You Gotta Make Believe – (formerly known as Can You Say Fuck It?)

An I wanna liquify
Everybody gone dry
Or plug into aerials
That poke up in the sky
Or burn down suburbs
With half closed eyes
You don’t succeed
If you don’t try
- Clash City Rockers
The Clash

7-7-77.

I was 17 and looking for a place to burn.

Cause I was on fire. I liked it.

All my friends were on fire. We were a box of matches and someone was always around to ignite the head. Of course, since we traveled in books, we ran the risk of spontaneous combustion.

I was an angry kid, but I didn’t know it. I wouldn’t know it till 8-8-88, or was more like 9-9-99… Wait, I really discovered I was an angry kid on Naught – Naught- Naughty Naught. (Hmm, I guess I’m still a smart-ass.)

Anyway, I became loud and abrasive with a mean streak. I could walk into a room and stink it up. Not among my friends. We were all skunks.

I stunk up adult family functions. Regular folk and Cops weren’t crazy about me, but my friends thought I was the funniest guy when I would say something to a Cop that would make him punch me in the nose.

I would be standing there laughing with blood running down my face and the Cop would freak out and run away. It happened twice. I always thought that I could have ended up in a Boxing Ring, not so much for my knock out punch but because I have always been a great punching bag. Sadly, I’m proud to say, I can handle a bunch of abuse

We were that green fuzz in the Tupperware container, in the back of the refrigerator that nobody wanted to touch. Occasionally, someone would open the container and look at the green fuzz that now had blobified the individual hunks of meat, but we were left to rot.

We loved our rot. Rot has rights too!

Rachel who renamed herself “Evil Eyes Pinky” would head to the City on Fridays, and go buy the latest imported Punk records. Her Dad would get paid on Thursdays, and she would swipe twenty bucks from his wallet and go buy The Clash, The Sex Pistols, The Buzzcocks and whatever else was coming from that Island on Fridays.

Rachel spearheaded the Musical actions of this little group of Weirdos we were becoming.

But there were other spears.

The Gooseman had his own apartment at 17. He worked in a Car Junkyard and every Friday night we had a New Year’s Celebration. Pinky would bring the latest wax to D.J., Gooseman provided the Cave and the grub, Bingo brought his best Pachino “Dog Day Afternoon” personality, Joey Bonanza would bring a  case of Champagne (we never asked him where he got it, we were afraid to know) and I brought my stellar personality.

I was the Master of Ceremonies at the Horror Wax Museum. Some partygoers came to see the Freak show and some came to melt in with the other figures. My job was to get rid of the gawkers.

I would feel someone out by saying something outrageous like,”Hey, Gelatin, how’s it shaking? Welcome, to the end of the world where everyday is Halloween, unless it is New Year’s  Eve Friday, like today is. Of course, tonight we are celebrating the beach and we hope you brought some sand from the beach with you… You can’t come in without sand or some sea shells or five clams.”

We let people pay five clams to come in and party with us, if we didn’t know them. We had our own dance club going on in a shit hole of an apartment off of  Northern Boulevard in beautiful factory land in Flushing Queens.
We could make noise and we did. We put on party hats and forgot about going home. The lights were dim and we were dimwits…
We were emerging…. We were using up a lot of juice and burning the sockets. You could hear the fritzing out of the socket. We were emerging from shit. We were a creation, not unlike Frankenstein’s monster. Someone had to pay, and you best get the fuck out of the way or have five bucks to watch us act out.

Our Party hats were starting to look shabby. This was like our 26th New Year’s bash of the year since the real New Year’s Eve.

Vomit, grease, scum on our party hats…

Oh and we really did have sand throughout the apartment

We would pack into Goose’s pick-up one day a week and head down to Rockaway Beach or Coney or Manhattan Beach or Jones Beach or where ever. We would load the Pick-up with sand at the beach. No matter how many buckets we loaded, there was always more sand left behind.

On the beach, was where a Cop punched me in the nose the first time. He came over to us and asked, “You can’t take  the sand from the beach.”

I still don’t remember what I said to him, but everybody cracked up and that’s when he cracked me in the nose. It was worth it to see him walk off shaking his head, knowing that he could lose his job because some Punk kids wanted to make sand castles in their dump of an apartment in Queens…

After 26 weeks of New Year’s celebration in a row, confetti was all in the sand. There were other problems with the sand. Still, we groomed it as best as we could. After all, it was our sandcastles that we were building and we wanted them to be pretty.

The Guy Lombardo record was fucked too. Somebody used the record as a cutting board and there was cheese and a melted piece of pepperoni adhered to the record. It just would not come off. We played the record anyway.

Joey Bonanza would show up with the case of Champagne around 10:30…

Bingo and I would shake the bottles up and pretend the Mets had just won the World Series.

We would dance around and chant,”You Gotta Make Believe. You Gotta pretend and make believe! We won! We Won! You Gotta Make Believe!”

We would hop around and drag the wallflowers into the middle of the room. Everybody had to dance to our Met fantasy.

Pinky would D.J. a Ramones song for us and we were happy. Who knew this was going to be the night that another Cop would bust my face…

Everybody, had a bottle of their own except for Joey. As the eldest, he was 20, the Doctors already told him, his liver was only good with smothered onions. He’d been drinking since he was 12.

So instead, he sucked on M&M’s which were laced with Acid or something else. Who knew what was in the candy we were taking. We really didn’t care. It was just important to lift off every now and then. Hell, was as welcome as Heaven.
“The M&M’s melting in your head and not your hands,” I said to Joey.
Four girls dragged Joey to a wall, and took off his cowboy hat. They began taping his long hair to the wall. It looked cool. Of course removing Joey from the wall would be a bit painful.

“We must all pay for our Artistic hopes,”Bingo said as he danced a Cha-cha.
Some new girl I never saw before held the tape dispenser and was giggling. She was a good six feet tall in her kick ass boots.
Wow. She had a paper clip dangling from her lower lip.
“You must be from the city,” I said.
“How can you tell?”
“The paper clip is very white collar. We’re all blue collar fools here.”
“Are you against the paper clip.?”

“Not by any means of the imagination,” I said. “When I say we’re blue collar here. I mean we have one foot in the grave. I might be able to use that paper clip to dig out of  my own  grave one day. May I borrow it?”
We talked. Her name was Slinky and she was… Slinky and Six foot solid. Cute little breasts. Model. Next year’s Model.

“I like tall women. I enjoy the climb up and then when I get on top, my ears pop,” I said.

She gave me the Himalayan frost look and I knew I was in love.

