Friday, April 30, 2010

Day 265 - Come Sail Away With Me. Lads

April 30th, 2010

I love water. I accredit this affair to:

- Being born under the Pisces sign

- Taking peculiarly long showers.

- Learning how to swim when I was two because we had a pool in our back yard. Safety was number one in the Kabat house. Except when my brother tackled Danny Silvers in our basement. Danny needed stitches in his head. We were watching “SpaceCamp”. On Betamax.

Today I revisited the seas and took an impromptu sail on The Clipper City, a steel replica of an 1854 wooden cargo schooner built from the original plans in the Smithsonian Institution that is licensed for 144 passengers, the largest passenger sailboat in the United States. There were flawless views of Governors’ Island, Lower Manhattan and the Statue of Liberty. Side note. In fifth grade, I played the French gifted statuette in a play about how being a free nation is supposed to be a good thing. Or something like that. Try holding your right arm up for an hour.

The 158' long tall ship left from Brooklyn’s Pier 11 in Red Hook, one of the oldest neighborhoods in New York that is recognized for being full of industrial charm, cobble stone streets and a highly regarded Fairway, Brooklyn’s “it” grocery.

Having a lifetime interest in all things water, Red Hook’s harbor is what I find most stimulating. It’s gritty. It’s authentic. It’s Jax.

On day 23, I wrote an entry entitled “Dude Looks Like a Lady” and stressed my hopes to involve myself in a water front way of life.

Here’s a blurb:

“I hope for the following scenario to occur at some point in my lifetime:

You: Jacqueline, What do you do?

Jacqueline: Well (You), I work down at the docks.

I crave for the opportunity to verbally express that my income is based on my ability to operate a machine that lifts and moves cargo on and off ships. Bonus if I eat lunch out of a lunch box, learn how to gut a fish and shoot the shit with a guy named Smitty.”

Up to this point in my existence, my most noteworthy undertaking of genuine seawomanship was when I attended Camp Seafarer for girls in Arapahoe, North Carolina. The good news: I mastered the nuisances of sailing, motor boating and water-skiing on the Neuse River. Bad Neuse: Campers were required to greet other campers and counselors with an enthusiastic “from the heart” “Ahoy There!”

Since my life seems to continually gravitate towards the flow of the world’s rivers, seas and showers, I am committing to making more of an effort to place myself at bodies of waters more frequently. Even if it’s Brooklyn’s notorious Gowanus Canal which takes pride being solid with algae feeding on human waste. In 2007, a minke whale swam into the canal, beached itself… and died.

Thursday, April 29, 2010

Day 264 - Hecklers, Lay off Singing Kitties. Please

April 29th, 2010

A little nostalgia: Statler and Waldorf, the two ornery, disagreeable old Muppets who appeared on “The Muppet Show” heckling the rest of the cast from their balcony seats. Despite relentlessly complaining how terrible the acts were,they always returned the following week. Bless their hearts.

I recall those beloved felt made grumpy old men because (last night) my show was graced with a heckler. In one abrupt outburst, he screamed “My dick is bigger than Van Dyke.” There was no set up, his delivery was poor and the wanna be attention douche clearly was unaware that Hollywood men are notoriously short.

In typical low rent inebriated fashion, he continued to attempt to embarrass, annoy and taunt the comedians who went on stage before me. Luckily, I’ve not yet experienced intense heckler action but I do have a defense mechanism that generally proves effective. Killing with kindness. Saying the following to interrupting idiots has frequently silenced the offenders: “I love you. I want to wrap a red ribbon around you, take you home with me and display you on my mantel. Next to grandpa’s urn.”

A good comedian should be able to break that 4th wall which allows audience members to have the feeling that the dialogue is being conversationally directed at them in an easy breezy manner. Perhaps over an intimate cup of General Mills International coffee. Vienna blend. This in turn can be the catalyst for some bothersome interruptions. I do feel, on some level, some hecklers truly believe that they’re helping a comedian. Seldom do you see an audience member shout disparaging commentary during a play. When I saw the musical “Cats” when I was nine years old, I didn’t hear an audience member yell, “You suck! Alley cats can’t really sing! We all know that only Persian cats have extraordinary falsettos.”

Maybe I’m too nice and should make a 180 and apply a "take-no-prisoners" approach to hecklers. Disparaging comebacks haven’t affected the careers of certain comedy legends.

- Rodney Dangerfield - On his album “No Respect” , Dangerfield responded to a heckler with "Hey buddy, you oughta save your breath. You'll need it later to blow up your inflatable date, no offense."

- Bill Hicks – On one occasion, he demanded that a drunken heckler be taken out of the audience, shouting "You drunk cunt!" at her.

- George Carlin - Carlin stopped a joke and went on with a long series of vulgar insults including "Fuck you and your sister and your wife! If you've got a kid, I hope your fucking kid dies in a car fire!"

And sometimes, negative responses to hecklers backfire. Michael Richards.

