Delete, Delete, Delete!

Morning has come. Huge pot of coffee. Turn on the computer. Open Outlook Express. Down comes the torrent of useless drivel.

Email one. If I'd like, my penis can be sixteen inches long. Not that it isn't now. However, were it not, it certainly could be. The man selling the "Vi-ah-graaa" says so. His email address has a lot of X's and numbers in it, something like:

"X34234XX@lilpenie.com"

I wonder why he's so anonymous? He's a spy perhaps? DELETE!

Email two. A friend of mine. Its a lecture of sorts; I was able to figure that out once I waded through all the bad grammar and incorrect punctuation. The email contains a lot of inquisitive phrases. "You should do this!" "Why don't you do that?" "I don't understand why you're not doing this, that or the other thing!" "Why did you do that?" My eyes glaze over. I'm a bit nauseous from all the coffee and no food. I gag and the puke ends up on the computer screen. It covers my friend's annoying avatar which he includes with every email; a picture of KISS with his head superimposed where Ace Frehley's should be. DELETE!

Email three. Its from an acquaintance I met at a friend's house. It takes forever to download because it has ten megabytes worth of files attached. These consist of a five minute video compilation of her child's birthday party along with fifty pictures of same in case I have trouble viewing the video. This way I won't miss out on the fun. Which I do because my computer is the same one that was used to write the Bible and I can't see the video OR the pics. Then I think to myself "Why the hell am I trying to look at this?" I hardly know this person. I certainly don't know the kid. Why was this sent to me? She asked for my email because she said she was throwing a party and would like to invite me. Did she mean this kid's party? And if so why wasn't I invited? She also "requests a read receipt." DELETE!

Email four. Finally something important. The "Minister Plenipotentiary Of Eastern Nigeria" fervently requests my help with a pressing financial matter of utmost importance. I plan to answer him right after I take a dump. On my keyboard. That ought to go well with the puke on the screen. DELETE!

Please stop emailing me.

The King Of Surplus Cups

Thursday, August 16, 2007 marked the 30th anniversary of Elvis Presley's death. As a tribute to "The King" I purchased this at my local supermarket:

The Hershey company's packaging tells us to "Live Like The King." Apparently they believe the royal lifestyle will result from eating a candy facsimile of the sandwich that helped contribute to "The King's" death. They had wanted to put amphetamines in the original version but the FDA told them no.

I'm very glad that Hershey's has printed "Collector Edition" on the wrapper. I wasn't sure collecting them would be of value but now I know. Perhaps they will consider issuing a numbered certificate with each purchase so that once I've sat on these things (not literally) for a decade or so I can go list them on EBay and turn quite a profit on sales to overweight trailer folk.

Of course I'll have to store my "collection" in dry ice to prevent rotting, stinky peanut butter, banana and chocolate. All this being said I must admit these are damn tasty.

But alas I'm not going to collect the "King Cups." I already have a surplus of cups in my apartment and since I'm planning on moving in a couple of months I really don't wish to acquire any more inventory. What I really want is to get rid of most of them.

In fact I too am a "King" of sorts. I'm "The King Surplus Cups:"


I use "cups" as an all encompassing genre that includes "glasses," "mugs" and "bowls." As you can see there are a lot of them in the cabinet. How the hell a single man like me ended up with all these "cups" I'll never know. If you look at the mug directly to the right of the coffee pot you will see it is a "Hershey Mug," yet another example of the pervasive influence of that company in all our lives. I drank a beer from it as I ate my "King Cups."

Most single folks only need several "cups" to live comfortably. I hardly entertain and usually just use a coffee mug and one glass that I can keep rinsing out over and over again. Same goes for the bowls.

So what to do with the cups? And the bowls? And the mugs?

I'm not really sure. Some of you will tell me to "just throw them out." Others will tell me "donate them." After all there are many homeless shelters that can probably use some old glassware. Environmental types will be horrified if I don't turn them in for recycling.

These suggestions are all good but are entirely too logical for me. I need a suggestion on what to do with the "cups" that's comprised of a great deal of folderol and time wasting.

