THE BOOK OF JOE

OK I know I haven't written in a while so I'll tryto update you as plainly as possible. I stopped writing the screenplay (that should be my theme song), but this time I have a really good reason: it just wasn't honest. I was trying to write about a relationship by focusing mainly on the good times and rarely on the bad, but thats not the way it really was. Teh writing was poor, the characters flat, and the plot weak. Basically it was yucky (How's that for description?) Perhaps one day I'll move past page 51 in the script and rewrite it more honestly. I have turned my writing in another direction which I'll keep hush-hush right now out of fear of the eyen hora.
There's is absolutely nothing worth mentioning in my social life, so we won't go there. Although I said I wanted to slow things down in this area 6 weeks ago, I think after Pesach I may get out there again- we'll see.
I did start learning with a rabbi in the neighborhhod again (we're doing Rambam, which I enjoy). And the Mets scored 28 runs over the last three games which is simply outstanding- and fun to watch.
The thing I've been most excited about over the last week is this incredibly thought-provoking, funny novel called The Book of Joe by Jonathan Tropper. It's a coming of age tale of a 34-year- old man who must return to his home town to see his dying father. The problem is that basically everyone in town hates him because he wrote a book trashing their traditions, unveiling thier hypocricies, and revealing some very dark secrets. He must somehow learn how to get along with his older brother, try to be a good role model for his nephew who idolizes him, ease the suffering of his former best friend dying of aids, try to reconcile his relationship with his high school sweetheart ("the one that got away"), see if he can control himself around his childhood crush (an old friends mom), and try not to get killed by the old high school bully who took quite a shalacking in his book, and his it out for Joe.
The following statement is quite a heavy one if you know me, but I certainly mean it:
The Booke of Joe is the best non-Stephen King, non-class assigned book I have read in my adult life (sorry Chabon). It truly touched me, and had me laughing quite a bit. I should point out that there is a lot of sex in it, if you're sensitive about such things (although that probably just sealed the deal for some of you to go out and get it).
Even if I wasn't going through my own coming-of-age I have zero doubt I would have enjoyed this novel for its engrossing plot, sardonic narrator, and inspiring themes. GO READ IT!!
Well that's it for now. Hope you all have an awesome Pesach!! But more importantly I hope I have an awesome Pesach- because after all isn't it all about me? Something to think about over the holiday. CHAG SAMEACH AND SHABBAT SHALOM!

Return to Shea Part II

So now then.... The start of the new baseball season meant returning to Shea, and obviously it was going to be tough on me (not to mention the fact that the Mets were 1-5 at the time.) Fortunately I was able to go with my older brother Wednesday night, and I took my nephews on Thursday.
Every time I walk into Shea for the first game of the season I'm always taken back for a second or two by the scope of the stadium and purity of the field. I'm reminded of my childhood and my first time seeing Shea, and how I was simply in awe as I gazed at the field for the first time. It's memories like this that would help get me passed all the memories of games with "Her" and of the Mario experience.
Going to a baseball game can be a great bonding experience and I was quite glad to go with my older bro. As always I parked for free and managed to score incredible seats for no $ (I have my ways, which I won't be divulging here). We sat in the 7th row right behind first base and watched Kaz Ishii match the ageless Roger Clemens inning by inning. Each pitcher only gave up 2 hits. My brother and I had some good laughs, talked about our lives, and discussed "her" , putting things in a healthier perspective for me. We got a couple of pretzles, and nearly caught a T-shirt from the Pepsi Party Patrol. While the Mets weren't scoring any runs, neither were the Astros. Finally in the bottom of the 11th Jose Reyes had a game winning single, the Mets won and my brother and I slapped each other a high five. These are the type of great moments that can erase the Mario's.

