No
matter, I’m sure he will manage to contact me in due course, when he has some
important news to impart.
Meanwhile
the club forges ahead under its own impetus, the only restriction on membership
being this, in the words of the president himself:
“As everybody knows,
members are forbidden to contact you, or praise in any way your unmatched
wisdom, your gracious manners, and your unrivalled literary skills. Because
membership is automatic until a member is expelled for overtly admiring you,
you have the biggest fan club the world has ever known.”
It’s extraordinary how good people are about complying with the
rule. For instance, I’ve not heard a word from Queen Elizabeth, bless her
heart, although she must have been busting a royal gut to include me in her
diamond jubilee address to the nation.
President Obama has kept himself under tight control, too, much to his
credit, and has manfully refrained from congratulating me on my unmatched
wisdom and gracious manners. Aung San Suu Kyi must have had me foremost in her
mind when she collected her Nobel Prize the other day, and it was probably all
she could do to prevent herself from proclaiming my magnificence in her
beautiful, precise English accent.
I must say I am most grateful to them, and to the billions of
other members of the Silent Fan Club all over the world who, when pressed, will
pretend never to have heard of me rather than forfeit their membership.
Actually, for me the most wonderful thing
about the Silent Fan Club is not having to handle fame. Nobody recognizes me in
the street. No curvaceous blondes rush up to me and say: “I want your
children.” Well, very few lately, anyway.
I must confess
that I don’t think I could handle the pressure of being lauded, and hounded by
the paparazzi, like a Hollywood star. I prefer the smug anonymity that allows
me to sup my beer without some damn nuisance asking for my signature every
couple of minutes.
Today’s Thought
Even those who write
against fame wish for the fame of having written well, and those who read their
works desire the fame of having read them.
— Pascal, Pensées.
Tailpiece
“Waiter, there’s a fly in my soup.”(3)“Goodness, sir, but he’s a slow eater. His friends are on the entree already.”
(Drop by every Monday, Wednesday, Friday for a new Mainly about Boats column.)
7 comments:
Clap, clap, clap.
Who's that out there clapping? Don't you realize you're flirting with expulsion from the club? Tone it down, man. Act cool, willya?
John V.
There is a perception out there that the bliss of sailing makes you lose your memory. Well, I just want to say , - err um, - I forgot what it was man.(apologies to Cheech and Chong).
The subtle attraction of your club is the selfishness of praise each one of us has towards you.
Do I detect a somewhat petulous tone? Your protestations that the trappings of fame (not to mention fortune) are beneath you do not ring quite true, my friend. Abandon this pretence, embrace your fans and solicit their praise wantonly, I urge you! Determine the true depth of the adulation you have, no doubt, deserved!
Please note, this communication should in no way be taken as praise of you as an individual, and therefore does not invalidate my current membership of the John Vigor fan club.
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EP: " ... ...!!"
John V.
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