Right Place, Right Time

My husband, SJ, has been robbed several times. He recounted another incident to me last night while watching an episode of Gene Simmons' Family Jewels (I know, I swore off reality TV, but there was NOTHING on!)

Turns out that SJ totally could have thought up the idea for KISS. I was commenting on a room in Simmons' palatial mansion featuring KISS memorabilia, SJ muttered, "Right place, right time."

Surprised to hear this, I countered that it was pretty impressive that the immigrant son of a divorced holocaust survivor started a completely original rock phenomenon, but SJ remained unmoved. Apparently if he were in the same situation, SJ would have thought of it himself. Grown men dressed in full face makeup parading onstage in a macabre spectacle set to heavy metal? COMPLETELY OBVIOUS!

This contemptuous, embittered sliver of my husband's personality is fascinating to me. In general, SJ is a total mensch - kind, gentle, unpretentious. It's this last trait that is apparently double-edged. Since he has taken the high road, it really bugs him when others exploit things that are generally available. He could have been a groundbreaking, blood-drinking rock superstar, for example, but he didn't.

SJ finds the Wiggles to be irritating for the same reason.

You may know the Wiggles as a colorful, kid-friendly fixture of preschool culture. SJ thinks of them as no-talent ass clowns in bright t-shirts who are undeservedly the highest-grossing entertainment act in Australia.

SJ kicks himself everytime he sees or hears the Wiggles. "These guys are raking it in? Are you kidding me???"

We don't listen to the Wiggles in our house.

Occasionally, SJ's contempt extends to seemingly innocent civilians. An acquaintance's husband is known for his "sensitive, new-age guy" persona. Steve sees it as an act that he himself left behind in college.

When I mention something charming that Robert did (or "F'ing Robert," as SJ calls him), SJ immediately starts rolling his eyes. When Robert -- an artist by trade -- skillfully decorates a dinner table, hangs tapestries for a wedding, or brings us a tray of tea, SJ calls him out as a poseur. "That's so transparent - the senstive guy! Let me guess, was it chamomile tea (it was)??? Give me a break!"

The worst culprit of all is John Mayer. To SJ, Mayer is a complete sell-out, slapping on a fake persona just to get money/fans/laid.

"Your body is a wonderland, fathers love your daughters, high school sucks. Blah, blah, blah!"

Clearly, SJ could have done the same thing, but he didn't. Or maybe he's secretly mad because he did do the same thing, and it didn't work quite as well, thus leading to his "right place, right time" theory. Maybe little SJ was also dressing up as a goth rocker in 1977, but Chaim Witz (Gene Simmons) got all the glory. How else to explain it, but arbitrary fate?

At least, in my heavily biased opinion, SJ got the girl. Now where is that chamomile tea?