Break time at work, four of us--all guys--sitting around talking, the television droning in the background. A pause in the conversation led us to notice a mellow but actively unpleasant sound emanating from the TV--a profile of Kenny G.
Two of us sat horrified, one indifferent, the fourth, unfamiliar with Mr. G. and all his works, needed an explanation for his hate. "Well," I offered, "the hardest-working hooker on earth couldn't suck as much as Kenny G."
"You're saying he's bad?"
"I'm saying he's evil."
Flipping channels as far away as possible from Kenny, not much on a Sunday morning, and not many channels to choose from. Finally I landed on TBS, showing some late-period Steven Seagal movie or other.
"Man, he keeps getting puffier," I said, to blank stares from all, as I realized at least two of my tablemates had no familiarity with the cinematic output of the erstwhile Ponytailed One. "Seagal," I offered, as if that explained it all.
"Doesn't he do, like, martial arts? I hate that kind of movie."
"Yeah," I said, "but what about Jean-Claude Van Damme?" Again, blank stares. "Bloodsport? Hard Target, for God's sake. Hard Target!"
I'm used to being the only person in the room who has seen Lady Terminator or Scum Of The Earth. But this was me trying to be mainstream--if you're sitting with a bunch of guys, you should reasonably figure they're going to possess some working knowledge of Seagal and Van Damme. To have cable is to have sat through Above The Law and Timecop about eighty million times.
Might as well accept it: I'll never fit in. When the conversation turned to Wild Hogs--well-liked by all--I just kept my mouth shut.