Gooseman prepared fried chicken in the hot apartment. He threw 100 wings into a garbage bag, then he cracked a dozen eggs and threw them into the garbage bag. He shook the bag. Then he opened up two containers of bread crumbs and tossed that into the bag. Again, he shook the bag. Then he opened up the oven and threw the contents into three cookie sheets, which had oil smoking on it. It was not a pretty scene. Very blob like pouring out of the garbage bag. We all waited for dinner with interest.
Bingo said,” Do the abortion joke Squid.”

I was known as Squid Liquid back then. Gooseman, named me Squid Liquid because he said I was hard to read sometimes.

Everybody agreed. I was hard to read sometimes. Very true, even to this day. No matter how plainly I try to say things. It comes out black ink disguising my actual appearance. It’s part of who I am and how I think.
The girl Slinky had her arms folded and said, “Yeah, Squid do the Abortion joke.” She looked pissed.
“I don’t think you really want me to do the abortion joke,” I said to Slinky.
“What are you chicken?” Joey Bonanza said with his head of hair still taped to the wall.
The party started clucking in my direction. Then simutaneously they turned to me and asked,” Squid, how does a chicken have an abortion?”
I cracked an egg against my head. Everybody started hooting and hollering.
Slinky went out the door. I chased after her with egg on my face.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“What does what mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. What does that joke mean?”
“The point of my joke doesn’t mean anything. Chickens do not have abortions. They are just not allowed to hatch all their eggs. It’s a forced abortion issue.” I walked back into the house.

Some people you just have to let go. Of course, the fact that I actually had egg on my face did not allude me.

I walked into the apartment and screamed,”How does a chicken have an abortion?”
“How?” everbody screamed back.

I cracked another egg on my head.

The chicken was ready. I grabbed a piece. Hot and good. I seperated the bones and watched the steam come off of the meat.
“Crack another egg on your head,” Joey Bonanza said. “I love when you crack an egg on your head. That’s so ballsy.”
“Hey Joey, why don’t you find Hoss and ride off to the Pondarosa.”
Joey tried to get up, but his head was really taped to the wall.

About twenty of us watched Joey try to get unattached from the wall by himself. Three girls came over with shears. The only way Joey was going to remove himself from the wall was by cutting his hair. It was duct tape they used to pin him in the first place. They started to cut him down. Strands of long hair remained attached to the wall.
“I had this hair for six years, “Joey said and started crying. They cut him down and he looked at the circle of hair which remained taped to the wall.
After a minute of everybody staring at the hair attached to the wall Joey said,”Classic.”

That hair would remain on that wall  for years.

Slinky came back to the apartment,”You still have egg on your face.”

She started cleaning me up.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do, if I’m even going to consider kissing you… I was mad because I thought you were making fun about abortions. I realized that you are just a fool.”

“Exactly, thank you.”

Pinky invited this Manhattanite girl who worked in Bleeker Bob’s in the West Village.
“I’ve never been out of the City, she said.

“What do you think of our tribe?”

“You are a Primitive people. It is very different here than in the City.”

“I think we are hurting more here,” I said.

“Hurting more?”

“Hurting differently. We mostly come from shit here. Broken homes and occasional violence is not out of the question.”

Pinky D.J’d Cheap Trick

Mommy’s alright

Daddy’s alright

they just seem a little weird,
Surrender, surrender
But don’t give yourself away.”
“Joey admiring his haircut in a mirror said, “Please stop singing and playing that song. You’re freaking me out.”
He walked over to the wall and touched his long hair that was taped to the wall.

I could see that  he was considering reattaching his hair back to his head, “I need some air,” he said.
The M&M’s were getting to him. He stepped out.
Evil Eyes Pinky and the new girl Slinky were dancing around a pile of chicken bones on a sand bank.
Pinky was cute in her rainbow icy mohawk. Her baby fat jiggled. Her big tits bounced up and down keeping the beat. Her big smile turning to grimaces as she kept dancing around the chicken bones. She had big puckered lips and she started braying like a horse. Running, jumping, arms akimbo, splitting legs, slipping on the sand.
Joey ran back into the apartment and made a dash for the record player in a frantic manner. Evil Eyes tackled Joey and they struggled for a moment and then started making out.
Evil Eyes Pinky gave Joey the hairy eyeball.
“No, no, don’t give me the hairy eyeball. I love Cheap Trick but mostly I love you.”
They continued to roll on the sand and on the chicken wings and continued to make out.
Slinky walked over to me,”This is a fun party. Pinky  is a funny girl.”
“New Year’s is always fun,” I said.

“Rachel is one of my best friends. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
Other couples were fooling around.
“Let’s get out of here,” Slinky said.
“Let’s,” I said.
She grabbed my hand as we walked out the door. Bingo came running after us, “Hey, where are you guys going?”
“We’re going for a walk.”
“Good, I’ll come with. Let’s walk over to Shea and celebrate  The World Champion New York Mets.  You Gotta Make Believe.”

“I don’t want to go to Shea, I said. I tried to think of a way to shoo Bingo away but with no luck.

“Can you say,Fuck it?” I said outloud.

Bingo said,”Fuck it.”

Slinky said,”Fuck it.”

Bingo, you can come for the walk.”

Bingo hopped up and down.

O.K. let’s take her to Shea,” I said.
“Bingo,” Bingo said. He was such a happy Puerto Rican punk.
What’s Shea? A Punk club.”
“Definately,” I said. Me and Bingo laughed.
Shea was where the Mets played and it was only a half a mile from Gooseman’s apartment. It was in Flushing Meadow Park, right behind The Queens Botanical Gardens. We hopped the metal fence and smelled the flowers. Bingo had a little flashlight with him. He always carried one, just in case there was a black out.
“Pinky,  tells me you’re a Jewboy, Slinky said.”
“He’s a crazy Jewboy,” Bingo said. “Alot of punks are Jewboys. The Ramones are Jews. They’re from over there. He pointed to Forest Hills and Rego Park. The Dictators are from over there. He pointed North to the Bronx.”

“Wait, there are guys from Rego Park in the Dictators.” Rego Park is over there. I pointed to some buildings, South of where we were standing.”

“Thunders is from Brooklyn,” Bingo said. “But that’s like a couple of miles from here.”

“So Punk rock had some of it’s most influential people, living twenty minutes away from each other from this point.”

Bingo said,” More like a half hour in any direction from Shea Stadium.

“You doing research?”

“I will be attending Columbia in the fall. I’m thinking about Sociology and the roots of Punk is of special interest to me.”

We walked to a park bench with a lot of kids on it. They were listening to Devo on a cassette player by the big sculpture of the globe in the old World’s Fair Park. They were smoking weed and were surrounding another kid.

