To Thine Own Self Be True. Unless, Of Course, You're an Enormous Douche

Yale: I'm not a saint, OK?

Isaac: You're too easy on yourself. Don't you see? You're... You rationalise everything. You're not honest with yourself. You talk about you wanna write a book, but in the end you'd rather buy a Porsche. You cheat a little bit on Emily and you play around the truth with me. The next thing you know you're in front of a Senate committee naming names.

Yale: You are so self-righteous. I mean, we're just people. We're just human beings. You think you're God!

Isaac: I gotta model myself after someone.

--Manhattan (1979)

Growing up, I greatly enjoyed looking through my parents' high school yearbooks. Mainly because it confirmed that those 1950s kids looked like a bunch of illiterate hicks, with their greased up hair, plaid shirts, and rolled up jeans. I smugly felt victorious, knowing that we 1970s kids were superior in every way, what with our polyester fake silk shirts, long hair, male necklaces and fake suede, rubber soled shoes. But more than that I enjoyed getting a glimpse of Mom and Dad as teenagers, before they became the dictatorial menaces who forced me to eat broccoli and wouldn't let me order cokes at Monterrey House. I remember delighting at their friends' extensive signature/salutations (seemingly everyone in school signed Mom's, while only girls and teammates signed Dad's. One extremely questionable-looking young lady who was not my beloved Mother, but who at least thought herself my Dad's girlfriend, tossed off an extensive signature filled with references to their future married life, their future kids, and their future home. Basically, a total whore.). Anyway, all the seniors included a favorite quote, which appeared under their photos. My Dad selected "to thine own self be true." I knew that phrase well. This was his stock explanation why he never grew his hair longer during the 1970s. Short hair during the 70s condemned him, at least in my eyes, to remain hopelessly out of style, therefore making it even more imperative that I quarantine him from my friends. So I've always associated this quote with his making me get my hair cut short when all my own friends got to have long hair (over their collars). I wondered why I had to be true to HIS self instead of mine. Or thine.

Little did I know at the time he'd inadvertently stumbled onto the most important rule of living a happy life. Or at least, living a life that doesn't suck as bad as it might otherwise. "To thine own self be true" is the Cardinal Rule. Despite the fact that it sounds like something written on an Ed Hardy shirt or tattooed on Angelina Jolie's foot.

It comes from Hamlet. Polonius, a weaselly adviser to King Claudius (think of a cross between Frank Burns from MASH and Bob Haldeman), advises his son Laertes before Laertes travels to Paris. Polonius reels off a string of Ben Franklin-esque maxims he wants his son to follow. He continues after the main phrase, "and it must follow, as the night the day, Thou canst not then be false to any man." You can envision Laertes rolling his eyes and checking his watch during this speech, thinking "ok, let's wind it up old man, I don't want to miss the boat." In context, the phrase essentially means "don't lie to yourself." But "true" has another connotation in this context--putting your own interests first. If you can't be honest to or protect yourself, you can't deal with or care for others.

But it goes well beyond that. What's the worst thing you can say about someone? They're a loser, a thief, a beggar, abusive, dull, stupid? No. Its that they're a phony. I mean, other than that they're a concentration camp guard. Or a politician. Or a terrorist. Or that you gave yourself your own nickname.

Without being honest with yourself, you live a fundamentally unreal existence. You miss opportunities to truly improve your life. You ignore chronic problems that eventually will grow to the point where, when too great to ignore, they're too late to resolve. Though hysterically funny, Michael Scott is essentially pathetic, convinced of his brilliance, of his leadership abilities, and of the love his employees have for him. He has many strengths, which otherwise might propel him to great success and happiness. But his inability to recognize and acknowledge his flaws consigns him to his lofty status as the Regional Manager-Scranton Branch. All because he utterly lacks any self-analytical capability. That's what she said.

