The Hardiman Dossier

Lincoln Center NYC (I'm the one with the beak).

99 Luftballoonen HardimanMe in the 2 seat of a Lufthansa A380. Spreken zie way cool? Note: My unruly mop of hair was Photoshopped gray and balding to depict a more consequential man.

 

SF Cable Car   Father & Beiber calmly admiring phone camera when suddenly, it goes off!

 

 

The Authorized Thumbnail Sketch

Although beginning life as just a few undifferentiated stem cells in the womb of his birth mother, David grew quickly and by the age of 9 was already kvetching at a collegiate level: “Jesus H Christ mom!” he would reassure his panicky mother, “I’m 9 years old. How should I know if you should get divorced? I just want to watch ‘Bewitched’.” He went straight from childhood to hoodwinked, leaving him manifestly flawed, but like the flaws in a diamond. For example, he celebrates National Leafblower Week by volumizing his hair. And once, when indignant over the behavior of a certain French actress, he dismissively muttered, “The nerve of Catherine Deneuve.” See what I mean? Epically flawed in esoteric, yet life affirming ways. Because he’ll never enjoy his legacy in death (who does?), he’s decided to create one and enjoy it now. 

Being a curious soul, he travelled all the way to Israel specifically to visit the Nazareth Hall of Records just to see what in Christ’s name the H stood for in Christ’s name. In a final showdown between his blue-eyed soul and his unquenchable ego, he embraces both the sublime liberating humility of the Dalai Lama and the gaping maw of universal adoration sought by Jerry Lewis.

He is detached without being apathetic. He is self-deprecating without being ingratiating. And when others look at the state of things and ask, “Why?”, he looks at lingerie ads and asks “Why not?” He is the most ambiguous man in the world. As he often says to his imaginary confidants: “Stay quenched my friends.”

So is it any wonder he hired himself to write his own Thumbnail Sketch? He trusts no one but himselves – all of them.

 

Davids is:

  1. 50
  2. an Air Traffic Controller
  3. married (Yes – to someone who was already a citizen)
  4. 6′ 4″ 170lbs and all of it…rock hard bone. What he lacks in washboard abs, he compensates for with xylephone ribs.
  5. intimidated to have in his left kidney, a stone the size of a Buick
  6. an adult survivor of Underwood Deviled Ham
  7. unable to trust anyone. So when he drops soap; it stays dropped.
  8. either oblivious to reality or pleasantly anesthetized
  9. able to operate heavy machinery while under the influence of the Heritage Foundation
  10. So waiting for the day

More to the point, he thought he’d share with y’all the pungent flavors he tastes while chewing on life. He recognizes the imposition of even suggesting you spend time reading what he considers are pearls of wisdom from a cultured oyster. Of course others consider them merely irritants in the belly of a bivalve. I guess it depends on how you look at it. So to the extent he is an apologist for narcissistic mollusk behavior, he is sorry. On the other hand, have you really got anything better to do?

Warning: The FDA recommends reading Mr. Hardiman’s stories only in months with R’s in them. Mr. Hardiman, however, recommends reading them in months with Sundays in them. Yeah that’s it…a month of Sundays. Oh Jesus Horatio Christ.

 

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