Secret pleasures

Everyone has some sort of secret pleasure. For some people, I suppose, it’s chocolate, or cigarettes, or romantic comedies. Since we’re all friends here, I figured it was about time to share mine.

Hollywood memoirs.

I don’t indulge in this pleasure that often because I don’t want to spoil it. But in the past, I’ve absolutely eaten up biographies of Bing Crosy, or humorous books by George Burns. For some reason, I have a fascination with older Hollywood, as though I was born a few generations too late. I’m a huge Bing Crosby fan. I like Bob Hope, and George Burns. And, of course, I’m in love with Grace Kelly.

I’m also a fan of Don Rickels and that’s where my secret pleasure took me today.

This evening, I headed downtown, ostensibly to buy a book to tide me over until the books I’m expecting from Amazon arrive next week. In fact, I was thinking about buying on those books at the bookstore, reading it until I received the copy that I ordered in the mail, and then returning it. But something about that seemed patently dishonest. Instead, I browsed for a few minutes until I came across Rickles’ Book a memoir that Don Rickles’ wrote that came out very recently. I remembered seeing him on some late night show a few months back when he was talking about the book.

I had a few days to kill before my Amazon books would arrive, so what the heck, I picked it up.

Why is it a secret pleasure? I eat this stuff up. I walked over to Austin Grill, ordered a Dos Equis on tap, some chips and guacamole, and by the time I left the joint, I was already through 60 pages. I then headed to the metro station to take the subway home and by the time I got home. I was through 90 pages.

And I was laughing my head off most of the time.

At this rate, I’ll finish the book tonight or tomorrow and still have to wait for the Amazon books to arrive. In the meantime, I’m having a lot of fun.


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