Larry King Is the Future
And other signs of the coming apocalypse
Read this article as it appears in the Jan-Feb 2011 issue by clicking on the image to the left.
Pablo Lobato / www.agoodson.com
I was at this get-together where some kids were talking about iPads and Lady Gaga, which is something they like to do. I’m pretty sure somebody said he had an “app” he could point at a group of stars and the “app” would tell the name of the constellation.
“Or you could just look at the stars,” I said. I had had a few drinks and thought I was Walt Whitman. Lady Gaga had been on Larry King the night before talking about lupus and Michael Jackson. And I’m afraid I said something like, “Don’t you get it? Larry King and Lady Gaga are the same! The same!” Then I said some more stuff about “apps,” the kind of stuff a really boring old drunk would say. My point was summarized by one wag as “Tetris is evil.” Then everyone took turns scoffing at me, and rightly so. Why don’t I ever shut my blowhole?
You know what the worst kind of column in the world is? One where an old man yammers about how old he is. Enjoy.
In the year 2050, I will have been dead for 35 years. But for the sake of argument, let’s say I’m alive, 87, and on Twitter every day, telling acquaintances in Wisconsin what I had for breakfast. Larry King is on Twitter. He recently went to the White House Correspondents’ Association Dinner with Seth MacFarlane. How do I know? Twitter.
Seth MacFarlane created Family Guy, which I have hardly seen any part of since the first season or so when, if memory serves, the Lindbergh baby was flushed down a toilet, after which he presumably drowned in sewage, and then I changed the channel because a baby drowning in sewage was just too hilarious and subversive. In his spare time, Seth MacFarlane hangs out with Larry King and the president. Don’t you get what I’m trying to tell you? Soylent Green is people!
Look, everybody I know loves Family Guy. Many of them are my age. I realize I’m in the wrong. Maybe it’s just my heart that’s withered. Maybe I need to take a long, hard look in the mirror. Who are you really disgusted with, Jack? Could it be yourself?
In 2050, Larry King will be 117 years young.
Hold that thought.
Why am I seized with the sudden conviction that Larry King will die sometime between this writing and a few months from now, when the magazine comes out? Then I’ll seem like a real jerk. I like Larry King, or the idea of him. I like thinking of him with his little Twitter account and how excited he gets. He wrote one tweet that was almost like a whole Lydia Davis short story: “Irwin is a guy who comes to breakfast on occasion, and asks real questions that make us laugh. He is a retired businessman.” I put that one on my blog, because I’m futuristic.
Hey, at that get-together, when I was talking about Larry King and Twitter, the extremely talented young musician Dent May suggested that Larry King must have a youthful helper who writes his tweets. But first of all, Larry King’s sprightlier assistant is probably 75. According to some extremely accurate statistics I am making up right now, only old people use Twitter. Plus, no assistant could come up with that beauty about Irwin. You say you want to hear about the future, but do you really? Larry King is the future.
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