Likewise, by not looking first to yourself and doing what's right for you, you can't truly take care of others and you sacrifice your own happiness. Living a life someone else charts for you imprisons you in your own Phantom Zone with General Zod, incapable of realizing your own goals and eventually resentful of having to satisfy only others. Without at least a little bit of "selfishness," people can grow to resent the ones on whom they ostensibly spend their lives serving. Your so-called life of service becomes not a choice that fulfills and satisfies your soul, but instead turns into a drudgery performed as some sort of duty, and one that weighs more and more heavily as it wears on. Equally intolerable, living a life not your own or that suppresses your true self deceives others in how they relate to you. Think of the disappointment and anger you've felt in life upon discovering that someone you thought you knew really well turned out to be totally different than their appearance. Its a form of deception, like Satan in the Garden of Eden, coming to Eve not as Beelzebub, replete with horns and a trident, but as a serpent. A friendly nice serpent that could walk, wear an ascot, and tell hilarious stories about weekends spent with Bill Murray playing golf and going to Cubs games. It combines some of the worst sins--lying, stealing, fraud.

My worst decisions have generally resulted from not making the right choice for me but to satisfy what I think others want or in deluding myself about what's right. These were never comfortable decisions, and they quickly proved wrong. My best decisions have come from doing what strikes me as right and natural. Even if difficult.

You've seen this all the time. The bull-necked, ruddy complexion construction worker-looking guy wearing an ill-fitting Armani suit his wife obviously picked out for him. The Glee fan club member trying to become an undercover DEA agent. The CPA at the Victoria Secret after-party. Tom Cruise anywhere. None of these people are making choices based on what suits them. Instead, they're fulfilling others' expectations, or trying to be someone they're not (please don't sue me Tom).

None of this is to say you should roll over or alienate people or fail to help someone when they're down. Other people aren't speed bumps to roll over in life on your way to the sports bar on Sundays. Nor does it mean you can't love someone else and be devoted and true to them as well. To the contrary, only by living a life true to your ideals and desires can you become a fully realized person capable of dealing with others as equals, helping them as a choice, or loving them as a partner rather than as some abstract obligatory burden or as a subservient dependent.

This "rule" has too many applications to list. But here's just a few. Don't listen to or read or watch crap just because others do. Don't let your spouse dress you. Don't vote for someone just because everyone else is. Don't follow crowds. Follow true friends instead. The party crowd will be the first ones to jump ship. Don't follow every little trend. Don't praise the Emperor's new clothes. If you're a square peg, don't spend your life looking for round holes. Don't rationalize. See yourself like others do, not like you hope you are.

There's no shortage of people who will use you for their purposes. They'll drain you of everything you have. Maybe unintentionally, maybe not. But that will wear you down and poison you. Treat yourself at least as well as you do your best friend. Protect yourself. Do what's best for you. In reality, you're your own best friend. You're the one who best knows what's best for you. Or, in the immortal words of the Fifth Dimension, "you gotta go where you want to go, do what you want to do." (Feel free to congratulate me for timely cultural references in the comments section).

I know. This is coming off like Yoda. "Fear is the path to the dark side. Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering." This may have been a big mistake.

Next--either "Act Your Age" or "Jazz Festival Preview." Depends on whether this reads any better in the light of day.

How To Live Your Life and Answers to Other Trivial Questions

Jerry: OUR LIVES!! What kind of lives are these? We're like children. We're not men.
George: No, we're not. We're not men.
Jerry: We come up with all these stupid reasons to break up with these women.
George: I know. I know. That's what I do. That's what I do.
Jerry: Are we going to be sitting here when we're sixty like two idiots?
George: We should be having dinner with our sons when we're sixty.
Jerry: We're pathetic… you know that?
George: Yeah, Like I don't know that I'm pathetic.
Jerry: Why can't I be normal?
George: Yes. Me, too. I wanna be normal. Normal.
Seinfeld, "The Engagement"

Warning! Although most of this doesn’t apply to this blog’s three regular readers, it’s kind of dark. Dark indeed. Dark like a Doors song or a Robert Mitchum movie. Or one of those dreadful “America isn’t powerful or prosperous anymore so you rednecks better get used to it and ride in the back of the bus (and pay higher taxes)” Obama speeches. I never get tired of those. Like a Ronald Reagan speech, only exactly the opposite. Apologies in advance.

