Bonus: Rick Springfield = matchmaker!

Shit...maybe I should just go ahead and switch this stupid blog over to Rick Springfield full-time. It would probably fill a nice niche, and it also seems to be all I can write about these days anyway. This latest post on the man, the myth, and the legend comes courtesy of Rich D., the supremely lucky dude who has the inside track on accompanying me to Atlantic City for the "concert event of the century" in two weeks. I'm quoting myself there, btw.

While reading Above The Law, an often hilarious tabloid about the legal profession (Rich is a single lawyer---ladies?), he came across a wedding announcement that gave credit to Rick Springfield for bringing together the above-pictured lucky pairing of two Yale-educated lawyers. I once dated a Yale lawyer. Meh. The actual wedding announcement is in The New York Times and it's right here, but here's the key part:

"Ms. Bickley and Mr. Carr met on the day they arrived on the Yale campus in 1995. When he heard 80’s music emanating from her dorm room, he poked his head in to discuss the artistry of Rick Springfield. They developed an instant rapport and dated for a year and a half." (instant rapport = they fucked...obviously)

Now, to be fair, I've done this sort of thing, too, but it was completely insincere. "Oh, wow, you like Dave Matthews, too? What an under-appreciated artist. Can I touch your boobs?" College was rough for me. Still, I think it's reasonable to give this guy the benefit of the doubt and assume he, like me, believes in the artistic wizardry of one Rick Springfield. It just makes sense. So not only is Rick an actor, singer, songwriter, guitarist, pianist, cartoon super hero, glass-stainer, father, husband, kicker of David Carradine's ass, and a 60-year-old man who will high-kick you into oblivion if you step up to him, he's now sort of like a musical Cupid, too, shooting hearts with his melodic notes.

Next task for Super Rick...health care reform.