The Duce

The scene: LA Fitness on Hollywood, Friday morning. I've just finished my workout, and I'm sweaty, hungry, and feeling like someone just pounded me with a baseball bat. I'm stumbling down the stairs, bone-tired and not looking where I'm going. Who do I quite literally run into?


Yes, the creepy man-child himself, Danny Bonaduce. He was sans bow tie but plus a shirt, which is the kind of math I endorse. He was also about five-five, which perhaps explains his life of tragic overcompensation/underperformance.