Proud Dad Moment. Son starts dating.

That would be like worlds colliding.

 

Wait! Starman needed backup to dispense justice and shoved a Mook into aluminum siding instead of a cement wall? I am stunned and disappointed.

 

Must have been the 60's when aluminum siding was big

 

If his backup also doubled as an aluminum siding repairman, I withdraw my comment.

 

LOL ... I'll plead guilty (already have, actually) to that (although I keep my thoughts to myself). At my son's last concert, there were two young ladies that I thought, "Wow, if I were a freshman in college ..." One was a violist with flowing red hair and a sort-of pouty vibe. The other was a cellist (as is my son) who had kind of a Bebe Neuwirth look about her (albeit with a shorter 'do).

Now, as you well know, it's not like these young ladies were sporting some revealing fashions; black orchestra attire was the uniform of the day. But something 'bout women and stringed instruments and classical music ...

 

I can see that working well, doc.

"Hey, Junior, you should ask out that cellist who looks like Bebe Neuwirth."

"Bebe who?"

"She was on Cheers."

"What?"

"And Frasier."

"Who?"

"Nevermind."

 

I think that's the first time I've ever seen "a Bebe Neuwirth look" described as a good and/or sexy thing.

 

You should catch her in something when she's not playing Lilith.

 

She played a slutty hairdresser in Summer of Sam. I didn't know it was her until the credits. But she looked good.

 

She had a run on "Blue Bloods" as a watchdog over Selleck. But she liked him too much to be effective in her job, so she quit and moved away.

 

Need to know what happened on the date before we can determine if asked for what he wanted.

 

It was in the late 80s but the side of the mook's trailer was the nearest hard surface available (and I suspect the trailer dated from the 60s if not the 50s). In any case his head didn't react well to being slammed into it.

Funny. These were days well in advance of Columbine, but StarBro and I each wore long black duster coats for this "visit." We figured it would be a nice dramatic touch. We left the cowboy hats at home, but we compensated by wearing our old HS football cleats.

Mr. Mook was under the hood of his car when we pulled up. He peeked out for a second but appeared not to recognize us, then went back under the hood and took another slug of his beer.

We got out of the car and walked briskly (didn't run) toward the car.

When we were about two strides away, he pulls out and his dim mind registers who we were. His eyes widen and he says, "Uhhh... what do you want?"

By the time he was finished saying "want," we each had one side of his shirt collar in our fists and his feet were dangling up off the ground.

Three seconds and 25 feet later, the back of his head was slamming against the trailer. And again and again.

After about five slams, he was woozy enough to go to his knees. That's when the football shoes kicked in.

When he was suitably curled into the fetal position, I let my brother deliver the Sonny Corleone line while I delivered a couple more Morten Andersens to his gut. We turned and walked to our car, grabbing the 4 beers he had left over in his 6-pack as we walked out.

Worked like a charm. Nobody in the family ever saw nor heard of him again.