Oh, crap! You guys probably thought I was initiating my lethal launch into the world of erotica writing by the title of this blog. No. Sorry. Just some important business to attend to.
So, Dick York or Dick Sargent? The two "Bewitched" Darrens. Who's your choice?
20 years ago or so, my friends and I decided it'd be a fun "party-trip" to go to Bartlesville, Oklahoma to hang with my brother for the weekend. Well, we were decidedly wrong about "fun." You guys ever been there? It's like the edge of Hell. One bar (with a salmonella-baiting taco buffet), lotsa' surliness, despair, thrift stores, and boring crap.
We were in the Tulsa airport waiting for our shuttle to Bartlesville. A rerun of "Betwitched" was playing out on the waiting room TV which prompted a heated debate about which Darren was on the tube. I proclaimed him Dick of the York. An odd man with an indecipherable accent said, "That is NOT Dick York! That is Dick Sargent! Dick York is DEAD!"
Well, no. First of all, it was definitely Dick York. Secondly, and quite disturbingly, apparently Mr. "What-Is-That-Accent?"was terribly upset over our identification of Dicks. And even though he was right about one of the Dicks being dead at the time, this guy thought Bewitched was playing out in real time. Reality TV, I suppose.
A very uncomfortable shuttle ride to the end of the world ensued. Mr. "Knows His Dicks" glowered at us the entire way, angry at our lack of Dick-tation.
It's a complex world out there, folks, getting more and more cray-cray by the day. In the '70's, there were three actors all over TV and movies--James Farentino, James Franciscus, and Tony Franciosa. They looked nothing alike but I couldn't pick 'em out in a police line-up. And don't EVEN get me going about Keith David and David Keith. One of 'em's black and permanently scowling, the other's white and redneckier than all get out. I kinda' assume they were college roommates having a joke on all of us. I mean, how else do you explain it?
I guess my point is it's important to know your Dicks. (Plus I'm a 12 year old boy at heart and wanted to see how many times I could get away with writing "dick" in a non-vulgar fashion).
I do not understand how a post so dead-on-to-the-bullseye could get away with not having any comments on it. But now it seems to have one. That's better. You made me laugh, and I'm pretty much a jaded old nutbag (and 12 at heart too).
ReplyDeleteSigh. Michael, it's the story of my life. No one listens to me, I'm used to it. But, thank you, my 12 at heart, jaded ol' nutbag compatriot, it's nice to know we're not out there fighting the good fight by ourselves.
ReplyDeleteAlso when I was a child in Orange County, I heard Dick Seargent and Dick York had an egg farm near Santa Cruz. They invited lots of neighbors (including Jim) and friends for breakfast and had bacon (Kevin) and eggs. Bye for now..thank you.
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