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sheepdogdg-blog · 4 years

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Some days are best described as surreal.

Certainly, living in 2020 we can say that a lot, but there was a day not long ago that seemed like it would be the enduring surreal experience of a lifetime.

One bright and sunny January morning in Los Angeles, only a couple of miles from a certain star on Hollywood Boulevard, just over two hundred and fifty men, women, children, babies — and one dog — sat in a small studio parking lot. These were not normal people. Oh no. These intrepid souls were of a very weird ilk, and each one of them was there to prove themself passionately so.

I was among them, you see, so I know a little bit of how we all felt on that day.

THE DAY THE MIRTH STOOD STILL

First, let me begin by saying I do not own the content of the pictures in this story. The majority of them are from two incredible articles by New York Times Magazine (this one and this one), and I would highly encourage anyone who wishes to learn more to show the journalist and photographer the love they deserve. I also don’t mean to suggest I actually know how every participant on that day felt; this is merely my personal account.

Okay. Now that we’re done with the gratuitous exposition, let’s get back to our regularly scheduled program.

The casting call was put out at the end of December. This was to be a once-in-a-lifetime photoshoot with a living legend, an icon, the ingenious prince of parody, known to the world as “Weird Al” Yankovic. Word was, Al was going to be photographed with three hundred warriors willing to stand in the breach while wearing “vanilla 80s Al” costumes.

Now diehard fans (and Paul Rudd on Halloween) already know what that means, but in case you don’t here is the recipe:

1 ‘Magnum P.I.’ Hawaiian shirt

1 jerry curl wig

1 pair of Jeffrey Dahmer glasses

1 porn ‘stache

1 pair of canvas top shoes (cost in 1984 – $20; current cost – $200)

1 unfailing sense of irony

Accordion, optional

Thousands responded, and just two short weeks later, hundreds of us were calling out of work and, in some cases, flying to California. I never dreamed I would get so lucky, but I was among the chosen few. I rushed up from my San Diego home. Destiny awaited.

Those of us in the fandom, having been sworn to secrecy, began to covertly contact one another with coded queries. “Are you – uh – going to the – uh- eagle landing?” I myself made plans with several dedicated luminaries I had met through mutual adoration of Al’s music (especially his originals, but the parodies are good too). I already knew his work appealed to a diverse group (of mainly white and nerdy) people, but nothing — not the concerts I have been to or the fan pages or the chance encounters while wearing merch — could prepare me for the pure spectacle.

There were accountants and real estate agents, flight attendants and grocery store clerks, comic book artists and reality TV editors, teachers and health care providers, police officers and criminals on the lam, all dressed as their hero. As we waited, we sang, danced, and played squeezeboxes of every shape, size, and color. When Al came, we stood and cheered, excited to see his excitement.

That was the moment I think we’ll all remember the most. He came out from the barn doors leading to the large white backdrop we’d all be standing with him on, and he thanked us for coming and making the day special for him.

Special for him.

There were two noteworthy people standing there with him. The first was his wife, Suzanne. She’s an accomplished person herself, a brilliant woman us fans are thrilled Al managed to marry. She’s a former television executive, responsible for putting many of your favorite shows on the air. Her photography is fantastic, and I’m very proud to have one of her pieces hanging on my wall. I, like many other Weird Al fans, am also a fan of her work.

The second person of note was Nina, their daughter. She seems to be equal parts Al and Suzanne, a brilliant mind with a large heart, passionate about the environment and a shy participant in her father’s legacy. Those of us who love Al simply can’t wait to see the woman she someday will become. Great things are in her future, to be sure.

The best part, possibly of the whole day, was seeing Nina dressed up like daddy. She would be posing with the rest of us.

We stood in relative silence. We were a crowd of respectful people, unwilling to disrupt the project. Not that it was a somber shoot. We laughed a lot. Our photographer was great! Hilarious and visionary. He was laughing along with everyone else at the absurdity of a horde of Weird Als standing in ranks like Terracotta soldiers, all smiling for the birdie.

This was not a man of little experience. Art Streiber is an award-winning photographer who’s snapped off shots of — well, everyone! Just check out this slideshow.

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My own personal experience may have differed from that of the others, but I’d like to take a few moments to write them for posterity’s sake.

First, I was fortunate enough to be placed in a memorable position for the shot. I got to hold one of the “weird” signs, and they even let me keep it. When the work was done, Al stayed and (reluctantly, perhaps) said hello to the whole mob. Yes, I am the very proud owner of a signed sign.

I would also like future generations to know that while directing the crowd to get into its ideal configuration, Mr. Speigel kept comically referring to me as Santa Claus. “Santa Claus,” he would say, “hide more of your face behind that sign.”

This one is for my own ego, but something I said made the whole group laugh, including Art — and I hope Al, but I couldn’t see his face. It was something I said intending to be funny, which is a bonus, because no one likes those incidental instances where everyone laughs at you. It may not have been groundbreaking, but it was good enough for the guy standing behind to pat me on the back.

Art: “Can you lift the dog higher. I want to see more of her face.”

Me: “That’s not a dog. That’s my wife.”

You probably had to be there, and I wish you had been. Especially if you’re a “Weird Al” fan. It was a great way to spend a day.

As I’ve said in previous posts, the Yankovic community is a good bunch of people, and I enjoy spending time with them. On this particular day, I got to meet a lot of great people. A big group of us went out afterward to the Farmer’s Market, where we shared our thoughts on Al’s legacy, some of us still greased up with Groucho-esque mustaches. We still keep in touch, sending each other funny memes or heartfelt messages of acceptance.

To anyone at that shoot or any other fan of “Fat,” I’m extending an open invitation. If you chance upon me at a show, say hello. After all, in a way doing so is like spending time with Al himself, because as the pictures prove, we’ve all got a little bit of his weirdness in us.

On a final note, I’d like to say something a bit personal.

First of all, thank you to the team who put this together. Thank you for including me. A special thanks to the participants who turned what could have otherwise been a dull block of hours waiting into something truly memorable. And thank you to Al himself for inspiring our passion.

On a day when I was notified I would be put on furlough from work. . . On a day when my sister, who is a nurse, was tested for Covid-19. . . On a day when she informed me of three infants at her hospital whose deaths were supsected to have been caused by the virus. . . On a day when Facebook totally changed their layout to something annoying. . . It is truly a comfort to have pictures like these to look upon and smile at the memory of.

270 Maniacs – My Lame Claim to Fame Some days are best described as surreal. Certainly, living in 2020 we can say that a lot, but there was a day not long ago that seemed like it would be the enduring surreal experience of a lifetime.

#art #fandom #Magazine #music #New York Times #photography #Weird Al #Yankovic

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