I mentioned in the introduction to this book that I would later explain my penchant for cursing. It was a deliberate action on my part. Around this time in my career, I had the world by the tail. I was the talented newcomer in broadcasting. I was the bright, fair-haired boy. I was good at my job. I didn’t drink, didn’t smoke, didn’t do drugs. There were no big negatives associated with me.
And that caused problems, because it held me back from becoming one of the guys, if you will—one of the group. People can be suspicious of someone who’s so chaste. They’re afraid to let their guard down and be themselves for fear they’ll be judged. I needed a vice. I remembered my childhood friend Maurice from back in Sudbury, and so I decided to add more salt to my language. I started cursing, or to be more precise, injecting curse words into my conversations. But it didn’t help me become one of the guys. It just made me look like a jerk. My bad.
In recent years I have gotten away from it a little, replacing it with something I consider to be even better: booze. Or, at least, the suggestion of booze. What I’ve discovered in my conversations with studio audiences who come to the tapings is that no matter what question they ask, if I provide the same answer I’ll always get a laugh.
“You look pretty fit. What do you do to stay in shape?”
“I drink.”
“How do you prepare for the show?”
“I drink.”
“What do you do when you’re not working?”
“I drink.”
So that has been a suitable replacement for cursing. I don’t really drink that much. Having seen the way my father drank, it never interested me. Occasionally I’ll have a glass of chardonnay, but my drink of choice is low-fat milk. Quite often I’ll get up in the middle of the night, go to the refrigerator, and get a full glass of 1 percent milk. It’s become a habit. I drink low-fat milk and chardonnay—but not together.