Its such a shame too, because it’s a beautiful day today in the People’s Republic of Austin. We’re enjoying San Diego weather which seems to have come from out of nowhere. The Austin Reggae Festival (official symbol—a magic mushroom. Any hidden meanings there?) seems to have caught 78704 in a deadly gridlock, thus causing me to flee for greener and less baked pastures. Soon, six months of Hell will descend upon us. Global warming, or climate change, or the greenhouse effect (whatever msnbc.com is calling it these days) will have to step back though. I’m staying inside and turning the AC down. Way on down. I’m sorry if the asphalt turns into liquid tar and orange groves start sprouting in Boston, I’m not going to spend the summer roasting like a Cornish game hen. You self-righteous climate fanatacists will just have to deal with it. Go pick on some SUV drivers. After all, I do recycle.

If you’re still reading, it means you’re probably a devoted Affirmer. Yeah, that’s right, you’ve got a name. The Big Lebowski fans are “achievers.” Glee followers are called “Gleeks.” You are “Affirmers.” Congratulations. Enjoy your new positive class-identifying moniker. I’m having some t-shirts made with a cool fist symbol, or a tiger…something cool. Isn’t it awesome being part of a group? Even a pathetic group like this one. Its like being in the Jets or the Sharks, but without any singing or dancing or Natalie Wood.

OK, we’ve gotten on a tangent here people. Let’s get back to the point.

So as a devoted Affirmer, I worry about you. I worry about you succumbing to the moral and cultural funk that has engulfed the American Public. An Affirmer needs to live a life that stands for something. Its part of our official Affirmer Pledge (summarized in a future posting). A life that at least stands for something other than eating pudding or obsessing over which anorexic blonde schoolteacher or cheerleader wins The Bachelor, that is. Not only is an unexamined life not worth living, a life spent eating Cinnabons and playing Wii is pretty undeserving as well. It doesn’t mean you’re fun, it just means you’re a stoner, probably sponging off someone who actually works.

Last fall I attended a continuing legal education course in Lafayette. Louisiana requires that these courses include a professionalism component. Not ethics exactly, but more like obeying the unwritten rules of lawyering. This particular course described numerous instances of downright appalling behavior that lawyers throughout the country had committed. Really bad stuff. Lying, stealing, cheating stuff. Keep in mind, this is from people who have advanced university degrees, have to maintain a (largely) clean criminal record, devoted their lives to upholding laws, and had to pass a relatively difficult test to enter their profession. If they can’t act like members of a decent society, what about all the rest of the unwashed, grimy, Dancing With the Stars-watching slugs out there? It opened my eyes.

If you watch the news, read the newspaper (I guess that’s archaic, right? Ok, if you read the news on line), or if you, I don’t know, live your life around other people, you should have at least begun to suspect that a very unpleasant reality has been unfolding in our midst. Americans are pretty much going down the tubes. Its just shocking how many of us have become so…well…tacky. And annoying. I don’t exclude myself from that category. You’re going to have to face some harsh truth. As my old high school friend Betsy Clark once said liltingly during Shadow Box rehearsals, “You All Suck!” No, really, I’m sorry, but except for the three documented Affirmers whom I’m trying to help here, its true. In so many ways, you, typical American, suck.

You look like slobs. You men wear Tommy Bahama to work (Don Draper is the look you want, people), like you’re some character out of a Hemingway novel (only a lot less interesting). You women wear belly shirts, despite that extra-wide whitewall tire you call your gut. Men and women alike, you wear cheap, cheap jewelry. You go everywhere looking like you just got out of bed. You wear white after Labor Day. Your hair looks like a sparrow nest or a grease trap. Your gut looks big enough to have its own gravitational field, and you probably haven’t seen your toes since 1985. You have no idea how to tie a tie. You wear jeans to church. On Easter Sunday. Not long ago, I saw a teenage girl wearing Daisy Dukes to church and it was awesome. I mean, it was appalling.

You act like children. 50 year old men are getting tattoos, going to tanning salons, wearing baseball caps backwards, getting facials, riding motorcycles (without helmets), going to fantasy baseball camps and playing fantasy football, hanging out at Hooter’s, and amassing enough electronic equipment to launch the Space Shuttle or spy on the Jordanian Defense Ministry Headquarters. You can’t bother to help your kids with their homework, or, you do their homework for them. You eat Cocoa Puffs for dinner and cold pizza for breakfast. You credit rating is worse than Central America’s.