The following night was equally as good. I took two of my nephews, one a die hard Mets fan (I'm so proud!), the other a self-proclaimed Yankee fan, who really just joined the bandwagon during the late 90's. I managed to fanaygle outstanding seats. We sat three rows behind the Mets on-deck circle, the players mere feet away from us. It was a cold, vicious night for baseball, with the temperature at 40 degrees and the strong wind blowing in. Only a pitch that was truly crushed would fly out on this night. As it turned out there were no home runs, though Mike Piazza seemed to crush a ball in the 7th, but that died by the warning track. I bought the boys hot dogs, soda and pretzels and we watched the Mets come back from a 3-1 deficit to win the game 4-3, and was able to give the Mets fan nephew a hearty hug in celebration. To make the experience even better both of the boys got balls from the ball boy. The younger one (the Mets fan) actually got the ball Reyes hit to tie up the game. They were both beaming, completely excited to tell their friends where they sat and how they got baseballs used in the game(which is the ultimate souvenir for a young boy). I picked the younger one up (he's a skinny 8-years old) for the T-shirt launch but once again we came up short. Yet the Mets won the game and I think I might have given my nephews a night of memories that will stay with them the rest of their lives (I doubt they'll ever get better seats). I know it will stay with me. I pray one day I can have such an experience with my own sons.

So now you see how I managed to erase some bad experiences at Shea. All I needed was some new positive memories to replace the old negative ones. G-d willing there will be dozens more high-fives, foul balls, hugs and Met wins at Shea stadium, and the sorrowful days of Mario and "Her" will simply fade away like the Montreal Expo's (Who?).

The Hopefool's Return To Shea Part I

The last time I went to a Mets game before Wednesday night was one of the 5 most embarrassing moments of my life.
It was last summer after coming back from my trip out west, and being utterly devastated to find that my life would not be going in the direction I had planned. Not only was I not passing go, but I had to move back three spaces as well. My heart was completely shattered. I spent a week or so covered in tears, starving myself in my basement, accumulating scary amounts of belly-button lint. One day I finally decided to get out and go to a Mets game. Big Mistake #1. I also decided I’d rather go alone. Big Mistake #2. Early in the game I was hit with a line-drive of depression. I had forgotten how many fun times I had had with “Her” (happy S----?), and was quickly reminded that those days were over, and that the life I had not only dreamed of, but psyched myself for, was just a silly daydream (my thoughts at the time at least).
I decided to go to the right field loge seats that were utterly deserted (as was most of Shea at the end of the 2004 season). The portly, poofy-haired, mustached, middle-aged usher promptly came over and asked to see my ticket. I had one for a much better seat in field box, but he said I had to go because he’d get in trouble as the ticket manager knew no seats were sold for that section. I tried to convince him to let me stay and when he said no once more I just lost it. Just a mabul of tears. Mario (as his name tag alleged) was totally taken back- as any usher might be after witnessing a grown man cry over his seat at a Mets game (with the team 20 games out of first no less!). He asked what was wrong and I told him. He then shocked me by sitting next to me and giving me a hug.
“C’mon now buddy, there’s other feesh in de sea”, he said, “ Ju just have to get out dere man. Jou’re a good looking guy, jou’ll be ok.” I was touched, humiliated and a little nervous. For whatever reason I went into poetic detail of how much I loved “her”. I think he was even a bit moved.
He then told me “Hey, if joo love her dat much, itz her loss man, ju know? I tell you one day she gonna realize it and wanna you back, but ju gonna be wit someone else.”
I explained to him that a lot of it was my fault, and that I don’t think she’d be too quick to run back. He then called over Tony the beer-vender. I should have been peeved that he was gathering an audience, but I honestly didn’t care if all of Shea saw me at that point. What difference did it make? He said something to Tony in Spanish. Tony shook his head, poured me a beer, and gave me a look that said “I know man. I know. Stay strong.” I couldn’t believe this was happening. Mario gave me another hug, offered a few final words of encouragement, and said he had to go back to work. He left me with my beer, which I drank every last drop of (I generally don’t like beer, but boy did I need a drink then). The tears subsided and with the Mets losing 8-0 in the 8th I decided it was time to go. I waved to Mario, who returned a clenched-fist that said “Joo gonna be ok”. I then ran back to my car, drove home as fast as I could, and found solace in some Tylenol PM and my bed.

That was my last game at Shea in 2004. Going back this year would be tough. How would I handle it? Stay tuned constant reader.

