Why couldn't Da-da have lived in the '50s and 60s?
He would've gone out. All the time. On the company. Worn snappy suits...
...tuxedoes, dinner jackets, SMOKING JACKETS, worn HOMBURGS (or had them wear him)...
...driven automobiles of epic proportion...
...had 4 martini lunches BEHIND THE WHEEL, while lapsing into a kind of growlingly jingoistic Rotarianism. Smoked a pipe. LET HIS WIFE RAISE THE KIDS. Ah, allow Da-da this little Eisenhowerian fantasy a moment longer. What else? Oh, yeah. Da-da would've listened to some smiley happy white people music:
Taken up bongoes:
Had a mid-life crisis (at least THAT would be the same):
Moved out to the coast and taken up a new career for a time:
Picked up a new car, perhaps -- A ROCKET CAR:
Run with a different crowd:
Taken up acting:
Detoured with... THE WRONG WOMAN:
Then, totally freaked and warped in a whole new direction. ENGAGE!
Downshifted, sudden-like, all gray and weird and bitter, spouting his life story while piloting taxicabs at ludicrous speed...
...before finally discovering that Da-da was really in a Fellini movie all along:
Da-da is ready for his close-up!
No comments:
Post a Comment