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I’m not much of an autograph hound. I’ve never really understood the attraction of getting a celebrity to sign a piece of paper for you. I can see it on some things, like baseball. If you happen to catch the record-breaking home run of so-and-so player and you get him/her to sign the ball, that’s sort of like owning a piece of history. That’s kind of cool. But just getting something signed, that seems weird to me. Is it so you can prove you met the person? Because, well, who cares? It’s not like that somehow makes you cool because you met a random person. And the concept really gets lost on my when people start selling autographs, because then you can’t even say you met the person, you just bought something they once put a pen to, and how is that cool, exactly?

I remembered today, though, that I actually do have one celebrity autograph — Henry Kissinger’s. He was speaking at Ball State when I was back in college, and it was about the time that we were listening to Monty Python’s Contractual Obligation Album a lot, which has the song “Henry Kissinger” on it. (I just bought it again the other day, and listened to it in the car at lunch). So we printed out the lyrics to the song, folded the paper up funny so you couldn’t read it, and got him to sign it after his lecture. He never really looked at the paper anyway. But it’s pretty funny that I have his signature on song that complete insults him.

Henry Kissinger
How I’m missing yer
You’re the Doctor of my dreams
With your crinkly hair and your glassy stare
And your machiavellian schemes
I know they say that you are very vain
And short and fat and pushy
But at least you’re not insane
Henry Kissinger
How I’m missing yer
And wishing you were here
Henry Kissinger
How I’m missing yer
You’re so chubby and so neat
With your funny clothes and your squishy nose
You’re like a German parakeet
All right so people say that you don’t care
But you’ve got nicer legs than Hitler
And bigger tits than Cher
Henry Kissinger
How I’m missing yer
And wishing you were here