“I don’t even really work here!”
June 27, 2015

(a note in advance of more Seinfeld-isms to come, very soon…)Ritz Crackers box_stansberrymasonry dot com

Returning here after more than two years–after I went bye-bye in 2013, after saying Helloooo!–I was tempted toward a good George-ism to capture the moment. Maybe the simple, ebullient “I’m back, baby!”

Or the subversive, Eeyore-ish voicemail he once left Jerry, “Hey, it’s George… Pfft. I’ve got nothing to say.” (BEEP)

But even Costanza comes up short here. (Sorry, George. I’m really sorry. It’s not you, it’s me.) To capture such an unexpected turnabout…I turn to the one-and-only Kramer.

In one of Kramer’s bass-ackwards falls into a legit job (Brand/Leland was the poor, unsuspecting company’s name), his boss called him on the carpet about his output. “I’ve been reviewing your work,” Leland said. “Quite frankly it stinks.”

He went on to tell the Ritz-cracker-smacking Kosmo that he must move on. I don’t even really work here! was Kramer’s crack-me-up reply.

As to why exactly that cracked me up…consider my absence, yes (I don’t even really blog here!)…but do read on.

The What-Happened

My absence was not intentional. Not even in my mind was I gone (although there is that, sometimes.) I still love this blog. I still love this show–even though some of it is not as funny to me as I near 20 years of great marriage and my mid-40s, and seriously/sillily raise 52 children.

(Actually we only have 5 but jokingly refer to “our 52 children” because, despite the joy, the laughter, all that Schmoopie…sometimes the comments, the questions, all that snap, make it seem like we have way more children than we do.) 

Still, much of Seinfeld is as funny to me now as it was when I first discovered it. Some of it is even funnier. Which is why I never meant to, in early 2013, stop adding to this Seinfeld survival guide to Life.

Around that time, in an Seinfeldishly ironic twist, Life dispatched a plane across the landscape of the Bounds family, unfurling a banner that read “Survive this”–and started dropping circumstantial bombs. We wanted to yada yada yada over the whole thing…in the George-negative, not the Elaine-positive way.

Then came a Newman-ic depressive phase. You know, where you’re denouncing vegetables and calling for shots and doing other foolish things that have people wiser than you saying life-saving things to you like you better think again, mojumbo.

The dance of Life didn’t halt, per se, during that time. It just shifted into a full-body-dry-heave kind of dance. Arms flailing, legs akimbo. Feet moving the family halfway across the country…that sort of thing.

Meanwhile, in another ironic, Seinfeldian twist during that long hiatus…this blog’s readership took off across the two years I stopped writing. See for yourself:Seinfeld-ism stats on WordPress 2010-2015

I can hear George now: Your chances of success in this blog are only hurt by you continuing to write it.

Even with that attractive power of the Opposite apparently boosting my work, I still stayed away. Then, later, an idea: If I get back into it someday, I’ll do some new material then get out. Take a bow. Cue the curtain drop.

Then, much later–nearing the debut of the get-out plan–the plan got a good-surprise “Get out!” push.

The Times

Seinfeld cracking me up over Life itself–for me and for those around me–is what led me to launch this blog-ode to the series on July 5, 2010. Five years to the day, that is, coming up here soon. The final-bow plans came up about a year ago. I crafted a Seinfeld-ism “bucket list.”

While I dabbled with the plan–fast headed to the five-year anniversary–yet another Seinfeldian twist occurred: my blog got linked in the New York Times. This week. (Scroll down to the “George’s love of cheese” line.)

I can hear Jerry now: Costanza*…Benes**…Bounds***?!

*Recall George’s hand-clapping joy over a “NEW YORK YANKEES!” job.
**Recall Elaine’s hip-swinging joy over a “NEW YORKER!” gig.
***Pardon my laptop-tapping joy over a NEW YORK TIMES! nibble.

The New York Times exposure leaves me grinning a la Jerry’s “And you want to be my latex salesman” grin AND looking unfazed a la Newman’s “Hi-lar-ious” deadpan face. Not at the New York Times. At literary agents. Because back in 2010, when I started this blog, I had been trying to publish this material as a book.

The rejection-letter emails that followed (coming mostly from literary agents based in NEW YORK CITY) are best summarized by this one line from one such agent:

“I don’t think anyone outside of New York is really that interested still in Seinfeld.”

Cue the look on my face akin to Jerry’s when that Donna Chang gal he was dating used the word ridicurous.

The High Note

Scores of Seinfeld lines come to mind in witty retort to that agent’s comment. But I’ll just end where I began here and reach back into the Kramer-working-for-Brand/Leland episode. The morn of Kramer’s first day on the job, Jerry saw Kramer in a suit and tie and–dazed and Uncle-Leo-level-confused at his notoriously jobless friend now gloriously dressed for a job–Jerry said, “How long have I been asleep? What year is this?”

Have you been asleep? I wanted to say to that agent. Do you know what year it is?

Seinfeld has conquered the world!

That was 8 years ago.

Now look at Hulu.

“That people will only watch television like this in the future is so obvious,” Jerry himself cracked-wise at the April announcement to the world of the Seinfeld/Hulu duo.

Yes it is, Jerry. Yes it is.

So now I turn to George, to do as he once did and–as he learned from Jerry (“Showmanship, George!”)–get out on a high note.

Time to publish that book myself.

(Giddy-up!)

Stay tuned.

“High five… Don’t leave me hanging.”
July 20, 2011

An uplifting challenge for reminding someone that, when it’s all said and done, all you need is love. And a superficial hand gesture is all you need to show it.

