The daily Nebraskan. ([Lincoln, Neb.) 1901-current, April 20, 1999, Page 5, Image 5

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    Finding the perfect entourage
Columnist searches for yes-men, mad geniuses and trophy girls to watch over him
A.L. FORKNER is a junior
news-editorial major and a
Daily Nebraskan colum
nist.
WANTED: One Entourage. Must
be a multiple member group to follow
and hang out with local columnist.
Experience preferred, but willing to
train the right entourage.
Apply in person, no phone calls
please. Salary based on experience.
EOE.
I couldn’t sleep the other night. I
just felt something was missing in my
life.
Sure, I had the cool leather jacket,
the tough-guy shades and the pearl
handled revolver in my shoulder hol
ster. I even had the bitehin’ moniker.
Something was still missing. After
thinking long and hard, it came to me.
I need an entourage. A pack of hang
ers-on that’ll tell me how great I am
while robbing me blind, the Kato
Kaelin to my O.J., if you will.
All the really important people
have them. Will Smith, Madonna,
Shaquille O’Neal, John Shaft.
Not to mention my man Leo. No
one knows how to strut with an
entourage like DiCaprio. That cat has
style.
iNaiurany, since l m not quite as
important as those people, I’U have to
start out with a smaller entourage.
Say six or seven people.
Then, as I gain prominence, I’ll
add yes-men and handlers as neces
sary. I’ll do it by bits and
pieces. A massager here, a
drink-fetcher there.
With God as my witness, i
someday I will have a
Leonardo-sized entourage. For
now, I’ll settle for an Allen
Iverson-sized one.
At first, the ideal group
will stand by me until I begin
the days of self-abuse that
inevitably come with the
bizarre, rock-star lifestyle of a
copy editor.
My entourage should stand
idly by and watch as I destroy
myself and my loved ones with a
series of torrid affairs, binge
drinking and weird religious cult
activity.
They’ll be loyal at first, then
eventually turn on me and
bleed me financially dry, leav
ing me a hollow, broken shell
of a human being.
Such is the bitter fate of a
copy editor whose wealth has
been spent on the gratuitous
lifestyle not afforded him by his
higher-ups.
Exactly what kind of peo
ple should apply to partake in
my posse? Here’s a rundown.
First, and most importantly, a
good entourage needs a
tough guy. Someone to mus
cle paparazzi, parking valets
and professors. A true intim
idator with a single-minded goal of
protecting me.
The right applicant will also need
to be my personal confidant and be
there when my life begins to spin out
of control from a series of failed, but
spectacular, flings with Victoria’s
Secret models.
I’ll tell all my secrets to him and
in return, he’ll testify against me
when I get indicted.
Ex-boxers will be accepted, but no
former heavyweight champions. Ex
military/CIA/mercenary types pre
ferred. Short-order cook skills a plus.
Must provide own weapons.
Second, there has to be a money
man. Hey, I’m a ’90s kind of guy, so
women are welcome to apply.
This person’s primary responsibil
ity will be to carry the bankroll for
me, so the large wad doesn’t spoil the
lines of my Dolce and Gabbana suit
pants.
Weasel-like types preferred.
The money man/woman will also
be in charge of doling out the swag to
other entourage members, so honesty
is a must This person needs to be
good with bills, Swiss bank accounts
and money laundering.
Forgery and paperwork-alteration
skills a definite plus.
Naturally, I need someone to act
as a conscience. When I’ve drunk
myself blind with Ripple, I’ll need
someone to guide my every move.
The ideal candidate should be
much older, say 60-ish, and have a
gravelly voice from years of chain
smoking induced by worry for me.
Of course, he also should take
rejection and ridicule well, as I proba
bly will dismiss his advice with a
sloppy wave of my pinky-ringed
hand.
Next, a good entourage always
needs a procurer.
If it’s 4 a.m. and I decide I
need a chocolate eclair, a
Ferrari and the March 1943 (|
issue of “Reader’s Digest” '
the right candidate can find
them in a half hour.
Experience as a
pickpocket or card
magician required.
Please bring refer
ences/rap sheet/police
record.
Have you ever
seen a celeb with
a stain on their
shirt? No.
Know why?
Simple, all
the
greats have a wardrobe person as part
of their entourage 24-7.1 can’t be
seen in two elute wearing the same
outfit I have to have my leopard print
news meeting gear, my vinyl budget
meeting gear, my spandex coffee run
outfit, my silk deadline garb and my
cashmere driving-home- from-work
stuff.
No entourage is complete without
a good set of yes-men/women. At
least two will be hired.
The right applicants will agree
with my every word, no matter how
stupid or insane I may be.
These people will also offer bril
liant, well-thought-out plans 1 can
immediately steal.
All applicants must submit to a
psychological profile first Back-stab
bers need not apply.
I will also be hiring four trophy
women. This position will be filled on
basis of looks and brains.
The right applicants will possess
goddess-like looks coupled with
criminal-like minds. They should
have a sexy smile that masks devious
viciousness.
Trophy girls’ primary responsibil
ities will be to obey my every whim,
which they really
won’t, and to paralyze enemies with
overpowering sex appeal.
Some experience in killing a per
son with their bare hands a bonus.
Bathing suits will be provided.
As this is not Leo’s posse, trophy
men are not a prerequisite. I don’t
need any other men showing me up.
Leo keeps them around just to show
he’s better looking than anyone he can
find, or so it’s claimed.
Of course, like most copy editors,
I’ll need a legion of bodyguards.
Large, hairy and slow-minded brutes.
They should be capable of two whole
phrases. “Duh, yes sir,” and “Ahh,
youse want me to break him,
boss?” Along these same lines, they
should also be able to disarm, mangle
or kill an individual in seven seconds
using any available implements: fork,
coffee cup, credit card, salad tongs,
cattle prod or seventh grader.
In this time of constant communi
cation, I need a cell-phone bearer.
Optimum traits are small fingers to
hit those little buttons, multiple pock
ets for cell phones and the ability to
talk on 24 phones at once.
This is an important role, as I’ll
need to be in constant communication
with all the important people in
Lincoln, such as maitre d’s, newspa
per editors and Danny Nee.
This person will need an assis
I tant A laptop holder. Naturally,
since I’m a world-renowned jour
nalist, I’ll have to be able to check
my e-mail at any given time.
The final member is probably
I the most important. The mad
genius.
What I’m looking for is a brilliant,
inventive man with a grudge against
society.
Preferably, one who has lost a
child or wife to “the Man.”
The mad genius’ main duties will
be to devise and develop ways for me
to threaten society and peace-loving
countries everywhere.
If I want sharks with laser beams
strapped on, this person should be
able to do it without breaking a sweat
He should also be able to hook up
my home theater system and steal
cable, including HBO and Spice.
Fluency in German and willing
ness to tutor is a bonus.
I know that sounds like a small
group. Like I said, I’ll add more as
needed. Until then, I feel this group
should provide me with all I’ve been
missing in life. »
I have tentative plans to expand in
the fall and add my own theme music
and backup singers.
After all, every good columnist
should have some.
“Who’s the smart-ass hack that’s a
joke machine with no tact?” Fork!
“Ah yeah. Who is the man that’ll
look like a fool to get a laugh?” A.L.
Fork!
“You damn right. That Fork is a
bad mother...” Shut your mouth!
‘I’m just talking ’bout Fork.”
Then we can dig it.
“He’s a complicated man, and no
one understands him but his mother.”
A.L. Fork
Buh-duh dump. Buh-duh dump.
Duh, dah duuh.