You run off and play instead of shopping for insurance or fixing the hot water heater. You divorce your wife of 20 years because she isn’t hot anymore or she hassles you about being a complete loser. You put springs on both your legs and wear a helmet with bunny ears and bounce down South Lamar to get around. No, really, I just saw that not ten minutes ago. Austin is still the weirdest town.

You stand for absolutely nothing. You vote for the candidate you’d most rather play golf or have a beer with. You constantly lie, cheat, spread rumors, and plot at work, despite being at the top of major corporations, governments or professional firms. You cheat on your spouse. You have no opinions about anything, except that whatever most benefits you personally is the “right” thing to do.

You are criminally ignorant. You can’t name the Vice President. You have no idea who’s running for any office, much less the differences between them. You don’t know that we’re at war, or the difference between Iraq or Afghanistan or Vietnam. You think Shakespeare is a pub or a martini. You haven’t read a book without pictures in 20 years, but you know the name of every character on Jersey Shore and Three’s Company. Basically, if it doesn’t happen within a 50 foot radius of your sluggard body, you don’t know or care about it.

You behave repulsively. You treat the movie theatre as your living room or the ball park, carrying on high-volume conversations and smacking on your Milk Duds like they were your last meal. You dart in and out of traffic at your own personal speed, like you’re the only car on the road or you’re qualifying for the Daytona 500. You stick your filthy hands in the buffet, oblivious to the vile and loathsome diseases your fingernails are spreading to everyone. You have the manners of a farmhand. A prison farmhand.

You raise your kids as savages. After naming them something completely bizarre to suit your own sense of creativity, of course. I can hardly imagine the burden these kids will carry through their lives, having to answer to names like “Grandma Apple,” “Aunt Suri,” or “Uncle Kal-El.” You take them places they clearly don’t belong, like Tiffany’s, and chuckle as they rampage through the place like rutting wildebeests stalking their prey. You let them turn their brains into mush watching TV and playing video games. You let them engorge on pop tarts and pizza rolls to the point where they make Augustus Gloop look like Lance Armstrong. I look for kids to be putting pig heads on sticks soon.

In short, you stand for nothing, your life contributes nothing, and your “belief system” is the moral equivalent of wearing whatever’s at the top of your dirty clothes pile. You can’t hold a job, even though you’ve had 16 years of school. You watch Dancing With the Stars. You eat McDonald’s French fries and double-stuffed oreos every day, substitute Fruit Loops for your Cocoa Pebbles when you want to diet, exercise by playing video games, and walk around with an untucked shirt everywhere. You ignore your kids and wonder why they won’t mind you. You ignore your wife and wonder why she’s divorcing you. Everyone hates you, but won’t say it. You’re convinced all your problems are because your boss/teacher/government clerk/minister are jealous and screwed you over.

You are Charmin soft. If squeezed, you will bruise and break. You are an irritating, entitled, whining, pretentious douche. In other words, you, my friend, are an American.

Still, by reading this far you show signs of hope and redemption. Or you’re a true Affirmer, and want to know how to avoid falling into this trap. Like a frat boy working on his resume, you’re still capable of making wise choices. But you need guidance. You need a value system.

What you need, quite frankly, are some rules. Without rules, we are bereft, left solely to our horrifically misguided sense of right and wrong. Welcome to the “Daily Affirmations How to Live Your Life” series. Think of this as the nosy, meddling Italian mother you never had. Like Joe Pesci’s mother in Goodfellas (who was in reality Martin Scorsese’s mother). Through the next few posts, I’ll lay out the simple rules you should follow to live a better, more productive, satisfying, and meaningful life. You won’t get rich or qualify for the Olympics or get a street named for you. But you might just wake up one morning without that queasy feeling gnawing at the pit of your stomach that your life amounts to nothing.

So look out for the next in our series. First up-the cardinal rule!

