I Don't Get Out Much

I often do shopping for the first day. The platform makes me no problem.

“I have many problems, but the platform is not one of them.”

I have the feeling that Shopify is able to continue to optimize. Everything is super simple, integrative and convenient. And the time and the money that I can't invest in there. For all of them, in Vax-Tomb. It's a refuge here for the clumsy in the awkward and if you're socially adept and enjoy healthy relationships,

there's nothing for you here. If you enjoy dinner parties and are good in bed, there's nothing for you here. If you wear shorts to the theatre, there is nothing for you here.

“If you do wear shorts to the theatre, at least don't sit in the front row, particularly if I'm in the show.”

I was once in a show without any Hopkins, playing his Australian sidekick to his South African Tycoon, who was relaxing in his fabulous home in Wabbridge. In a kimono, practicing a fictional martial art called Tuyinka, which involved a six foot bamboo cane, which he would swing violently around and bring it down sharply, melding, impenetrable Japanese grunts.

And there was a young man in the Olivier Theatre at the National Theatre in London, who not only wore shorts to the theatre, but he had the terrible idea of crossing his ankles on the stage. He was in the front row, so he sat there and put his feet up on the stage in front of Anthony Hopkins, who's carrying a six foot bamboo cane. And he crossed his ankles on the stage, and so he could relax, like he was watching TV.

And I saw Anthony spot him, and I feared for the boy, and Anthony screamed in some kind of Japanese, and brought the bamboo cane down so violently within an inch of this kid's head. The boy's legs retreated into his torso. He got his legs off that stage, as quickly as he's ever done anything in his life so far. And he was absolutely terrified, and the silence was, you know, deep.

No one was breathing in the thousand-seater. And my next line, I was in theatrical heaven. I was in bliss, because my next line was, people are beginning to worry about you boss. And I knew that I had the answer to this whole problem, but I waited,

because I knew that life was never going to be this good again.

And as soon as I spoke, it would go off like a bomb, but then it would be over. So I hung onto it for just longer than I ought to have done. And then I said the mind, and the whole place erupted. Not because I'm particularly brilliant, just because it was the perfect line. And we had to wait for some time before we could resume the acting, the story.

So yeah, don't cross your ankles on the front of the stage, particularly if you're wearing, you know, menace fierce shorts. Thank you for all your questions, let's hear some. Hello Bill, it's Peter from Rhode Island, and I just listened to your advice about traveling on a new airplane. Because you travel so light and you travel a lot, what is your take on bed sheets,

“where you are sleeping not in your own home, is just any cotton okay, do you have a prohibition against any polyester?”

Do you have a care about it either way? I'm just wondering because I, when I travel with my sweetheart, she insist on bringing bed sheets because she wants really good cotton sheets to sleep on.

I've never been particular, but I think she has a great idea, just wondering what you think.

Thanks. Peter, it was quite late in life before I actually went shopping for sheets because I regret to have to tell you, and I am ashamed to say that for a long time for the bulk of my adult life, I allowed other people to do that. And when I did, I just went straight for the highest thread count available in the store.

There was many years ago, there was a short trend, a brief period, where nylon sheets became a thing.

“And my mother and my grandmother, they thought that nylon sheets were a miracle. They thought they were just an act of God, because you didn't have to press them, and because they were so much easier to maintain and regular sheets.”

And they always seemed to be kind of move, move or pink. And if you went to a digs like a boarding house where you were staying in a room, you could end up on the floor, because they were so slippery.

If you stretched, it might end up at least with one foot on the floor. Similarly, when my mother and my grandmother thought that drip dry shirts were a miracle, they were like finally God has our attention. You know, finally he's done something, he or she has done something to alleviate our pain, because you didn't have to, you know, they'd drip dry, you don't have to press them. Anyway, that doesn't really help you does it, but told about your question.

So, and I don't have a problem, you know, and your girlfriend is much more refined than I am. I pretty much take what I'm given.

