A Classic Moment in Karaoke

As you should already know, karaoke is my guilty pleasure. Although I am not convinced that it’s anything to feel guilty about, some people do not exactly look at it as an art form or even as esteemed a bar activity as playing pool, shooting darts or harassing women. I, of course, disagree. It’s at least as worthy as harassing women at bars. Okay, just kidding, but it does seem that when I tell some people I sing karaoke every week, they look at me with at least a bit of disdain. Maybe they are just afraid of singing in front of people. Perhaps they have bad voices. After all, jealousy can breed contempt.

Admittedly, I enjoy the attention I receive when I sing a song well. And, why not? Sometimes, though, that need for attention can lead some karaoke singers into a singing rut of sorts. Let me explain. For example, I like to sing “Moondance” by Van Morrison and do a good job with it. For my efforts, I get a lot of positive reinforcement from the other bar patrons. So, why not receive that same reinforcement the following week? Well, that sometimes leads to singing the same songs week after week. And that, my friends, translates into a singing rut. I had been in one of these ruts, so decided to try some new songs.

I sat down with my iTunes and came up with two new songs to debut on Thursday night at Pinto and Hobbs, conveniently located at the corner of State and Dove in the Center Square neighborhood of the capital of New York, Albany. The first song I tried was “Smiling Faces Sometimes” by the Undisputed Truth, one of my all-time favorite soul classics. The other was a song I thought would be fun for the crowd – “Kung Fu Fighting” by Carl Douglas. Here are some of the lyrics:

Everybody was kung-fu fighting

Those cats were fast as lightning

In fact it was a little bit frightening

But they fought with expert timing

They were funky China men from funky Chinatown

They were chopping them up and they were chopping them down

It's an ancient Chinese art and everybody knew their part

From a feint into a slip, and kicking from the hip

Although it’s not exactly the most politically-correct song, who cares? Everyone loved it. As you all know, many great songs have been written in the English language. It would stand to reason that the greatest songs would be the greatest at karaoke as well. However, that is not always the case. Some great songs are boring at karaoke because they are too slow or too depressing. Others are so hard to sing, that when someone attempts one, the song gets ruined for all time. It’s not unusual to hear people saying something like – I am never going to be able to listen to that song again. Some songs, however, even though they are not all-time classics, or cannot be considered great, are still lots of fun at karaoke. “Kung Fu Fighting” is definitely one of them. Unfortunately, a lot of people think Meatloaf’s “Paradise by the Dashboard Light” is also one. It is way too long and usually butchered by the people singing it.

For those of you who are interested, here is a link to a Wikipedia article about karaoke. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Karaoke

As with many endeavors in life, there is karaoke etiquette at most places. As much as you might want to sing all night long to the exclusion of other singers, you have to be patient and wait your turn. No matter how bad a singer a person is, everyone deserves a chance to get up with the microphone. Of course, the order of singers is controlled by the DJ. Those who want to sing submit a slip to the DJ which lists their name and what song they want to sing. The DJ organizes the slips and usually tries to be as democratic about it as possible. It sounds simple – call the singers up in the order in which they submit the slip. Well, it’s not always so easy if you want to have a nice flow and be fair to all the singers. Some people put in a lot of slips, so you have to spread their songs out over the course of the night. Some people don’t arrive as soon as karaoke starts, so the DJ may want to bump up a newcomer in favor of someone who has already sung a few songs. The goal is to maximize crowd participation. The greater the number of people who get to sing translates into more happy people. That means the bar owner is happy because people buy more drinks, which in turn, is good for the DJ, because if the owner is happy, then that reflects positively on the DJ and his skills. A good DJ will also mess around with the karaoke addicts. Knowing that they won’t leave until they get to sing their song, the DJ will sometimes make them sweat for a while in favor of other singers who might be prone to leaving. Then there is always the no-brainer. If four young and pretty girls come in and want to sing “I Touch Myself” by the Divinyls [I don’t want anybody else, When I think about you I touch myself, Ooh I don’t want anybody else oh no, oh no, oh no] or “Pour Some Sugar On Me” by Def Leppard [Pour some sugar on me, Ooh, in the name of love, Pour some sugar on me, C'mon fire me up, Pour your sugar on me, Oh, I can't get enough. I'm hot, sticky sweet from my head to my feet yeah], get them up there as soon as possible.