Bingo who is only a little bigger than five foot 4 inches tried jumping to see what was happening over the crowd. When, I saw who it was that had a steak on her eye, I cut through the kids.
“What happened to you?” I said to Savage.
She took  the steak off  her eye, either to see who was talking to her or to show me her black eye.
“Come on ,” I said. You’re not going back to that house till I talk to that cocksucker.”
“Where are you taking me?” I’m not sure if it was Savage or Slinky who asked me that question. My blood was boiling. I knew Savage’s step dad had hit her and it was enough already.

Savage was one of my best friends. Her dad died when she was 8. Then her mom remarried. Then her mom died when she was 15. Now, her step dad didn’t like the way she was dressing and didn’t like the music she liked. He would get drunk and hit her.

I was going to do something sick. I had to think.
How was I going to get this fuck to leave my sweet friend Susie Savage alone?

Fuck if I knew what to do, but I knew that after tonight, that guy was going to think twice about touching Susie.

My sweet friend was not going to feel unsafe in her own home. Not that I felt safe in my own home but at least my asshole dad never hit me. He let me get hurt. He could have prevented things from happening. He let me get beat up on occassions but he never hit me.

I dropped Savage at Gooseman’s. The party was winding down. I had a plan.

Savage’s dad was a cop and he would have a gun in his home but I didn’t give a shit. I was too young to give a shit. Sweet Susie Savage was hit by a monster.

She had no mommy, she had no daddy. She had this monster in her home.

Her home. Fucked families for miles all around. Fuck. So many sad miserable people, mistreating their kids. Broken down. Broken. Broke… Fucked.
Who the fuck did I think I was?.. Sweet little Susie with a black eye and her dead mom with a black eye too.

I can angle this. I can out fuck this fuck. My Dad was a kind of monster himself, but he taught me to take care of all women in my life.
“You have to take care of all women,” my father would say. “And not because they are weak. Because they are strong, and they are our only hope for the planet surviving. If  it was up to man, we would have finished off this planet a long time ago.”

“Gooseman, you got your sledgehammer in the back of your pick-up?”
“Where else would it be?”
“You got your ski mask?” I asked Joey Bonanza
“Where else would I  be without it?”
“Let’s go.
“Go. I can’t go anywhere. I’m high man. I feel like a midget going up the assshole of the Jolly Green Giant.”
“You’re driving. Let’s go.”
“I can’t drive. I’m really high. I’m looking for undigested peas up the Jolly Green Giant’s ass. I need snacks.”
“I’ll drive,” Slinky said.
“You’re not involved.” I said.
“Not yet,” she said. “I will be as soon as I get the keys.”

As we were leaving, Bingo said,”You want me to come.?”
I could see he was nervous. “Nah, stay here with Savage and keep her company.
“Bingo,” Bingo said.

When we got to Susie Savage’s house. I said to my accomplice, “Make a lot of noise with the engine.”

The sun was coming up. New Year’s was ending for another week.

I put Joey Bonanza’s  orange ski mask on. I got the sledgehammer and limped to Susie Savage’s father’s  car. I don’t know what kind of car it was but  I smashed the front window of the car out with the sledgehammer. The lights to his bedroom went on. I saw him looking at me with my ski mask on. He pointed the barrel of his gun at me.

“Step away from the car.”

The barrel of the gun sure looked big.

“You come out here and shoot me.”

Slinky screamed something like,”Are you sure you know what you’re doing?”

He came out and said, “Drop the sledge and take off your mask.”

“Fuck you,” I said.

He hit me in my face. I don’t know if he hit me with the gun, but I almost went down. I had never gone down before from a punch.
“Do you know me?” I asked. “Do you want to see my face?” I smashed another window of the car out. Do you really want to see my face! Think about it buddy.”

I knocked out a headlight.  I smashed the rear window out and he cocked the gun. Blood was streaming down my ski mask and I knew that I was going to have to buy Joey an new one.
“I don’t want to do this but I was hired to do this. If you want to see my face let me know.”
I know exactly who you are. You are that loudmouth that has been feeding poison into Susie. You and your stupid friends. What are you going to get by coloring your hair and listening to that crap. ‘Hired! Please, get off my property. Your Dad is going to get a nice bill for this clunker I was about to get rid of anyway. Get the fuck out of here, before I arrest you.”

“I have a friend who can junk the car for you,” I said holding my nose up and not really knowing what I was talking about anymore.

“Leave Susie alone.  Sell the house and give her half the money. I don’t want to have to  come back here and teach you another lesson”
I turned around and limped back to the pick-up very slowly. I threw the sledgehammer in the back.
“Drive away very slowly,” I said to Slinky.

“For effect.”

“So, that my head doesn’t fall off my shoulders.”
“Yes sir.  Where’d you learn those communication skills you have.” I wasn’t sure if Slinky was being sarcastic.

“I come from a long line of gangsters.  Do you think I was effective.”

“Hard to say. He knows that there are people out there who care about Susie. He doesn’t know what you are capable of doing next, and that counts for something.”

“Exactly, what I was thinking. He just had to know that we were all part of the same green fuzz.”

“Huh?”

“Nevermind.”

We went back to  Gooseman’s and they broiled the steak that was on Savage’s eye.
“You can go back home today. Your asshole step- dad will never bother you again… I’m pretty sure.
Savage gave me a hug, “You want a piece of steak?”
“Wasn’t that in your freezer since you were a kid. Didn’t you mom defrost that over her black eyes and then refreeze that. Isn’t that like ten years old of freezing and then refreezing?
“Maybe,” Savage said.
“Fuck,” Bingo said as he swallowed a piece of steak with ketchup on it.

Slinky and I dated for three months. I still talk to her. Nobody died from the steak. Bingo threw up just to be on the safe side.

The End

Can You Say Fuck It?

Can You Say Fuck It?

An I wanna liquify
Everybody gone dry
Or plug into aerials
That poke up in the sky
Or burn down suburbs
With half closed eyes
You don’t succeed
If you don’t try
- Clash City Rockers
The Clash

7-7-77.
I was 17 and looking for a place to burn. Cause I was on fire. I was angry and didn’t know it. I had a mean streak. It had a skunk like quality to my meaness. I could stink up a room. I could make regular people upset, but my friends thought I was funny… or I thought they thought I was funny. I don’t know. Maybe we were all stuck together because we grew up together and we were stuck…
Stuck in the back of the refridgerator, in a tupperware container. Fuck. we were like spoiled food in the back of the refridgerator that you forget about, and then when you remember, you don’t want to deal with that rot. Yeah, we were rot. 17 year old rot in 1977. Stuck in our own stink.

