Months & Years

Yesterday I was sitting on the 2 train going into work when a voice called out “Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.” I looked up to see if it was the regular 2 train preacher but saw no one. “I haven’t had a day off in four years.” I spotted the speaker. He was just a guy, a big guy mind you, sitting down and shouting.

“Everyday I get up, go to work, come home, go to sleep and do it all over again. Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week.I haven’t had a day off in four years. I get it out now or I get it out at my probation office.” umm. did he just say probation, uh oh, this isn’t actually that funny anymore.

” I’m on probabtion for a crime I did not commit. “ oh okay, he’s just trapped in the justice system, poor guy.

“Three years of probation. I’ve lost three years of my life, but I’ve got lives. I’ve got lives.” oh, he’s a cat, just going through his nine…

“I haven’t had sex in 31 months.”

There was about half a second on the train where it got so quiet you could have heard a pin drop, until the guy across from me started laughing so hard I thought he might bust a rib. “Oh damn!” He added.

I was busy doing the math in my head, thirty one months, that’s two years and seven months. Wow. I don’t feel so bad about myself anymore. I wonder if he’s single.

We pull into a station, the orator rises, goes to the door and looks back at us and announces:

“I happen to be the government of the government of the United States.”

And then he was gone.

Curious to note he was counting his sex life in months and his probation life in years. Guess using months takes the sting out of the dry spell. If nothing else I feel better knowing that the government is not, in fact, full of mindless, faceless drones but just a guy on the subway, who really should call my therapist.

Shake It Where Appropriate

God’s back and He’s pissed. Unlike Falwell, Bin Laden and my pal Mahmoud Ahmadinejad God didn’t actually speak to Shlomo Benizri, but Shlomo knows God’s mind and interpreted for Him.

According to Shlomo, an ultra-Orthodox Israeli MP, the tremors experienced in Israel last week were because, “homosexuality causes earthquakes.” It seems that the earthquakes occurred the same week lawmakers in Israel granted same-sex adoption rights. I can totally see how that works. After all God has His good days and bad days just like the rest of us, and maybe He created orphans solely for the benefit Hollywood celebrities and their press agents. Clearly the gays of Israel are impeding on his Master Plan so God sent a message. Heck, our mini snow storm in New York this morning was clearly God’s way of saying Hillary needs to kick off her shoes and get back in the kitchen and Obama needs to get back to the cotton field. If you think about it, God’s ways really aren’t that mysterious at all.

Now what confused me about Shlomo’s statement was his follow up:
“God says you shake your genitals where you are not supposed to and I will shake my world in order to wake you up.”

If God is so serious about this why didn’t He provide the “Zagat’s Guide to Deity Approved Genital Shaking Locations?” And if God didn’t want us to shake our genitals, why did He make it so darn easy and so darn fun. I don’t know about you, but when that Donna Summer comes on the radio it’s all I can do to not shake my genitals. And if it’s hard for me, I can’t imagine how hard it is for the gays, after all, we all know that no homosexual can resist a good disco beat. Once again God reveals himself to be one complicated dude.

Clearly the time has come for me to go Israel and sort the whole mess out. I’ll turn the Gaza Strip into the government and God sponsored Approved Genital Shaking Zone and bring Britney Spears down to run the adoption agencies. But first I have to go slap on lipstick and brush my hair - a really cute guy just came into the coffee shop and he’s got some genitals I’d like to get shaking.

Two Words, Sounds Like…

Okay we all know where I stand politically-I’m so left wing I’m in danger of developing a limp-but I’m seriously considering backing Mike Huckabee because he makes no sense and makes me laugh. I kind of respect the guy for being so utterly clueless that he is not even remotely embarrassed to announce he doesn’t believe in evolution. Alright, I’m exaggerating, never will I vote for Mikey or any of the others in the “get married, have a baby, go shopping and it’s your own damn fault if you’re poor and black party” but I am seriously dismayed by the ongoing crap being delivered by the Dems.

At this point I expect Hillary and Barack to break out into “Sticks and stones may be break my bones but names will never hurt me” rhetoric. I just want to show up at the next debate and scream “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP.” They need to enroll themselves in some Montessori preschool classes and learn some basics.

Instead of debates and caucuses, what about state by state Musical Chairs? Whoever ends up sitting the most wins. It involves all the skills a presidential candidate needs: strategy, plotting and some serious elbowing.

That doesn’t do it for you? How about Charades.

Barack (in Sign): Two Words, Phrase, First word-

Hllary: Vote For Me

Edwards: That’s three Hillary

Barack (in sign) First word

Edwards: Ronald

Hillary: Ronald Reagan I win.

Edwards: Hey she stole my answer

Barack: No it was Ronald McDonald. I’m hungry. Anyone want to get a burger?

Edwards: But-

Barack: Why are you here?

Edwards: Because-

Hillary: And that’s why Barack can’t be president. He likes McDonald’s. My husband Bill-

Barack: I have lived on the South Side. I am the people. McDonald’s is the people’s food.

Edwards: But-

Barack: What do you suggest? Fried Pork Rinds from Arkansas?

Hillary: Stop being State-ist

Barack: Hope. Change. That’s what I stand for.

