Entertain the thought. One of those nonsense phrases we throw around and don't think much of, unless we choose to entertain the thought of just what it means to entertain a thought. Luckily, I was a precocious lad when it came to thoughts: At the mere age of twelve, when I was just embarking on a long career of golf caddying, one of the golfers asked me if I had ever entertained the thought of standing still while he tried to make a five dollar six-foot putt. I pondered the question while forecaddying on the next hole. Why not entertain the thought, I thought. So I started telling the thought some of the best school yard jokes in my repertoire. Well, by the next green the thought was still doubled over in laughter, so I thought the thought must be a good one. From that day on my statuesque poise on the green was legendary. Buoyed by the experience, I started entertaining all kinds of thoughts. Granted, the entertainment at the time was quite adolescent, naturally, but the seed had been planted. Entertain those thoughts, young man, like the happiest vaudevillian this side of the Catskills.
It was a golden age of entertaining thoughts: the harmonic convergence of my teens and the free-wheeling, expense account 1970s. I wined and dined, danced and pranced, serenaded and joked myriad thoughts. In the spirit of the times, I flagged down even passing thoughts, chatted them up, and wound up treating them to three-day benders that woke us in Juarez struggling to recall each other's identity. Stray thoughts, deep thoughts, fanciful thoughts, even just-a thoughts all lined up for the entertainment they knew I could provide them. My reputation as a thought entertainer became so formidable that a kind of telepathy set in, which got me into a bit of trouble when other people started accusing me of stealing their thoughts. I then was forced to explain that it wasn't stealing; their thoughts simply wanted to become my thoughts so they might join the party.
Then the bubble burst. Karmic IRS regulations enacted in the 1980s put an end to my extravagant entertaining ways. Soon I was forced to host thoughts with nothing more than a couple slices of bologna, a deck of cards, and a Tijuana Bible. What doesn't kill us only makes us more inventive entertainers, though. Through these lean times I honed my shadow puppet skills, tongue rolling, and gift of gab. Go to Vegas for cheap thrills, the thoughts soon realized, visit Dan for eclectic, thought-provoking (a kind of meta-entertainment for thoughts the most profound ones treasure), non-generic entertainment. Soon thoughts were lining up again for a night of Camus and Cloves cigarette smoking, an afternoon spent watching the Amish, dawn ambling empty mall parking lots re-telling the plots of Charles Bronson movies. One memorable day I decided to entertain the thought of taking up Zen Buddhism by challenging the thought to a friendly stare down. Six hours later, our eyeballs dry as a latter day Chevy Chase movie, we broke up laughing, hugging, blinking madly, Alas, over some green tea I had to confess that while I enjoyed the time, Catholicism was still my girl. Why even last night, as the thought of turning fifty in a few years assailed me (some thoughts you don't even think about entertaining, you just batten down the hatches and turn off the phone), I did manage to entertain the thought that maybe it was time to become a daily bow-tie guy. I cranked up some Bach on the Victrola and concocted a batch of Gin Rickeys and proceeded to have a rather pleasant evening with the bow-tie thought until a chunk of plaster broke off from the ceiling above me, plopped me on the head, and awakened me to the fact that the thought was an agent of Satan. Luckily I was sprinkling, rather liberally, some garlic in my GRs, so I threw some at the thought and it hissed away.
Now of course, like all veteran entertainers, it hasn't all been SRO nights of Standing O's for me. I've had my share of clunkers. There was the time I thought it would be appropriate to entertain the thought of entering the Iditarod with a meal of fried seal and a fifth of Yukon Jack, which only resulted in thoughts like will my cranium, mouth, and intestines ever be the same--thoughts only a masochist would entertain entertaining. The thought of volunteering for Sarah Palin's Wassilla mayoral campaign sent me to a drive-in showing of Shanghai Surprise, where even after a barrel of buttered popcorn and two large boxes of Sno-Caps I just couldn't be coaxed into joining the thought in the backseat. We parted rather un-amicably at the restrooms, as the thought ditched me while I was inside throwing cold water on my face.
But I believe it is those kinds of entertaining gaffes that help qualify me so uniquely for the career change I have decided upon (after entertaining the thought with a night of Scrabble and bratwursts): Thought Entertainer Consultant. If fops can make a living by planning weddings (which, let's face it, last an afternoon, maybe an evening, too, at best), I certainly can scratch by on assisting people to entertain their thoughts (which can last a lifetime!) appropriately, cost-effectively, merrily, and mutually-satisfactorily. So, please, if you routinely experience the ignominy of your thoughts deserting you with big yawns, twiddling thumbs, or even looks of horror on their faces, or if you just want some whimsical tweaking to your overall thought-entertaining arsenal, simply e-mail me your thoughts. For a negotiable, but always affordable fee, I will present you with an array of exciting, satisfying entertainment options. Think about it.
Tony Clarke-The Entertainer