We loved our rot. we loved our stink… Me, Bingo, Evil Eyes Pinky, the Gooseman, Joey Bonanza, and about fifty kids on the park in Flushing. Drinking rot gut. We ruled the streets at night. We put the plastic people back in their homes with the doors locked tight at night. We were ghouls running the wax museum and it was melting. If you looked through the windows of homes, we would see skeletial bones made of gelatin and everybody was wobbling when we were around. Hey, Gelatin… What’s shaking…
And we were around, every night except when we were celebrating New Year’s Eve. We celebrated New Year’s Eve every Friday night at Gooseman’s apartment. He was 17 and living on his own. Shit apartment off of Northern Boulevard in factory land in Flushing. We could make noise and we did. We put on party hats and forgot about going home.
The lights were dim and we were dimwits…
We were emerging…. We were using up a lot of juice and burning the sockets. You could hear the fritzing out of the socket. We were emerging from shit. We were a creation, not unlike Frankenstein’s monster. Someone had to pay, and you best get the fuck out of the way. Fire would be left on the road behind us.

Our Party hats were starting to look shabby. This was like our 26th New Year’s bash of the year. Vomit, grease, scum on our party hats… and oh yeah, we brought sand from the beach and covered Gooseman’s apartment in sand one night, so we could have a beach party. We used our hats to build sand castles. Confetti was all in the sand. The Guy Lombardo record was fucked too. Somebody used the record as a cutting board and there was cheese and a melted piece of pepperoni adhered to the record. It just would not come off. We played the record anyway.

Joey Bonanza would steal cases of champagne every Friday, and Bingo and I would shake the bottles up and pretend the Mets had just won the World Series. Pretend and make believe. You Gotta pretend and make believe. Everybody, had a bottle of their own except for Joey. As the eldest, he was 20, the Doctors already told him, his liver was only good with smothered onions. He’d been drinking since he was 12. So, Joey Bonanza was sitting on the sand, which covered a splintered floor. He sucked on M&M’s which were laced with Acid or something else.
“The M&M’s melting in your head and not your hands,” I said to Joey.
Four girls dragged Joey to a wall, and took off his cowboy hat. They began taping his long hair to the wall. It looked cool. Joey would eventually pay for his art.
Some new girl I never saw before held the tape dispenser and was giggling. She was a good six feet tall in her kick ass boots.
Wow. She had a paper clip dangling from her lower lip.
“You must be from the city,” I said.
“How can you tell?”
“The paper clip is very white collar. We’re all blue collar fools here.”
“Are you against the paper clip.?”
“Not by any means of the imagination,” I said. “When I say we’re blue collar here. I mean we have one foot in the grave. I might be able to use that paper clip to dig out of the grave.”
We talked. Her name was Slinky and she was… Slinky and Six foot solid. Cute little breasts. Model. Next year’s Model.

Gooseman prepared fried chicken in the hot apartment. He threw 100 wings into a garbage bag. then he cracked a dozen eggs and threw them into the garbage bag. He shook the bag. Then he opened up two containers of bread crumbs and tossed that into the bag. Again, he shook the bag. Then he opened up the oven and threw the contents into three metal tins which had oil smoking on it. It was not a pretty scene. Very blob like pouring out of the garbage bag. We all waited for dinner.
Bingo said, Do the abortion joke Squid.” I was known as Squid Liquid back then. Gooseman, named me Squid Liquid because he said I was hard to read sometimes. He said, I shot black ink in front of my face. He said I was like my dad the mob guy. You didn’t know what he was thinking and he didn’t know what I was thinking.
The girl Slinky had her arms folded and said, “Yeah, Squid do the Abortion joke.” She looked pissed.
“I don’t think you really want me to do the abortion joke,” I said to Slinky.
“What are you chicken?” Joey Bonanza said with his head of hair still taped to the wall.
The party started clucking in my direction. Then simutaneously they turned to me and asked,” Squid, how does a chicken have an abortion?”
I cracked an egg against my head. Everybody started hooting and hollering.
Slinky went out the door. I chased after her with egg on my face.
“What does that mean?” she asked.
“What does what mean?”
“You know exactly what I mean. What does that joke mean?”
“The point of my joke doesn’t mean anything. Chickens do not have abortions. They are just not allowed to hatch all their eggs. It’s a forced abortion issue.” I walked back into the house.
The chicken was ready. I grabbed a piece. Hot and good. I seperated the bones and watched the steam come off of the meat.
“Crack another egg on your head,” Joey Bonanza said. “I love when you crack an egg on your head. That’s so ballsy.”
“Hey Joey, why don’t you find Hoss and ride off to the Pondarosa.”
Joey tried to get up but his head was really taped to the wall. About twenty of us watched Joey try to get unattached from the wall himself. Three girls came over with shears. The only way Joey was going to remove himself from the wall was by cutting his hair. It was duct tape they used to pin him in the first place. They started to cut him down. Strands of long hair remained attached to the wall.
“I had this hair for six years, “Joey said and started crying. They cut him down and he looked at the circle of hair which remained on the wall.
After a minute of everybody staring at the hair attached to the wall Joey said,”Classic.” That hair would remain there for years.