The other night was night quite one of those moments, but I have to give Greg the DJ some credit for the song he put on after “Kung Fu Fighting.” In our politically-correct world, it was a gamble on his part. Considering I was verbally assaulted for singing a tribute to Anna Nicole Smith when she died, who knew what would happen with Greg’s next choice.

I have to back up for a paragraph. One of the things I love about karaoke is the crowd. All different kinds of people come in to sing. Karaoke has a cathartic aspect to it, and since everyone from any kind of walk of life needs an outlet now and then, karaoke attracts all kinds of people. One of my favorite patrons at Pinto and Hobbs is a Japanese student named Honda. Yes, Honda. He is named after a car company. I suppose that’s not too different from an American being named Ford. Honda is about 25 years old and loves to sing karaoke. Always has a smile on his face, too. Although he doesn’t come every week, he has come often enough so that I have been able to develop a friendship with him. He speaks broken English, doesn’t have a good voice, and for me, epitomizes what karaoke is all about. Sometimes, when I am up there singing, I point him out and announce that his grandfather invented karaoke. Who knows, maybe he did? Anyway, Honda loves the attention and plays the part well.

So, on the night I decided to sing an “Asian” song, Honda was in the house. That fact, of course, was not lost on Greg the DJ. As I was putting the final touches on “Kung Fu Fighting” and about to hand the microphone to Greg, I saw a sparkle in his eye. As Greg motioned to me to hang onto the microphone, I sensed what was coming. First of all, it’s highly unusual for someone to sing two songs in a row unless it’s their birthday or some other special occasion. I guess this would qualify as a special occasion. The stars were aligned correctly. Honda was at Pinto and Hobbs, I had just sung “Kung Fu Fighting,” and I, the notorious Sid Stein, who is willing to say anything over the PA, was still on stage. I guessed which song was coming. I’ll give you a hint. It was a minor hit which reached #36 on the Billboard charts in 1980 by a group called the Vapors. Yes, friends, Greg put on “Turning Japanese.”

Here are some of the lyrics:

No sex, no drugs, no wine, no women
No fun, no sin, no you, no wonder it's dark
Everyone around me is a total stranger
Everyone avoids me like a cyclone ranger
That's why I'm turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
I'm turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so
Turning Japanese
I think I'm turning Japanese
I really think so

In case you want to learn more about the history of the song, try: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Turning_Japanese

For those of you who don’t remember it, it’s a fast-paced, fun song. As the music started, some of the people in the crowd let out a few soft cheers of acknowledgement. I immediately enlisted a pretty young Polish girl wearing shutter shades to sing with me. Shutter shades have been popularized by Kanye West. She was sitting right by the stage and looked perfect for the part. She even had a cute Polish accent. Don’t ask me what she was doing there, but I didn’t mind.

As the song progressed, there was really only one thing for me to do. Get Honda up on the stage with me. I could flirt with the Polish girl later. I motioned to Honda and he reluctantly joined me on the stage. I took the microphone from the Polish fashionista and handed it to Honda. When I first saw Honda’s reluctance, I felt a little bad and wondered if I had done the wrong thing, even though the Karaoke Gods seemed to be demanding it. After all, I like Honda. He’s a great kid who always has a smile. The last thing I wanted to do was to hurt his feelings.

Well, my friends, Honda’s feelings did not get hurt. He came up on stage and sang along with me. He even adlibbed a part. While I was singing “I think I’m turning Japanese,” Honda shouted out: “I’m already Japanese! How can I turn Japanese?” Toward the end of the song, I faced Honda, bowed and said: “Arigato gozaimashita.” That’s thank you, very much. Of course, Honda bowed to me and the bowing went back and forth for a good thirty seconds. Loud applause. Exit stage right.

Sid Stein's Good Name is Saved by the Sex Scandal in the Catholic Church

You may be wondering how the sex scandal in the Catholic Church could possibly have saved me from extreme embarrassment, or even worse. I admit that the proposition is unusual, even for me. Nevertheless, the publicity surrounding the scandal rescued me from potentially severe problems in my writing career and life. I will say this. It pays to read the news.