One solution I came up with is based on a dream I had about the following establishment, which doesn't actually exist YET:

I figure the first thing to do is phone someone in Kentucky and see if the town actually exists. If not I'll have to have it built; if it already exists that's even better. I'll also need to build "Route 29" and "Elmo's Bowl & Blow" BEFORE I build the actual museum. This way people will know how to find it. Then I build the museum, I donate my "cups" and PROBLEM SOLVED.

Now the question becomes how to raise the money. Corporate investors maybe? Wealthy private citizens? Its a great idea so I can't see any issue with raising the funds.

I need to sit down and flesh this out so I'm going to grab my "Hershey Mug," pour myself a beer and enjoy Hershey's latest product: "Reese's Mama Cass Ham & Cheese Sandwich Peanut Butter Cups."

Manny Shevitz Talent Management

And now, a short play I've written about talent agents. May they all live and be well.

MANNY SHEVITZ TALENT MANAGEMENT

Its early afternoon in the office of Manny Shevitz Talent Management Limited. The owner, Manny Shevitz, is on the telephone. He is a middle-aged huckster who always tries to make everything seem great even when it stinks.

MANNY: Manny Shevitz Talent Management Limited, this is Manny… Yes Sid, I have the kid outside right now… We’re going to tell him about the part and then we’ll send him over to you later… O.K., babe, I’ll get with you soon and we’ll do the right thing… Goodbye, Sid.

Manny's wife Bernice Shevitz enters with Thomas Anthony, a young and aspiring actor like one of whom you might see on a sit-com about people who hang out. Bernice is a basically a female version of Manny.

BERNICE: Here he is, Manny, Thomas Anthony!

MANNY: Wonderful! Have a seat kid… I see you’ve met my lovely wife, Bernice.

Thomas sits down.

THOMAS: Yes, I have. Thank you very much for seeing me.

Bernice goes and sits next to Manny.

BERNICE: Are you kidding?! After we saw your headshot we knew we just had to call you in. We had a "feeling" about you.

MANNY: And we also got the showcase invitation for that musical review you did out at the "Trenton Armory," "The Best of Ed Sullivan."

BERNICE: I never even knew Ed Sullivan sang.

THOMAS: It was "The Best of Gilbert and Sullivan." I really hoped you enjoyed it.

MANNY : We didn’t go. But when I saw that the flyer was printed on high gloss, tri-color paper I knew that it must be a good show. That’s real class.

THOMAS: Thanks. I almost didn't send you anything because your office is in Newark and its… hard to find, but my acting coach told me to mail to everybody. When I saw your ad in "The Star" I just couldn't resist.

MANNY: Smooth move kid. You won’t be sorry, for as the old saying goes, "I know talent!"

BERNICE: That’s an old saying?

MANNY: Yeah, its about ten seconds old. I just made it up!

Bernice and Manny burst into uproarious laughter.

BERNICE: Oh, Manny, you slaughter me like a Christian in a Roman Coliseum!

Bernice and Manny suddenly become silent and stare intently at Thomas.

MANNY: Should we tell him?

BERNICE: I think so, Cookie.

MANNY: Kid, before you came in I was on the phone with Sid Bentel the famous producer of such musicals as "Tova Borgnine, My Life and Times…

BERNICE: Starring the great Brenda Vaccaro in the title role…

MANNY: That’s right, thank you very much Bernice; and speaking of Brenda he also produced a very popular children’s educational musical called "Fun With the Four Food Groups" in which she played a giant kielbasa!

BERNICE: Opened in the Catskills; absolutely killed!

MANNY: Very true, very true. Anyway, kid, we showed him your headshot and he said he hasn’t been this impressed in over two months. He wants you for his latest project, a musical called "Broads, Broads and More Broads," in which you would play the part of the Easter Rabbit.

Thomas is wary.

THOMAS: That sounds really great. Is it "Off Broadway?"

BERNICE: "Off-Off." Its in Guam.

MANNY: The United States Army has a theater in Guam and they need acts to keep the soldiers entertained. You’d only be getting sixty-five dollars a week but you’d be helping out Uncle Sam.

THOMAS: Sixty-five dollars a week?

