It all started a decade ago when my first boss Andrew began mumbling one day: “Sign yo pity on da runny kine.” When I sheepishly told him that I had no clue what he was talking about, he went on an excited, frantic rant about Pootie Tang, a new messiah for the masses who was going to lead us away from the evils of capitalism and big business into a utopian future and who possessed an utterly unique and unprecedented lexicon.
It was only some time later that I realized he was talking about a movie.
In the decade between then and now I’ve seen thousands upon thousands of movies, but Pootie Tang eludes me. Every couple of years, I get the itch to track it down but something always gets in the way. Usually that thing that gets in the way is my girlfriend’s complete lack of interest in watching Pootie Tang. I was on a flight to Austin last year and Pootie Tang came on the in-flight TV. It was fate! Then we hit some turbulence and the TVs went out. All I remember is Chris Rock as a cornstalk talking about he’s Pootie’s daddy, and something tells me that doesn’t make too much more sense in context.
Programmer extrordinaire Keith Garcia brings Pootie Tang to the Watching Hour tonight. Of course, because I have a Pootie-repelling curse, I’m playing a concert tonight and can’t attend. But if you’re in Denver looking for something to do and you’re not going to my concert (dude, why aren’t you going to my concert?), you could do a lot worse than Pootie Tang.
Sa-da-tay!*
-Ben
*I don’t know what that means.