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You ever notice how Steve Martin is like that uncle who shows up to the family reunion with a banjo and a wild and crazy arrow through his head? I mean, who gave this guy permission to redefine comedy with a propeller hat? I'm just waiting for him to bring out a rubber chicken and declare it the next big thing in stand-up fashion. And let's talk about his catchphrase – "Well, excuuuuse me!" I tried using that in real life, and let me tell you, people didn't find it charming. I got kicked out of a restaurant for trying to pull a Steve Martin at the salad bar. Apparently, tossing croutons in the air and yelling "Well, excuuuuse me!" doesn't make you the life of the party. It makes you the weird guy they ask to leave.
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Can we talk about how Steve Martin has aged like a fine wine, or more like a fine balloon animal? I mean, the man went from "wild and crazy guy" to "distinguished silver fox," and I'm here wondering if that's what happens when you play the banjo long enough. Is the banjo the secret to eternal youth? And his white hair – it's like he stuck his finger in a socket and embraced the electrifying look. I tried that once, and let me tell you, the only thing I embraced was a hefty electric bill. Maybe I need to take up the banjo to achieve that level of aging gracefully. Or just accept that I'll be the guy with the wild hair instead of the wild and crazy guy.
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Steve Martin is a master of physical comedy. I mean, the guy made us laugh without saying a single word. I tried that once, but all I got were confused stares. Apparently, people find it less amusing when you mime the act of eating spaghetti at a job interview. And the arrow-through-the-head bit – classic Martin. I tried it at a party, and let's just say I'm no longer invited to potlucks. People were more concerned about the potential head injury than my comedic genius. Maybe I should stick to the banjo philosophy – at least that won't get me kicked out of social events.
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I was watching a Steve Martin interview the other day, and he said playing the banjo is like a form of philosophy. I'm sorry, what? Is there a banjo philosophy class at Harvard I missed? Imagine Socrates sitting on a log, strumming a banjo, asking deep questions like, "If a tree falls in the forest and no one's around to hear it, does it make a twangy sound?" I tried adopting this banjo philosophy in my own life, but it turns out pondering the meaning of life while playing a banjo doesn't impress your boss. I tried it in a meeting, and now I'm unemployed. Guess my banjo philosophy is "hire me back, please.
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