Time To Lose Some Weight

Based on today's title some of you may think that I'm referring to my physique. B"H I'm happy with my 155 lb frame so it's not that. But yesterday's blog was, well, heavy. So I figured for the next few days I'd lighten things up a bit. I think I'll briefly discuss some of the highlights of my adventures riding the F line to work everyday (on the NYC subway system for you out of towners).
Making fun of the overstuffed train, and the people who ride it is easier than Josh Becker after a few drinks. It is equally as easy to mockingly over-analyze the not-so pleasant demeanor most New Yorkers have as they stuff themselves in the train every morning. So rather than take the risk of being cliche I'll just write about some highlights of the past 5 months. In fact, now that Eddie Dean is back, I'll make a
TOP 10 out of it. So here are my TOP 10 NYC SUBWAY MOMENTS
10. Running into my old buddy Dave....who turned out not to be my old buddy Dave, but someone who looks like the way Dave could look now. Yes, I made an ass of myself, but I did it with a smile, so that counts for something right?
9. Having some old lady bring a can of air freshener on board and spray the car up.
8. Seeing some guy reading a Hustler as if it was Sports Illustrated.
7. Watching everyone try to move away from this incredibly smelly Indian man. But the train was packed, and many breaths were being held.
6. Seeing a woman breast feed, and watching every guy on board look, but make it look like they weren't not looking.
5. Having the conductor make the announcements as if he was laining (I promise this is true. The guy's Jewish and wishes me a "Boker Tov" when I see him.)
4. Seeing some guy reading the Dark Tower VII, and wishing him "Long days and pleasant nights as I exited" .... and he replied with "Thankee sai" !!
3. Exiting the car and switching to the one behind it after this Latino guy was playing Beatles songs on an accordian, and then seeing all the people I was around switching cars as well.
2. Seeing (and ignoring) the same incredibly annoying and intrusive J's Witness on three straight rides, who was finally told by this Italian guy who weighed a good duece and a half, "Shut the f--- up I'm trying to read!!!!" and then hearing half the car crack up in appreciation.
1. Running to catch a train, and as the doors were closing putting my hands between them and pushing them open, then getting on the train and giving a huge black guy a high-5 out of complete instinct.

Feel free to share your NYC Subway adventures.
-
And one last note: I returned to JCrew today and brought my Dell DJ, so Crewella was powerless once more (but I didn't end up getting anything).

Warning: The Following Blog May Be Too Intense (and long) For Some Readers

I have a very old DVD player. In fact, it was one of the earliest Panasonic models, which I purchased after my junior year in High School (yes, that was last century). For whatever reason it doesn't play all the latest DVD releases because of their "formatting". Basically it's temperamental. So when this happens I go watch by a friends (thanx again K!). Last night we viewed The Believer, and though that might sound like a film about a hopeful full who is determined to get "her" back, it is in fact an intense, emotional picture about a frum boy who becomes a neo-Nazi. As luck would have it the DVD crapped out with 5 minutes left. It kept skipping from the next to last scene to the credits! We tried cleaning it, watching it in slow motion, in fast motion, but it would keep skipping at some point during the climax. Finally we were able to piece everything together by switching machines, fast forwarding and stopping. Was it really necessary to mention all that? Nope, but I did anyway, so tough.

