Don't Mess with Your Fantasies

                                   Gordon Studer

My husband and I were looking forward to seeing the comedian Robert Klein in person here in Portland on May 10. We bought the tickets months ago, and, having seen him before more than once, were expecting a jolly good time. But then yesterday someone from the box office at Merrill Auditorium called to say the show had been cancelled due to poor ticket sales.

Saddened, and feeling sorry for Mr. Klein who at 72 is no spring chicken, I went online and searched for an email address where I might relate how disappointed two of his lifelong fans were that he's not coming. There was a phone number. I called, expecting a recorded message where I might leave one of my own, and instead the man himself answered!

I won't bore you with the details, but let's just say he wasn't funny. At all. Despite my saying how much we love his comedy and were so sorry the show was cancelled, he was gruff and borderline nasty, asking only, "How did you track me down?" Hey, go Google "Robert Klein Fan Club" and you can tell him yourself.

Anyway, I no longer think of him as funny or endearing or hysterical or profound or wonderful, but instead as only tone-deaf and rude. Remind me never to call Jackson Browne if I find his number.