FinermanWorks

I just endured a series of sadistic trials called a check-up.  The aforementioned check could subsidize a trophy wife for the doctor or at least make a down-payment for his offspring’s semester at an Ivy League school.  (Yes, my health care reform would limit the practice of medicine to eunuchs or monks; if that was good enough for Charlemagne, it’s good enough for you!)

The doctor wondered if I might have a case of lactose intolerance.  It apparently is the latest rage among middle-aged Jews, and the doctor didn’t want me to miss out on the fad.  Indeed, being lactose tolerant on the North Shore could label me as a pariah.  An aging SDT could run me over with her BMW, and no jury here would convict her.  I might even be billed for the cost of her interrupted cellphone call.

I explained to the doctor that I am lactose indulgent.  I consume a pint of ice cream a day.  I have done more for Wisconsin than Robert La Follette has lately.  The doctor suggested that I forego dairy products for two weeks; I told him that period of abstinence would put me on a suicide watch. 

Of course, Karen realizes that I am serious.  She also knows that it would take me about 25 years to finish the suicide note.  As in all my writing assignments, I do tend to wait to the last minute. 

So, you all have ample time to buy your copies of “My Calendar of Irony”  and “Theodora”  as well as send a sympathy note to Karen.  (Unless you want to console her for her taste in husbands–in that case, federal express it.)

p.s.  Let’s not forget the historic significance of this day:  https://finermanworks.com/your_rda_of_irony/2008/08/20/on-this-day-in-636/

Irvine Robbins, co-founder of Baskin-Robbins, is now a root bier float. Of course, I am inconsolable. If you want one difference between Shintoism and Judaism, I am not expect to disembowel myself with an ice scoop. But I may do so anyway. The closest I have come to being a gigolo–so far–is that in college I dated a lady who worked at Baskin-Robbins. Is it a coincidence that we broke up soon after she quit that job?

And here is another reason for grief. I am now paying as much for one gallon of gasoline as it once cost to fill up the tank. I am experiencing similar pain in the price of soda and ice cream (the staples of my life). Karen assures me that the other food items–the things that mature adults are supposed to eat–are also increasingly expensive.

Yet, according the Bureau of Labor Statistics, there is no over-all increase in inflation. Now, why would I have any reason to doubt the honesty or accuracy of the Bush adminstration? I am sure that the government statistics reflect some unique calculations. For example, the price of furniture has not increased over the last year. So, we savvy savers can buy a bed equipped with wheels, use the frame as a vehicle and eat the mattress.

Furthermore, the statistics tell us that there are some great bargains down there. The price of many stocks have gone down. A share of Ford or Bear-Stearns is less than a pound of steak. (In fact, those companies may soon be competing with the price of chicken.). Why, the dollar itself is a bargain: just 50 percent of what it used to cost. Ask any foreigner–he’ll agree after he stops laughing.