All through our rituals, Evil Eyes Pinky was playing records. She was the one going into Manhattan to Bleeker Bob’s and picking up these Punk 45’s. She loved her glam too. She played Bang a Gong and she loved Cheap Trick. She played Surrender about every 15 minutes. The tall girl worked in Bleeker Bob’s even though he hated girls. I guess she had a look with that paper clip
“Mommy’s alright, Daddy’s alright,
they just seem a little weird,
Surrender, surrender
But don’t give yourself away.”
“Joey admiring his haircut in a mirror said, “Please stop singing and playing that song. You’re freaking me out.”
He walked over to the wall and touched his long hair. I could see he was considering reattaching his hair back to his head, “I need some air,” he said.
The M&M’s were getting to him. He stepped out.
Evil Eyes Pinky and the new girl Slinky were dancing around a pile of chicken bones on a sand bank.
Evil was cute in her rainbow icy mohawk. Her baby fat jiggled. Her big tits bounced up and down keeping the beat. Her big smile turning to grimaces as she kept dancing around the chicken bones. She had big puckered lips and she started braying like a horse. Running, jumping, arms akimbo, splitting legs, slipping on the sand.
Joey ran back into the apartment and made a dash for the record player in a frantic manner. Evil Eyes tackled Joey and they struggled for a moment and then started making out.
Evil Eyes Pinky gave Joey the hairy eyeball.
“No, no, don’t give me the hairy eyeball. I love Cheap Trick but mostly I love you.”
They continued to roll on the sand and on the chicken wings and continued to make out.
Slinky walked over to me,”This is a fun party. Evil Eyes is a funny girl.”
“New Year’s is always fun,” I said.”Evil Eyes is one of my best friends. We’ve known each other since we were kids.”
Other couples were fooling around.
“Let’s get out of here,” Slinky said.
“Let’s,” I said.
She grabbed my hand as we walked out the door. Bingo came running after us, “Hey, where are you guys going?”
“We’re going for a walk.”
“Good, I’ll come with. Let’s walk over to Shea?”
“I don’t want to go to Shea, I said. I tried to think of a way to shoo Bingo away but with no luck. Fuck it. He can come for the walk, “O.K. let’s take her to Shea,” I said.
“Bingo,” Bingo said. He was such a happy Puerto Rican punk.
What’s Shea? A Punk club.”
“Definately,” I said. Me and Bingo laughed.
Shea was where the Mets played and it was only a half a mile from Gooseman’s apartment. It was in Flushing Meadow Park, right behind The Queens Botanical Gardens. We hopped the metal fence and smelled the flowers. Bingo had a little flashlight with him. He always carried one, just in case there was a black out.
“Evil Eyes tells me you’re a Jewboy.”
“He’s a crazy Jewboy,” Bingo said. “Alot of punks are Jewboys. The Ramones are Jews. They’re from over there. He pointed to Forest Hills and Rego Park. The Dictators are from over there. He pointed North to the Bronx.”
“Shut-up Bingo. The girl didn’t say there was anything wrong with me being Jewish. Did you?” I asked.
“No, I’m a Mid-Western Jew girl. I’m starting Columbia in the Fall.”
“You’re going to Central America.” Bingo started talking very fast in Spanish to her.
“I think she meant the University, you dope.”
I wanted to cry. I don’t know why. I said,” I just want to learn how to be,” I mumbled. I really didn’t know why I felt vulnerable with this Amazon from the cornfields or where ever she was from. Suddenly, I was glad Bingo was with us.

We walked to a park bench with a lot of kids on it. They were listening to Devo on a cassette player by the big sculpture of the globe in the old World’s Fair Park. They were smoking weed and were surrounding another kid. Bingo who is only a little bigger than five foot 4 inchesand he tried jumping to see what was happeningover the crowd. When, I saw who it was that had a steak on her eye, I cut through the kids.
“What happened to you,” I said to Savage.
“She took off the steak which was on her eye, either to see who was talking to her or to show me her black eye.”
“Come on ,” I said. You’re not going back to that house till I talk to that cocksucker.
“Where are you taking me.”
“It’s New Year’s at Gooseman’s”
“Oh, fuck. I forgot it was Friday.”

Savage was one of my best friends. Her dad died when she was 8. Then her mom remarried. Then her mom died when she was 15. Now, her step dad didn’t like the way she was dressing and didn’t like the music she liked and my father’s mob blood was boiling in me. I was going to do something sick. I had to think. “Stay calm. You can straighten him out. You don’t have to ask your dad for a favor. You can do this yourself.”
Fuck if I knew what to do but no one was going to hit Savage. My sweet friend was not going to feel unsafe in her own home. Not that I felt safe in my own home but at least my asshole dad never hit me. He let me get hurt. He could have prevented things from happening. He let me get beat up on occassions but he never hit me.

I dropped Savage at Gooseman’s. The party was winding down. I had a plan. Savage’s dad was a cop and he would have a gun in his home but I didn’t give a shit. I was too young to give a shit. Sweet Lucy was hit by a monster. She had no mommy, she had no daddy. She had this monster in her home. Her home. Fucked families for miles around. Fuck. So many sad miserable people, mistreating their kids. Broken down. Broken. Broke… Fucked.
Who the fuck did I think I was?.. Sweet little Lucy with a black eye and her dead mom with a black eye. Fucker had to pay and he was a cop. Could have gotten my crooked mobbed up dad to do something. Then I’ll owe him something. I can angle this. I grew up with that madman. I got it
“Joey, you got your sledgehammer in the back of your pick-up?”
“Where else would it be?”
“You got your ski mask?”
“Where else would it be?”
“Let’s go.
“Go. I can’t go anywhere. I’m high man. I feel like a midget going up the assshole of the Jolly Green Giant.”
“You’re driving. Let’s go.”
“I can’t drive. I’m really high. I’m looking for undigested peas up the Jolly Green Giant’s ass. I need snacks.”
“I’ll drive,” Slinky said.
“You’re not involved.” I said.
“Not yet,” she said.

As we were leaving Bingo said,”You want me to come.?”
I could see he was nervous. Nah, stay here with Savage and keep her company.
“Bingo,” Bingo said.

“Here we are, come to a sudden screeching stop. I got out of the pickup and made alot of noise. The sun was coming up. New Year’s was ending. I got the sledgehammer and limped to the fuckers car. I don’t know what kind it was. Nothing new or valuable. I smashed the front window of the car out with the sledgehammer. The lights to his bedroom went on. I saw him looking at me with my ski mask on. He pointed the barrel of the gun at me.
“Do you know me?” I asked. “Do you want to see my face?” I smashed another window of the car out. Do you really want to see my face! Think about it buddy.” I knocked out a headlight. Am I here by myself. I smashed the rear window out.
“I don’t want to do this but I was hired to do this. If you want to see my face let me know.”
I pretended to take off my mask. I saw the cop lower his gun and then shut off the lights.
“Leave Lucy alone. Sell the house and give her half the money. I don’t want to come back.”
I turned around and limped back to the pick-up very slowly. I threw the sledgehammer in the back.
“Drive away very slowly,” I said to Slinky.
“Yes sir. Where’d you learn that.”
“I’m fourth generation Jewish Mob on my father’s side. I know things, I don’t even want to know.”

We got to Gooseman’s and they broiled the steak that was on Savage’s eye.
“You can go back home today. Your asshole step- dad will never bother you again. I’m pretty sure. He’s going to sell the house and give you half the money.
Savage gave me a hug, “You want a piece of steak?”
“Wasn’t that in your freezer since you were a kid. Didn’t you mom defrost that over her black eyes and then refreeze that. Isn’t that like ten years old of freezing and then refreezing?
“Maybe,” Savage said.
“Fuck,” Bingo said as he swallowed a piece of steak with ketchup on it.
The End

Slinky and I dated for three months. I still talk to her. Nobody died from the steak. Bingo threw up just in case.