The movie is based on the real life story of Danny Burrows (played here by Ryan "Have you seen my notebook" Gosling), a young neo-Nazi in the 60's who committed suicide after The New York Times broke the story that he was actually Jewish. Rather than review the film (which was slightly flawed but overall quite good) I'm going to free-associate a bit about the emotions that bubbled within me as I watched.
The movie hit me hard on several levels. First off it reminded me of how rebellious I was during my first stay at Reishit. I was angry then, and for some reason a lot of kids listened to me. Of course what I was saying was crap, but it nevertheless was appealing to a bunch of confused 18-year-old minds. Fortunately I snapped out of that mind-set. Watching the film I wondered just how far I would have gone with my rebellion, just how far I would sink. I don't think I would become a neo-Nazi but I wonder if I would have done something I could never forgive myself for. But even during my rebellion/confliction, a part of me knew that I would eventually go down a Torah derech, or at least try with all my heart. Danny vandalizes a Shul he , but can't bring himself to destroy or even disrespect a Sefer Torah. There was still that part of him that knew who he was deep down, and that all his anti-Semitic propaganda (as articulate as he made it sound) was nothing more than an illusion of phraseology crafted by a skilled wordslinger, directed at weak, angry and simple minds.
The film also scared me as I saw how easy it is for someone to self-destruct, especially when they are stubborn. To quote the great, (almost) rabbinical sage Yoda, "Fear leads to anger. Anger leads to hate. Hate leads to suffering." How true this is.This expression defines Danny perfectly. I don't know how many of you have ever seen someone self-destruct, but it's a horrible thing to watch. Especially when you care for that person and want to help, but all that you do doesn't matter- in fact the self-destructee even comes to resent you for "butting in". I'm not sure if someone like this can be helped if they're not willing to truly help themselves, or if they just need the right person to help/save them (what do you think?). I do know that (whether they can admit it or not) someone like this is not happy in life. When so much of your emotional self is entangled within such strong feelings of negativity, the positive attributes struggle to surface, and when they do they can often be poisoned and/or manipulated by the dark side. Deep down Danny knew that what he was doing was wrong, but because of his intense anger, because of his self-hatred, and because of his stubbornness, he couldn't stop (until it was too late.....or was it? Watch the film and decide- but beware it is rated R for pretty much everything). It's so easy to give in to the darker nature of our beings. Danny was at a constant war with himself. He needed to defeat the rage, the sorrow and the hate that enslaved him. Only then could be move. Only then could he be free. Only then could he be happy.

Many times maturity (and freedom from our inner-demons) doesn't come without some sort of sacrifice. Yet over time we may realize that what we gave up really wasn't a sacrifice at all, it was in fact a necessary deletion from our (then) troubled lives. Sometimes we have to say goodbye to a certain place, a certain person(s), a certain habit, or certain mind frame. I know I had to do some of these things in order to grow, and one day I woke up (figuratively speaking) and realized that there was a grey net hanging over me for several months that had finally been lifted, and all the bright colors of the world (which I can't differentiate unfortunately), and all the positive auras seemed to flood in, and I was happy. But I was lucky too. Sometimes (as maybe it is in the film) we aren't "resurrected" until it's too late, and our lives halt or even end (Chas Vashalom in tragedy.

"The Believer" frightened me as, at times, it seemed to cross into a plain of neo-realism, and boy was it ever hard to watch, nay experience (and even if it seemed somewhat far-fetched to what the average rebellious Modern-orthodox youth goes through, all the ingredients that lead to the dark path Danny took were right on the money by comparison). It made me hope (perhaps foolishly- though I think that's saying a bit much) that those I care about who are self-destructing will have their net taken off (or remove them themselves), and see the beautiful life they have in front of them, and start their journey down a road that's been there all along. Here's hopin'....

Movin' On

Hope your weekends are all going well. Mine has been somewhat upsetting. It's been brought to my attention that T.A. has a new boyfriend (don't really know who he is or much about him). I can't really say that I'm suprised in the slightest; girls like T.A.don't stay single very long. While I want her to be happy and hope that she is, I still can't help but feel saddened by this- but I suppose that's only natural. I guess now I will really have to move on, and as hard as it will be, I will do my best to 'put her in my past. Being called "The Hopeful Fool" also seems somewhat odd. I guess I can still be hopeful about lots of things, but do I need to be a fool? The fool part was really my way of saying that "OK, I know it'll probably never happen, but I'll still dream"= foolish (at least retrospectively). I could take the manic-depressive rout and say that I'll never find anyone else again, and while I'll hope, its just a fools hope. But I don't think I want to go down that road. I could hope that the Mets will finally win a game, but I'm sure that'll happen- in fact I think they'll win a whole lot this season. So now I'm not really sure what to do. Where so we go from here? Do I remain "The Hopeful Fool? And if so what am I foolishly hopeful about? Or do I change the name of this blog to something else, but still basically write about my life (which is kind of in the sucks-zone right now, but it'll get better.....won't it?). Well I'm open to your suggestions. In the meantime I have to work hard to get through this, and let the past be in my behind- or something like that. Thanks to those of you who were kind enough to listen and give your support throughout my previous, and possible upcoming "woe is me phrase"'s. It's times like these when your friends can keep you balanced/distracted enough to get by, until you wake up one morning and realize you're OK.....either that or I can pray for the "Swingers" ending and meet Heather Graham, fall for her- and she me, and then when T.A. wants me back, I'll be like "Sorry babe, I'm with Heather now".....I guess I found something to be foolishly hopeful for after all :)