Even before my book, “A Little on the Side,” was published, I knew that being Sid Stein was not going to be easy. Let me tell you how Sid was born. I recall a lovely summer day when I went with my ex-wife to a barbecue at the house of an Israeli woman she had befriended. My ex is Israeli and was quick to make friends with other Israelis who moved into the Albany, New York area where we lived. This particular Israeli woman was married to an American who was a stand-up comedian and part of a morning drive show on a local radio station. As he and I were chatting over beer, he asked me what I had been up to. Thinking that I should tell him something he might find humorous, I told him about my yet unfinished guide to cheating. His eyes lit up and said he had to get me on the radio. I protested mildly at first, but the prospect of being on the radio was exciting. Still, the book wasn’t finished yet and my ex didn’t even know that I was writing it. He told me all I needed was a pen name. Sid Stein was born.

Even though I had listened to my friend’s radio show many times and knew it to follow a typical morning drive show format, full of comedy, I had no idea what to expect when I went on air for the first time in my life. The show had all kinds of guests, including many authors hawking their books. By the same token, I never heard one who wrote about how to get away with cheating or even anything similar.

When I sat down in front of the microphone and put the headphones on, I was nervous. I wasn’t quite as nervous as I was went I first appeared in front of a judge as a new attorney, but I knew I was about to face a new court, the court of public opinion. There was also one additional wrinkle which added to my trepidation. My wife had no idea I was going to be on the radio. All she knew was that I went off to work a bit early. I hoped that no one would recognize my voice. The night before, I had even changed the station on our clock radio so there would be no chance of her hearing me in the morning. As my friend started his introduction of me to the radio audience, all I could think was “Am I fucking nuts?”

I wish I could play a recording of the show for you. It was hysterical. I instantly became hooked on radio. The absolute funniest aspect of my hour and a half voyage over the airwaves had to be the reactions of the women who called the show to scream at me. “Disgusting!” “Scumbag!” For the first time since I started writing, I became Sid Stein. I loved the controversy. It was energizing.

So, in the course of one morning, I learned about the controversy I could expect down the road. Quite simply, there are a lot of people out there who don’t like Sid Stein. Still, no matter what people said to me on the radio, it was only on the radio. Sid Stein is a pen name and I was pretty secure with the idea that no one could discern my real name.

Things changed after my book was published. I needed and wanted publicity and decided to host a book release party at a bar in downtown Albany. At this point, my ex knew about the book. There was no real reason to hide my identity except to the extent that I wanted to give my children plausible deniability. I really wanted them to be able to say. “Sid Stein? Who is that?” I didn’t give up my pen name, but people in Albany, New York who knew me certainly learned that I was Sid Stein, especially after I was interviewed on local television. It’s hard to deny face-recognition.

Most local people I encountered thought my book was funny. My only real critics were young women who still hoped to marry and live happily ever after. I would tell them to talk to me when they were in their forties after real life had beaten them down. For the most part, I found living as an author to be quite enjoyable. Some people knew me only as Sid Stein. Some couldn’t remember my name at all and would just stop me and ask - “Hey, aren’t you the guy who wrote that book?”

Still, there were detractors. I enjoyed jousting with them as well. After all, without them, there would be no controversy. And who doesn’t need a little controversy? Controversy is essential to creating interest and helps to foster sales.

I fondly remember one confrontation which occurred at the local offices of the American Red Cross where I was donating blood one day. In case you never donated blood before, and I encourage you to do so, the Red Cross has a protocol for donors. They ask you many screening questions to make sure that your blood is safe. Of course, they test every donation for HIV, etc., but it makes sense to eliminate a potential unsafe donor before expending their limited resources testing his or her blood. If you are interested in donating blood and doing at least one good thing in your life, check out the website for the Red Cross. http://www.redcross.org/

So, there I was, about to donate blood. The phlebotomist was ready as I hopped up onto the stretcher and lay down. Now, before they get started with inserting the needle into your arm, they show you the chart they have for you and then ask you to state your name again. I don’t know why they ask for your name yet again, but they do. I can’t imagine why anyone would attempt to give blood as another person. After all, they don’t pay you for it. When the woman asked for my name, I responded by saying that I was Sid Stein. Of course, I made it clear that I was only kidding, and the phlebotomist had no problem with me joking around. I wasn’t prepared for what I heard next though. “Sid Stein! You’re Sid Stein? I hate you. My husband bought your book. You disgust me!” The tirade came from another donor who was lying on a nearby stretcher and was about to give blood herself. “I don’t want to give blood if he is going to be here!” Admittedly, I was caught off guard and was sincerely sorry to hear that someone wouldn’t give blood if I was in the room. Then, the woman started laughing and explained that her husband, a friend of my father, had bought a book at my local book signing. She added that her husband was there to donate blood as well. I immediately recognized him and we all had a good laugh. I admire people who can tease me so well. Still, I don’t think that she liked my book all that much.

