Friends are an important part of life. They help a person maintain their sanity, or at least mine help me in that way. Friends, it has been said, are the miracle of nature. In my opinion, friends are important because they are the sources of our stories—the ones we tell to our kids or around the bar—they inspire us. One friend of mine in particular was a wholesome guy, honest, loud, and brave. Ike was always good for a laugh or a fresh joke. He once threw a party using only the spare change he saved over months, “The Jew Party” he told us; he had names it after the spirit in which it was funded. It was pretty appropriate that Ike himself was Jewish. He was, by no means, afraid of new things and welcomed a challenge. He was an athlete by nature, but his sociability brought many competitions his way and win or lose he relished the opportunity to prove himself.
Ike’s most notable escapade was, by far, his debut as a pageant star. The all male beauty pageant was a philanthropy event, the men put on the burlesque show and the proceeds go to charity. Ike has entered as soon as they posted sign-ups. All he had to do was impress the judges in a talent contest and a question and answer session. I offered to help him prepare for each.
The talent portion would be satisfied with Ike’s own rendition of “Party in the U.S.A”. He had developed choreography and fashioned a costume of cut-off denim shorts and an American flag t-shirt tied in a knot. There was much debate about whether to do the entire song in falsetto, or to sing it in a pitch manageable for Ike, we ultimately decided that falsetto was too presumptuous and quite over done and concluded he should show off his true vocal range.
As for the question and answer half of the show, Ike was steadfast on doing this part impromptu. He said it was for authenticity, but I’m fairly certain he was allowing himself extra time to prepare the dance routine.
The night of the pageant Ike was even-keel, and not at all nervous. This did not surprise me much; Ike likely got more amusement performing than the crowd did spectating.
Part one came and went quickly. It was mostly drowned out by laughter, applause, and whistling; after Ike came off stage the pageant host made a special request for the denim shorts. The second half of the pageant required more endurance, Ike was scheduled on stage last and the rest of the field wasn’t exactly charming when answering questions like, “What is your ideal date a girl would take you on?” or, “What do you do to cheer up your friends?”
Finally Ike’s name was called and he met the host in the middle of the stage, handed him the denim shorts he asked for, and turned to face the crowd. After they settled from the debauchery, the host began the series of questions. Ike neither stumbled nor exceled on the questions, but the last question won over the host, the audience, and the contestants—it was the highlight of the show as well as our friendship thus far.
The host looked at Ike and said, “Well, this is a fitting final question,” he continued, “The card asks that you tell you own original joke.”
Ike leaned into the microphone and said, “Knock, knock.”
“Who’s there?” The host responded.
“World peace.” Ike retorted quickly.
How can we take expect politics to remain formal when the masses cherish and prefer the input of television personalities?
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