Happy Fourth

As my postings have slumped into the torpid pace of summer I feel some explanation is in order: I'm a lazy slob who enjoys padding around in my flip-flops in the summer breeze more than I do sitting at a console doing this.
While true, the whole story is that my college boy was home for a month and we spent every day of it advancing upon some horrible and over-heated task that needed to be done before his 21 year-old back returned to the West. Our winter wood is split and stacked in the shed. The picnic table is built. The firepit and benches are set. The roof is on the fort and the deck is down for the playhouse.
Now it is the Fourth of July and nobody but nobody does anything over the Fourth. And I am nothing if not nobody. Happy Fourth of July to you. Have some fun. Wear sunblock. Lift with your legs.

Slightly Famous It Is Then

Time Magazine picked up a remark of mine about Katie Couric from last week's WWDTM and included it in the NoteBook section of their June 12th edition. In the wider scope of public recognition this is perhaps slightly better than being the guy featured in the local newspaper handing over the out-sized foam core check to the Rotary club and it feels good in that same strange name-in-the-paper way.

I'm aware that my star in the celebrity firmament is fixed somewhere between Mr. Whipple and the "Where's the Beef" lady and in the same constellation as the dog who played Benji, Susan Stamberg's cranberry relish recipe, and the lyrics to Louie Louie. In other words -- vaguely familiar to most Americans in a way not-so-offensive as to invite general ridicule. Good work if you can get it. My only reason for bringing it up is that I found it remarkable that Time Magazine attributed the quote to me without feeling the need to identify who Tom Bodett is. This is not typical. My bylines usually run the gamut from the severely outdated NPR Commentator, to the dreaded Folksy Pitchman, and erroneous Motelier. Simply leaving my name there to speak for itself means something: Either they had no space for explanation, or they assume people know who the hell they mean. In that case, in reference to my previous blog, I believe this qualifies me to use "Slightly Famous" on my business card should I ever decide to print one.
However, -- just so you all understand that none of this is going to my head because my friends won't allow it -- one of said friends was reported pointing out the quote in Time to another friend with the comment, "Do you think that's our Tom Bodett?"

Obscure and Slightly Famous

I want to thank all of you faithful correspondents who tune into this dreck and give me the courtesy of responding. I don't blog much, but the blogging I do is very satisfying. It's probably a good thing my mother is gone. That previous sentence would have alarmed her terribly.

I had a great time in Chicago last weekend with another Wait,Wait -- Don't Tell Me appearance, once again with Sue Ellicott and Charlie Pierce. Chris Ferguson from the Late Late Show was the 'Not My Job' guest and he stole the show. Unfortunately most of his best stuff wasn't fit for broadcast. Oh well, the live audience had a ball. It is a two hour live show edited down to one. A lot of good stuff never makes it off the producers' hard-drive.

The New York Times gave Wait,Wait a very nice write-up in the Sunday June 4 edition. They described the roster of panelists as (a) "crew of obscure and slightly famous humorists." I love it. Now I'm trying to decide which to put on my business card, Obscure Humorist or the weightier Slightly Famous Humorist. I've always tried to find a handle for this odd occupation of mine, and I have the New York Times to thank for one, at last.