“And IIIIIIIIII will IIIIIII will always, love youuuuuuuuUUUUuuuuUUUUUuuuu”
When I think of bodyguards, I don’t think of Kevin Costner or Tina Turner. Somehow that song is still stuck in my head. The film The Bodyguard must have been big when I was a child because I remember hearing that song all the time. I think my babysitter really liked it. She always liked picking on kids in subtle ways. My nickname was Big Timmy to differentiate between Little Timmy. Little Timmy wasn’t all that little for his age. Big Timmy was big for his age. They should have called me Fat Fuck and left it at that.
I would never be a good bodyguard. I’m bad enough at guarding my own body. I do use Right Guard deodorant which is officially endorsed by the Body Guard’s Union of America. That’s a start. But to be a bodyguard you have to care about others. Be willing to throw yourself in front of a bullet to save a politician or a drugged out rock star. I could never do that. My diving skills are below the 20th percentile. I like to think I’m more athletic than the average guy. One thing I never have excelled in is jumping or diving. I’m more of a wall sort of athletic. Like I can only move side to side or fall down quickly. I’m a great goalie. That’s kind of like being a bodyguard. Hey, maybe I can do it.
I remember a show on television a few years ago starring David Alan Grier. I forget the name and think that the government erased all information of it from the Internet. The plot was that he was a Secret Service Agent who walks around trying to protect the president. An attempt on the president’s life is made and DAG (that’s the name of the show! Weird how things like that come into your head) dives in the wrong direction. Then he has to protect the first lady instead. So, the president is an evil enough man that he doesn’t fire DAG, he just demotes him to protect his wise cracking wife who I imagine was played by Wanda Sykes but know it wasn’t. The show lasted only about 3 episodes. It was greatly hyped too. That just goes to show you. Even if you are nominated for a Golden Globe, you still might suck. I’m talking to you The New Girl! Learn to write a joke!
Lets say I had to be a bodyguard. Like I had a gun to my head. They said “protect me or I’ll shoot you.” I’d probably respond back and say “so I choose if you shoot me or one of your assassins does?” Then the gunman will look around realizing how strange this situation is. He’ll readjust the deal and I’ll become a bodyguard anyway. But this time he lets me have the option for being a bodyguard for anyone I want. I think I would choose Donald Trump. Not enough people want him dead, he has a lot of connections, his daughter is hot, he’d probably set me up in a nice apartment in Trump Towers, maybe he could help me get a TV deal, and he could probably handle any potential killers on his own. It would be an easy job. I don’t particularly like the guy, but that doesn’t matter. I don’t particularly like anyone or anything. At least Donald would be interesting to work with. Plus he’s probably friends with a couple of crazy millionaires have yacht races or pay high-end prostitutes to have knife fights.
When you need a bodyguard in your life that’s when you know you’ve really made it. Someday I hope I will need one. I want so many people to hate me and want me dead that I hire a couple of tough looking fat guys to walk around with me to make sure I don’t get hurt. Until then I’ll have to fight my own battles. Thwart off enemies with my amazing wit and charm. I’ve never been punched and only picked up and dropped three times. I must be doing something right.