself when the game was over.”
“No, I mean Tom Brady was a goat, like an ibex,” Jack said. “He was Mayor Capra’s pet. And a fine farmhand I’m told.”
“A goat?” Krystal said. “Like a Billy goat?”
“Exactly,” Anthony said. “A Capricorn.”
Jack eventually marries Helen, and Anthony marries Krystal, and everybody lives happily ever after.
Selah. *Capra is Latin for goat.