12-6-01

Joel leads a murky life, dozing about his tongued-tied modules, his parsimonious underpant collection. He blunders from one vague impulse to another, his main driving force: inertia. Once a day, he flees to "just because." He's one of those guys, you know the kind, who keeps a bit of cheese in his pocket. He'll admit he peed in his mom's beer when he was a little kid, but that's a lie. It was apple juice. It was a tough childhood with nothing in the air but bone and asbestos.

Joel is fond of saying that the Jews are the chosen people. Sure, they get to skip to the front of the line and often have back stages passes. Jews also get double miles on every purchase. But they aren't chosen in the way he means, by random double elimination.

I met this Joel, walking through the woods of a sunny day, dodging bullets. We had nothing in common, and we spoke little. But in the end, you have to respect his firm disrespectfulness. You do, I don't. But this isn't about me, it's about you. You and Joel. I hope you are happy together in your swanky houseboat with your doily collection and French batique appliqué.

Let's set the record straight, because the record has been sitting in the sun for way too long. I spin the tunes,
you
dance, young quark, dance.