The Confiscator
Purim 5760

Message in a Time Capsule: A Crack-Inspired Diatribe

by Aaron Klein

I offer this message to all those browsing the Confiscator archives in hopes of discerning the quality of life at the turn of the millennium. All right, I'll admit, like every time I write my columns, I'm a little drunk right now.

In fact, I am so piss drunk it's not even funny. So I've retired to my room to write about the year. It was a strange year indeed, a kind of seasoning among the marshes, the migrating fowl and the students of Yeshiva. Don't tell anyone, but I think Alex slipped something in my drink because now I'm seeing smurfs.

So I'll just sit it off and write. I'll be fine; just as time heals the marsh grasses that whither and perish in the winter cold, so does it quell the storms that often threaten the human soul. Yes sir.

Wow, the sun is rising. It's setting again. My hands are getting jiggy. I think I can see the message in the chaotic flow of events that have conquered me. Yeah, this year we had a great time; a time when I became aware of the tides ebbing and flooding in accordance with the transcendental clockwork of the universe; a time of arrogantly inserting my picture on the front page of every edition; a time of pale, wafer thin moon in the early Washington Heights sky, of peeing in the plants outside the office, of misusing eight million dollars and of the last star to vanish with the coming of the sun over the green waters.

My head is spinning now, the smurfs just turned into little Normy Lamms, and they're poking me with their pitch forks. Anyway, so it was a good time, for I have never followed the hunters into the woods or the fishermen up the river. I think I saw Phoebe Rock on television the other day, she was playing (I Dream of) Genie's evil sister. Speaking of secretaries, has anyone ever seen the MYP lady? Every time I see her, I feel like rubbing her head and making a wish upon a star. Oh, Shabbos, who's saying that?

I feel like I'm in a boat, the sole craft desecrating the steel gray waters. The marsh is anchoritic, reflective and brooding; Leo Taubes is off the deep end. He used to give out only "C"'s, so we called him the "C" Monster, but now he's the Mother "F"er. Weeee... I'm on a canoe. I'm the only person in a vast stretch of water, the only index of civilization in the tenuous, light-inflected darkness of five o'clock in the morning. I actually think I'm going to throw up now.

I'm back. I feel a lot better. Holly Haahr teaches french what? My head is spinning, the little Normys are climbing up my legs and chirping something in German. I think I'm going to lie down for a few minutes. Hope you all have a Happy Purim, and don't forget the rodenticide!

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