Redd Foxx Was A Dirty Old Bastard
by thefinn


What’s that in front of me ? Something... Green ? Is that even a word ? Must be, I just thought it and I’m not the kind of guy who makes up words. Yeah, it’s a green… Thing….. JUMPING JESUS CHRIST! Who crapped in my mouth ? Why is everything sideways ? Oh, wait…. That’s me…. I’m lying on my stomach... On the patio.

Why am I on the patio ? Why was I sleeping on the patio and what the hell is crawling all over my back ? Oh, yeah… We had a Redd Foxx party last night….

redd.jpgRedd Foxx parties became something of a legend in the houses Jonny D. and I lived in. All in all, we only had five of them. And honestly, I think we might have had four too many. Because sometimes you’ll end up at a party that you remember forever, and some parties end up living in infamy. A Redd Foxx party was different though. These things took years off your life and left you a huddled-in-the-corner mess for a week afterwards. Something that much fun and physically devastating could only be sprung from the mind of Jonny D.

The recipe was simple. Invite a ton of people over to the house. Tell them all to bring booze. But we’ll only allow you in if you bring crap booze. Thunderbird, Mad Dog, Night Train, and Ripple. Boones Farm was too highbrow for what we were going for here. If you don’t have a cheap bottle in your hands when you walk in the door, we’re kicking your happy ass out. And we’ll play records and Sanford and Son reruns and Redd Foxx standup all night. You don’t need a fantastic imagination to see how quickly these things can, and did degenerate.

Every time we had one, we’d invite way more people than we thought would actually show. And inevitably, they all did. We’d drink and dance and get completely retarded on cheap, cheap booze. People would hook up and the pipe would get passed. And drunk.jpgone by one, the rest of the people I lived with would disappear into the crowd and I knew I wouldn’t see them until the morning. Near the end of the evening, when it was just a few people hanging out and I was wondering where the rest of the housemates had buggered off to, Jonny’d put on the Redd Foxx standup albums that he’d copped off his old man and we’d sit on the floor and howl. The handful of people would eventually shuffle off and Jonny and I would survey the damage. Which was usually considerable.

Until the last party, Jonny and I had a pretty good run of it, unlike our housemates. Neither one of us had woken up on the neighbors lawn in just our underwear, like Andy had. We hadn’t suddenly decided to walk to the 7/11 up the street for ice cream and decide to get naked while we were there, like Angela had. And we didn’t end up making out with anyone we lived with until the last one. Jonny ended up making out with Carmella and Angela in the same night. Hell, Andy ended up losing his virginity at one of these things and I really thought that the hobbit wouldn’t get laid until I was thirty. I guess I got off lucky by just passing out shirtless in the backyard and having someone pour a bottle of Night Train over me. The ant bites hurt like hell, but not nearly as bad as the hangover the next day.

How about you ? What’s your best party memory ?

thefinn thinksh yor'e real pretty... and no, you can't see his underwear.


Was it a good party memory if you remembered it?

I don't know that I have great party memories, but I have a clear memory of a bad party.

Okinawa has bats. Big fucking bats all over the fucking place.

Once, the wife and I went up to White Beach (a resort style area that the military folks had access to) with some other friends. We were going to camp there and swim the next day and stuff.

I went up with one of those 1.75 liter bottle of Captain Morgan. After a few hours, I had an empty bottle and a very uneasy belly.

We had bonfires and all kinds of other shit going on, but what I remember most was the bat.

My wife and I were just sitting there talking and this huge thing starts flying at us, I mean, it was fucking scary. And then, it got real fucking close. And then, it shit on us.

Fucking bats.


You've seen Dazed and Confused?

Transplant it to the 80's and that was my highschool experience.

I was the red-head.


We called it ought six. like the way old turn of the century minors would say the name of the year.

It lasted three days, seven booze runs and I'll be honest...I don't remember most of it.


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