Don’t Believe IN Real Time Part Two

..So where do five middle aged men go to play hookey? It’s not that we are just middle aged men. We are all Second Generation Holocaust Survivors. What’s that? It means that the first round of Holocaust Survivors pushed all their shit onto their kids so that we live with the trauma of The Second World War. Just so you know, there are Third Generation Holocaust Survivor Groups. Will there be fourth or fifth Generation Holocaust Survivor Groups?

Probably not if you talked to the Men in my Group.
Why not?
Because there will be another Holocaust before we get that far… Just saying that five guys talking in the Southern most part of Brooklyn, in the woods, walking near The Coney Island Creek, where there are ten abandoned ships, including The Yellow Submarine. Yes, I said The Yellow Submarine. It is not “The” Yellow Submarine, but it was an abandoned Yellow Submarine made in the late sixties to explore a ship that sank, and upon being put in the water, the Yellow Submarine sank.

Sol was toasted. He had been smoking weed for hours now,”This is the most beautiful place on earth. I can’t believe we are still in Brooklyn or even The United States. Look at that beautiful crap floating around in the water. It’s amazing. Daniel, tell me the story again.”

“Really, you want to hear the story again?”Daniel said truly surprised. “I’ve been coming here for thirty years. Nobody ever likes this place. I couldn’t even get any girls to come here and hang out.”
“That’s because they thought you wanted to bring them here to kill them. It’s very isolated here,” I said.

“Why is it still low tide?” Mo said. Shouldn’t the tide be coming in?”

“Where does the water go?” I asked.

“I can see a bottle! I can see a bottle! It’s an ancient relic. I’m gonna jump in and get it,” Sol said, leaning down towards the water.

Mo held him back,”You can’t go into that muck. It’s contaminated water. Look at this creek. Where am I. What kind of people am I with. I’m going back to the city. I’m going to The Holocaust Museum. I still have my ticket.”
“You have your ticket? You bought a ticket, even after we all agreed that we weren’t going to Washington?”
“I needed evidence to show Doctor Cohen that I had every intention of going to Washington today. I have proof that I had every intention of going to Washington. I even bought a map.”
Mo let go of Sol and reached for the map in his back pocket to show everyone. When Mo let go of Sol, Sol bolted for the water and said,”Justin hold my legs while I grab this bottle.”
Justin the most quiet of our group and someone who always went along with whatever was told him said,”Alright.”
Before we could do anything about it, Sol and Justin were floating around in the debris of this rusted out water cemetery.

Izzy even got off the phone with his broker and said,”I gotta call you back. I gotta help my friends out.”
Instead of helping us retrieve Sol and Justin, Izzy took tons of pictures of the two fools floating in muck.
Sol and Justin were slushing around in the muck and started singing the Beastie Boys song,”You Gotta Fight For Your Right To Party,
You wake up late for school man and you don’t wanna go,
You ask your mom “please?” but she still says no!”
You miss two classes and no homework
But your teacher preaches class like you’re some kind of jerk

You gotta fight for your right to
paaaaaaaaaaaaarty

I think even Mo got caught up in the moment and before you knew it, the five old yids were all in the muck swimming around and digging out old poison bottles and beer bottles from the nineteen thirties.

I was drifting. I started thinking about my women; my poor wife who dedicated her life to our children and now that they were in College, realized that she had nothing to do with her day.

I worried about my girlfriend who always wanted to be with me. It felt so good to be desired, but I knew that if she were with me all the time, she would get tired of me. What was great about our relationship was that we couldn’t be together everyday and that we had to sneak around or at least we pretended like we did. The truth of the matter was that my wife didn’t give a shit about what I did. I did my job. I helped raise the kids to be good kids who wanted to do something with their lives. I was done for a while till the Grandchildren showed up. Then it would be important for me to show up do my babysitter duties. Really my wife wouldn’t mind if I moved in with my girlfriend, as long as I just kept working the six and half days I’ve been working for the last thirty years.

I couldn’t get through to my wife, so I went to another woman, who only thought she wanted me as much as she did. It would have been better for her if she realized that she really didn’t need me all the time. She didn’t. She had a life with friends and a successful career. It would have been great to see her every couple of weeks and please her. More important than getting my rocks off was pleasing her. I needed to please all my women. It was how I suffered. I needed to please my women. It was more important than getting my rocks off… or should I say that is how I got my rocks off.
Hey, it shouldn’t be so surprising to hear about a Jewish man who wanted to please his woman more than get his rocks off. It’s built into the chemistry. It’s why Jewish Men always will eat pussy before they get their dicks sucked.
If a Jewish man comes before his woman, he’s bummed. Find me a Gentile man who thinks like that.

So, I guess you wanna know why on top of the two ladies who I tried to keep happy, I needed a Mistress… I wonder that the same. I feel embarrassed to tell you how it happened, but I also feel a need to confess… The woman is half my age. Half my age! My kids could be in the same Graduate Program as she is in…
O.K. I’m her teacher… She’s my assistant. Oh, this sounds bad. Let me explain.

For thirty years, I’ve woken up at four in the morning and started cooking food like my Baubie (Jewish for Grandma) cooked. I started everyday with cooking four chickens for stock. I always had a couple of slow briskets cooking which took five hours before it was ready. I made matzoh balls, blintzes, stuffed derma and Kasha Varnishkas, everyday.

It kept me sane. Baking babkas and Challah bread got me closer to God but what got me laid with my mistress was my recipe for Schmaltz.

Schmaltz is rendered chicken fat. It takes time to make it;fatty chicken parts cut it with onions… wait a second, I’m not going to tell you everything till you work for me in the kitchen. I will make you a master of Jewish cooking. A master! But I’m not telling you here. Isn’t it enough for me to say that I told my Mistress how to cook Schmaltz and she fell in love with me.

It seemed like a shallow reason to fall in love with someone on one hand, on the other, I got it. So many things in life are simple, but I was not taught them. What is simpler than Jewish Cooking. It mostly involves many hours of waiting for onions and garlic to dissolve into whatever kind of meat you are cooking. Still, it needs to be taught.

In my restaurant, what has given me the greatest pleasure? Hearing a customer say,”It tastes like my mama said her mama’s food tasted like!”

So, there I was drifting, thinking about my women. I so needed them to tell me that they loved me, but how could they…Well, actually the Mistress kept texting me and telling me how much she loved me, but I believed that once she made Schmaltz a few times, she would have realized that it was no big deal, and she could have Googled the recipe… (there are no more secrets.) Still, she loved me in the moment and had no problems with me.