I didn’t get to use my steadfast red bow/urn defense line last night because the heckler stepped out for a cigarette for the majority of my set. However, he did revisit us just in time for my bit on 28 day drug rehabilitation programs. I asked the audience if anyone has ever been to one. Guess who raised his hand..

Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Day 263 - Nonchalant Observer -Installment #7– Manhattan Street Corner. 49th & Madison

April 28th, 2010

Today is my 7th installment of my “Nonchalant Observer” series. On day 22, I observed (judged) what crossed my path as I sat with my coffee on my Brooklyn stoop. On day 38, I took you with me to the happenings of beach life in the surfing town of Hermosa Beach, California. On day 112, we crossed the age gap and hit a retirement community. During happy hour. You came with me to my father and stepmother’s house for brunch in Westchester, New York on day 141 and you joined me as I was being shot in a piece for Current TV on day 205. On Day 210, you were part of my Grandma Harriet’s 90th birthday celebration in Charlotte, North Carolina. Today I stood like a hooker with Marc Jacobs sunglasses and observed the environment on the corner of 49th and Madison in Manhattan. I scrutinized a paella of the corporate community, Times Square freaks and tourists just a few blocks from the epicenter of the manically over lit nightmare and additional precious gems in New York.

The following is presented in “real” time: 11:00am-12:00pm

11:02 - A red double-decker bus drives by with (from what I assume) are German tourists. They love that shit. And Schnitzel. One guy takes a picture of me. In my mind’s eye, I assume his name is Heinrich.

11:09 - Disheveled older woman wearing smeared blue eyeliner walks by in giant pink bunny slippers. I am sad for her. And my heart breaks that two innocent bunnies had to die so her feet could experience the ultimate in comfort and style.

11:17 - Two 14 year oldish twin girls in matching attire saunter by. I try to figure out which one is the evil one. I'll go with the one on the left.

11:23- A baby in a high end stroller is wearing a t-shirt that says, “I’m very complicated.” I want it.

11:28 - While the cross walk sign says, “Don’t Walk”, A business man dodges heavy moving machinery and frantically attempts to cross the street. He’s good. Like Frogger good.

11:33 - A low flying commercial plane passes above. This circumstance does not go over well with New Yorkers . Mild panic. No incident. Everyone continues on their course.

11:39 - A homeless man walks by with a shopping cart. I am ashamed because the word “derelict” pops into my head. I pathetically continue my journey down the road to disgrace by recalling the following dialogue from ”Zoolander”.

Hansel: I guess you can dere-lick my balls cap-E-tan.
Derek Zoolander: I can Dere-lick my own balls, thank you very much.

11: 45 - I ‘m listening to half a fight that a 40 something woman is having on her cell phone with (presumably) a significant other. In a heated moment, she tells him that he has small hands. Brutal.

11: 52 - The wind blows and a man’s comb over seamlessly repositions itself at a vertical angle on top of his head. This is a horrible development…only closely followed by having a comb over to begin with.

11:59 – During my nonchalant observational hour, I did a count of people who entered the Starbucks across the street with their laptops. Final tally: 2,128

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Day 262– Ask Jax - Part 11

April 27th, 2010

This is the 11th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.

Is there a correlation between people who deny global warming and those who deny the Holocaust? – Lance Hoffman, Forest Hills, New York

Jax’s Answer: Yes Lance, the correlations are shockingly numerous. Global warming and holocaust deniers are both considered “unpopular” in high school speech & debate classes and ostracized in “stitch & bitch” knitting circles(even though they can do a remarkably impressive cross stitch.) Also, both sets of deniers…alarmingly rude to wait staff. Especially when lunching with Al Gore in an Israeli restaurant. During a heat wave.

Remember the pot-bellied pig pet fad a few years ago? Now you don't see them, and Hormel Meat Company's profits are up. Jax, what exactly is going on here? - Jarod Kearney, Staunton, Virginia

Jax’s Answer - I’ve seen the numbers and according to the PowerPoint presentation in my head, Hormel Foods Corporation’s numbers have indeed catapulted into the stratosphere. This Minnesota based meat making conglomerate (best known as the producer of Spam luncheon meat) has exponentially increased their sales because of a “turnover in management”. Who’s running Hormel? The pot-bellied swine. This is true. Similar to the class struggle during the French Revolution, pigs became increasingly aggravated that humans had been slaughtering them and serving their insides as overcooked bacon in American diners. Run by Greeks. In a revolt led by Miss Piggy, the pot-bellied pigs trained for their attack on Hormel employees by mastering the art of sumo wrestling, reading George Orwell's “Animal Farm” and watching movies with a young Burt Reynolds before raiding the Hormel Christmas party at the Olive Garden. Killing all employees. Even Stan in accounting. Their human remains are now the new and improved mystery meat being served in prisons, school cafeterias and in your kitchen. So, when your kids ask, “What’s for dinner?”… you can proudly reply, “Marge. From HR.”

