ADVISE AND REGRET

 I had an idea of sitting a few mornings a week at one of the open-air tables in Times Square with a sign reading FREE LIFE ADVICE FROM AN OLD GUY. NO POLITICS, RELIGION OR FAMILY CRAP DISCUSSED. 

Because you don't wanna be like me.

Apart from getting me out of the house for the morning, it would give me the rare opportunity to pass along a lifetime of hard-earned wisdom to what I hoped would be receptive younger people who were currently experiencing problems, quandaries, and general issues similar to those I once did. Each of my answers, I was sure, would inevitably begin with, Well, when I was your age, what I SHOULD have done was...

Altruistic? Oh, naturally. Until I remembered a similar idea from three 30-something women who did the same thing at their own sidewalk table in Greenwich Village. Calling themselves, I believe, The Advice Chicks, they, too, gave advice for a paltry sum in the five-dollar range. 

As word of this hydra-headed Dear Abby got around, the Advice Chicks (or whatever they were called) were written up in the Weekend section of the New York Times. By the end of the week, they had signed a one year, five-figure option deal for their story with Robert De Niro's production company.

A similar scenario played out in my head, although the old guy angle would probably be a better fit for the Post or Daily News. A movie deal was less likely, since there can be only two movies a year with older characters in the lead, and Jack Nicholson is retired. But maybe, maybe a publisher would take a chance on a book. Something like Tuesdays with Morrie, if Morrie wrote it himself. 

So far, so greedy. I then stepped back a moment, pondering the fates of other recent, out-of-nowhere pop culture figures. Many fell victim to self-styled internet sleuths whose sole mission is look for perceived personal and moral failures of the new celeb on the block. Googling the target's name, they look for anything on social media that makes him or her look bad by whatever standards people are supposed to live up to today (or tomorrow).

But I never took the wrong turn at
Alburquerque. 

Anybody who doesn't know me can cherry-pick, misquote, or take out of context over a few decades' worth of stuff I've written for various publications and that still exist online. My politics have zig-zagged more than Bugs Bunny tunneling underground. And, if you've read this blog long enough, you know I have few kind things to say about celebrities or politicians of any kind. 

The idea of being "cancelled" didn't bother me. But always ready to go the extra mile when it comes to considering the worst outcomes of any situation, I was concerned about two things. 

The first was having a large group of self-righteous youngsters banging drums, blowing whistles, and yelling insults outside my building. Not only would this put a crimp on dinner for my wife and me, more importantly it would tick off everyone else in the co-op. Never piss off your co-op neighbors.

The second, more serious possibility was my daughter facing an embarrassment far more serious than whatever dads usually do. There was also an excellent chance that she would be put on the spot, not so much by her friends who knew the real me (such as I am), but acquaintances and even strangers. 

Once they learned her last name, the inquisition would begin. Wait -- is that guy in New York your dad? Did you know he was like this? Was he ALWAYS like this? Have you tried to set him straight? What are you going to do about it? You've got to pick a side -- are you with HIM? Or US? 

On the other hand, maybe you want to stay on
this guy's good side.

I didn't want my aspiring urban-planner daughter beginning her post-college life on the wrong side of a 1984-style third degree where she felt obliged to give up dear ol' dad in exchange for cultural acceptance or, worse, a career. But if that's what it took to get a job, I was ready to forego any future Father's Day Facetimes. I've lived my life. Let the girl live hers. 

Wowee, that's some noble sacrifice there. Or would be if things really played out like this, which it probably wouldn't. There's a very good chance this is primarily just me looking for an excuse to stay in my air-conditioned apartment during this miserable weather -- which, if the emails I receive from City Hall are any indication, is the right thing to do. Let's revisit this idea in the fall, unless global warming really is here to stay.

We have ways of making you regret
buying a movie ticket.

PS: If you don't recall watching something called The Advice Chicks, you aren't the only one. Nobody on De Niro's team could come up with an idea to support a 90-minute romcom about three yentas horning in on people's lives. 

Instead, De Niro produced and starred in The Adventures of Rocky and Bullwinkle. Bet you didn't see that one, either.

                                                                                                                                                       *************