Jerry’s search for a new car led him to the dealership where Elaine’s boyfriend David Puddy worked. As Puddy helped him, Jerry discovered that he had to hand it to Puddy–a literal hand, that is, nice and high. Elaine refused the slaphappy Puddy’s next high five, so he added a down low…which she also refused. But he hung in there.

“Slapping hands,” as Jerry told Elaine, “is the lowest form of male primal ritual.” But this isn’t maleness Puddy is upholding here–even though the high five easily says “Hey dude….” Neither, for that matter, is it femaleness–even though Puddy tried to give Elaine five too. Putting your hand in the air…like Puddy, like you care…has something for everyone.

Got a good friend who had a bad day? The high five reminds them that the best thing about a hard day’s the night. Got a love interest with whom you think you can work it out? The high five signals, “I don’t want to hold your hand just yet, but this is something.” A major life change hit you? Without a word–just a look on your face–the high five lets those around you know that you feel fine.

And if you put that hand in the air and the look on their face says they don’t care (i.e., you’re probably going to be left hanging)…let it be. If you like the person, you might add Puddy’s “You owe me five” as you walk away. If you don’t, then just walk away. The same hand that says “hello” can say “goodbye.”*

From “The Dealership”
Episode 11 , Season 9
Seinfeld Volume 8, Disc 2
Timecode for the scene: 9:50 (here’s another five for those interested: see 2:40 for the first “High five”; 4:05 for another Puddy “High five” followed by Jerry’s “primal ritual” commentary ; 5:30 for “High five… You owe me five”; 19:51; and 21:15 for more Jerry commentary)

*It’s unclear from the Seinfeld repertoire whether the Beatles inspired Puddy here. For all we know it was the Eagles, the Bangles, or even Peter Gabriel (“Nothing seems to please…I need contact“). We’re content to contend that this was a Puddy original.

“That chick’s whacked.”
May 19, 2011

A blunt observation for the language of relationships, categorized not as the kind of comment where you’re trying to make history, but the kind where you just felt like saying something like We’re history.

Puddy and Elaine broke up for the bajillionth time while Jerry was car-shopping at the dealership where Puddy was working (and Jerry was hoping to get the “insider’s deal”). When Jerry–about to sign on the dotted line for a Saab–noticed something amiss with the usually unflappable Puddy, he asked, “Did you two break up?” This was Puddy’s “flappant” reply.

Sometimes in the dating relationship a moment compels you to over(or under)state the truth to articulate an emotion. It’s a somewhat juvenile tendency that most people don’t lose when they become adults. This is why you can technically blow a samba in a televised dance contest, or fiddle with the facts in a movie you make about a historical event, and people will ardently defend you to your critics by saying, “Yes, but it was emotionally true.”

Note that Puddy’s emotional truism–delivered as flatly and as quickly as if he’d just told Jerry, “That Saab is a lemon”–will not work in marriage, where the integrity of the relationship demands fidelity to the facts…and subtlety in the heat of the argumentative moment. Your loved one is not “whacked” but “acting whacked,” and so on.

You could still Puddy the waters by using this line as is, but don’t be surprised if your conversational rapport with your spouse becomes, for a time, akin to Whac-A-Mole…and you’re not the one holding the hammer.

From “The Dealership”
Episode 11, Season 9
Seinfeld Volume 8, Disc 2
Timecode for the scene: 10:42

“It’s gonna be rough.”
September 24, 2010

A deadpan observation to use when someone you know gets all worked up about something, and you take it upon yourself to bring them down.

A car radio preset for a Christian rock station had revealed to Elaine that boyfriend David Puddy was not only a man who loved him some Arby’s–he was also a man of some piety. After his silly condemnation of her (“You’re the one who’s going to hell”) and her silly resignation over it all (“The heat–my God, the heat!“), Elaine tried to change the conversational tune: a little less “Highway to Hell,” a little more “How’s It Going to Be.” So Puddy obliged her.

If you obliged all the people in your life who needed to bend your ear over their insufferable situations, things would get bent, all right: your mind, for one thing, and eventually your entire life. Think of all the woe-is-me chatter you’ve endured from relatives, for example, how they bent you out of shape. This is why you need a little something to end their suffering in your ear–a little channel-changing comment. You need a little Puddy.

And here it is. To the Elaines in your life who turn up the heat of discussion–wanting to get on with a real conversation–you bring up Puddy’s line to dismiss it and get on with an Arby’s night.

From “The Burning”
Episode 16, Season 9
Seinfeld Volume 8, Disc 3
Timecode for the scene: 17:36

“And the heat—my God, the heat!”
July 27, 2010

An upbeat observation to make when someone makes you feel like it’s the end of your world as you know it…but no, you feel fine.

When Elaine confronted boyfriend David Puddy about his religiosity, he waved it in her face like a giant foam finger that said “John 3:16” and “We’re #1!” Taking a line from Puddy’s canon (“Don’t boss me! This is why you’re going to hell”), Elaine went finger-for-a-finger and poked him right back: “You should care that I’m going to hell even though I am not.” She even finger-painted a picture of how rough it was going to be (devils, ragged clothing, etc.)…just to be sure her enlightened man saw her light.

Use Elaine’s frantically silly comment when the heat is on—from the abyss of your job, the purgatory of a relationship, the living hell of that family reunion, etc.—and you will paint this picture: of course you can take it. Yours may be the only laughter here, but since laughter does good like a medicine, that means you’re saving your soul—and they should be losing their religion.

From “The Burning”
Episode 16, Season 9
Seinfeld Volume 8, Disc 3
Timecode for the scene: 17:36

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