No matter what sort of day you’re having, this will pick you up: Entertainment Weekly’s 25 Classic Sesame Street Visits:
- Richard Pryor reciting the alphabet. He seems like he’s inches away from tossing a “fuckin’” in after every other word, but he never does.
- Patrick Stewart, decked out in doublet and pantaloons like Hamlet, musing, “A B or not a B?”
- Feist singing about counting to 4
- Johnny Cash warning Big Bird to “not take your ones to town“
- Andrea Bocelli putting Elmo to sleep with “Time To Say Goodnight”
- REM singing “Furry Happy Monsters“
- Tito goddamned Puente, that’s who
- Robert de Niro showing Elmo the basics of method acting.
Elmo: Is that all Mr. DeNiro can imagine being?
DeNiro: Well, no, Elmo. I can imagine I’m a New York City taxi driver, or an out-of-shape boxer, or a cabbage.
Elmo: Do the cabbage! Do the cabbage!
Just Plain Disturbing
- LL Cool J rapping about adding. James, this is Sesame Street, all right? Please stop fucking the camera with your eyes.
In other news, I think someone tried to scam me yesterday.
I got a call on my cell at work from a Comcast representative, claiming that I owed them $268. “If you’d like to pay that down now,” he said, “we’d be happy to take your credit card information or a check number by phone.”
I thought for a moment. While I have gone in debt to Comquack in the past – many times – it always works out this way:
- Comcast sends me a notice in the mail that I owe them X hundred dollars in three days or they’re shutting off my service
- Three days later, Comcast shuts off my service
I’d never received a phone call from a collections agent before. Frankly, I didn’t see the point: they could “repo” my cable at any time by simply stopping the signal.
Maybe they thought I was still the account holder at my old address, and my roommate had forgot to pay the bill. That could be it.
“I just sent the check yesterday,” I told the guy. Which was true – a check for a fraction of this so-called $268, but that’s not important.
“Oh, excellent,” the guy said. “I’ll just put a note in your file here that a check has been sent.”
Later that evening, in front of my computer and my files, I called Comcast’s customer service to check on my balance. “We show a balance of $61,” the helpful lady said.
“And do you show any other accounts of mine open?”
“Hmm. Thank you.”
I’m a naturally suspicious sort, as a rule. When I won the Ayn Rand Institute’s essay contest on The Fountainhead, I got a call a few days later from ARI congratulating me. Since they were sending me a check in excess of $600, they needed my Social Security Number for tax purposes. I told whoever it was and then hung up, worrying that I might just have given out personal info to a scammer. I did the sensible thing, of course: not tell anyone anything about it until my parents got my high school’s monthly newsletter, saw a little blurb about their son winning $10,000, and came to the public library where I worked with a bemused look of shock on their faces. “Did you …?” the conversation began.
So I hope that, even if I did owe Comquack $200 or more, I’d have the presence of mind not to give credit card info to a stranger who called me first. I hope.