The Daily Affirmations Dance Party

There may be trouble ahead
But while there's moonlight and music and love and romance
Let's face the music and dance
Irving Berlin, “Let’s Face the Music and Dance”

You know the Woodstock generation of the 1960s that were
so full of themselves and conceited? None of those people could dance.
Charlotte Pingress, “The Last Days of Disco”

Seems like lately its just been one sort of tumult after another. Christchurch, NZ earthquake, Japanese tsunami and resulting nuclear crisis, Liz Taylor’s passing, Libyan civil war, drastic public service cuts, ongoing recession, Wisconsin labor union agitation, NFL lockout, Charlie Sheen world tour…. Just a real bummer.

What can we do about that? Well, excitement awaits! As I’ll explain in future posts, I have a multi-part series lined up on how you should live your life. It’s going to be lots of fun. By “fun,” of course, I mean something to replace your Ambien. Ok, so maybe excitement doesn't really await. That’s not going to add sorely needed mirth and merriment to anyone’s life. Well, not to anyone who’s not an intolerant, life-hating, buzzkill. You know. Sean Penn.

So, let’s shake it off before we plunge in to the abyss. In the “Animal House” spirit (“you know what we’re gonna do? Toga party!"), let’s have a dance party.

At least, let’s pretend like we’re having a dance party.

Now, what makes for a good dance party? Well, lots of people looking to have a good time, a big dance floor, and a wide variety of great songs, with a good mix of fast and slow dances. Good refreshments, though no finger food. You don’t want to eat out of a bowl where everyone’s been sticking their dirty hands. Think about your high school dances, except without the awkwardness, or with guys trying to sneak cheap liquor at every turn. I missed most of my school dances because, frankly, they were soooo common. I preferred staying at home to watch Love Boat and eat cheeseburgers. Actually, that still sounds like a sweet night.

The format here is basically a playlist. Take the list, play the tunes, then get down with your bad self. I realize making a list isn’t really the same as writing. Santa makes a list every year, but that doesn’t make it “The Sound and the Fury.” But hopefully seeing some of these titles will jog an old memory or inspire a new one. Or, hopefully, get you out of that seat and up on to your feet. “Get up off a that thing!” As it were.

The songs span the 1960s to the 1980s. There’s about three times as many songs as could actually play at a real dance, so feel free to program your own dance.

There’s no music from the 1990s. Mainly because the 90s had no dance songs. Unless you were into wearing flannel, cheap buzzes on cough syrup, and hating your parents, the 90s weren’t a dance decade. You may say, “what about rap?” Yeah, rap is barely music. At the risk of sounding like 1955 Southern Baptist preacher warning about Elvis, rap essentially consists of a mind-numbing electronic bass beat, a snippet of an actual, real song, and “kill my landlord” style criminal poetry about smacking bitches upside the head or backing that thing up over here to hit that. Rap lyrics are a lot like “and in the end, the love you take is equal to the love you make,” only, exactly the opposite. Nor is anything included from the 21st Century. Here’s a thought: if no one is playing an actual musical instrument, its probably not music. Or if you’re only “singing” through a computer, you're not actually singing. Turn on your Guitar Hero if that’s what you want.

So get your date a corsage, get a haircut, wash your car, put on a tie, and head on over to the Daily Affirmations Dance Party. Let’s all get down and get funky.

The 1960s Dance Party

We start off early, right after the old folks have finished their 4 p.m. dinners, so they can stand and sway, complain that the music is too loud, try to outdo each others' knee replacement and acid reflux stories, and get home soon enough to go to bed by 8. Without breaking their hips. Oh, and there’s more of these songs because they’re shorter.