As a new author, I was enjoying the attention and the controversy my book brought. It was fun debating the premises in my book with people I met. One day, however, my enjoyment soured as I was going through the mail at my law office. As you all know much too well, the world abounds with junk mail. Your mailbox at home is inundated by it on a daily basis. It’s no different at an office. I assume you do what I do with mail. I prioritize it as it comes in. It’s easy to identify bills. We all know to whom we owe money. Mail I received from law offices was equally easy to identify. Each has a prominent return address with the name of the lawyer or firm and a local address. Although I had cases in other cities besides just Albany, they were still local. On this particular day, one envelope caught my attention because the return address was a post office box from New York City. I never practiced in New York City, so knew it didn’t require my immediate attention. And, as you can see, it certainly didn’t look like a bill. Since I was busy with other things, I put it aside to open later. Here’s a picture of the envelope.

I wish I had opened the letter immediately. I was shocked and disturbed by what I found inside it. Here is a copy of the letter.

The letter itself doesn’t offer much information. It is on NAMBLA letterhead and requests that I confirm my application for membership in the organization. Maybe you are wondering what NAMBLA is. I wasn’t. I already knew. And if you already know, then you can imagine my shock and surprise. For those of you not in the know, NAMBLA is an acronym for the North American Man/Boy Love Association. And, no, Sid Stein is not into little boys. That fact is well documented.

You might be wondering how I knew about NAMBLA. Well, that’s thanks to the sex scandal in the Catholic Church. I am not sure if thanks is the right word, but the publicity surrounding that tragic story included an item about NAMBLA. In February of 2005, defrocked priest Paul Shanley was convicted on charges of child molestation. As early as 2002, it came to light that Father Shanley attended the 1978 founding conference of NAMBLA. So, a mere six months after the conviction, while news of Father Shanley and NAMBLA were still relatively fresh in my mind, I received a letter from the organization.

Here is a link to a Wikipedia article about NAMBLA. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/NAMBLA If you want more information, then try NAMBLA’s own website. http://www.nambla.org/

As it turns out, there was a local connection to NAMBLA which I just discovered from my Google research for this story. In 1991, a local child psychologist, Alan Horowitz, was convicted on 34 counts of child molestation. He lived in nearby Schenectady County. Making matters worse, he was an ordained rabbi even though he didn’t serve in that capacity. According to the Wikipedia article, he wrote for NAMBLA while he was in prison. Apparently, in some circles, he was known as the NAMBLA rabbi. After serving 13 years of a 20-year sentence, he violated his parole and fled to India. He was captured by U.S. Marshals and eventually returned to jail. Here is a website article about his capture. http://www.cnn.com/2007/US/07/09/child.molester/index.html He was even on the television show America’s Most Wanted. http://www.amw.com/fugitives/brief.cfm?id=41997 And no, I didn’t know him. I do remember the publicity surrounding his conviction and his subsequent capture.

DISCLAIMER: IN NO WAY DOES SID STEIN ENDORSE THE PHILOSOPHY OF NAMBLA. REALLY! I SWEAR!

Hey wait a minute! Didn’t I just write that I was sent a letter asking me to confirm my application for membership in NAMBLA? I suppose you want me to address that issue. I think it’s about time I did.

Together with the letter from NAMBLA was a copy of a letter which was sent to NAMBLA. Here is a copy of the notorious “application.”

Of course there is no way for you to know, but the handwriting is not mine. Not even close. And just in case you are thinking of sending anything to my address, I have news for you. I have moved. Nothing to do with this NAMBLA business though.

As you can see, someone sent $35.00 to NAMBLA in my name. Who would do such a thing? Was it just a practical joke? I tried to think which friend of mine might waste $35.00 to “punk” me. No one came to mind. Then I wondered how it was paid. Did someone steal a check from my office? Admittedly, I have never been the best accountant and it was conceivable that a check might be missing.

Of course, I wanted answers right away. There was no telephone number listed on the letterhead. I imagine the people at NAMBLA don’t want crank calls, even though I now see on their website that they have voicemail services in New York City. At the time, I didn’t even think about looking at their website. Peter Herman, the membership secretary, did include an email address on his letter. I immediately sent an email advising him that I did not send the “application” and told him emphatically that I did not want to be a member of NAMBLA. I also asked him how payment was made and told him that I feared that someone had stolen one of my checks.