So, there we were; these five aging Jews, who felt like they were fifteen years old, swimming in muck and finding ancient beer bottles and pharmaceutical bottles instead of seeing some crap about how bad the Holocaust was in Nazi Germany, when we ran into our own small Holocaust.

A Park Ranger caught us and started to berate us and threatened us with being arrested for nudity and stealing government property. I guess it was not legal to take the bottles we were accumulating.
Izzy who had been naked and still on the phone the entire time, slugged the Park Ranger on the side of the ear with his phone. The Park Ranger collapsed on the side of the road

Justin who was an EMS guy checked him out and said,”He’ll be alright. he’ll be up and about and having us arrested in fifteen minutes

We got dressed and gathered our bottles. We ran laughing.

Mo said,” I think that Park Ranger might have been one of those Reptilian Aliens. Did you see his eyes. They were slits.”

Sol added,”Did you know that Nazi’s might have been Aliens. It’s online. Nazi’s really might have been from another planet.”

“I’m going to go back and check on the Park Ranger,” I said…
I went back and threw some water on the Ranger’s face. I said,”You alright buddy… You’ll never see us again. I came back to see you’re alive. I’m gonna go now. Don’t follow us. The guy who hit you with his phone, has a 22 gun around his ankle. Mo, has a tazer gun, Seth is an Exterminator in his real life, and even though Justin lives at home with his mom and is mostly passive, he studies books about how to remove eyeballs with his fingers.

” And ah, when I was a kid growing up, my Grandfather taught me how to live in the woods, just in case the Nazi’s ever came back. When I was seven years old, I would climb twenty feet up a tree, and my Grandfather would say,”You can go another five feet.” The fellows you just met, are actually not to be fucked with.I’m sorry Izzy hit you, but you’re not buried in that shell of The Yellow Submarine, and that’s a good thing. Count my finger.”
I held two fingers in front of his face.
He said “Two.”
“Let me see you walk.”
He walked.

I caught up to the fellows who were looking at their poison bottles and beer bottles. Everybody was happy. We went to Sheepshead Bay and went and ate Calamari in Randazzo’s. Someone suggested we get lap dances before we went home and I agreed to go to some Russian place, somewhere in deep Brooklyn.

All I can remember about the lap dance was that I wasn’t going to come, till the Russian girl had an orgasm. I remembered that the lap dance took a long time and I believe it was a stand-off.

Don’t Believe In Real Time Part One

..I have floated through most of my life. It only sounds good. I try to stay in the present moment. That’s what they say, “Live in the moment!”
Well, yeah, sure, I guess but I don’t even live in my past. I live in my Holocaust Survivors past. I float rooted to the Holocaust.

Many days I wake up and I am my five year old mother, malnourished hiding in a bunker with her family who is dying off around her. She is building castles out of mud and in her own world. Her sister is eating everybody’s buttons trying to commit suicide, she is eight, her baby brother has tape across his mouth so he won’t scream out.

My five year old mother is playing with two kids who have recently died…

Damn, I hate when I wake up in someone else’s past. Not that I have the truth about her past. I didn’t even know till ten years ago that there were two other kids who didn’t make it. I had heard rumor of one child dying. I asked her over dinner, “Mom, what happened in that hole? What happened to the kid?”
“Which one?” she asked.
Woah. I just let it go but I cried a little.

And now here I was a fifty year old man supposedly going on an expedition to The Holocaust Museum in Washington. It was set up by our Second Generation Holocaust Survivors Group Therapist. The Women in the Group met at like 7 in the morning and went together.
The Men in the Group decided to meet at 9 but we really had other plans. We were going to say we missed the train and couldn’t make it in time (for whatever horrors they were going to show us that day in the museum.) We were going to play Hookey. We thought about going to a movie and lunch and then some cocktails.

We stood watching the train leave. We pretended to run for it and we feigned holding up our hands and stopping the train.
Sol said, “Let’s go smoke a joint.”
Moe said,”You’re the only one who smokes pot!” Moe said it kind of huffy. He says most things kind of huffy. He means well but he’s super judgmental.
Daniel said,”I kind of wish we were going on that train. I like trains. When I miss a train, I feel like I might die.”
“Big surprise,” Izzy said.

It was too early to get heavy verbally between us(even though we always did), but what Izzy meant was, many people died because they missed trains out of Nazi town, and many people died because they caught the wrong Nazi train out of town and ended up out of sight.

We all knew what Izzy meant. It’s not obvious to me, what you do or do not know. My sense of the public’s perception of what Jews are talking about are

So there we were: Izzy-Big Macher. He liked making money and he made money on the telephone all day long with his broker. It was weird to be around him when he was on the phone. Just now he said,”Crush Engelman. Fuckin’ rip his heart out. Let’s close him down for good.”
He got off the phone and said,”Another one bites the dust.”

There was Sol- ThePot smoking pest exterminator and the only Orthodox Jew among us. Izzy also said he was Orthodox and wore a yamuka, but what he meant by that is that he was a Republican and the yamuka was to hide his bald spot.

Mo- Was crushed by his mother’s narcissism. He still lived in her basement, because she needed him to always take care of her, even though she made him feel bad for still living at home. He liked to take care of us all…What I mean by that is that he thought he was being helpful and insightful, but he crushed us and made us feel bad about ourselves.

Daniel – was in and out of our group. He’d be around for six months and then he’d go travel and be in the midwest putting a house together, then he’d go to Nepal and see a guru about a dream he had. He was always the kind of guy that wanted to take that train. I knew that it was going to bug him for a while that we just didn’t go to the Holocaust Museum.

Daniel said,”We should take the next train and go see the Museum. We can go out to eat there, and have a good time in Washington.”
We all looked at him.
I said,”Do you really think we can have a good time after looking at all those photos of starving Death Camp people?
Moe said,”Doctor Cohen is also going to be mad at us. And when we get back to our session, I am going to tell her about what we did.”

Sol said,Fuck her. We need some time off to de-stress this fucking life. Fuck her and her Holocaust Museum. Some special shit, that was going to cure us? We’ve been going for how many years, anyone feel cured?”
Moe raised his hand.
Sol said,”always the most fucked up one, feels the healthiest. I gotta smoke some weed. “

Moe said,”Where are we going?”

“Let Daniel take us somewhere? He the to go guy for knowing what is up?”

Daniel said,”I know exactly where we are going today. We’re going to Floyd Bennett Field. It used to be an Air Field during World War II but before that, it has pockets where the beach is eroding and there’s all this old garbage underneath filled with cool old bottles and crap.

