Beware of Good Day, L.A.
The last time I was on the news/talk program Good Day, LA , Araksya Karapetyan asked me, "What fruit are you?"
To which I responded, somewhat confused, “Wait, are you asking me, hypothetically, if I was a fruit, which one I’d be?”
At which point the producer started waving her hands all irritated but it was live TV so she couldn’t just turn off the broadcast, and Araksya answered, “Yes.”
And obviously Araksya didn’t know the reason she was asking the question either, she just reads for a living, which is a pretty good gig, but she certainly didn’t pick up on the massive implications behind a human identifying themselves as a particular fruit, but I did.
Nonetheless I was trapped, so I answered:
“An apple.”
Initially, like most people, I chose an apple because of the abundance of vitamin B1 therein, a.k.a. “Thiamine” according to the Periodic Table of the Elements, which helps convert food into energy, one of my favorite pastimes. But then I made a horrible mistake. I changed my answer to “an apricot,” because (naturally) it abounds in beta carotene.
Which opened a Pandora’s Box straight to hell.
In the course of explaining the benefits of beta carotene to Araksya, she became so bored I was worried I’d be viewed as a “dud” on this vapid program that serves the Greater Los Angeles Area and parts of Dubuque, Iowa, (Dubuquians are just obsessed with L.A., they try and surf and everything, it’s crazy.) So I decided to spice things up a bit by disparaging my original (truthful) answer of “apple.” You know, making fun of something to distract from your own dullness.
The problem is, Washington State still continues to be the world's largest producer of organic apples, to the tune of 445 million pounds per year worth $300 million. Thus, the Washington Apple Commission (WAC) is the most powerful Apple Association in the world, and does not even remotely appreciate being slighted or having their wares slighted, vaguely or explicitly, not on mind numbing sort-of-national TV, on a bus, or in your living room, or anywhere. Not even a little bit.
Technically I said something like, “Apples actually tend to be mushy and overrated in pies, and they look like a rabbit’s butt if you were to shave it. The rabbit’s butt. Not the apple. Not that I’m into shaving rabbit butts…” and admittedly I kind of blushed and trailed off and twiddled my thumbs and (mistakenly) made direct eye contact with Camera 1 which sealed my fate as surely the WAC’s Board of Directors now knew, precisely, what I looked like and their retina-scanning software (always on) pinpointed not only my exact location but all of my future locations so their HOT Team, which is essentially a military strike team, could dispatch me.
During this exact moment that grumpy producer lady got all wavy with her arms again and fixed me with her iciest glare which really just looked like all of her other expressions because she has so much Botox or whatever that her face doesn’t actually move. But I knew this particular fixed stare likely meant she worked for the WAC. All powerful people in L.A. work for the WAC in some way, shape or form. WAC’s tentacles spread far. And wide. So I now faced the dual threat of a retina-scanning-results-dispatched HOT Team surely on the way combined an on-site, apple-sympathizing producer that was annoyed by the fact I was simultaneously ruining her show and disparaging apples.
What a mess.
Little known fact: All National and International Apple Associations are staffed by ex-military or military contractors (and in France disgraced members of the Foreign Legion). Even a shallow dive into the Internet reveals apple promotors tend to be knife-wielding ex-Special Forces rage monsters. Other Fruit Tree Associations are no better, although they tend to have a hard time recruiting the same level of operators based on the fact that apples carry all the prestige. Working for apples is kind of Magnum Opus for assassins.
My saving grace turned out to be my much-maligned social media following. I have so many followers on Instagram, including Leslie Stahl from 60 Minutes, that it’s almost impossible to even try a new cheese-steak restaurant without causing a fuss. Thus, as I sat and sweated waiting to cut to commercial and Araksya kept looking in the monitor to check her hair, I noticed the executive producer interrupt the angry lady producer with his phone, undoubtedly pointing out that in the very moment my fate lay with which van would get to me first: 60 Minutes or the Hot Team.
You guessed it: 60 Minutes is no joke. On a typical day, and like all typical people, if you see the 60 Minutes van pull up in front of your house (or in my case whichever Hollywood studio or newsroom I’m in), you know you’re screwed. But today was my day, as fate would have it. I could have hugged Leslie Stahl when she strutted onto that set – except, much to my disappointment, she was on assignment so I got the much less-revered Scott Pelley. Regardless, Pelley just yelled “stop the presses” over and over, which was weird plus I could tell the millennials who worked there didn’t understand what the hell he meant, and whisked me off to The Coffee Bean & Tea Leaf on West Olympic Boulevard.
It’s not my favorite location, but they make a pretty good green tea smoothie.
Scott (it turns out) wanted an exclusive on the time I got stuck in Fresno and decided to open a grooming business for undocumented dogs, which led to tax evasion and an indictment for Fresno’s mayor, so I was really never in any danger from the WAC. But if it wasn’t for 60 Minutes’ clout, if it was any lesser news magazine who interviewed me that day, I’d be dead. Guaranteed.
So let that be a lesson for you. Good Day, L.A. really isn’t worth the trouble, apples are the World’s Greatest Fruit, and be careful what you make fun of. People have a hard time telling the difference between the subject of a joke and the object of a joke – just ask the WAC.