Tuesday, 30 May 2006

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...
Contrary to Popular Belief, Good People Still Exist [I've spent most of my day grading and doing my best Timothy Burke. Check that first link if you want to see Holbo pull out a can of "whip your ass" on me. Sorry. Can't resist the urge to mock Canadians.] Tonight I put away the snark in order to write about simple human goodness. That's right. I said it: Sometimes the world isn't a cruel place. Earlier this evening I returned to the scene of the pain to purchase a salad. (I've been told to walk around for at least 30 minutes a day to stretch out all the tight and torn little muscles in my back.) I hadn't even considered that walking through that parking lot would be existential torture until the Little Womedievalist said it was gutsy of me to traverse it again so soon. And I was gutsy . . . if by "gutsy" you mean "limped through the median's ground-hugging shrubbery." So I purchased some salad and was hacking my way back through the lot when the owner of the liquor store beckoned me: Mike: Dude! What are you doing? Scott: Heading home. Mike: I see that. What's with the gimping? Scott: I got hit by a car. Mike: Fuck! That was you? At which point I exited the medial jungle and looked to my left, then to my right, then both ways, then both ways again, then limped across the lot to talk to him. Turns out the police are on the case. They've collected credit card receipts from all the stores in the complex stamped between 7:50 and 8:20 p.m. last Friday night. Apparently, they're taking this possible felony hit-and-run seriously. (When I talked to them all I was told is that they were "still investigating.") I don't know what they're doing with those receipts, but I hold out hope that they're forwarding them to Vincent D'Onofrio, who will then enter the names of the credit card owners into a DMV database and determine which of them own Honda Civics. Then he'll put 'em in the box. After a few moments of professional grilling, they'll break down. If only. In the real world, I'm thankful that Mike expressed real sympathy for my plight. How do I know he did? Because he gave me a bottle of my favorite vodka gratis and a lift home. See what I mean? Sometimes the world isn't a cruel place. (cue Jimmy Stewart) Sometimes people are awful nice.

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