Peter Herman left a message on my cell phone the following day advising me that I would not be listed as a member of NAMBLA and that the membership dues were paid for with a money order. My checkbook was safe! I wish I could replay his message for you, but after having saved the message for quite a long time on my cellphone, it was eventually deleted by Verizon. Just as well. Peter Herman had one of the creepiest voices I have ever heard. That’s not really surprising when you think about it.

Feeling secure now that I knew no one had stolen one of my checks, I waited to hear from the jokester. I was positive that someone was ready to have a big laugh at my expense. I waited and waited and waited. No call came. No letter. No one said anything to me personally when I was out and about. I asked my closest friends about it. Most hadn’t even heard of NAMBLA. That was reassuring. I mean, it was quite a relief that my closest friends were not pedophiles. At least not that they are willing to admit.

Months went by and not a word from anyone. That means there can only be one conclusion. Someone who knew I was Sid Stein wanted to and paid $35.00 to impugn my integrity. I know what you’re thinking. Sid Stein? Integrity? Okay, maybe that’s a stretch, but still, pedophilia isn’t even on my radar screen. There was a Sid Stein hater out there somewhere. I had a bona fide enemy!! I admit it; it’s kind of neat having an enemy. I still wish I knew who it was and why they chose NAMBLA as the potential engine for my demise.

There is only one clue about the identity of my enemy. If you look at the envelope used by the perpetrator of this attempt to ruin me, you will notice that he or she used a stamp commemorating the Muslim festival of Eid, which marks the end of Ramadan. It's significant because in my other life, I was publicly vocal about my support for Israel during the second Intifada and wrote many letters to the editor at the Albany Times Union stating my views on the Israeli-Palestinian crisis. Over the period of three or four years, more than twenty letters of mine appeared in print. I even had running feuds with a few pro-Palestinian letter writers. To be fair, though, it is unlikely that any of those people knew that I was Sid Stein. Still, who buys Eid stamps? I assume that most Christians buy Christmas stamps and most Jews buy Chanukah stamps. Was my enemy devious enough to try to throw me off his trail by using an Eid stamp and hoping I would blame an Arab? Ironically, yours truly once bought a set of Eid stamps. I may be a supporter of Israel, but I am not anti-Arab. That being said, I cannot think of any Arab or Muslim I know who would want to enroll me as a member in NAMBLA. The mystery continues.

I must ask. What if this person had been successful in enrolling me as a member? What if I had never opened that envelope? Just what was this person’s plan? Was he or she going to expose me as a lover of little boys? Just how would that have been accomplished? Did this person have access to NAMBLA’s membership list? Even if the attempt had been successful, my gilded NAMBLA certificate of membership would have been sent to my office. Was it someone in the building? The postman? The identity of my enemy is still a mystery. I find that frustrating. What good is having an enemy if you don’t know who it is? There really isn’t any fun in that. After all, I do give this person a modicum of credit for the attempt. Membership in NAMBLA would be pretty damning and would dash any hopes I had for being appointed to the United States Supreme Court or for any elective office. On the other hand, wouldn’t the fact that I am the author of “A Little on the Side” also thwart any dreams I may have had for public service? Imagine the Senate confirmation hearings. No doubt some Senator from a state like Kansas would ask: Isn’t it true that you wrote a book about how to get away with cheating on your wife? Considering that Clarence Thomas survived the Anita Hill scandal, maybe it wouldn’t matter after all. Besides, what office would I be qualified for? Secretary of Homeland Security? I wouldn’t even qualify as Secretary of Bedroom Security, let alone the entire country. Is there a Department of Internal Affairs? Secretary of the Interior sounds good though. My book is about deception and how to get away with things. Maybe I could become Director of the C.I.A. Sid Stein – Supreme Spook!

Fortunately, I haven’t been troubled by any more NAMBLA issues. That’s not to say that I haven’t been embroiled in any other controversies as Sid Stein. There have been a number of good ones, and hopefully, you’ll read about them soon.

One last thing. Check out the stamps on the envelope. Notice the dinosaur? Don't little boys just love dinosaurs?! Hey little boy, want to go see the new Jurassic Park movie?