Sol, Moe and I looked at each other. Izzy was back on the phone making money. From what I could understand from his conversations, he was making side bets on Investment Houses that they would fail. It didn’t feel like normal putting money down as an investment. He was betting on other people’s failures. I couldn’t really follow. The main thing was that he was going to just follow us where ever we were going.

It was a long schlepp to Brooklyn and unfortunately my phone worked on the elevated train… All my women in my life were calling me at the same time. My wife, my girlfriend and my mistress all needed attention, and I gave it to them.

My wife called to complain,”You shouldn’t be allowed to go anywhere with that guy Sol. He needs adult supervision. All of you Victims should have name tags on you. How is the Museum?”
We are just arriving to the exhibit about…”
“I don’t want to know. It’s all too depressing. I can’t imagine how bringing you there is going to help any of you. You and that Shrink of yours should all go to DisneyWorld. Has going to your Group helped you at all?”

I wanted to tell her the truth… I wanted to say that there is no cure, no immediate resolution but at least now what’s wrong with me. Maybe one day I will have a chance to deal with my problem… And my problem is… No woman I choose to be with can help me with my problem, because I only choose women like my mother and I only choose women like my mother because I want to help them, I want to save them from themselves and so I am always doomed to failure because you can only save yourself. When will I learn that.

The End Part 1

Based On A True Story – With A story Idea Terry Murphy Helped me with

A small Bungalow. The idea should be that this is a cabin, where screaming can go on and no one will hear it.

A car comes to a screech outside. Fumbling and then a body is pushed into the room. Jake has a sack over his head and starts running around. He hits a wall and falls…A moment passes and then another body with a sack over his head walks in. Lenny clearly has accepted his fate.
Johhny

Make yourself at home boys…

Jake

(Muffled sounds from Jake. He clearly is gagged.)

Johnny

Got something to say. All you writers have something to say all the time.
(He walks over to Jake and takes off the sack. He unties the gag.)

Jake

Put the sack back on my head. I don’t want to see you.

Johnny

It’s alright you can look at me

Jake

I don’t want to look at you. I don’t want to look at you.

Johnny

It’s alright you can look at me. (Makes Jake look at him) See, I’m not that ugly. Why wouldn’t you want to look at me?

Jake
I thought if I look at you, you might have to kill me

Johnny

Damn, you’re right

(Jake whimpers)

Relax, nobody is killing nobody… yet. Do you know why you are here? Damn, you got some blood on that tuxedo of yours. I hope it’s a rental. They expect blood from rentals.

Jake

It’s my own Tux. I was on my way to accept an award tonight.

Johnny

I know

Johnny

Do you know why you are here?

Jake

Money… But if you think you are kidnapping me and getting money from anyone, you made a mistake. They would rather see me die. Who is the other guy? (Jake is looking at Lenny who is still got the sack on his head)

Johnny

First let’s tie you up to the chair before we begin negotiations. (He ties him up)

Johnny walks over to Lenny and takes the sack off his head

Lenny

What are you doing? Are you crazy? This is no way to do things

Johnny

(Johnny slaps his hand on the table)
This is the only way to get things done. You writers, write your shit on paper. You get everybody excited about some bullshit, but you don’t have the balls to do anything. I’m doing something for you.

Jake

I’ll leave now, if you two want to be left alone.

Johnny

Shut up. (He bitch slaps Jake across the face) It’s the two of you that need to get it together.

Jake

What are you talking about? You got the wrong guy. You think we are in some Cult. Are you a Deprogrammer?

Johnny

Shut-up. Am I familiar to you? Do you recognize me yet?

Jake

You are kind of familiar to me but it’s weird. I can’t place you, but… Are you an Actor. You remind me of an Actor in a story..

Johnny

A story? Your story?! Your story about an ex-marine who is a little off the wall. He believes in Sex, drugs and rock and roll. He takes his bike across the country in order to meet all the friends he has met on the Internet and to party with them. That story?

Jake
(nervously) What’s going on here? Who is this other guy?

Johnny

He’s the guy who interviewed me about my adventure. He wrote my story and you stole his story when you slept with his wife… and she told you what her husband was working on…And we have a problem that needs solving,and I am a problem solving Marine. (He pulls out a big knife)

(Black Out)

Porno Is Not What It Used To Be- The Joke that will solve the crime

Here is a joke I will try to bring into the story. I need a break from writing the story because as most stories I write, I don’t know what it is exactly about or what is going to happen next.

A Jewish woman walks over to his Jewish husband and demands 500 dollars.
“I just gave you 500 dollars a couple of days ago. What happened to that money? “
Let me get a pen and paper and we can do some accounting.
He gets the pen and paper and says,”O.K. what happened to the first 200 dollars?”

She says, “The first hundred went for this and the second hundred went for that.

The husband writes that down on his paper,”O.K. what happened to the next two hundred dollars?”

I can’t remember,” she says. “And the last hundred dollars is none of your business!”

(I want this joke to solve the murder. Of course, I have no idea what this means yet or how it could solve a murder, but I believe it is this joke that will make the hero realize who and why the murders took place. Wish me luck. I certainly know how to make my life difficult… Hmm. let me write that down and stick it in my wallet.)

Porno is Not What It Used To Be

Category: Religion and Philosophy
It was not easy to make these old Holocaust Survivors break out into laughter. Still, it was my job to try. It would have been easier if I was funny and original.
That I am not.
I am original, just not really funny in my originality. My originality incites rioting among my people. Here’ what one bit which almost got me killed. They came at me with plastic forks and bingo boards…
All I said was,”Hitler would have gotten away with eventually killing all us Jews, if only he wasn’t such a Real Estate whore. He tried to develop the land too quickly.”
The boos started coming from the crowd. I should have moved on to traditional self deprecation, but I am a stubborn guy and I thought for sure, that I could win over these Holocaust survivors.
“Folks, and look how the victims in Israel have now become the aggressive Real Estate moguls, terrorizing people in the Middle East, New York and right here in Boca.”
My mother stood up from the crowd and said,”I always knew he was anti-semitic. Let’s get him.”

Oh that was not a good scene. Still, they had me back there a month later. Most of the folks have Alzheimers, and as long as I kept telling jokes about schlemiels, schlamazels and schmegegies, they were willing to forget about my bad original material.

I thought I’d be working the circuit of Old Age Homes till I could get into one myself. I figured by the time my mother and all the rest of the Holocaust Survivors died, they’d make room for the next generation of Second Generation Holocaust survivors to enter: and then the party would really take off.
Who knew that I would become embroiled in a serial murderer of someone who was killing retired
Prostitutes in all the Retirement Villages throughout
Florida.

End Part One (The kids want to get on the computer)