Last week, I had the pleasure of traveling home to Miami, Florida to partake in the yearly ritual known as “Cracker Eating with Jews.” During this surprisingly relaxing visit home, I took some time to flip through some old family photo albums, to relive what I remember as being a pretty happy childhood.
And then it all came flooding back:
Me, above, 8. I don’t want to say what kind of syndrome it looks like I have, but it certainly isn’t the “up” kind.
Yes. The above image says so many things that words could simply never describe. Its very essence — the Urkel-spenders, Reeboks, 8-inch-long child crotch, bowling shirt — is what has shaped me as a comedian today. That, and years and years of child-on-child torment.
Seeing the photo, it occurred to me that I just couldn’t leave it all bottled up in some 20 year old album, but rather bring it to you, the readers, to learn from. The lesson? If you want your child to grow up funny, make sure he or she is the least popular person in school. I.e. Suspenders.
Ahead, a family portrait from my younger, Chinesier days, including an appearance from Mother Collins at her Dynasty-esque best!
Here is me looking somewhat more normal at my brother’s Bar Mitzvah:
(From left to right: Brother Len, Judy, my lovely father Mel, and me.)
Despite what you might think, I am not, in fact, an adopted Asian child.
I was, however, an amaaaaaaazing Limbo-er, exhibit A:
And still am, for that matter.
There are pah-lennnnty more pics. But I’m saving them for my autobiography, in stores Feb 2017. Pre-order on Amazon!