You Have The Power!

Well someone certainly took me up on making comments anonymously. It was a harsh one, but that is fine- in fact that was the whole point of enabling people to make comments anonymously. I look forward to more of em- whether they be nice, mean, pretty, ugly, sexy, G-d forsakingly hideous, well-digested, gaseous, bizarre, fruitful, smelly (jessica), nifty, nerdy, lazy, witty, wily, backhanded or schwaaaa~~~-like.

OK no it's time for a lil bit o' fun.
As one who is hopeful I tend to dream every once in a while. But while I'm also a realist (a hopeful realist? Well that's as binarilly opposed as a chussid on UPN.... I smell a sitcom!!), these day dreams quite often have to fall within some realm of logic. One of my favorite scenarios is G-d offering me a choice of any super power. Now this is tough. First of all I wouldn't want to fly. Thats what plains are for. And theres a good chance I could be shot down by duck hunters in some areas.
Super strength is kind of appealing, but I think that might get me into trouble- plus I do go to the gym.
X-ray vision: I'm not 16 anymore.
Super speed: Well it would save me a lot of time, but I'm afraid of going too fast and not see cars coming, and then get squashed.
Invulnerability: This is very intriguing, but isn't a whole lot of fun. Although I do recommend the movie Unbreakable- which shows that invulnerability isn't a walk in the park.
Ice breath: I'd be nervous about what would happen when I sneeze.
Telekinesis (moving things with my mine): I always liked this one (I could have fun AND help a lot of people) but it was ruined by Scott Baio (that was a Zapped reference which exactly 0 of you got).

I suppose there's more but the two I always go between are telepathy and time travel. The latter would be great because I could experience everything that ever happened , and go back and stop myself from making stupid mistakes- and if doing that lead to worse mistakes then I'd just stop myself from going back and stop myself from stopping myself from the original mistake (got it?). I could also help a lot of people and prevent tragedy from occurring.....and of course win the lottery whenever I wanted.
Telepathy would pretty much make the most powerful person in the world, but I wouldn't abuse this power. To read and control people's minds could be frickin hilarious though. Picture this: Osama Bin Laden holds a special Al- Jazeera press conference, and comes dressed in stylishly pink 19th century gown and carrying a parasol. He then breaks into riveting versions of "I Could Have Danced All Night" followed by "I Feel Pretty" and finally trades in the parasol for some moraccas and breaks into "La Coockaracha". He is then repeatedly kicked in the crotch and is finally eaten alive by starving lions, bears, and Star Jones (feel free to come up with your own scenario).
Also telepathy would be cool cause no one could lie to me anymore.

What superpower would you pick? (remember you can only have one)

Another Amazing On The List

As I've already established there are two Amazing's that I will be discussing from time to time on this blog. First there are The Amazin's at Shea (which didn't play last night), and second is The Amazing a.k.a. T.A. (nothing to report there either, but I'm doing OK for all you who are interested). Now there's a third Amazing; that of the Race variety.
I don't watch much prime time TV (late nights I'll watch the occasional Friends or Seinfeld, and make the effort to see the first 20 minutes of Kimmel), in fact I now only watch one show between 8 and 11 pm: The Amazing Race. I'm not going to say that this is the best show on TV (my nephew swears by 24, while I hear that these housewives who are desperate are good as well, and Lost seems intriguing too), but for me it's the most entertaining. Survivor has gotten a bit dull and untzniusdik, and while Curb and Sopranos are outstanding, they're hardly on. American Idol is really only fun for the first two weeks, then gets redundant (but here's hoping Constantine wins anyway). So now it's all about "The Race".
I would do this show in a heartbeat if there weren't so many halachic issues. I feel the travel combined with the bonding experience is what appeals to me on this program (I think anyone who gets to see the world to such an extent is incredibly lucky). Another plus is that it has Rob and Amber from Survivor who actually fight the least of all the couples (Maybe they are bashert- but we'll talk about that another time). I wonder how I would do partnering up with someone for such an intense, stressful competition. It's really the ultimate midot test if you ask me. I hope I'd do well, but I'm a fool when it comes to hope (haha), and I doubt I'll ever get the chance...but I will hope nontheless.

