Volume 67, Issue 3

Ramblings Stays Up Way Past His Bedtime

by Avi Mermelstein

It’s that time of the month again.  No, not that time of the month.  What’s wrong with you people, stooping to the lowest common denominator this early in a column?  Is that the type of column you want?  (I keep writing “article” instead of “column.”  Sad how I’ve been reduced to writing real articles as well as columns.  So much so that I keep writing “article” instead of “column.”  But I think I mentioned that already.  Not that I’m running out of material 83 words into a column.  Although I think this is the earliest I have ever resorted to the word routine.  This is already pretty ugly.  I think I had better close this parentheses before I pour more salt into my own gaping parentheses.  Or boiling oil.  Or anything not as soothing as an ointment.  Close, sesame!)  Like I was saying before I was so rudely interrupted (no one is ever interrupted any other way), it’s time for me to write a column about something or nothing in particular.  I guess I prefer to write about nothing but make it seem like there is substance somewhere in the column.  I guess I won’t have to worry about the “seem” part this time; I don’t think I’ll even try.  It would be like Calista Flockhart wearing horizontal stripes.

It’s not that there haven’t been excellent suggestions to me (passive voice; change to: “It’s not that people haven’t made excellent suggestions to me…”  No, that’s weak as well.  Maybe something along the lines of: “It’s not that I have lacked for suggestions.”  Very punchy.  I hate it.  It’s going in.  Though I do believe strikethrough is a new low.)  It’s not that I have lacked for suggestions.  Indeed, just the other day, some guy who resembled Yehoshua Levine without his goatee suggested that I write about the awkwardness of communication in various situations.  I immediately thought of an elevator I frequently take to the second floor.  It is run by an elevator man (is that a special field, learning to press buttons on an automated elevator without cracking up at the people who apparently can’t do it themselves?), and goes the one floor before stopping, then waiting approximately 25 seconds (as if daring me to try to guess when it’s going to open, ready to wait another five seconds the moment I make any sort of motion towards the door) before finally opening.  I think that if I spent an entire day waiting for those doors to open, I would discover it to be two months later when I finally walked out.  So, assuming that such a time-warp exists, what is the proper etiquette for small talk in an alternative universe?  Unfortunately, I have more questions than answers on this subject.  It seems that as time slows down, gravity weighs down my tongue, so, naturally (or supernaturally, as the case may be—or is) I’ve never said a word inside that elevator.

However, knowing nothing about a subject should never deter someone from writing extensively upon it.  I have seen several shining examples of this principle; most of them while reading my high school papers (for the first time—no, I didn’t read them when I originally wrote them.  It made it so much more exciting when they were handed back) but, most, recently, while perusing the writing guidelines for this prestigious paper.  Yes, The Commentator.  You can stop laughing now.  I’ll wait.  Ladies and gentleman, I’ll wait here all day if I have to.  You’re wasting your own time.  Good.  So, this newspaper gives out writing guidelines for the uninitiated.  They were pretty funny.  But I don’t have them in front me, so I can only give you a few highlights.  Like the one cardinal rule that sums it all up: “Don’t mistake.”  Of course, this imperative was preceded by the sentence, “Sy Symns senior Elly Goldenberg…” and not followed by any punctuation marks in particular.  In fact, there was a large space and the guidelines began a new paragraph that continued in a different vein.  But I believe the significance of the “Don’t mistake” command is so paramount that the wise (perhaps divinely inspired) author of these guidelines saw fit to set off the command from all others so as to emphasize its centrality to the writing of newspaper articles (not columns).  “Don’t mistake” is simple, concise, and always applicable.  If I’m ever in doubt, from now on, I will return to this maxim for strength and guidance.

            There were some less helpful hints.  I particularly mean the sports-writing guidelines, which included templates that I could find no use for.  There were articles on the basketball team winning, articles on the basketball team winning and Yossy Gev breaking a record, even one article on the basketball team losing and Yossy Gev not playing.  But there weren’t any articles about the abject humiliation that I had to (well, “had to” is a bit strong) express in my article about the soccer team.  Sometimes mere journalism doesn’t tell the story.

            I also couldn’t find anything helpful to aid me in writing this column.  I was reading the guidelines page and the last thing I remember is a sentence about being concise.  The rest of it is all a blank.

            Well, the screen is getting blurry which is always a good time to stop (If I see three screens I usually type on the one in middle.  It’s just when the one itself is moving and zooming in and out and making grandiose claims such as, “I am the Walrus” that I usually call it a day).  There was some good way to end this—something to do with Mo Vaughn being the reason why baseball doesn’t give out championship belts—but that was a while ago somewhere else ‘cause it sure and here and now.

What do you think? Click here to send a letter to the editors.
All content is copyright © Yeshiva University Commentator.