BERNICE: Minor detail. You get all the buffet you can eat and a free bed. And it was written by none other than the great Irving Schwartz!

THOMAS: Who’s that?

BERNICE: He’s my cousin from Lodi. He plays the banjo.

MANNY: That’s right. Probably the only banjo player ever to write a musical. And do you know who’s going to be playing the part of President Harry Truman?

Thomas is starting to become sarcastic.

THOMAS: Gary Sinise?

MANNY: None other than the guy who played Mr. Howell on Gilligan’s Island. His name escapes me at at the moment. He also did the voice of "Mr. McGoop."

THOMAS: Jim Backus. He’s dead.

BERNICE: Well, his career is a little slow right now but this should put him back over the top.

MANNY: Anyway, kid, you just have to give us two thousand dollars for new headshots and we’re all set. I’ve got an Instamatic camera right here in the desk. Just go stand against that green wall and we’ll get started.

THOMAS: Listen, I really appreciate your time but Guam is just a little far for me. I need to be really close to Broadway at all times, you know, the stink of exhaust, the beauty of the gutters; and anyway, I like my headshots. Thanks a lot.

Realizing its a scam, Thomas hurriedly shakes the hands of Bernie and Manny and tries to leave. Bernice angrily corners him.

BERNICE: Oh, I see! You think you’re too good for us! Well screw you, you little prick! We were going to cast you in a documentary we’re producing called "Pittsburgh, Ho!" You were going to play the part of the "Narrator!" Do you hear me?! The "Narrator!"

MANNY: You’re finished, Thomas Anthony! You’re gonna end up just like your cousin, Anthony Michael Thomas, shoveling dung in the circus someplace!

Thomas breaks away and runs out of the room.

BERNICE: He seemed like a nice kid, but entirely too Jewish!

MANNY: You wanna go in the back room and play some two-handed pinochle?

BERNICE: What the hell.

Bernice and Manny exit arm in arm.

***END***

Ah Landlord! Part 2

Ah, Landlord! It is good to have you back from Antigua! Regardless of what you may have heard to the contrary I don’t hold you personally responsible for not informing me that a construction crew was going to be spending an entire week rebuilding the deck of the tenant above me. To be honest I rather enjoyed it; what writer trying to concentrate wouldn’t? The cacophonous pounding of hammers and incessant buzzing of saws brought back many pleasant memories. It reminded me of that time I was in the Peace Corps overseas and the local constabulary built a gallows outside of my Quonset hut to curb a peasant uprising. How we fought to try and save the insurgents but in the end it was all for naught as the constabulary had vicious alligators and many loaded weapons with which to fight us! The alligators were almost as big as those rats I saw in the boiler room; I don’t mean to trouble you but have you phoned the exterminator yet? Discretion being the better part of valor prevents me from mentioning the name of that small third world country as they are still fighting to be free. I’m not sure if you have a working knowledge of geography past what you can see directly in front of your rather large proboscis so in the end I guess it really doesn’t matter!

Ah, Landlord! I stopped by your office the day after you returned from your trip to pay the "five-percent annoyance charge" which you levied on me for asking questions. You weren’t there but I had a nice conversation with your assistant (the hunchback who grunts a lot, not the one with bad teeth). I asked him (or is it her?) if perhaps you had brought back some sort of interesting native artifacts from your trip to Antigua. He (or her?) showed me the lovely snow globe, which you procured to use as a paperweight on your desk. It could only have been made by a very gifted West Indian artisan for the plastic base had very finely honed Art Deco style lines to it and the welcoming "Greetings From Albany" which graced the banner above Santa’s head gave me cause to stop and regard it more closely. That globe must have cost you a pretty penny and it made me feel as if I were in Antigua myself when I saw it. For this, dear Landlord, I thank you.

Ah, Landlord! You are the epitome of taste and high tone class! You are the well-tailored bon vivant of the nascent 21st century! Your nasal hairs glisten in the noon day sun and when you tie them to the hairs coming out of your ears and flip them to the top of your head it makes for quite the comb-over, the kind with which no toupee could ever compete! You, dear Landlord, are a shining example of the modern day real estate mogul! Now please, PLEASE, untie me!