Making Chicken Salad Out of Chickenshit

When I write, I try to tell something that comes from nothing.  All the time.  Unlike Bill O’Reilly, I never saw El Salvadoran nuns get shot. Never shared a ‘shot up’ helicopter with Brian Williams.  I did see a man, Lee Harvey Oswald, get murdered live on television, but so did 50 million others.  So I go with what I got.

Which ain’t much.

But certain people, especially gifted comics, can run for miles with nothing.  Johnny Carson was unmatched.  Decades ago, there was a strange little Romanian  ‘musician’ named Zamfir (still performs!) that played the pan flute.  Nobody except his closest family gave him a thought.

Except for Carson-  Johnny would scrunch his neck troll like, roll his eyes, and send up Zamfir.  Who else woulda thunk of it?  Great stuff.

And then we have comedian Lewis Black. A few weeks ago I wrote a piece about 1950’s nuclear air raid drills, and I thought it was pretty funny.  Then I heard Black cover the same material.

Shit. He thought of 50 things I never thought of.  All funny. I had nothing but admiration.

And Jerry Seinfeld spent 5 minutes telling us why it was important to use a divider to separate our groceries on the conveyor belt.

Superb.

And so it shall remain the little crap. After all, how many big stories have we got?

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