We’re back, at least for the nonce, which is Parisan hip-hop slang for “the elapsed time between when someone tries to hype us on that Gnarls Barkley shit––White People sure do love them some Danger Mouse––and when we punch them in the face with an anvil." Which is to say, maybe not so long as all that, but we’ll see. At any rate, we thought we’d dip a toe back into the brackish waters of the bloggy blog with a quick account of what we’re characterizing as The Greatest Celebrity Sighting Ever. (Suck it, Gawker.)
Who: Chris Burke, aka Corky from Life Goes On
When: Yesterday morning
Where: Han’s Deli, at the corner of Broadway and Bleecker
What He Was Wearing: White dress shirt, brown tie, blue pants, tinted eyeglasses
What Happened: There was a palpable frisson in the air when Corky walked into Han’s, a deli we frequent because they have passable coffee and because we are in a heart-wrenchingly one-sided love affair with the Asian girl who works behind the counter. (Having been clued in to our infatuation, which borders on the pathological, some of our less charitable co-workers refer to her as our Special Secret Lotus Blossom. But we digress.) Corky strolled to the muffin rack––he’d obviously been there before––selected a blueberry (without using the wax paper, we might add), and brought it to our girl.
What We Did: Clearly, something needed to be said. And since the only two episodes of Life Goes On we ever saw straight through were the one where he raps “Fight the Power” at the school assembly, much to the consternation of his father and the American viewing public, and the one where he sets the restaurant on fire, we decided to go with the first reference. After all, he probably still feels really shitty about the restaurant fire, even though it was his extravagantly-eyebrowed father’s fault for allowing his retarded spawn oversight of a full-service eatery. And a book of matches. So we say, “Hey, Chris”––an earlier incident with the guy who played Urkell taught us how uppity actor types get when you call them by their character’s name––and he looks over and we continue, “Do you still rap?” Because we’re trying to be cute, we get a ten-minute monologue from the fucking guy about the band he’s in, and suddenly our celebrity encounter has devolved into the conversation you have with any other d-bag in the East Village who’s in a band who’s not the AIDS-y looking guy from The Strokes. [Band name: Bored By Corky.] Anyway, we deftly avoid his clumsy overtures about a) our maybe booking his act for our next party, which we assure you, we do not ever have––all those people touching our stuff, judging the contents of our book shelves? No thank you––and b) offering an autograph, which come on already.
The Upshot: For a guy whose chromosome count is a little dicey, the guy is totally independent, even if his clothes didn’t exactly match. He had a briefcase, and even if it had been filled with coloring books and packets of Lipton Soup Mix, it still bespoke a certain kind of Johnny Lunch-Box respectability. And he certainly seemed to understand how to use money. At one point he did say that he liked our tie, which is pretty much the literal evocation of damning with faint praise, if only because, as we mentioned earlier, his was brown and perhaps crotcheted. Maybe. Also: Consider the source.
Addenda: We see now that we used the word “uppity” in reference to Jaleel White. We didn’t mean anything by that.
Also, this is the official Chris Burke Web site. To put it as crudely as possible, no one in the history of recorded sound gets less pussy than the bearded twins who make up his backup band … and they seem OK with that. Of course, keeping time for Corky and the Num Nums can’t be any more embarrassing than, say, being in Danzig.
Oh, and yes: We are aware that many of you are likely to find this entire post offensive in the extreme; as such, we’d like to extend a peace offering. From the hit long-playing record We’re the Meatmen and You Still Suck, here’s the first installment of what has come to be known among the initiated as The Suck Trilogy, “Crippled Children Suck”.