In cinematic news I purchased a copy of Alien vs. Predator. Don't mock (or judge :) me. There happens to be a great deal of depth to this film. One can truly discover many of the secrets of the universe, and attain a high level of nirvana (or Khef for you Dark Tower junkies) by seeing an Alien battle a Predator. It is poetry in motion. A fusion of the inner waves of exuberance with The Schwaaaa~~~~. In fact, watching these two sci-fi titans square off has inspired me religiously and intellectually. I am a better person as a result of this film. Watch the movie for yourself and see.

On a less serious note: You can post comments anonymously or under a made up name if you want (I programmed the site to allow such crazy behavior). So rather than call or IM me your feedback post it for all to enjoy and respond to.

It's Time To Rave. It's Time To Rant.

Well there isn't one central thing on my mind today, and it seems that some of you are getting restless, demanding I "Write my Blog already" (Thanks Josh). So today I'm just going to free associate random (and I mean random) matters of thought and see what kind of response it generates (yesterday received no comments, which I'm grateful for, considering the outcome of the Mets game).

-I don't know whether to go home tonight or to a book reading of Jonathan Tropper's on the West Side...
- The Mets need better relief pitching.
- I hope Peter Jennings lung cancer diagnosis is a wake up to you smokers out there
- I hope that's not me being judgmental about the lung cancer thing. Just I think it's really horrible, and since cigarettes ruined my grandmothers life, I take it personally.
- Becker/Bongo actually re-started the whole judgmental debate in the "Big Masquerade" comments area- go check it out.
-Jessica smells. Bad. She thinks I close the door to my office sometimes cause I have an interview or want privacy, but it's cause she reeks. Thanks again for the chinese food btw.
- I'm having trouble with the opening rhythm of Howie Day's "She Says" but perfectly learned Guster's "Careful".
- I like Avril Lavigne and I'm not ashamed to admit it.
- MARK GINSBERG!!!!!!
- Watch Jimmy Kimmel. He's funny. Laugh much I do.
- I saw some guy get hit in the crotch by his three year old kid on the street today. It was funny. I laughed. To quote Professor Julian Cornell of NYU/Queens: "Guy getting hit in the crotch: always funny." I agree.
OH it turns out I do have something to talk about. Here ya go (sorry if the above bored/weirded you out):

- I hate walking into a clothing store (Gap, JCrew, Express etc...) and being asked if I need help and/or being told about the new line. If I'm coming in to your store, odds are I'm going straight to the sales rack (don't hate me for being economical and looking so fine), and not buying anything full price- not even socks. If I want help I will kindly ask for it. These days I either have my Dell DJ with me or pretend I'm on the phone, so the people won't bother me.....but today I forgot to do one and the other; and the women at JCrew came in hard and fast, like a condor swooping down on an unsuspecting robin. And since I work across the st. and come in often I can tell she was waiting for this moment. I tried to maneuver, but she had me in her sights. She asked if i needed help and told me about the new line of this and that. She knew I wasn't interested and would only be buying stuff on sale as I always do, but she couldn't resist letting me know that she knew ("They know that we know they know!!"). I said thank you, and she said she'd be "right here" if I needed her, but what she was really saying was "I know your game you cheep shlub." You won this round Mrs. Crew (Crewella DeVille), but don't get used to it. I like your clothes, and I'll be back, and you will never blind side me like that again.

