Joltin' Joe, star struck & first-world probz

Joltin' Joe, star struck & first-world probz

Dear Rachel,

Where HAS Joe DiMaggio gone? Why did he leave us? And why on Earth would a nation turn its lonely eyes to him? He wasn’t even the best Yankee, and he had been retired longer than he played. It would be like us turning our lonely eyes to Juan Gonzales. Plus, why were the nation’s eyes so lonely? There is no shortage of people here, nor was there back then. Is this all just the Marilyn Monroe effect?

– Coo Coo Cah Choo

 

Dear Whoa Whoa Whoa,

I’m enchanted by the Marilyn Monroe effect. The idea that one woman with the Midas touch could immortalize any man she wished. I mean, we don’t idolize any other president from the 1960s, do we? I also wonder about the Paul Simon effect: if your name has the right syllables, with the right stress, you end up in an enduring classic. Yogi didn’t fit. Neither did Mickey. So Joe it was. 

– What’s that you say, Rachel


Dear Rachel,

I encountered a minor celebrity at work the other day. Not going to name-drop, but let’s just say, as a resident of this great corner of this great state, you’d recognize her. She expected special treatment without saying she expected special treatment. But we made her wait a half hour like everyone else. It made me wonder how I’d feel as a minor celebrity, treated like a plebe. My ego insists I’d be fine with it. But my heart knows I would hate it. 

– A Face to Remember

Dear Unforgettable,

You want the special treatment? I’ll pretend you wrote in with an actual question instead of some humble-brag about mingling with future “Dancing with the Stars” dropouts and pretending you’re actually better than the rest of us. Oh, wait, no I won’t. Because if I can’t get special treatment as arguably the greatest local celebrity of them all, NO ONE SHOULD. 

– Now get me some green M&Ms, Rachel


Dear Rachel,

Pickle ball… location, location, location. Parking, noise, cost, paint, cement. Enough is enough. How about bocce ball courts in the city parks? No noise, land, parking already, no paint or cement. Just build them and they will come. Courts are made of sand and 2x6 lumber, all natural. The players prepare the court for play. No city workers. This might be the new sport for Durangotangs.

– Ms Bocce Pollina

Dear Bocce-lism,

Why do you want to do away with city workers? I’ve known a couple city workers who were truly lovely people, once they stopped low-key griping about the monotony and the morale. I bet they would have made excellent bocce ball players. Hell, even I would make an excellent bocce ball player. I’m not saying I would be Joe DiMaggio of the sand pit. More like the Marilyn Monroe. Or is it Marilyn Manson? 

– Balls in hand, Rachel

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