I remember watching the "I can kick!" moment the night it aired.
One of my best friends used to live in an apartment above a dive bar/club in downtown L.A. where he'd work as a barback around 1990, give or take a few years, and every (Thursday?) night, for a while they'd feature a guy who would sing with a guitar, who my friend, being a fantastic jazz pianist and had great taste in music described as "horrible." Anyway, this guy was so bad, rarely did he attract any listeners, and the bar's patrons didn't pay him much notice, except every time he played, Crispin Glover would show up by himself, pull a chair up right in front of the stage in the middle of a usually empty dance floor and appear to be rapt with this guy's music. If any fan approached him while the guy was playing, Glover would, often without taking his eyes off the guy politely gesture that they would have to wait until the guy was done with his set, sometimes putting a finger to his lips as if to "shush" them, again, not aggressively, but clearly he was this guy's biggest and only fan in the room.
I always got a chuckle out of that story.
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