As I ruminated about the death, this week, of Bobby “boris” Pickett, it occurred to me that a man in love is like one of those crazy monsters from an old movie. Now understand, I’m not talking about a truly evil or intelligent fiend like Dracula. Vampires know what they want out of life and they generally have a plan. Women in love often act that way, but not the men.
No, a man in love is more like one of those giant gila monsters that would attack Tokyo or the swarm of oversized locusts that attacked Chicago in “The Beginning of the End” (starring Peter Graves). Just like a fellow who finds himself in love, these beasties are stupid and generally unaware of the destruction they are causing. They come in, stomp around for awhile with no clear direction or motivation and, once a good chunk of the place has been pulverized, they sulk back from whence they came. Well, there’s not much we can do about it. It’s just how we are. Be sure to sing along now.