Twist and Shout- The Beatles
Louie, Louie- The Kingsmen
Locomotion- Little Eva
Be My Baby- The Ronettes
Where Did Our Love Go- The Supremes
Shout- The Isley Brothers
I Only Have Eyes For You- The Flamingos
Baby I Love You- The Ronettes
Beechwood 4-5789- The Marvelettes
My Girl- The Temptations
Our Day Will Come- Ruby and the Romantics
My Guy- Mary Wells
RESPECT- Aretha Franklin
Natural Woman- Aretha Franklin
Hold On, I’m Coming- Sam and Dave
Chapel of Love- The Dixie Cups
Twistin’ the Night Away- Sam Cooke
Wonderful World- Sam Cooke
When A Man Loves A Woman- Percy Sledge
Nowhere to Run- Martha and the Vandellas
Keep on Dancing- The Gentrys
He’s A Rebel- Darlene Love
Cool Jerk- The Capitols
Think- Aretha Franklin
Chain of Fools- Aretha Franklin
Wedding Bell Blues- The Fifth Dimension
Ooh Baby Baby- Smokey Robinson and the Miracles
My Cherie Amour- Stevie Wonder
Tighten Up- Archie Bell and the Drells
Tequila- The Champs
Do You Love Me?- The Contours
Rescue Me- Fontella Bass
People Get Ready- The Impressions
You’ve Lost That Lovin’ Feelin- The Righteous Brothers
Son of a Preacher Man- Dusty Springfield
The Twist- Chubby Checker
Shotgun- Junior Walker and the All Stars
Green Onions- Booker T. and the MGs
Soul Finger- The Bar Kays
Tell It Like It Is- Aaron Neville
Baby I Need Your Loving- Johnny Rivers
Ain’t That Peculiar- Marvin Gaye
Ain’t Nothing Like the Real Thing- Marvin Gaye and Tammi Terrell
Dance to the Music- Sly and the Family Stone
Uptight, Everything Is Alright- Stevie Wonder
Keep Your Hands Off My Baby- Little Eva
Its Gonna Work Out Fine- Ike and Tina Turner
Stay- Maurice Williams
This Boy- The Beatles
Drive My Car- The Beatles
When I Get Home- The Beatles
Can’t Do That- The Beatles
All Summer Long- The Beach Boys
Fun, Fun, Fun- The Beach Boys
Don’t Worry Baby- The Beach Boys
Yes, I’m Ready- Barbara Mason
Everybody Needs Somebody to Love- Solomon Burke
Its Not Unusual- Tom Jones
Shake- Otis Redding
Try A Little Tenderness- Otis Redding

The 1970s Dance Party

OK, now that the 1960s dance marathon has finished, lets move on to the 1970s. Pull out your corduroy suit, grow out your sideburns, lay down carpeting and install quadrophonic speakers and an 8-track tape player in your van, and walk around spouting a bunch of nonsense about things like EST or the equal rights amendment to get in the spirit of the thing.

Part 1 is pre-disco, early 1970s stuff.

Brown Sugar- The Rolling Stones
Tumbling Dice-The Rolling Stones
Give It To Me -J. Geils Band
Theme From Shaft- Isaac Hayes
I’ll Take You There- Staples Singers
Move On Up- Curtis Mayfield
Summer Breeze- Seals and Crofts
Nights In White Satin- The Moody Blues
Higher Ground- Stevie Wonder
ABC- Jackson 5
Never Can Say Goodbye- Jackson 5
I’ll Be There- Jackson 5
Funky Chicken- Rufus Thomas
Mr. Big Stuff- Jean Knight
Cissy Strut- The Meters
Got to Give It Up (Part 1)- Marvin Gaye
Rock Steady- Aretha Franklin
I Say A Little Prayer for You- Aretha Franklin
Me and Mrs. Jones- Billy Paul
Hey There Lonely Girl- The Delphonics
Respect Yourself- Staples Singers
Superfly- Curtis Mayfield
The Tears of a Clown- Smokey Robinson
Let’s Get It On- Marvin Gaye
Just My Imagination- The Temptations
What’s Going On- Marvin Gaye
Let’s Stay Together- Al Green
L-O-V-E- Al Green
Pick Up the Pieces- Average White Band
Knock on Wood- Eddie Floyd
Ooh Boy- Rose Royce
Flash Light- Parliament

Part 2, after intermission, is straight up Saturday Night Fever. Go back out to your van, do whatever you degenerates did in the 1970s out in the parking lot, put on your mood ring and gold chains, don your leisure suit and platform shoes, and dance the night away.

