Mad Atoms

I love talking to actors (unsuccessful, successful, whatever). Say what you will about them – many can admittedly prove to be rather surface level, one-note friends – but they make ideal random-conversation partners.

Actors love to talk, and by the very nature of their occupation they’re constantly meeting new people, so they’re probably telling you a very well honed story. Plus, they’re often overly concerned with impressing you for no reason. So even though you’re just some jackass they met seconds ago, they’re gonna bust out their big-guns stories, the kind non-douche bags might reserve for closer friends.

I’ve had some stellar tête-à-têtes with a wide variety of actors, but the cake-taker still remains a conversation I had with an actor I’ll call Jimbo. It was an average conversation at an average party, except that Jimbo had Down's Syndrome. I’m pretty sure he still has it. [rim shot]

I’m a total asshole, clearly. I drop R-bombs like crazy. But I engaged Jimbo for honorable reasons. I genuinely wanted to talk to him. How could I not? I don’t run into a lot of Down’s peeps during the course of my nightlife.

What made Jimbo so instantly fascinating was how much he was just like any other actor. First came the classic name-dropping opener. He had many nice things to say about his “bud” Johnny Knoxville, with whom he’d apparently worked with on THE RINGER. In this respect it was very much like talking to a child actor (also always interesting), as Jimbo clearly had charmingly cushioned interactions with everyone on set. It was endearing.

Then things suddenly got real when Jimbo launched into a rag session on Chris Burke (aka Corky from TV’s “Life Goes On”). It would have been amazing enough simply that he was talking about another mentally challenged actor, but no – he was bashing him. Seems Corky is a “jerk” and a “phony.” Why all the hate? Cause Jimbo felt that Corky had stolen his girlfriend (also with Down’s).

I couldn’t quite glean when all this happened, but needless to say, I never wanted the conversation to end. The knowledge that mentally challenged actors apparently suffer from the same kind of bullshit on-set romances and junior high-esque gossip that other actors do was enlightening. And riveting.

I immediately started scheming how I could get Jimbo into my crew, envisioning the level of mystique he would offer my dipshit friends and I.  But, alas, before I even had time to realize what a bad and kinda sick idea this was, Jimbo’s brother sauntered up to take him home. I felt like a deviant asking for Jimbo’s contact info, so I just shook his hand and said “goodbye.”

People then gave me kudos for talking to Jimbo for so long, as though I’d been humoring him or something. But really, they were the ones who really missed out on one of the best conversations I've ever had with a complete stranger. Poor fools.

Thanks for the memories, Jimbo.