Sunday, 28 May 2006

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Why I Didn't Post Anything New on My Blog Last Night I meant to post last night, but by the time I got back from buying cat food at Albertson's I felt run down. Like I'd been hit by a truck. Or an enthusiastically riced Honda Civic. Like this one. Only darker. Its owner revved its engine and backed out at 90. I placed my right hand on its unnecessary spoiler, pushed myself into the air, slammed into the back windshield, then its owner threw it into drive and I rolled off the back windshield and onto the parking lot. I heard it gun its engines and watched it drive away. I was still clutching the bag of cat food. My iRiver was still in my pocket, but I could neither feel nor find my headphones. A kind man dropped his groceries and ran to me and asked if I needed any help. He said, "Do you need any help?" I said, "I don't think so." He said, "I didn't catch the license number." I said, "Me neither." He said, "Are you sure you're alright? Do you need a lift?" I said, "No, I live right up there." Then I walked home. I felt my heart pounding through my shoulder. I climbed three flights of stairs. It was fun. I opened the door and put the bag of cat food in the tin. I poured and drank a stiff drink. I walked into the Little Womedievalist's office and informed her I'd sort of been hit by a car in the parking lot. I said, "I was sort of hit by a car in the parking lot." She said, "Are you alright?" I said, "The man asked that too. I was fine then but I feel sort of strange now." She said, "What do you mean 'sort of strange'?" I said, "Like I don't know." She said, "We should call someone." I called Albertson's and asked if they had cameras pointed in the parking lot. The woman on the phone said they didn't because the parking lot belonged to the Irvine Company. I called the Irvine Company. The message said, "Business hours had ended." I hung up and called back. I listened to the message again. I wrote down the number of the private security company Irvine employees to watch over Albertson's parking lot. I called them. The dispatcher informed me that she was only a dispatcher and didn't know if there were cameras. She said their security guard left at 7 p.m. and wouldn't return until 3 p.m. on Saturday. She recommended I call the police. I called the police station next to my apartment complex. I told the officer what happened. He said I needed to call the Irvine police because Albertson's is across the street. I called the Irvine police. They said they would send someone out. I brushed my teeth and calmed the wife. I began to feel sort of stranger in my lower back. I sat down on the couch with excellent posture and watched Pedro lose...
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The Kaufman Associate Futuro-Karmic Advance Emergency System (Quiet/Unquiet/Expired) Designed by the great-grandchildren of German V-2 engineers, the Kaufman Associate Futuro-Karmic Advanced Emergency System (Quiet/Unquiet/Expired), or K.A.F.K.A.E.S.Q.U.E., functions as a vital early warning system in the War Against Karmic Offensives committed by a previous incarnation of the current Scott Eric Kaufman. Without the knowledge K.A.F.K.A.E.S.Q.U.E. provides, the odds of Kaufman walking away from the W.A.K.O. with even a hint of sanity would be slim. Appreciation of and gratitude for the K.A.F.K.A.E.S.Q.U.E. extends beyond Kaufman himself. K.A.F.K.A.E.S.Q.U.E. red teleophones have been cunningly planted on the desks of all his W.A.K.O. allies. His parents, his friends, his advisors—even a few of his old rabbis—are alerted the instant Karma launches an attack by a distinctive K.A.F.K.A.E.S.Q.U.E. ring. They then hasten to Kaufman headquarters—a.k.a. "The Castle"—and learn of the latest W.A.K.O. event to mar Kaufman's otherwise humdrum existence and ponder over the offensives response for this karmic retribution. Here's the scene last Friday: Alert Level: Unquiet (almost Expired) Executive Summary: Operative #1 (codename: "The Wife") estimates this latest misfortune was caused by the destruction of between an estimated 10 - 20 egregiously cute baby animals. "I estimate a 78.36 percent chance that a P.S. [Past Scott] was a professional kitten strangler for a period of 8 or 9 months." Operative #4 (codename: "Childhood Friend #2") disagrees. He considers this incident "too animalistic to be a consequent for a human P.S." and insists that it stinks of "insecticidal rage." [snip] The debate itself raged on for hours. In the end, no solid conclusions could be drawn, but everyone who needed to be alerted of the latest W.A.K.O. initiative heard the K.A.F.K.A.E.S.Q.U.E. word almost immediately after the incident occurred. Everyone left satisfied. Operative #219 (codename: "The Girl From That Time on the Bus in Seventh Grade") said it best: "Thank God for the K.A.F.K.A.E.S.Q.U.E. Otherwise we wouldn't have known what W.A.K.O. thing happened to Scott!" [Ah, if only! Below is what I originally wrote last night. It may help make sense of what I've written above. I'm slowly coming out of the loopiness and shock of nearing being killed. I haven't thought about what would've happened had I not jumped but instead been knocked down and backed over for like 10 minutes before I wrote this sentence. As noted in my comment below, I did watch a few hours of "The Dog Whisperer" marathon this morning, so I'm not sure I'm 100% mentally back yet. But much, much closer than yesterday.] So now that I've had three things happen that everyone I know should know about I've come to the conclusion that I need a listserv to catalogue my misery. This isn't self pity speaking here either. I'm being entirely pragmatic. People become genuinely angry with me for not immediately informing them about some disastrous thing which has happened recently—be it "acquiring" cancer, having my academic career almost destroyed by horny undergraduates or being up-ended and temporarily debilitated by an indifferent driver. So I'm going to start a listserv in which I embrace my divinely...

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