Fish stinks from the head! I love that expression. I first heard it from a guy who went to the same
gym as I did, to describe the owner of the gym, after I mentioned how nice the owner was and what
pricks all his employees were. I think about that expression every time I see a boss trying to play the
nice guy while forcing an underling to play the ogre.
I also think about how cool it is that an old Yiddish expression still resonates in another language in
today’s world. You can even change genders and a great expression’s meaning isn’t diluted. Give a woman
a fish and she eats for a day. Teach a woman to fish and she eats forever. See.
I’m a big fan of old quotes and expressions. It seems like there are a lot of well-known expressions about
fishing, farming, and fortitude. I guess using these sayings makes us feel better about ourselves than using
expressions about impotence or the adult reality of settling for 2nd best.
Sometimes we quote an old expression to add gravity to what we’re saying. “As the old (Italian, American
Indian, Congolese) expression goes….” Of course, some things are crap in any language, and translating
them doesn’t make wise that which is worthless. I wrote that myself-I swear! A lot of these expressions
are also clearly contradictory. The early bird gets the worm. Oh yeah, well, sometimes a pioneer just gets
an ass full of arrows.
An important expression may not have even started out very seriously. My friend Eutzie once jokingly
said about hooking up with a girl, whom you don’t really like, “once is nice, two times o.k., but three
times—-no way.” Maybe it’s not, the tree of liberty must be watered with the blood of tyrants, but for
everyday bachelor life, it’s probably more useful.
You can always find some humorless spoilsport who likes to ruin a good expression with realism. Do fish
stink from the head? Is that ornithologically correct? Does a fish’s brain start to smell before his tail? Who
cares? It’s a witty, silly, memorable, little saying.
It’s not very creative to use too many old expressions or quotes from other more interesting and perceptive
people. TV news guys use a lot of quotes, I guess, hoping that Benjamin Franklin’s wisdom will hide the
still emptiness beneath their helmet-like anchor’s haircut. I was going to say, “reveal the emptiness of the
man behind the curtain”, but enough is enough.
Of course, I have a well worn (that’s an expression much used to make one seem worldly) copy of
Bartlett’s Famous Quotations that I just found in my parents’ basement. It was with some things that I
stored there when I quit being a salesman. Salesman love quotes because manipulation and exaggeration
are better received via metaphor or in Olde English.
I started to think about these expressions, aphorisms, old-saws, whatever you want to call them, because
it’s just after election day here in the United States, and we’ve heard a lot of them lately. Of course, I’m
assuming that this column has a global readership. If you know an Irish expression about delusions of
grandeur, insert it here.
It’s almost impossible to listen to today’s political rhetoric because you know that virtually nothing is
spontaneous or sincere. It’s all been written and re-written, think-tanked and focus-grouped to arrive at
just the right tone of patriotism and empathy. When I hear Bill Clinton speak, I can literally hear the horse
shit hitting the ground.
Some day I’d love to be known for a memorable quote or some helpful wisdom. How do you accomplish
that? Do you work to come up with something memorable or does something just come out one day?
With as much as I say, you’d think I’d have said something memorable by now.
Fried chicken cook, dishwasher, pamphlet collator, camp counselor, bus boy, waiter, roofer, deli
delivery boy, bike taxi rider, seafood cook, office furniture mover, apple orchard clearer, special
events coordinator, administrative assistant, advertising sales executive, sports radio producer,
bartender, clothing salesman, environmentalist, video transcriber, indoor plant care technician,
telemarketer, actor and comedian.
These are all the jobs I’ve worked in my life. I know it’s not exactly the roster of positions that a Rhodes
Scholar might have. I’ve never interned at The Hague or furled the spinnaker on one of the tall ships. I
have no problem with that-I ain’t no senator’s son, but I do wish the list included something ballsier than
indoor plant care technician and brainier than ad sales executive. Something like tug boat 1st mate or
Nobel Prize winning Ebola researcher.
I’ve cooked, cleaned, waitered and bartended, and I’ve sold, cajoled, hondled, and hectored. We change as
we age. I used to be able to carry things, but not anymore. Back surgery. And I used to be able to say, “hi,
I’m Dave, I’ll be your server tonight,” but not anymore. Self esteem.
A lot of my early jobs seemed to involve the vital perk of free food. I liked moving the office furniture
because I felt manly, and at the end of the day, they bought us subs. I know how stupid that sounds, but as
my friend Chris Lee, the guy with no nickname, points out, “they were big subs!” Chris and I flipped a
coin to see who would be the first bike taxi driver at Rehoboth Beach in the summer of ‘86. A distinction
that only the two of us seem to regard as memorable—not exactly Orville and Wilbur Wright. Riding the
bike taxi was a fine job. It was good money, great exercise and kind of a thrill knowing that women were
staring at your ass.
I did roofing for a couple of days that same summer. That was kind of a ballsy job. Unfortunately, I’m not
the most graceful sugar plum in the dream, and I tracked around so much tar on my size-14’s, that it
looked like I was setting up the floor of a dance studio. That roof leaked, but the guy who fixed it can now
do a mean tango.
I traveled with the Knicks when I was a producer for Madison Square Garden Radio Network. Impressive
right? I became much less impressed with myself when the management on the team bus had me moved
after I sat in a row between Patrick Ewing and Gerald Wilkins. How was I supposed to know only the
team sat in the back of the bus? I’m a shirking back of the bus kind of guy.
On the team plane, I did get to sign a Knicks pennant for the pilot. Somewhere he has that pennant
framed, and right between hall-of-famers Walt Frazier and Paul Silas is the only legible signature of my
life. That’s the night I realized I had to quit my job and begin the tortuous journey to comedy fame and the
spotlight. You get more props when you’re traveling with the Knicks than hand collating pamphlets in
your dad’s friend’s print shop.
I’ve done some other things that were like jobs but I’m pretty strict and I don’t count them if I didn’t get
paid. In college I worked security at a Santana concert, but the only payment there was whatever we could
confiscate at the door. Oh, and a SECURITY t-shirt, and that was worth its weight in gold.
My boss at my first career-type job in New York City said I was a good salesman because I had a
seemingly honest quality. I like to think of myself as truly honest, but to him, seemingly honest was much
more of a compliment. Maybe that’s why I hated sales.
I think I’ve learned the types of jobs I should and should not have. I don’t need to be heroic, but I
definitely do better when there’s less chance of spilling things, carrying things, selling things, or dealing
with a guy with a coke problem who’s worked his way up to restaurant manager. Simple.
I think I’ll stick with comedy. My parents once told me, “never sell anything that doesn’t fit in a
briefcase.” Comedy’s not sales, but there’s nothing to carry. Besides, I’ve always had a seemingly funny
quality.
