no, this isn't a joke. been starting to think the world is really coming to an end, and it has nothing to do with my decision not to use caps in lieu of wearing too many baseball caps (trying to put a cap on my caps?), for i've been chased recently by a string of bad luck like no other i've seen in my... er... 11 years on this planet, why else would i assume that today would be any different? my fortunes started going askew again as i was forced to make my 2nd trip to the farther reaches of queens in a mere matter of days. i suppose i should've known better, but i also thought that the cursed f train went above ground at some point during the hellishly long journey. no such luck, and as i didn't leave an hour to get to this far away place where i was supposed to meet some other cater dwellers and head out to greenwich, ct (yet again) for some rich-ass function w/ donald trump, i missed the ride. i couldn't call them of course b/c i was buried alive with other metropolitan mole people in the burrowing, winding metal slugway train. so, after i finally got there, and am met by no one, i made some calls to see what i should do. the only call that came in while i was in tran-shit was a potential acting gig booking, which i missed out on b/c i was under the fucking earth. i spend an hour waiting to see whether anyone wearing a tux will call me back, or whether i should go underground again (not a bad idea should it really be the end of the world). well, needless to say, i'm f'ing it back to the les after over 2 hours spent paying my respects to queens. shit mood, and then something happens which may or may not change things entirely (who knows, as shortly after the incident i'm about to describe i run into my neighbor who's just been evicted by federal marshals, and he wasn't that much more behind on rent than i am now). i head for the subway exit, defeated from my failed attempt to put myself in the position to potentially, if nothing else, get fired by donald trump for spilling a drink on him, when i find that i've gone up the wrong staircase. i gotta backtrack, which puts me at the foot of the escalator to essex street fortuitously a couple of minutes after i would have been there, and after the rush of other proles from the hole. as soon as i hit the escalator, i hear "help me, can you help me!" i look up, and there's this hispanic women trying in vain to aid an old hasidic guy who'd taken a fall on the moving steps and was about to incure further damage from the sucking in rotation device that is the top of those things. with soiled tux in one hand and vinyl briefcase (my leather one was stolen, remember?-see posting from last week) slung over my shoulder, i run up and I lift the old guy just in the knick of time. he was covered in blood, from 2 massive head wounds and a gash on his hand. i dragged him off the thing, retrieved his cane, hat and yarmulke for him, and went to get some official help-which took a good 20 minutes to arrive. throughout all this, the old guy remained conscious, but didn't utter a single word... it was eerie. the 2 ambulance guys came and they didn't say a word either, not a one, as they bandaged him up like a mummy... as i walked off, trying to straighten out my back, which took a beating from lifting the surprisingly heavy old guy (as i didn't bend my knees you know), i thought "and here i was thinking that i was having a bad day. maybe this is the turnaround event that exists in every good story about people with shit luck". this feeling, however, was fleeting, b/c after i saw my neighbor shoving all his belongings reluctantly in a u-haul, looking like he was about to cry tears of rage, i've been thinking that this event with the old hasidic guy was more of an omen, aplocalyptic-like, you know the kind; straight outa the movies. like here's this moses-esque figure struck down in his ascent, if you will, and maybe he was trying to tell us something but couldn't...? maybe not, i dunno, all i can say is that shit just isn't funny these days. like that film with the 2 wayans bros. posing undercover as white chix in the hamptons? how the hell did that get green-lighted? hell is the word. or that dodgeball film... did i miss something? wasn't dodgeball like given a bad rap just a few years ago b/c of its survival of the fittest exclusionary tendancies? ahhh lil' ben stiller, he can make us all laugh about our troubles, can't he. maybe he'll end up playing this old bloody moses man in a movie, which i'll end up having to rent. i tell you what though, it was like those two silent ambulance jockeys knew this was a bad sign or something. good ol' retired ex-marine dentist lester rosenthal's black humor wouldn't even cut it here. i mention him b/c it just reminded me that i really hope he's not the dad of that (really not worth the trouble of a link) www.baddentist.com guy larry rosenthal, but now i don't know what to think about that either, cause shit just aint right today. yeah, i know, i suppose i saved this old guys life, but maybe he was tryin' to get sucked under the escalator, and i actually ruined his chances of going to the big barmitzvah in the sky. you know, come to think of it, the hispanic woman who yelled for my help vanished immediately... fuckin' weird. i need a vacation.... but i guess i'll have to settle for the vicarious thrill i'll get from reading an article on the trainwreck olsen twins, mary-ate nothing and ashley. first, however, i'll leave you with a couple of telling quotes to lighten up the mood:
"if you want a picture of the future, imagine a boot stamping on the human face... forever"
-george orwell
"eeny, meeny, jelly beanie, the spirits are about to speak" -bullwinkle
1 comment:
Larry Rosenthal the bad dentist is totally worth the trouble of a link. That site is amazing!
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