Rock With You- Michael Jackson
Don’t Stop Til You Get Enough- Michael Jackson
Love Machine- The Miracles
Brick House- The Commodores
Car Wash- Rose Royce
Get Down Tonight- K.C. and the Sunshine Band
That’s the Way- K.C. and the Sunshine Band
Stayin’ Alive- The Bee Gees
More Than A Woman- The Bee Gees
K-JEE- TSOP
Pina Colada Song- Rupert Holmes
Love’s Theme- Love Unlimited Orchestra
Lady Marmalade- Labelle
Dancing Queen- ABBA
Dazz- Brick
Play That Funky Music White Boy- Wild Cherry
Boogie Wonderland- Earth Wind & Fire
Sing a Song- Earth Wind & Fire
After the Love Has Gone- Earth Wind & Fire
Hollywood Swinging- Kool and the Gang
Right Back to Where We Started From- Maxine Nightingale
Love Rollercoaster- Ohio Players
You Sexy Thing- Hot Chocolate
Boogie Fever- The Sylvers
Boogie, Oogie, Oogie- A Taste of Honey
Disco Inferno- The Trammps
YMCA- The Village People
You’ll Never Find- Lou Rawls
We Are Family- Sister Sledge
Turn The Beat Around- Vicki Sue Robinson
Love Train- The O’Jays
Good Times- Chic
More, More, More- Andrea True Connection
Oh What A Night- The Four Seasons
I Will Survive- Gloria Gaynor
Last Dance- Donna Summer


1980s Dance Party

After Donna fades out, after a career-killing diatribe against gays (Rule number one of show business-know and do not attack your audience), swap your van for a Fiero (or a DeLorean with the flux capacitor option, stocked with enough plutonium to generate the 1.21 gigawatts necessary for time travel), trade that leisure suit for a ripped t-shirt or popped color pastel Izod shirt, cut your hair in a blender and color it in neon, strap on a dog collar and green eye shadow, and head back on to the dance floor.

Walkin’ On Sunshine- Katrina and the Waves
Vacation- The Go Go’s
Love Shack- The B-52’s
Rio- Duran Duran
True- Spandau Ballet
Crazy for You- Madonna
Relax- Frankie Goes to Hollywood
876-5309- Tommy Tutone
Jungle Love- Morris Day and the Time
Our Lips Are Sealed- The Go Go’s
Super Freak- Rick James
Don’t You Want Me- Gary Numan
Allison- Elvis Costello
Sweet Love- Anita Baker
1999- Prince
Let’s Go Crazy- Prince
Purple Rain- Prince
Man in the Mirror- Michael Jackson
Beat It- Michael Jackson
Billie Jean- Michael Jackson
Footloose- Kenny Loggins
Girls Just Want to Have Fun- Cyndi Lauper
Time After Time- Cyndi Lauper
Rebel Yell- Billy Idol
Its Raining Men- Weather Girls
Celebrate Good Times- Earth Wind & Fire
Jump- Pointer Sisters
I Want to Dance with Somebody- Whitney Houston
Sledgehammer- Peter Gabriel
Wicked Game- Chris Isaak
Come On Eileen- Dexy’s Midnight Runners
Rock the Casbah- The Clash
Tainted Love- Soft Cell
Hold Me Now- The Thompson Twins
What I Like About You- The Romantics
I’m Coming Out- Diana Ross
Let’s Groove- Earth Wind & Fire
She Works Hard for the Money- Donna Summer
Hungry Eyes- Eric Carmen
What Have You Done for Me Lately- Janet Jackson
I Want Candy- Bow Wow Wow
Hey Micky- Toni Basil
Carribean Queen- Billy Ocean
99 Luftballoons- Nena
Looking For A New Love- Jody Whatley
One Thing Leads to Another- The Fixx
Black Velvet- Allanah Myles
Tempted By the Fruit of Another- Squeeze
Party All the Time- Eddie Murphy
Let’s Dance- David Bowie
China Girl- David Bowie
Every Breath You Take- The Police

Now head out back into the night. Katz’s finally did close after all those years, so we can’t go there. Maybe Magnolia Café, then back home.

Next-12 easy rules on how to live your life, which is 10 more than God gave Moses. Call the extra two “lagniappe.”