RAH RAH RAH !

The last time I stopped to fill my gas tank, I began to wonder at what point would it be feasible to eschew the use of a car and resort to begin riding a horse? When does that economic cross point occur? At six dollars a gallon? Seven dollars a gallon? Insurance, maintenance and fuel vs. veterinarians, feed and stable bills. That gap is closing. Progress is to be using horses again? What's next? The return of the abacus?

Last Sunday being Easter Sunday, I was recalling past Easter Sundays when I was a child. I remember the candy, I remember the Sunday barbeque, I remember my brothers and cousins. And I remember my late mother and father. I also was remembering my much older cousin Harry and he setting me straight on the birds and the bees during Holy Week when I was a kid. Having known my mother and father and with all that I know now, I'm still not convinced that my brothers and I were not virgin conceptions.

I work in Manhattan, in a six story building with a basement. This building employs three-hundred people. One of them is Victor the air-conditioning/building maintenance supervisor. Victor is 87 years young. He's about 5'5'', weighs about 130 pounds, with a shock of bright white hair, and he's got the most distinguishing blue eyes. He's outlived his closest loved ones. His wife died over ten years ago and his only daughter died some years later from cancer. Victor stays alive and vibrant because he takes the subway to work every day and because he gets a free breakfast every one of those days. The American Medical Association does not know this but, free bagels, fruit, coffee, orange juice and two half priced subway rides five days a week are the key to longevity. Who knew?

Everyday, Victor needs to cool a separate portion of the building more aggressively for two hours in the morning and two or three times a week he overlooks to reset the flaps that direct the air through the ducts. Because of this, my work area becomes stuffy. At least twice a week I touch base with Victor over the phone. It's practically the same conversation every time: Ring, ring, ring, ring, ring, "Air-conditioning, Victor hea-h"............."Victor, good morning, how much love do you have today?", I ask him...........Victor answers, "Why?".............."Please cool it off here on the second floor, it's warm and stuffy again"............"Oh, I had to cool off the (big room) this morning", he says every time.................."So Victor, do you love us on the second floor?", I answer..............."You want me to cool it off for you?"............."Yes Please!", I say................"You're on the second floor?", he asks................"Yes, on the second floor.", I answer...................Victor with his standard phrase, "OK, will-do."............."Thanks Victor", click.

Read the morning papers today and read the most bizarre story about some meth abuser in Oregon who last year fired TWELVE nails from a nail gun into his head and lived! He went to the hospital complaining of a headache only to be diagnosed with "nails in the head". How I wish I could see hidden camera video of the x-ray technician after processing the patient's images and the brain surgeons' when presented with the x-rays. Could meth be a substitute for body armour for US soldiers in Iraq?

One other thing. I've been urged by some urban urchins that I need to take on a "rap handle". After long hours of consideration and much loss of sleep over this subject, I have settled on two. I would like to be called "Gingerbread" during daylight hours and "Colt40PD" during night hours. People will ask me what PD stands for and I will tell them when they ask.

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posted by JerryNJ @ 6:17 PM