My wife says I’m like Louis C.K. or Larry David, just not funny.
She only says I’m not funny because of how much I make her suffer.
We have two little kids and she is worried we will not make it. I guess not make it means that everything will go to hell, we will lose the business, we will lose our apartment and we will be eating out of dumpsters. I believe I would be able to make a gourmet meal even from a dumpster. Sounds like a good idea for a Reality Show don’t you think? That kind of statement is what makes her nuts. She thinks I am too cavalier about dumpster caviar.
My intention is not to make her suffer, and perhaps she would suffer less, if I would just show some emotion of suffering. Instead, I say like Alfred E. Newman,”What Me Worry?” That makes her worry.”
We are in a failing Thrift Store business. I can’t worry about something like that. I have been in a failing business since I got into it, twenty years ago. She knew I wasn’t much of a businessman when she met me. I’m about hanging out and hearing and telling stories.
If I close up the business, I will still be in business. I can sell my old crap at flea markets, on Ebay and on Amazon. And if everything else fails, I can collect bottles and cans.
Worrying about a shitty business is not such a big deal.
Maybe you have to come from where I come from. My mother’s side of the family are Holocaust survivors and my father’s side are Jewish Mobsters. The Butcher covered in a blood apron and holding a nice kosher piece of meat acted as the Matchmaker and said,”The two of you should get together, it’s a no-brainer.”
WACK! – Now, when the butcher is making a match, that’s when I start worrying about the future. And yet here I am, the product of that slob’s idea of a good piece of meat.
I grew up looking for Nazi’s chasing me. Now, that’s something to worry about. And when my father came home with blood on his shirt, and his mother was yelling at him,”I just bought you that shirt!” And his response to that was,”But Mom, it’s not my blood.” And after that there was calm in the room. Now, that made me nervous. That stuff freaks me out. A knock at the door when I don’t expect anyone, that can make me start climbing out the fire escape. Losing a business that I have been losing in, is status quo for me.
And when I have had success in business, I knew that the Landlord was about to sniff around and make himself a partner by increasing the rent the exact amount that I was making extra.
I have been a Junkman like Fred Sanford for twenty years. My main mentor Manny worked as a rag picker with a horse and buggy during the Depression. My other mentor Sonny was mainlining Junk, till he got straight and started hustling Junk instead. A straight Junk for Junk trade.
Here’s what I plan on giving you everyday. And I mean just about everyday. The only thing I really got going for me right now and this is kind of sad, is that Junkmen are popular on television right now. There’s the Pawn Stars show and a bunch, bunch more coming. So, since March, I have been trying to get a Reality show. I have a trailer and am in discussion with a bunch of Producers. Of course, the market is about to get saturated with Junkmen, and so I came up with an idea to come up with an Unreality show. My unreality show is just telling my stories and introducing to the characters who I have met over the years, and of course how bad a businessman I truly am. It sounds like a winner to me!
See, after people get to know me, they say,”That guy is unreal.” So, I’ve been talking to Producers, who unlike my wife think I am funny, but they are terrified of me at the same time. I think they can envision themselves lying in a gutter saying,”I should have stuck with “Reality Shows,” I should never have gotten involved with Unreality shows and that Larry Da Junman. And my wife will be lying next to them saying,”I warned you.”
I will be picking beer cans from around their bodies.Hopefully, cans will go up to a dime on the return.
Anyway, I’m still in the shop for now, which will make a great set for an Unreality Show. For example on Sunday, I’m having my Psychedelic Vaudeville Show. People will read poetry with Ventriloquist dummies, juggle knives, and drink dead people’s alcohol…
The main thrust for the evening is:Here in Brooklyn we say,Je ne sais What dah Fuck.” We are high brow, low brow, unibrows here. It should be fun. You should come. Don’t worry, you won’t end up in the gutter, or will you?
ArtShows happen here as well. they are shows of art that people make from Junk.
Good times, till I gotta pack it up. Or will an Unreality show save the day.
Also, you should check out the property, if I do leave, it might be a good spot to sell weed out of.
Today, you just get a sliver, tomorrow a slice.
My kids say funny things: Sadie my five year old was watching the playoffs with me and said,”Dad, I know you like The Mets, but I didn’t know you like baseball.” Spoken like a true Yankee fan when they are not on the brink of elimination.
And Zane said today,”Dad, we better get some nuts, the squirrels look hungry.” We were in the park
That’s it for today
Rock On and Make Sure To Get Your Funk Off
Larry Da Junkman