Me on Me on Garrison Keillor
(Note: Garrison Keillor's new book, Me by Jimmy (Big Boy)
Valente as Told to Garrison Keillor , was published Monday. The publisher
describes it as "an uproarious political satire about a professional wrestler
who's elected governor.")
What have you got
against Garrison Keillor?
Me:
Nothing.
Come on, you're talking
to me.
Me:
Nothing, really. Just one time (this was years before I was a second-tier
public radio personality) I went to see his show at the Tech College, caught
him out in the corridor, and lied to him about how much I liked his show
(really, he talks so slow it makes me nervous, plus all that lip noise
indicating introspection being released into the atmosphere) and, silly boy,
launched into how I was doing a live daily radio show from a greasy spoon and
all, and he looked at me and said, "Do you know where the bathroom is?" I did,
having just been there. But I vowed on the spot that, should I ever be in a
position to be accosted by fans, or faux fans, in a hallway, wanting to tell me
about their life, I would always have something more constructive to say.
Unless you really have
to pee.
Me:
True. But I try to emulate country music stars--they may be assholes, but
they're great to their public.
Working on the asshole
part?
Me: You
should talk.
Right. So what besides
that?
Me:
Nothing. Well, in every press interview I've ever had that goes over 25 words,
two of them are "Garrison" and "Keillor." That gets to you pretty quick. They
all want to talk about what we have in common, as if I'm doing Lutheran
standup. I told one guy from Night Scene in Biloxi, Miss., that I was up
to .67 Keillor Units, but that was just bravado and doesn't include royalties,
speaking fees, catalog sales, ancillary rights, etc. Now this well-timed new
book should put him way ahead. You could probably get two or three of me for
one Garrison now.
And a player to be
named later. So it's the shadow thing?
Me:
Yeah. Either he's getting bigger or the sun is setting.
On the other hand, he's
got Mark Twain between him and daylight.
Me:
That would account for the occasional white suit.
And he's got to get
past Ring Lardner first.
Me:
True. And Benchley. And S.J. Perelman ...
... can rest in
peace.
Me: You
said it .
Who wins a Jesse "The
Body" vs. Gary "The Kitty Boutique" grudge match?
Me: My
money's on Garrison, as long as it stays out of the parking lot.
Yeah, in a parking lot
he's dead, bent over the trunk of a Trans Am, face smeared against the rear
window.
Me:
Brains all over the Oakley Thermonuclear Protection decal.
Yeah. For messing with
the best.
Me:
Hooyah! But if it's strictly hyperbole, with the ring strung with verbal barbed
wire, Garrison will helicopter him on one finger so Jesse pees outside the
ring.
Read the new book,
huh?
Me: Worse, I took it on
vacation. Fortunately, I had Nabokov's short stories. White Russians drinking
the same. Anyway, Me is kind of a comic book, very heavy on graphics
like you used to find in Johnson and Smith catalogs, and rife with bold print
emphasizing nothing in particular:
Fairbanks White Blaze Vanderbilt Used Rambler Alcan Highway The post
office The cogs simply do not mesh As a bear would say goodbye to a leg
trap
That's not bad. I kind
of like that.
Me:
Sounds like Red Green on acid.
So you pretty much
liked the book then?
Me: No.
It's pretty hard to parody a parody.
But it's "a political
satire."
Me:
Animal Farm was a political satire. "A Modest Proposal," was a political
satire. What Garrison has written is a parody. Look it up. And why do we call
him by his first name, anyway? What is he, "Saddam"?
Anything else you liked
about the book?
Me: The guy looking at the
Playboy spread "The Women of NPR." Now that's funny.
