"I got this one..." An underage drinking story....

Everyone has their stories about that first time you had a few too many drinks and they almost always involve some kind of disgusting alcohol and the fact that you were underage.

I'm just telling you all right now, no story compares to this next one.

I am particularly fond of this story as it launched one of the initial Clint and James comedic, interactive and ongoing stage acts.  We would perform this routine at the store when people were feeling low after having been told to start committing anti-semitic hate crimes, as per the company business model.

This story takes place during the snow storm of December, 2008.  Most people have resentment for this time, but for myself, I am thankful that it happened as it led to some of the most pivotal Patio Talk sessions of all time.  Don't assume for a minute that Clint and I wouldn't be on the patio even in the snow.  Nothing stops Patio Talk.

Clint spent about 36 hours straight at my place due to the heavy snowfall and the results from this time are priceless, so many stories, so many characters, so many routines...it was one of those key moments.

The best part about this story is that not only is Clint 13 years old, but he was drinking Southern Comfort.  I was always under the assumption that Southern Comfort was more of a liqueur used to flavor drinks...but like a good early teenage boy he found whatever he could and drank it straight out of the bottle.  I am sure we all have a similar story.

So he is out in the backwoods near Cowichan Lake, he grew up in Victoria and when you grow up on the Island, Cowichan is always a good choice for illegal drinking.  For whatever reason he and his buddies decide one day to find random booze and go drinking in the woods.  Don't lie to yourself now, we have all done it at one time.

The details of the actual drinking are standard.  You know how it goes when you are young, you drink weird shit and you drink it fast.

Needless to say, none of them had vehicles and there was no way they could call their parents for rides.  They decide to try hitchhiking.  They were able to make it far enough into civilization to find a bus stop.

Public transportation and underage drinking is pure comedic genius.  It always ends badly.  Clint is sitting there when he starts to feel very ill, with no bucket or bathroom around he takes off his jacket, holds it in his lap with both arms and barfs...over and over again into his jacket.

This goes on for a few minutes, the passengers are losing it and the driver doesn't know what to do.  One passenger gets a great idea and this is the routine I still perform to this day, it is classic.

This guys stands up and starts approaching Clint - cautiously.  He is slowly making his way to Clint, all the while maintaining a steady pace and hesitantly pulling back to ensure he doesn't startle Clint and unintentionally induce some form of projectile vomit in his direction.  As he is making his approach, he is pointing at Clint and assuring all the other passengers that "...I got this one..."

Eventually he makes his way to Clint, casually taps him on his shoulder and states (I want to paraphrase, but quotes like these are too good to pass up) "...hey...hey buddy [Clint turns around and mumbles his acknowledgment]...hey listen buddy this is your stop, you might want to ring the bell..." Brilliant right? I mean who is this guy? He is like the MacGyver of oral communication.

Clint's response is simple, he has no idea that he is in the middle of nowhere so with his jacket in his arms and puke all over the place he turns, looks at this guy and says in a childish voice: "...gee thanks mister..."


This random bus hero has done it.  Clint stands up, rings the bell and staggers off the bus.  People are clapping, laughing, shaking the hero's hand, there's all kinds of high fives being exchanged.  Clint is about 20 blocks away from his house and ends up walking the rest of the way...but that's what happens when Southern Comfort meets public transportation and Clint Walker is involved.


So the moral of the story is simple: if you find yourself feeling a little unhappy, don't stress out, walk up to your buddy slowly, start pointing around and just utter the words "...I got this one..." you will feel better I promise.

Nothing says Clint Walker like...

A sleeveless Dolce and Gabbana shirt!

When you have guns that are as sculpted and tanned as Clint's you have no choice but to wear a sleeveless shirt. It would be a crime against humanity for Clint to not wear this type of shirt.

If you have to ask if the shirt is a medium then you haven't been reading this blog, do yourself a favor, grab a 6 pack of beer, get on a patio somewhere and read from the beginning.

So there I am, I hadn't seen Clint for a while, he has been coaching baseball games, hanging out with his son, going camping.  So I decide to head down to his place to see him this past weekend.

I always enjoy going to Clint's place, its a little out of the way south of town, but it's like a different city down there.  Birds are chirping, you can park your car on the lawn (sideways of course with the tires slightly turned for optimal picture taking), your closest neighbor is a 3 minute walk away and there are all types of strange and interesting bugs - trust me it's sweet.

