I realized only in hindsight that going to the gym wearing a Kinky Friedman campaign t-shirt with GOVERNOR KINKY emblazoned across the front was a really, really bad idea. I’m still not sure what tipped me off.

My personal trainer awkwardly glancing at my chest when he thought I wasn’t looking?

Or when he awkwardly cleared his throat and said, “Man, what’s with the shirt? Governor Kinky?”

Maybe when he said he only noticed it because a fellow trainer pointed it out to him.

Or maybe, just maybe I was alerted to the BAD IDEA as I was on my way out and two youngish employees laughed and told me how “awesome!” it was.

“You guys like his campaign?” I asked, enthused.

Mistake number one was wearing the shirt. Mistake number two was asking that question.

“Campaign?” asked the African-American of the two.

“Well, I mean, this is a real shirt,” I said, clearing my throat. “There’s a guy named Kinky Friedman running for governor in Texas.”

Mike, stop. Stop right now and walk away.

“Well, that shirt is hilarious, man,” declared the Caucasian-American one.

You’d think I would’ve gotten the idea. Nope!

“He’s an independent candidate, actually. He was once part of a fairly well-known band called “Kinky Friedman & The Texas Jewboys“.”

The African-American employee laughed. “Jewboys? Right on man, right on.”

“You guys should check it out on the web if you don’t believe me.”

“Alright, bro,” said The Caucasian-American.

“Seriously, go Google it.”

“Sounds good.” The African-American nodded and glanced over at his coworker as if to say, “Dude, when the hell is this guy going to shut up?”

Finally the clouds parted, light shone down from the heavens and my brain clicked on. I said “See you guys!” turned around and briskly walked to my car.

Moral of the (Horrible) Story: If two twenty-something guys comment on how awesome your “Governor Kinky” shirt is, let them think it’s a joke.