“Dear Bill, Clara from Paris, as you can hear. I urgently need your ill advice. Where can I find a cure for people saying all the time things were better before?”

You really demand that say it as women, not roughly well, it was not better before. Clara, this is something I've struggled with as well. And one of my least favourite phenomena is people of my age or maybe younger, explaining to young people, trying to sell them the idea that their youth, which by which they mean that 60s and the 70s, was better, more exciting, sexier.

Then it's ever going to be for the current young. And it's a nasty and totally inaccurate idea.

And, you know, the idea that the 60s and the 70s were enlightened is almost entirely mythical. It was just as much an aim as once remarked. It was just a new way of men getting away with everything, like baby, be cool, or love the one you're with, one of my least favourite songs. I mean homosexuality was only legal in this country from 1967. And even then there was an enormous amount of prejudice. The whole idea, you know, governments and shady political figures have always tried to sell you the idea that it was really, really great just before.

“The generation back, it was really great. And apparently someone told me that this has always been the case throughout history, like a monk in 1670 would write something,”

been owning how the world had gone to part, but it was really, really great at the turn of the century. They've always done it. And it's always like a generation before. And it's a very easy baby talk idea that you can sell to voters every election time by trying to sell them the idea that you're going to restore the world to when it was really, really great. It was never great. It was always exactly pretty much the same. People don't change. We're very ingenious in terms of technology, but apart from that, our response to the world and the people around us hasn't changed at all since the 1400s.

You know, there are things that happen now which you could easily say might have happened in the Middle Ages. And as you say, it's like I heard Mitch Landrue, who was, I believe, the mayor of New Orleans, was on the Bill Marsho on American TV. He was explaining, you know, the make America great fiction. I mean, they've been doing that in my country since I was a kid. We're going to restore it to when it was really great. It's the comma again that might trouble some people. You might want to run that past the African American community. You might want to run that past the women.

And he did it with such class and grace and I wish he'd run for president. Anyway, it's the last time I'm going to mention anything political on ill advice by Bill Nye, but it just comes up within the context of my answer to your question. So how do you survive that?

And I think you and I should spend more time together. That's what I think, because I understand and you're called Clara and your French.

And I'm not going to say anything further because my colleagues are looking at me as if I were not only insane but sleazy with it.

“Hi, Bill. It's Rebecca calling from British Columbia in Canada. Seeing as you have some serious soul, my conclusion after listening to your snake hips playlist, do you ever find yourself dancing in the streets?”

If not, how do you contain yourself? This is a serious problem for me and I would like your advice. Thank you.

Rebecca, this is an urgent matter. Don't restrain yourself for crying out loud. Why should you? If the impulse is strong enough to overcome social inhibition, grab it with both hands and dance in the street dance wherever you're moved to dance. I have danced in the street. I did it the other day actually. I can't remember why. I think I do it mostly to share myself up, not that I'm, you know, in misery a lot of the time. I dance at home and I dance in my front room, which is quite, you know, it's got a good floor and you can spin on it.

I do sometimes dance naked, Rebecca. I know it's too much information. Try not to think about it, but it's better if you've got shoes on because then you can spin. It always makes me feel very, very good.

“But Rebecca, keep dancing and who cares, you know, I think it should be encouraged, dancing in the street. Come on.”

All good evening, Bill. It's another bill used to be from Kroydon. Now, Birch and Denon, seeing Thannet's coast. Just question, do you prefer to be cool, Bill? Or have you ever been called William? My first name is William, but since Sharda, I've always been called Bill or Billy. Now, I'm 69, I prefer to be cool, William again, but perfectly happily be cool, Bill.

So, yeah, I'd just like to find out what your preference is and how long have you been called Bill rather than William?

Hey, William. I am a William, obviously, and I've never really been called William. William used to mean I was in trouble. My mother, I think. My mother, I like to call me William. I was named for my grandfather, her father.

“She hated Billy. She had a brother, actually, called my uncle Billy. She hated Billy, and she didn't want me called Billy, and if anybody came to the door and said, can Billy come out to play, she'd say we have no Billy's here.”

