Nappoholics Anonymous is a weekly column featuring twelve random thoughts by actor Tony Nappo. Some are funny, some are poignant, some bother him, and some make him weep from sadness while others make him weep for joy. Here are his thoughts: unfiltered, uncensored, and only occasionally unsafe for work.
1. I vote every motherfucking one of them off the island.
2. I was in the Fortinos’ soup lineup and the guy ahead of me ordered a “medium-sized Italian Wedding.” I said to him, “You can’t order a thing that doesn’t exist.”
3. The title was a bit wordy but I was really moved by David Christo’s one-man SunmerWorks show, Rosencrantz and Guildenstern Are Not Really Dead, They Are Faking It Just to Not Have to Hang Out with Me.
4. I find the 1979 Steve Martin classic comedy The Jerk is one of those movies that really stands the test of time… provided you stopped watching it in 1982.
5. Another from the Ella Archives since she is still away for the summer and not giving me any new material.
6. Last week Kate said to me, “You are the ‘me’ in mean.” I immediately broke up with her but decided to not to tell her and pretend we are still together. She will not find out the truth until the reading of my will.
I am also the “I” in genius.
8. A friend posted about seeing a homeless man masturbating right out in the open on the street in New York.
I said, “Technically, he WAS masturbating at home.”
I was way more proud of that than I should have been.
9. Assuming the title of this film isn’t a spelling mistake, it would seem it is trying to pass itself off as American. If Tony Nardi weren’t in it, I might be tempted to question its integrity and authenticity.
10. After my circumcision, I remember looking down and then looking up at the doctor and consciously thinking, “He’s a regular Rodin, this guy.” I was extremely cultured for my age.
11. Comment of the Week:
12. I’ll tell you this for nothin. I never go the Taste of the Danforth, but I was painting a house in the neighbourhood on Sunday so I walked up to grab a bite at lunchtime. And, after about five minutes, I literally had to find myself a secluded doorway to hide and have a little cry. It wasn’t the food, which was plentiful and delicious and reasonably priced, for the most part. It wasn’t the entertainment, which was your typical Sunday afternoon street-fair type offering—hey, it’s free. Who gives a shit?
It was the rivers and rivers of people of every imaginable age, every ethnicity, every religion, every sexual orientation and identification, smiling and dancing and eating and talking and laughing together. With zero friction. Zero confrontation. Zero demonstration. My reaction probably shouldn’t have shocked me. But spending half of the entire night before and half of that morning online witnessing only hate and prejudice and ignorance and even murder itself, it did. I was literally overwhelmed. I felt such an intensely cathartic sense of relief and joy amidst the festive spirit that surrounded me.
It was my fucking city and my fucking species at its absolute finest. It renewed a sense of faith that had completely died in me over the weekend. And I am so deeply and sincerely grateful for that.
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