Thank G-d The Rapture did not occur Saturday night, May 21, 2011. I was totally unprepared. Fortunately, this morning I received a "save the date" from Robert Camping. The Rapture has been rescheduled for October 21, 2011, weather permitting. I've developed a Rapture Preparedness List so that I and my readers won't be caught with our pants down again.
I don't know exactly what The Rapture is, but I am certain that it lasts longer than a week. Hence,
1. Call Merck for a 500,000 day supply of all prescription drugs during the week of October 10. Mail carriers may be readying themselves for the big day and be even more lethargic than usual. Donate your 7 day pill box to Housing Works.
2. Pack a bag. Unfortunately I don't know the geographic destination of The Rapture. "Heaven," even Mr. Camping would have to acknowledge, is a little vague on longitude and latitude. This lack of specificity makes packing difficult. My H & M winter coat or my LandsEnd bathing suit? Your Northface jacket or your speedo? Most of you will have to hedge your bets and check your luggage. If you're Jewish, however, you'll need only your Miami wardrobe, so you can take carry on.
3. Although for some, "The Rapture" may entail more floating than walking, you know how miserable you are when your feet hurt. So, to be on the safe side, select comfortable shoes for the trip. Sneakers are always a good choice, although you may want to throw in dressy flats in case a special occasion arises. And Jews, you'll want sandals where you're going.
4. I've not seen any mention of food at The Rapture, although I'm sure G-d wouldn't let us starve to death. Just in case, pack snacks with lots of preservatives. Hostess products are ideal.
5.You have your "go" bag. It's the morning of October 21. You're almost ready. Be sure to have a good breakfast.You're embarking on a great unknown. You can't think straight on an empty stomach and you may be called upon to solve quadratic equations. For the same reason, don't even think of working through lunch. One hour before the designated time, have a snack. You'll want something heavy enough to take the edge off, but not so heavy as to make you nauseated. No one wants to experience the Rapture next to someone puking into a paper bag.
Have a safe and pleasant journey.
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
Thursday, May 19, 2011
Getting Perspective
As you may have noticed, I have not blogged for months. It's not that I've been busy. I haven't been busy for 7 years. And it's not that I'm lazy...I am lazy, but that's not why I haven't blogged. The cause of my blogblock was the total absence of blogworthy experiences. I didn't want to squander any of my 10 waking hours writing about minutia when I had so much to contribute to global well being. Why should I write a blog, when I could better allocate the time to making micro loans to Pakistani women, teasing out a new two state solution for Israel and inventing a silencer for the shrieking alarm on subway emergency gates?
After much soul searching, I realized that my blog and global well being are not mutually exclusive goals. I'm very close to getting looms. I've redrawn the map of the middle east, of course preserving Israel's security,and will shortly submit it to Hillary for her input. The silencer is only in its conceptual phase but the production stage is imminent. Having accomplished so much for the greater world, I can now refocus on my own little domain.
You can tell it's Spring. The fruit man is back on the corner of 14th Street and Eighth Avenue having wintered in Bangladesh. I know where he wintered because, to be polite, I asked him. Mistake. I'm now his friend. Maybe even his BFF. Our new relationship entitles him not only to overcharge me for the cherries but to complain about his other customers. "You see that? You see that?" He says everything twice while pointing to the culprit. "That's why I don't like to do business here. That's why I don't like to do business here." I never know what malfeasance the fruitbuyer has committed. As far as I can tell, he bought a banana. I wouldn't care about the fruitist's rant, but I'm sure that as soon as I walk away with my cherries, he'll tattle to his other bffs about some nefarious act of mine. "Did you see that? Did you see that? She sampled a grape. She sampled a grape."
It being Spring, the woman who begs near my office on Williams Street, is also back. I don't know where she wintered, but Creedmore seems a good bet. Ordinarily, someone poor enough to beg would warrant my sympathy, if not my money. Not her. I hate her. How can I hate a poor beggar, you ask? Today, when I walked past her without giving her money, she screamed, "You cunt." And to make sure I knew she was serious, she then yelled,"You really are a cunt." I'm not without a heart and this outburst alone from an obvious lunatic would not elicit hate, but it comes after last spring's daily outburst,"You need to color your hair. Your roots are showing." I could accept the "cunt" as a general epithet she uses for all women. But the roots? That was personal.
Writing today's blog has sharpened my perspective teaching me that some problems are more important to solve than others. First thing tomorrow, I'm coloring my hair.
After much soul searching, I realized that my blog and global well being are not mutually exclusive goals. I'm very close to getting looms. I've redrawn the map of the middle east, of course preserving Israel's security,and will shortly submit it to Hillary for her input. The silencer is only in its conceptual phase but the production stage is imminent. Having accomplished so much for the greater world, I can now refocus on my own little domain.
You can tell it's Spring. The fruit man is back on the corner of 14th Street and Eighth Avenue having wintered in Bangladesh. I know where he wintered because, to be polite, I asked him. Mistake. I'm now his friend. Maybe even his BFF. Our new relationship entitles him not only to overcharge me for the cherries but to complain about his other customers. "You see that? You see that?" He says everything twice while pointing to the culprit. "That's why I don't like to do business here. That's why I don't like to do business here." I never know what malfeasance the fruitbuyer has committed. As far as I can tell, he bought a banana. I wouldn't care about the fruitist's rant, but I'm sure that as soon as I walk away with my cherries, he'll tattle to his other bffs about some nefarious act of mine. "Did you see that? Did you see that? She sampled a grape. She sampled a grape."
It being Spring, the woman who begs near my office on Williams Street, is also back. I don't know where she wintered, but Creedmore seems a good bet. Ordinarily, someone poor enough to beg would warrant my sympathy, if not my money. Not her. I hate her. How can I hate a poor beggar, you ask? Today, when I walked past her without giving her money, she screamed, "You cunt." And to make sure I knew she was serious, she then yelled,"You really are a cunt." I'm not without a heart and this outburst alone from an obvious lunatic would not elicit hate, but it comes after last spring's daily outburst,"You need to color your hair. Your roots are showing." I could accept the "cunt" as a general epithet she uses for all women. But the roots? That was personal.
Writing today's blog has sharpened my perspective teaching me that some problems are more important to solve than others. First thing tomorrow, I'm coloring my hair.
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