And you can kind of measure, you can kind of judge how long people have known me. I've always been called Bill, but there is Bill, there's Billy, there's Will, which my dad favored, because he felt it was a sort of decency in name, like Will, and he wanted me to be called Will, but nobody ever called me Will, and then of course, come on, there's Willy, which my highly paid and high powered colleagues find difficult to survive. They're like children. I'm now looking at a room full of people almost choking, trying to stifle their laughter, because Willy obviously is a slang term for male genitalia.

There are worse slang terms for male genitalia than Willy, but it's also my name. So you can imagine that can be problematic over the years, depending on, you know, as particularly at school, given that they couldn't do my second name either, so I would be niggie or nidge or nucks. I used to be called Nucks, because I had funny hands, so they would call me Nucks Nye, which was another thing, and of course, nervous as we talked up before. Nobody ever asked me when I got my first job as a professional actor, nobody ever asked me what do you like to be called, so they just put Bill Nye in the program, and I never thought, I didn't think anything about it, so there I was, and I was Bill, and then when I worked on a little bit and had a few jobs, and I got a job on the radio, BBC radio before, and they actually said to me, what do you like to be called, and I said, I thought, oh, here we are, because when I was a kid, I thought Willy was a bit, you know,

but as I grew older, I thought it sounded quite cool, you know, it was quite distinguished, William, and a BBC radio with the first people who ever asked me this question, and they said, what do you like to be called, and I said, well, I'd like to be called William Nye, sorry, that's mispronouncing my name, William Nye G.

And then you would get people coming up to me saying, this is this bloke on the radio, and he's called William Nye.

And you go, yeah, when it's me, you know, anyway, so it didn't work out, so I went back to being called Bill.

“I think something's happened to Bill over the years, I think it's become okay.”

I think Bill was sort of not really that great for a while, and I think they mutate.

I think names and other things, obviously, in the language, they mutate over time, and they become mistaken for something that's okay.

And I think now Bill is sort of even, you know, I don't know, I don't get out much, but I think it's probably almost cool, but you're not a Bill, you're a William, so we'll stick with that. Thank you, Willie. I have been called Willy by people close to me, and it is a term of endearing, and I really like it. And also, when I talk to myself, yeah, okay, yeah, I admit it, I talk to myself on a regular basis.

“As particularly when I'm trying to encourage myself, if I get unnerved or obscured, I always refer to myself as Willy.”

Okay, that is categorically too much information. No one needs to know that fact, but now you do. I know you want to turn back time, but it's too late. And now it's time again for our feature, a highly popular feature I'm with the band, where listeners send in the name of their teenage band and the lyrics to their signature song. And this week there's a contribution from Scott Brown in Dundee, Scotland, and he says, "Hello there, my submission for I'm with the band. I used to play in a rock band called "Righters I've Known."

“The name was taken from a line in JD Sallinger's "Franney and Zooey," which I read not long after the band formed. The phrase was capitalised in the sentence for emphasis, and I knew immediately that I had to insist to my bandmates that we use it.”

It was often misheard by promoters and venues. Back when gigs were arranged over the phone, as we were listed under names such as "Waters I've Known" and "Rasers Unknown." Lyrics of one of our signature songs, Scott says, "I can't recall the entire song, or rather my brain refuses to." But I came up with this line from a song called "Cart Wheels of Infusionism." And the line is, "Your internal clock just melted like a Salvador Dali cliché at an art student party." "Good God Almighty, Scott, how did you fit that in?" This was repeated several times over an extended build-up of palm muted guitar chords.

Wow, that sounds good. We eventually abandoned singing altogether and became an instrumental rock band instead, much to everyone's relief. That's very, very, very funny, and very good Scott. It reminds me of I read once Bob Dylan and Sam Shepard, the playwright sat down to write songs together. And Sam Shepard would write out lines, and some of them were very, very long. They were collaborating on a particular line. And Sam Shepard said, "Well, that's too long," and Bob Dylan said, "Don't worry, I'll get it in."

