Mel’s Glib Son

This is my last column, which of course means that this is the very last installment of Eric’s Wacky First Dates, a feature here at “On the Light Side” that has become so popular that occasionally, when word gets out that that’s what the column is about that week, my editor even goes so far as to read it.

I am only kidding, of course. My editor does not read my column for any reason, on the advice of his lawyers.

But we are not here to make senseless jokes at my editor’s expense. No sir or madam, if that were the case, this column would be much easier to write. Why, I could spend seven or eight paragraphs alone just discussing his last name, which he claims is “Biederman.” But no, we are here to discuss my latest Wacky First Date.

This First Date, which I should mention was also Wacky, took place two days before the end of the winter semester at BYU. Technically speaking, I had a final exam that evening, but it was one that I did not absolutely for sure need to go to, so I was considering not going, and then I made a date with Michele for that night, which pretty much cemented my decision.

Anyway, what we did was go see a movie. I realize that this does not sound very exciting, but who asked you? No, seriously, before that, we went to the University Mall and smelled perfumes and colognes at ZCMI (Zion’s Corporated Mega Industrial). Then we went to a toy store in the mall and read aloud a Sesame Street story. This was a story wherein either Bert or Ernie, whichever one is short and red, got sick, thus causing Big Bird to get jealous, because everyone was paying so much attention to Bert/Ernie. So Big Bird decided to pretend to be sick so that everyone would pay attention to him/her, which everyone did, only then, Big Bird got sick for real, and his/her eventual conclusion was that being sick is not very much fun, and let me just say that if your children need a book to tell them that, your children have some serious problems that cannot, I assure you, be solved by Sesame Street, or any other program from the Children’s Television Workshop, for that matter.

Anyway, Michele and I then went to the movies, where we saw “Forever Young,” starring that handsome young Australian actor whose name eludes me for the–


Oh, that’s right. Mel Gibson.


Right. MEL GIBSON. You cannot say Mel Gibson in the presence of women. You have to say MEL GIBSON, in capital letters. This is because he is just the biggest, beefiest hunk of studly manhood ever to come down the pike, which in turn is why his buttocks is featured in every movie he ever makes. It is in his contract that he and his buttocks must receive equal billing.

And the movie that stars him and his buttocks, “Forever Young,” is definitely not a movie that you guys out there want to go see with a bunch of other guys. This is a “chick movie,” as they are sometimes called by persons less sensitive than myself. Michele cried the entire time, from the moment the lights dimmed and the curtain opened until the very end, when MEL GIBSON and his buttocks are reunited with his old girlfriend. It was not made clear whether she was happier to see MEL GIBSON, or his buttocks. I guess we’ll have to wait for the sequel.

(Eric D. Snider will be leaving to serve a two-year mission for the LDS church in August. He has not received his call yet, but he has a feeling it’s going to be either Kiev, Russia, or Provo, Utah.)

This is perhaps not the major issue at hand here, but I did not care much for "Forever Young," despite the charismatic presence of Mel Gibson's buttocks.

I should mention that I really liked Michele. She was fun. I don't think I ever saw her or spoke with her again after that date. We both went home for the summer, and that was it. I have no idea where she is now. I doubt I would even recognize her if I saw her.

I actually wrote this column from Lake Elsinore and mailed it in to Earl the Editor. I was already home for the summer, and already bored and missing BYU. This was a fun date to end on. It sure beat going to that final exam anyway, I'm sure.

It was a fun column to end on, too. I didn't plan it this way, but this is a good "quintessential" column, as far as subject matter goes. It's fairly high quality too. I enjoyed writing for the Herald, and I was grateful to have the chance.