Things That Make You Go "Hmmmmm"
Posted: Tue Sep 20, 2005 3:58 amhttp://www.otherpeoplesstories.com/069.html
Joshuah Bearman on sweatpants and poker
I was at a party and people were talking about how it seems like everybody’s playing poker these days. Regular poker games are sprouting up across the land; Positively Fifth Street is on the bestseller list; poker mavens are being featured in magazines and documentaries. “Why not?” we all agree. It’s fun, vaguely cultural, and an opportunity to see people often. Plus you might take home some money. But then there’s that weird element poker can introduce, the social wild card part. Like when someone brings a visitor to your regular poker night and personal styles clash. The guy takes it too seriously, for instance, yelling at people and insisting on casino rules nobody’s heard of; or the guy who cracks bunk jokes, or the new player who brings three bags of foul snacks like 3-D Doritos, Texas Paprika Style (“I thought they discontinued these”).
“So this guy shows up at Tim’s house.” Brad starts telling the tale of one such encounter. “First thing he says is ‘Hey man you got any sweats?’ Very first thing. Walks in the door, demands sweat pants. Actually, if I remember correctly, it was ‘Hey man you got any fuckin’ sweats?’”
Tim, surprised, obliges. “I guess so,” he says, and takes him in his room to get the sweats.
The guy starts putting on Tim’s sweats, then stops to suddenly ask Tim who the best guitarist in the world is. But it is not really phrased as a question; it’s more of a demand, like, Let’s Get Down To Brass Tacks Here. “Alright,” he says. “Best guitarist in the world.” When no immediate answer comes, the guy repeats, “Lay it on me. Best guitarist in the world.” Tim stammers something like, “Well, you know I don’t really —”
“It’s cool dude. Best guitarist. Who do you think it is? Hendrix? You’re probably thinking Hendrix. Or Eddie Van Halen?”
Tim says nothing. The guy is shaking is head, satisfied that he is about to correct a universal and egregious misunderstanding.
“No way, dude. Neal Schon. That’s right, bro! Neal Schon. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking ‘Journey is a ballad band,’ but dude Neal Schon is a prodigy . . . those glides, man?”
The guy pantomimes some kick-ass Neal Schon glides.
“Smokin’! I mean I know Steve Perry carried the band, but Neal Schon was the sound behind the fury, dude. Think about it.”
And indeed, Brad did think about it. “I can’t decide which part I like better,” someone at the party said, “the Neal Schon thing or that he just walks into someone’s house and announces that he requires sweat pants. It’s not like he was naked, right? He came in there wearing pants.” Brad agreed that it’s hard to decide, but I notice that he seems to like re-enacting the Pantomiming of the Glides. Me, I put on “Escape” to take a closer listen for the genius behind those glides. As for fury, I don’t know. I mean, dude can keep the sweats, but with Schon he’s on to something: some of those licks are pretty sweet.
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Joshuah Bearman is a writer, and along with his girlfriend, a jewelry proprietor. He lives in Los Angeles.
Joshuah Bearman on sweatpants and poker
I was at a party and people were talking about how it seems like everybody’s playing poker these days. Regular poker games are sprouting up across the land; Positively Fifth Street is on the bestseller list; poker mavens are being featured in magazines and documentaries. “Why not?” we all agree. It’s fun, vaguely cultural, and an opportunity to see people often. Plus you might take home some money. But then there’s that weird element poker can introduce, the social wild card part. Like when someone brings a visitor to your regular poker night and personal styles clash. The guy takes it too seriously, for instance, yelling at people and insisting on casino rules nobody’s heard of; or the guy who cracks bunk jokes, or the new player who brings three bags of foul snacks like 3-D Doritos, Texas Paprika Style (“I thought they discontinued these”).
“So this guy shows up at Tim’s house.” Brad starts telling the tale of one such encounter. “First thing he says is ‘Hey man you got any sweats?’ Very first thing. Walks in the door, demands sweat pants. Actually, if I remember correctly, it was ‘Hey man you got any fuckin’ sweats?’”
Tim, surprised, obliges. “I guess so,” he says, and takes him in his room to get the sweats.
The guy starts putting on Tim’s sweats, then stops to suddenly ask Tim who the best guitarist in the world is. But it is not really phrased as a question; it’s more of a demand, like, Let’s Get Down To Brass Tacks Here. “Alright,” he says. “Best guitarist in the world.” When no immediate answer comes, the guy repeats, “Lay it on me. Best guitarist in the world.” Tim stammers something like, “Well, you know I don’t really —”
“It’s cool dude. Best guitarist. Who do you think it is? Hendrix? You’re probably thinking Hendrix. Or Eddie Van Halen?”
Tim says nothing. The guy is shaking is head, satisfied that he is about to correct a universal and egregious misunderstanding.
“No way, dude. Neal Schon. That’s right, bro! Neal Schon. I know what you’re thinking. You’re thinking ‘Journey is a ballad band,’ but dude Neal Schon is a prodigy . . . those glides, man?”
The guy pantomimes some kick-ass Neal Schon glides.
“Smokin’! I mean I know Steve Perry carried the band, but Neal Schon was the sound behind the fury, dude. Think about it.”
And indeed, Brad did think about it. “I can’t decide which part I like better,” someone at the party said, “the Neal Schon thing or that he just walks into someone’s house and announces that he requires sweat pants. It’s not like he was naked, right? He came in there wearing pants.” Brad agreed that it’s hard to decide, but I notice that he seems to like re-enacting the Pantomiming of the Glides. Me, I put on “Escape” to take a closer listen for the genius behind those glides. As for fury, I don’t know. I mean, dude can keep the sweats, but with Schon he’s on to something: some of those licks are pretty sweet.
_______________________________________________________________________
Joshuah Bearman is a writer, and along with his girlfriend, a jewelry proprietor. He lives in Los Angeles.