Which is kind of thrilling, because he could get anything in, effortlessly. This episode's playlist is called, "It's OK, I caught up on emails."

And the first track is from self-esteem, and it's called "Chiefly Logic Bitch." And it's a very affecting lament, really full of irony and grief with a beautiful musical setting.

And then we've got a song from Beck, which is called "Blue Randy," which starts with the lines. I was driving home in a Dodge Stratos to the contaminated side of town, which is not a bad way to start a song. The next song is from Guy Clark, who is a great country songwriter. And this is my favorite song of his, and it's called "My Favorite Picture of You," and it contains the lines.

You never left, but your bags were packed. And the next song is by Craig Fin. And this is called "Galveston."

“I'd really liked the song very much, and the lyrics are great, as you'd expect from Craig Fin. Including the line, I was hoping Galveston was more like the song.”

Referring to the more famous song called "Galveston" by Glenn Campbell. And the next song is from another artist that I play a lot. She's called "Jasmine Sullivan," "Jasmine with a Zed," and it's called "Hurt Me So Good," and it's a "I Hate That I Need You" song, when you know how to hurt me so good. You know that thing. Then there's a song from the artist that I thought I discovered, and then realized that everyone I knew had been playing have for 20 years, which is a pattern in my musical life, because I don't get out much.

It's only since I got a smart phone and started traveling, but I discovered artists that everyone else has known about for a thousand years. Anyway, Michelle and Degeo Chello, and outside your door, which is what we used to call in the old days, a major groove. Actually, it's what we didn't use to call in the old days, a major groove. Lots of the things that you say we used to say in the old days. We didn't say in the old days at all. It's just an observation. That's the "It's OK" I caught up on emails playlist. I hope it gets you through our cup of tea.

This week's "Recommended Book" is "Romantic Comedy" by Curtis Sittenfeld. All the titles and writers names will be included in the show notes, and it is a romantic comedy, and it's a very successful romantic comedy, because it's very romantic, and it's very funny. And it's sort of backstage at Saturday Night Live, kind of thing, where one of the writers meets a pop idol, as it says on the back of the book.

But it's not quite how you'd imagine a romantic comedy might proceed. It's a very satisfying book. I'll read a little bit from the very first page, which might give you an idea.

“It goes like this, "You should not, I've read many times, reach for your phone first thing in the morning."”

The news, social media, and emails all disrupt the natural stages of waking and create stress, which is how I'll preface the fact that when I reach for my phone first thing one morning, I learned that Danny Horst and Annabelle Lily were dating, I was furious. I wasn't furious because I was in love with Danny Horst or to that matter with Annabelle Lily. Nor was I furious because two more people in the world had found romantic bliss while I remained mostly single. And I wasn't furious that I hadn't heard the news directly from Danny even though we shared an office. The reason I was furious was that Annabelle Lily was a gorgeous, talented, world-famous movie star, and Danny was a slub.

He wasn't a bad guy, and he too was talented, but the crisis, he was a TV writer, a comedy writer. He was a male version of me. He was pasty-skinned and sleep-deprived and sarcastic. And perhaps because he was male or perhaps because he was a decade younger than I was, he was a lot less self-consciously people pleasing and a lot more recklessly crash. After parties, he was undisguysedly high or tripping. He referred often, almost gylously, to both his social anxiety and his porn consumption. When he considered going on "rogane", I had, at his request, used his phone, to take pictures of the top of his head so that he could see exactly how much hair was thinning there.

And when he applied the medication for the first time, I'd check to make sure the phone was evenly rubbed in.

And I was so familiar with the various genres of his burps that I could infer from them what he'd eaten recently. And now we come to the end of this episode of butterflies by me.

“And I wish you well and thank you for listening and remember.”

It's nice to be in porn, but it's important to be nice. Bye-bye everybody. Bye-bye.

[Music] And it's an iPod Studios production. There's a post.