Among other brilliant (and oh-so-interesting) nuggets of private information Rob Corddry offered the Times Magazine this past week (such as the fact that he drives an entry-level Acura and rents a house in Los Angeles--what an eccentric...), one of the things he's not too fond of is...the year I was born!
"Prized possession: A framed New York subway map circa 1972. It hangs in the kitchen. It was the most unsuccessful map in New York history. It isn’t to scale. It is impossible to read. I love the 1970s in New York; it fascinates and terrifies me, especially 1977."
Guess what, Rob? I'm pretty sure 1977 in NYC terrified my Mom and Dad a little too (and I'm pretty sure the terror continued well on through the '90s). The question is, what the hell, other than worrying about Son of Sam, happened to you, that year?
UPDATE: THE REAL CORDDRY RESPONDS. He writes: " Jesus. Is it hard to reach your keyboard from way up there?"--Rob "Google Alert" Corddry.
Obviously, as some sort of celebrated deity (I thought L. Ron held more sway, at least in my 'hood these days), I am left speechless.
[Note to self: Become Google Alert whore--it may lead to genuine insights about my identity!]