Kelly Mahon was the funniest person in my 9th-grade class at Mira Costa High, no contest. Loud voice, huge laugh, rubbery face, with a mind that pulled comedy out of any given situation like a magnet picking up metal filings. Just as you were beginning to realize that there was maybe something humorous to be said about this guy's folding bike, or an overly-cosmic surf movie poster, or anything having to do with the mysteries of sex, Kelly was already blow-darting a comment, sharp and perfectly aimed, right into the heart of what was funny. He was a cutting bastard, but generous too—he laughed as hard at other people's thrusts and japes, even though our material by and large was half as funny as his.

Kelly was independent beyond his years. Both parents were out of the picture, and he lived with his slightly addled grandmother, which meant extra responsibility but also extra freedom. Of course he surfed and skated constantly, like the rest of us, nothing unusual there. But Kelly also hitchhiked up and down the coast, alone, on weekends and holidays. First in our group to make it to Central California. First to Baja.

And first to pick up on the good bands, too. It was Kelly who turned me on to Mott the Hoople, this would have been Fall semester, 1974, and right away I put the band near the top of my newly built and very lopsided rock and roll ziggurat, behind Kiss and David Bowie, but ahead of Led Zeppelin and Elton John. Mott must have broken up around that point, because a year later I got Ian Hunter's first solo album for Christmas. "I Get So Excited," the scorching first track, blew the decorations off the tree, set the wreath on fire, and felt the rough probing of my crap-ass stereo needle at least 25 times before we sat down for Christmas ham. The rest of the LP wasn't as good, but for a decade or so, until I hauled my four huge crates of LPs to the dump and lightened my worldly possessions by a couple hundred pounds, I would spin "Excited" for a quick pick-me-up.

Last Monday I found the song on YouTube, cued it up for my post-nap pre-coffee power walk, and before your man Ian even stepped to the mic I was storyboarding the video you see above.

Whoops, I just realized this thing sounds like a eulogy! Apologies. Kelly is very much alive and well, surfing, raising a kid, still has 'em doubled-up laughing. Kelly, old friend! This one is for you!

"STOKE: THE VERY SHORT MOVIE"

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