Mike Huckabee pops in:

Mike: Barack Obama is having a sex change, you all heard it. You all heard it.

Hillary: I believe in sex change.

Barack: Change. Hope. Hope and change.

Edwards: But-

Rudy Giuliani barges on the stage.

Rudy: When I was mayor on 9/11-

Brian Williams: And that’s all the time we have. Once again we see the race is anyone’s to win. Final words.

Barack: Hope. Change. Change. Hope.

Hillary: Well Brian, as I’ve said from the beginning I’m Hillary Clinton.

Edwards: The poverty issue-

Brian: Tune in next week when our candidates show off their foreign policy skills with a live tournament of “Risk.”

The Drama That Is December

It’s the holiday season and talk has turned Christmas, more specifically putting the Christ back in Christmas. Which technically means the word should be pronounced Chr-EYE-St-Mass. Which is even better than the common pronunciation because that way “ass” gets put back in the holiday as well. And who doesn’t like to say “ass” as often as possible.

Christmas time does odd things to people. There’s the father who took his 3 kids into the Northern California woods to chop down a tree to celebrate the birth of their lord and saviour. Alas, dad forgot his breadcrumbs, it got dark and they couldn’t find their way back to the car. After three days of freezing in the damn woods they were rescued. Here’s what the patriarch had to say: “I’m glad I’m home. Praise God,” ….Asked how he survived, he replied, “Jesus Christ.”

Now correct me if I’m wrong, but was it not Jesus Christ who got him into the mess in the first place? Even if J.C. didn’t specifically say “Go to the woods without a map or any common sense and get thee a tree” the least Jesus could have done was let these people get home without three days of freezing. Jesus leave them stranged but then HE gets credit for the save! Dude is a mastermind. This no-fault saviour business is very complicated, but I think I’d like try my hand at it.

Then of course there’s Captain Christmas, Mike Huckabee. “…this time of year is not the presidential campaign but “the celebration of the birth of Christ,” Unless Christ was born in Iowa where Mike made this statement I think I smell political double talk. Although maybe JC was born in Iowa. He’s a pretty Nordic looking guy and Kevin Costner did say “If you build it, he will come.” We never did get a specific answer on who that He was. Five bucks says by the end of this month, Huckabee will have found the Ark of Covenant somewhere in Des Moines and the Holy Grail out near Ames. It all makes sense why the politicians are always heading to Iowa-who doesn’t want to find the Holy Grail? Do you know how much you could get for that on EBay!

Christmas means only one thing to me this year: Non-Fat Gingerbread Latte with a Caramel Drizzle. Too bad there weren’t any Starbucks in the Manger when Jesus was born. Certainly would have made the whole barn situation a lot more pleasant, and for sure Mary would have gotten a lifetime discount of 10% for that whole immaculate conception thing. I wonder if Huckabee drinks Starbucks or if he boycotts because they are called “Holiday Drinks” and not Christmas drinks. But then I wonder what drinks have the Jews contributed to this time of year. Manischevitz Lattes? Or the Kwazaaniites? African Corn Cappuccinos?

Oh it’s all so confusing. I’m going to go fill out my application for position of Saviour, once that’s taken care of I’ll figure out the holiday drink list at Starbucks, all while putting “ass” back where it belongs.

Let’s Discuss It Over A Nice Cup Of Coffee

I have to confess, up until recently when I heard the term “water boarding” I thought it was referring to a summer water sport- a new craze! All the kids are doing it! But then I got super confused as to why suddenly we were all up in arms about some prisoners being subjected to water boarding in Guantanamo. So they took the boys out for some fun in the sun, they are on an island after all, what’s the big deal?

Once I, ahem, figured out what it was, I was even more stymied.

What happened to good old fashioned Chinese Water Torture. Or the rack? Or my personal favorite, The Iron Maiden? Suddenly water boarding is the Torture-du-Jour.

Torture just seems, I don’t know, so torturous. Aren’t we a “kindler gentler nation?” How about Jingle Bells, sung by Alvin and The Chipmunks pumped into their cells 24/7 as a means to extract information? Or a steady diet of gefilte fish and tripe?

I think I should go to Gitmo and sort things out. I don’t think there’s anything that can’t be solved with a slice of pie and a fresh cup of joe. Now that I’m working at The Cafe at Barnes and Noble I’m an expert in dealing with the personal peccadilloes of other people. Prisoner of war? Cafe customer? Really what’s the difference? They both want to get out of there as fast as possible, and yet it seems to take forever. Chances are the Cafe customers aren’t suicide bombers in the waiting, but neither are the prisoners. And if they are? Sugar ‘em up, literally and figuratively. “You wanted six pumps of mocha in your hot chocolate and whip cream and a caramel drizzle? Of course I can make you another, and by the way, how’s that Diabetes coming along?”

“That’s a very fetching hat you have on, where did you get it?” can be turned into “Ooh, that scar is super sexy, can I call you when you’re released?”

The trouble with government today is the lack of originality. It always the same old story “If it was good enough for Attila the Hun, it’s good enough for us.” I say it isn’t. I say it’s time for Torture-Lite. Evolution: it isn’t just for the monkeys anymore.