When I first arrived I could clearly see the guns were exposed...when I got closer is when I saw the Dolce on his chest.  I just about lost it.  I don't care who you are...nobody can pull this look off, don't even try it guys, you will just end up looking like a chotchy wannabe.  There is only 1 Clint Walker and I believe he may be the only one who is powerful enough to pull this type of look off.  They shouldn't even allow normal people to buy clothes like this, it isn't right for someone to try and rock this look...they don't stand a chance at competing with Clint.

How to be cool like Clint

Someone stuffed this under my front door with a hand written note that simply said "...will this help me be like Clint?"

Check out the last entry..

...remember Bus Stop Steve?

The power of Clint continues to amaze me.

The Legacy of Backpack

The legacy of the one known only as "Backpack" dates back to a time in Clint's life when he was living in Vancouver: working in the top office of Bental place overlooking the waterfront; managing a couple of companies; working on intricate security software for the FBI based on a raging chicken who tears his own head off with a team of 'yes' men getting him Lattes and several women to tie his skinny silk ties for him; playing beach volleyball everyday after work and dating all manner of unsavory women.

Before I continue, I feel it necessary at this point to let you know that Clint assures me that playing beach volleyball was an entirely acceptable pastime back in the late 90s, not nearly as gay as it sounds and an excellent way of working on your tan and sculpting your guns.

Just so you understand the severity of this story, it was one of the original patio talk sessions and I'm pretty sure I completely lost my shit over this one.  It was too much for me to handle.  I guess that's enough foreplay, you should all have your beers cracked by now. 

Alright so there are, as you have come to expect, the patio is sunny and warm, beers are flowing and Clint has his microphone in hand...the story begins...

Backpack is the nickname of some guy Clint ran into at a bar while on a date.  He is sitting there talking to his date when this guy approaches him.  Clint gives an excellent description of him.  Mid 40s, hoodie, dirty jeans, a little bit of his dinner on his left cheek and drunk.  Clint would call him a "Robbie" (I will write a future post on this term, stay tuned).

So this guy proceeds to ask Clint for his "handle".  What an introduction. Its no wonder Clint completely ignored his date from this point onward, I don't blame him, the combination of a hoodie and a one-liner like that would have  led me to do the same thing.

Unknown to Clint at the time because he was too busy playing beach volleyball instead of playing video games is that the term Handle refers to a nickname.  Clint has no idea what this guy is talking about, fortunately the guy is pretty drunk and offers his handle first..."...they call me Backpack."

Clint barely has time to inquire further when the guy offers a full on explanation.  Backpack claims that he once came up with some brilliant ideas on backpack design.  He continues to claim that he had a "near deal" with Sears to sell these backpacks.

I can't help but think what kind of bar caters to such an interesting clientèle.  I mean on the one side of the bar you have an up and coming executive, probably extremely tanned trying to show his biceps to his date and on the other you have, well this guy Backpack.

By this point in the conversation Clint's date is pretty angry that he is ignoring her, but he doesn't care, he has to listen to this guy.  Backpack claims that Sears dropped the deal because the innovations he was proposing would be too expensive.

Now that I have peaked your interest you understand how I felt that day on the patio and I'm sure how Clint felt while listening to this guy.  What innovations you ask? Zippers, lots and lots of zippers.

Backpack goes on to state that he designed and manufactured backpacks with as many as 17 zippers. Now, why anyone would even consider this when they are writing up a business plan first thing in the morning is beyond me.

By this point Clint's date can't even handle it anymore and actually leaves.  Do you think Clint goes with her? Nope, he had to stay to hear the rest of this guy's story...can you blame him?

Clint can't think of anything else to ask except: how the hell do you get 17 zippers on a backpack? I want to paraphrase the answer, but I can't...I have to give you the direct quote: "...well here's the trick, you know what happens when you open up one of the zippers [pause for answer] BOOM - another fucking zipper!"

Who is this guy?  Needless to say this direct quote has become famous, I can't get enough of it.

The next time you are sitting at a bar, with date or not and you see a guy with some food on his face at the other end, do yourself a favor and ask him his handle.  If it turns out to be Backpack, do me a favor and call me immediately!

Because he is Clint Walker

When he pours he doesn't waste any time.  No need to worry about tilting the glass, just grab the jug and pour away.  When you plan on drinking 3 in 15 minutes you don't really have time to mess around with the proper pour...and yes we are sitting on a patio...because when you are with Clint there is no other way to go.