As we enter into a new week filled with promise and hope, our very own Bagwan has recused himself from commenting further. However he wanted to warn we the unwashed regarding “Groupies” and the inherent dangers of falling victim to their charms. While never one to turn away a female seeking his guidance, our ‘Holy Fucker’ knows first hand how ‘Groupies’ wink and smile in shallow worship that always suck him in. Please join me in rising above this gainsay, and enjoy:
I will sometimes get a song stuck in my head and it won’t come out for weeks. No matter how hard I try I will find myself involuntarily singing or humming the song until I think I am going crazy. My current affliction is “After the Lovin” by Engelbert Humpherdinck. It really isn’t that bad, especially if like me you were into that whole cheesy Vegas showroom milieu of many decades ago. It also beats the crap out of my prior endless loop of “Tiny Dancer” by Elton John.
I bring all this up as background to something I want to discuss today, which is the topic of “groupies.” The other night (after a particularly robust Happy Hour) I was on You Tube watching an old video of Engelbert doing his act wearing a skin tight jumpsuit with the top unbuttoned to the waist. He of course had accessorized with colorful scarves and gold chains and was wearing his hair in what I think qualified as a bouffant. Well if you ever watch videos on You Tube you know that along the right hand side there are suggestions of other videos that you might like. No surprise here that one of the suggested videos was Tom Jones.
I think Tom was the bigger star of the two, in fact I always thought of Engelbert as a poor man’s Tom Jones. Both made fortunes that they never lost, both are still actively touring today well into their seventies and each is still married to his first wife. It is not hard to imagine that both had countless opportunities to stray into the welcoming arms (and thighs) of adoring female fans. Here they take divergent paths in that Engelbert seems to have followed the straight and narrow and our friend Tom was led astray. According to his own count, at his peak Tom was doing around 250 groupies a year.
When I shared this data with the boys they seemed perplexed. I think Zuki’s exact response was “Huh.” JJ, being a little more adept at math wondered what Tom was doing on the other 115 nights. If you want to do an interesting math exercise in the field of groupies take a look at Wilt Chamberlain’s claim of having had sex with 20,000 women. If Wilt kept up with Tom at the rate of 250 per annum, he would have needed 40 years to reach 20,000. Since Wilt died at the age of 63 it is theoretically possible but imagine how tired he must have been of the sight and smell of a vagina – similar to what I’ve heard about Joey Chestnut who will cross the street rather than walk past a hot dog vendor.
Groupies have been around for a while. Historical records show that Mary Magdalene was the first, the one who married Paul McCartney the richest and Monica Lewinski the most famous. I don’t suppose everyone has groupies – like dentists for example. My brother (a retired Denver Sergeant) told me cops have groupies and believe it or not even Curmudgeons have them.
Now here’s the thing, even at the high end, groupies are not known for their classy good looks, their intellect or their sense of decorum. So try to imagine just what you are going to find all the way at the bottom of the food chain with a Curmudgeon groupie. The current belle of Blondie’s is just $15,000 worth of dental work and a Hair Club membership away from being a pleasant looking old hide. But I guess a female wart hog in heat is exciting and attractive to a male wart hog, which reminds me of a story about a couple of wart hogs from our past. The female in this case was never really “in heat” at this stage in her life but you could get the same effect by buying her a few beers. According to a fellow member she was orally adept and still had a lovely rack. After getting her drunk enough to agree, he would take her back to his place. What’s wrong with this you ask – nothing, if you can get past the fact that she had the face of Ernest Borgnine and the nasty habit of peeing on the guy’s carpet.
I guess we can’t all be Tom Jones.