by Tim Sampson

thursday, january 8

I will never understand why people send me these things. Invitations to these “how to make life a lot easier for yourself in the workplace by learning a bunch of dorky stay-calm tricks” rip-off sessions that last an entire day (which means you can’t smoke) and which inevitably end in a group hug or something even worse, like having everyone turn to each other and talk about how they appreciate each other’s faults as well as their positive attributes. In other words, you have to hug someone you really don’t want to touch or tell a big fat lie, the latter of which sounds much more appealing to me. I thought that, perhaps, this being a new year, it would stop, but no. On January 2nd, no less, I get a brochure on an upcoming seminar called “Conflict Resolution and Confrontation Skills.” Confrontation Skills? Right off the bat I figured this one had to be a real winner. Who wants to learn to become confrontational? I’ve spent a lifetime not being confrontational because there is so much to worry about as it is – like why shampoo bottles are printed with instructions. That one has been driving me nuts for years. No, confrontational people are generally obnoxious morons who, in the case of men, anyway, have small penises and have to somehow make up for it by driving other people up the wall regarding things that are about as important as which way the toilet paper ought to be unrolled. So if you want to skip the torture of sitting a room full of people who are going to probably go home and make life miserable for everyone around them for a couple of weeks, take my simple advice: When conflict arises, just act like Joan Crawford. For instance, this upcoming seminar promises to teach you “specific ways to create a more positive and cooperative climate for conflict resolution.” So let’s say you catch your significant other in bed with someone else. What do you do to resolve this conflict? Confront them in a rational manner and address “issues”? Please. No, you take an ax, like Joan in Strait-Jacket, and chop them into hamburger meat with your daughter watching. So you have to spend a few years in an asylum and the daughter turns out to be a murderer herself. Big deal. It solved the problem, didn’t it? And besides, when they finally let you out of the asylum, you get to buy a new wig and lots of bracelets, and light matches on records as they are spinning on the turntable, all the while explaining to your psychiatrist who’s come to check on you that you are not in the slightest bit nervous. You also get to go to a big mansion, spill something on yourself, and go into the bathroom and start bouncing off the walls like a maniac. See how much happier you could be? How about this one? Let’s say you have a really bratty kid who makes fun of you because you’re a waitress and have been baking on the side to make ends meet. The kid has the gall to say to you, “My mother, a common waitress. Aren’t the pies bad enough?” Well, you do like Joan did in Mildred Pierce and haul off and slap the snot out of her. You then feign regret, and tell her you’d rather have cut off your own arm than do that, all the time thinking to yourself, “Cut off my own arm, hell. You deserved to be smacked, you uncommonly hideous ingrate. Come out with one more smart remark like that and I’ll get the script mixed up and chop your ass to bits with that ax. We’ll see how embarrassed you are now about those pies I’ve been cooking to feed and clothe you, you pathetic excuse for offspring. I knew I should have had that abortion!” Believe me, it would be much better for you than just walking away or turning the other cheek. Or talking about it. Ugh. Who has time for that? Especially when you could be watching Torch Song, in which Joan gives the best performance of her career, as a Broadway star who stomps, screams, rolls her eyes, fumes, and smokes her way through conflict after conflict for two solid hours in the kind of mood Helen Keller would have been in if her mother had left the plunger in the toilet. Let’s say, as in the movie, you’re trying to rehearse a song and a blind pianist starts changing the tempo around, saying that his left hand just wants to do something different. Do you try to work things out in a civil manner? No. You hurl a glass of water across the room, stomp out a cigarette, and scream, “Then sit on it!” Then have him fired, say mean things about his guide dog, and light another cigarette. If it worked for her, it can work for you. You get to wear a wig in this scenario as well, though I’d recommend getting rid of the black-face makeup before ripping off the black wig to expose the orange one. Unless, that is, you truly want to frighten everyone within a five-mile radius. And there’s certainly nothing wrong with that, either. In the meantime, I guess it’s time to get around to what’s going on around town this week. And I guess because it’s still post-holiday time, there ain’t a whole lotta shakin’ going on. Tonight, for instance, you’re pretty much on your own unless you’re an Elvis fan. Today, is, of course, his birthday, and there are several events going on through Sunday, including an Elvis Birthday Celebration with cake served by the mayors, followed by the unveiling of new Elvis race cars, and a dance, talent show, and other special entertainment. Call Graceland for details. And if you haven’t been down to the new Hard Rock Cafe yet, go tonight for an Elvis impersonator contest.

friday, january 9

If you’re in the mood for gallery hopping, tonight’s the night. There’s an opening at Ledbetter Lusk Gallery for a show of works by John Torina and Anna Siems; one at Lisa Kurts Gallery for an exhibit by Marcia Myers; and a reception at Albers Fine Art Gallery for a show by Linda Kelly and Sunni Mercer. Also opening tonight is Falsettos, a Tony-winning musical, at Circuit Playhouse. Other than that, I’d say catch Little Jimmy King at B.B. King’s Blues Club; Cooper Young Cyndicate at Barristers; or Reba Russell at Patrick’s.

saturday, january 10

David Allan Coe is in concert tonight at the New Daisy on Beale. Violinist Mark O’Connor is at the Germantown Performing Arts Centre. A bunch of local authors are having book signings around town (see regular listings; I don’t have time or room to list them here). Blue Silk is playing at French Quarter Suites. And if all else fails, there’s always the city’s finest, James Govan, at Rum Boogie.

sunday, january 11

One more art opening for the weekend. This one is for a group show at the Memphis Jewish Community Center. And, as always, the Memphis Jazz Orchestra is playing tonight at the Center for Southern Folklore. Other than that, you’ll simply have to bite me.

monday, january 12

Ah, go downtown to The Map Room for Southern Fried Jazz. Or just get fried at any one of the Monday-night usuals: Old Zinnie’s, Molly’s, or Side Street Grill.

tuesday, january 13

Rent Queen Bee if you really want to learn some confrontational skills.

wednesday, january 14

You’ll simply have to bite me, for I know of nothing to recommend. It’s a good thing I don’t care what you do, because I don’t even know you, and unless you can get RuPaul (coming to Memphis soon) to show up and sing a Mahalia Jackson song at Bellevue Baptist Church when in town, I’m certain that I never want to experience the trauma of having to meet you. Besides, it’s time to blow this poop stand and go deal with confrontation. Someone’s giving me a hard time and I’m about to open up a can of whoop-ass on ’em with a wire hanger. n