Next Year Begins

My weekend was pretty ordinary. Went to John, went to the nursing home (Brooklyn, not Queens) and wrote my column- which is being pushed off until next week (grrr!). I did however, see Sin City which I highly enjoyed. I know EW was less than impressed with the film, but I thought the visual was not only infectious, but perfectly personified the atmosphere of the setting and grim aura of the characters. The narration might seem a tad hokey at times, but one must not forget that this is noir (even if its based on comic book), and so such narration is almost essential (see Sunset Boulevard or Out of the Past to see what I mean). The story does weave its way back and forth, with characters coming and going, but it does all make sense, and is quite entertaining (especially if you love violence). This is the first time I've liked Colin Clive in a film (not that he wasn't great in Closer), and Micky Rourke gave his best performance since Diner. All in all I give this film an 8.5 out of 10.
But let's get to more important matters. Today the Mets season begins. Today is next year. And whether they win or lose (they're currently tied in the third), today the magic begins. And I'm telling you there will be magic at Shea this year, and I hope/invite you all to come to a game and see for yourself. These are the new Mets, and they are fast, they are strong and they are determined. Not a believer yet? Well to quote Yoda, "You will be. You will be."
A cute little boy who I never met beofre once went up to me and for no good reason (other than the fact that a friend at the time thougt it was funny) said, "The Mets lose" (though he pronounced it more like "loooos"). Not this year kid. This year the Mets win.

While you all know why I called myself The hopeful Fool, I think it fits quite well here. I am hopeful, and those pessimists out there no doubt think I'm a fool for believing that the Mets will in fact make the playoffs this year. But whether it's about the Mets or that "other thing", I just have three words for ya: Ya Gotta Believe. I can't see the future (yet), but trust me, one way or another- whether it's about The Mets, the other thing, or something else, my believin' will pay off.

The Hopefool's April Fools

Ahhh April Fool’s. While I don’t celebrate Thanksgiving, Valentine’s Day, Father’s Day or Flag Day, this is one day that I not only feel obligated to partake in, but also ideologically believe in . It is the one day a year when I let loose the practical joker that lies dormant with in me. This year it proved to be therapeutic as well. I woke up feeling down this morning (as I have been of late in the AM) and when I got to work my wonderful secretary Jess reminded me what today was. I felt refreshed suddenly, like one of those people coming out og The Halls of Medicine. We quickly sprang into action pranking as many people as possible (all of which totally fell for our gags with the exception of the psychologically gifted Rebecca Hanus- Kudos Bex!). Time is short so I’ll mention the pranks briefly but first say a huge BLEE EYEN HARA, , and you’ll see why.

We convinced the ever-sexy Kugellehhhh and vocally talented Dovviiiiiiii that they would be unable to come on the trip this summer- that may not sound so funny to you- but they were both devastated- which was funny for us.
We told our boss that there was a sudden 10% drop in enrollment- he needed to sit down.
We convinced Straussy that Jess was gay (which he seemed excitedly surprised about- or maybe it was the other way around).
Becker completely bought that I got drunk last night, went over to Jess’s, had my way with her, and was beyond guilty this morning (we considered doing that to Jess’s boyfriend but thought it probably was a bit mean, so we just pretended that she got fired.)
My new friend Kim was devastated to find out her little sister was on drugs (which of course she isn't- at least not that we know of).
My buddy Captain M. Wolgin was shocked to hear that I would be moving to Israel for a year cause I couldn't cope with life in Queens (this one had a believably scary undertone and was probably the least funny- but still humorous nontheless).
And finally Berezin was shocked to find out that I had recently impregnated a women, and though it’s really not funny his remark of “dude, do you realize you’re having a bastard” brought me to laughter and the gag ended prematurely (Again with the Blee Eyen Hara). He was actually kind of dissapointed because if it was true I would never be able to give him musser again, not that I really do that now- what say you Bere?
Now I’m not proud of all my actions today and know that some were quite childish, but I was depressed and it put me in a good one, so poo-poo to you. Plus it was my "duty" (haha- great Friends moment) on this most underrated holiday. Have a happy and a holy one! (Shabbos, not April Fools.)