We kicked off this Good Friday festival of nonsense with the fastest-ever transition from Jesus to “handies” in radio history. In a matter of 37 seconds, we started with Good Friday, which brought a quick mention of Christ’s crucifixion.. from there, I remarked that it’s actually a better-than-good Friday in Chicago, thanks to our sudden rash of temps in the upper 50’s. My spirits were so lifted that I decided to treat myself to a midday massage and, like clockwork, Abe asked if I received a five-finger finale from a fine little Asian. BANG! 37 seconds. Savior to smut. Welcome to The Abe Kanan Show!
And to answer Abe’s belligerent line of queRstioning — no matter how many different times and ways Abe pressed me to answer it the way he was hoping I would — I did not collect on an awkward HJ after my rubdown.
Our oracle, Bass, shared this pearl of wisdom from his lengthy collection of life lessons: You can always tell if a massage therapist is down to work the main muscle, if, during the massage, she repeatedly asks, “you a cop?”
If you say yes, she likely thanks you for serving and protecting, pointing to a small photo of her police officer brother. If you say no, buckle up.. ol’ girl’s fixin’ to push her gag reflex to the limit.
As if that wasn’t useful enough, we then learned how to use your welfare card to buy the “off-limits” gear like booze, cigarettes and Jimmy lids. The trick? Straight from the master of low-brow workarounds, Abe Kanan, you must convince the old Middle Eastern bodega clerk to think you’re coooo enough for him to place a special blue sticker on the back of your card. Once applied, you now bear his secret marking forever. During all future visits, the sticker is a silent nod, assuring Ansar that you ain’t no snitch-ass narc and he is free to fulfill your vices.
Somehow, we got onto our preferred sleeping positions, and we uncovered a(nother) peculiar truth about Abe — he never sleeps, or even lays, on his stomach. Why? Exact words: “I never know where to put my stick.” If that’s true and not just some radio bravado.. then, respect, man. :: Ali G fist bump ::
Hold up. Now I’m confused and I may have just fist bumped too soon. Moments after the stomach/stick remark, Abe told us about one of his favorite scenes from the Jennifer Aniston + Vince Vaughn romcom The Breakup. What was it again, Abe? When Melanie brought over the wrong sangria mix and Jennifer Aniston said, “That’s so you, Melanie.” At this point, I’m outright doubting the presence of a penis at all.
Never one to let someone out-vagina him, Bass sure took the cake tonight. Literally. He took it because, well, “why shouldn’t I get a cake?” You guys.. this gigantic, adult baby spent 20 minutes explaining his rules of engagement when it comes to giving someone a ride home. For context — after last night’s program, Bass was legitimately “hurt” because Sam decided to sit in my passenger seat for three minutes instead of rolling with Bass. And, let me assure you, that whole mess was as real as it gets. No garbage storylines or made-up hooks here. When Bass explained his “ride agreement policy” in great detail.. that’s because this hyper-sensitive, hormonal snatch actually has one.
Unfortunately, Bass was just getting warmed up and moved on to whining about Easter. See, as a young Jewish boy, little Levy would become jealous (big surprise) when he was forced to stare out at all the Christian kids frolicking around the neighborhood with their magical pastel eggs. All Bass ever wanted was to look for one measly egg. Just one egggg! Hey, eight-year-old Bass.. stop crying for three seconds and listen up! You want to participate in this stupid eggstravaganza? Fine. There’s 12 eggs hidden for you. Here’s a hint.. they’re all in the kitchen, hiding right between the milk and salad dressing. Good luck!
Abe Kanan Quotebook: “What do they do in Mosques? Or Scientology places? If I was Catholic, I wouldn’t want to be a part of the stupid Scientology Summer Ball Toss.”
And with that mention of religious intolerance, we wished a “Happy Edmonds Day” and best of luck in the Edmonds Egg Hunt to the residents of Edmonds, Washington. It’s a Seattle suburb and they’ve officially removed the word “Easter” from their annual EASTER celebration. Which be—wait a second.. do you guys hear something? It sounds like, yeah.. it sounds like someone’s hopping around out there? Who on earth could it be? Is it..? Is it..? IT IS! It’s the Edmonds Bunny, everybody! Quick, kids, get his attention by setting out his favorite treat.. Cream of Wheat.
Abe reminisced about the Kanan Brothers’ childhood egg hunts. And, to no one’s surprise, he remembers Easter as a day when Sam alllllways came up a little bit short. It went something like this..
Mrs. Kanan: “Alright, guys, let’s see here. Abe’s eggs? 6, 7, 8.. 8 eggs! To Sam’s.. 5, 6, 7. Only 7 eggs, Sam? 7 is less than 8. Welp, boys, it looks like Abe wins AGAIN!” Congratulations, Abe.. you are an American hero and it is an honor to be your friend.
We hit a quick story out of Alabama where some kids are finding Easter eggs filled with painkillers & boner pills. The story places blame on an absent-minded church volunteer who, for some reason, decided to store her pills in a few of the same plastic eggs that she was delivering to the church. Almost impossible to believe that plan proved problematic, huh? We suggested that even the ol’ Edmonds Bunny knows that pills are the only way to make Alabama tolerable. Pretty sure that, until 2010, they still hunted Easter Eggs with guns.
Ron from Chicago joined us with a sad story of his worst Easter memory.. a specific reminder for Bass that someone always has it worse. Ron was four. Walking thru Chicago’s Washington Park when he spotted a hidden plastic egg! The little man was on top of the world, screaming in innocent ecstasy over finding an unexpected Easter egg in the friggin’ park. Young Ron opened his plastic treasure and gobbled down its chocolate-ish contents. Only, it ended up being poop. He literally ate crap on Easter.
Let’s hear that story through Bass’ filter: “No fair! At least Ron got to hold an egg!”
Thanks to Mrs. Kanan for stepping in and organizing an adult Easter Egg Hunt for Bass. This weekend. His first ever. It’s all set. 31-years old and he’ll finally get to touch a stupid, blue egg. Savor it, Bass. (Dear, Mrs. Kanan: please make them scrambled.)
Finally, we closed it off with a spirited dialogue on sexting; more specifically, sexting etiquette for the ladies. If you missed it, here’s the main takeaway: DO NOT keep a folder of stock naked selfies.
Because, what ends up happening, is that you slip up and send the same photos to me and Abe.. 8 years apart. Incredibly, the warning was bred from a real life scenario that we watched unfold this week. Ladies, from now on.. you hold up that day’s Chicago Tribune in the frame or they’re deleted.