Why is the corner brownie so much more delicious than the middle brownie? - Neil Arthur James - Brooklyn, New York

Sorry, but I would have to counter with, why is the middle brownie- so moist all over with no crusty edges- far more tasty than the corner brownie...? Tiff Broili – Brooklyn, New York

Jax’s Answer - Tiff and Neil. It’s OK to have different preferences as to where the best brownies are placed in a pan. We can get through this… as a family. A blog family. Tiff might like paper and Neil leans toward plastic. Tiff prefers the color white and Neil is a lover of mother of pearl. Tiff likes arguing the global warming myth while Neil is a denier of the holocaust.

*Disclaimer - Neil is not really a holocaust denier should you be an employer doing a background check. But he is a Bear Gay. Look it up.

Tiff. Neil. Embrace your differences. You can. We can.

I just pray to Jesus Harold Christ that this scenario never occurs.

(Location – Neil’s apartment. Tiff has just arrived for book club. This week’s book: “Twilight”.)

Neil – Well hello Tiff. Can I interest you in a freshly baked Betty Crocker Brownie?

Tiff - That would be delightful. Obviously I’ll take a piece from the moist. So perfect.

Neil- How dare you? Clearly the crusty corner pieces are the most superior. Get out of my house.(Pushes Tiff out the door)

Tiff – You’re going to pay for this Neil Arthur James! Just so you know…I don't even know how to read and have been contributing unsubstantiated insight to our book club discussions!

Neil- You bitch! (Throws the pan of brownies at Tiff as she walks out the door.)

Monday, April 26, 2010

Day 261 - P-O-R-N and U

April 26th, 2010

I threw it out to my readers and inquired about the following scenario: What would happen if porn went away? Disappeared? Gone forever.

- The internet would be rendered useless - Eric Bergson

- People would be very fat - Dara Podber Albright

- We would have to try with our wives again - Brian Eisenberg

- Then the terrorists would have won - Roberta Scott

The disappearance of pornography (in any medium) would render its addicts scared, confused and in the need to be held. In an appropriate way.

Portrayal of explicit sexual subject matter is a potent compulsion prescribed most frequently to sufferers of perversion, loneliness and 40 year old virgins interested in the" ins and outs” of sex.

Because porn feels good, especially when used in excess, there is an increased probability for abuse. It can work very well for bored suburban husbands, but when used for too long, or when used in overload, it can create a physical and psychological dependence, and a syndrome of withdrawals upon cessation.

Once the brain has adjusted to prolonged porn usage, the addict will go into very uncomfortable withdrawal symptoms like panic, hallucination, nightmares, tremors and frequent outbursts of screaming, “The internet means nothing to me anymore!”

The best way to break an addiction to porn is through a monitored period of tapering down the dosage. The pace at which the quantity is reduced will depend on the length of the dependency, with longer addictions requiring a slower tapering. One suggestion is to lessen the dosage by first eliminating the most freakish of genres the first two weeks. This can include snuff films, bestiality with amputee animals and simulated sex with anything German.

Other suggestions for successful porn termination:

- Purchase the new updated 2010 Chastity belt. This isn’t your mother’s metal lock & key contraption. You will receive a visit from Chastity Bono. Chaz’s female-to-male gender transition will dissipate all sexual desire.

- Get another addiction – Like Sudoku

- Haven’t you always wanted to bottle up the smell of porn? Potent fragrances and musks are available over the counter to assist in your weaning process. Some popular scents include: Floral Fluffer, Eau de Crusty Tube Sock and Ron Jermey Jasmine.

Just remember, there is help and support available to navigate through your porn dependence.

Even the porn stars from the movie, “Bi-Curious George” are willing to lend their support. If you ask them, “Can I really overcome my pornography addiction?” Here’s what they’ll tell you:

Dude 1:Yea!
Dude 2:Oh yea!
Dude 1:Mmm hmmm, yea.
Dude 3:AH yea.
Dude 2:YEAH!
Dude 1:Fuck yeah.

Sunday, April 25, 2010

Day 260 – Contraceptives Have Feelings Too

April 25th, 2010

(Condom, The Pill and Dental Dam are gathered by the stairs at a fraternity party.)

Condom – I don’t even know why we even bother coming to these frat parties. No one talks to us. It's bewildering. Look at me. I’m cool. I’m edgy.(Yells across the room to a group of toga wearing college students doing keg stands.) For the love of God, I glow in the dark! In neon green!

The Pill – I know condom. But there is always the minimal chance that a coed will be sober enough to give us some consideration.

Dental Dam – least people are familiar with you two. I was getting pedicures last week with Female Condom, Diaphragm and Sponge. It seems as if people are intimidated by us because we’re so “complicated.”

Condom – I imagine that’s not easy Dental Dam. The interest in me seems to be disappearing like teardrops in the rain… but at least I still get to travel to exotic places. Even if I never get unwrapped.

The Pill –You lucky latex! What trips do you have coming up?

Condom – Let’s see. I’ll be in a wicker basket in the reception area of Planned Parenthood, then I travel to a teenage boy’s Velcro wallet and finally to an assisted living home in New Jersey.

Dental Dam - Really? An old age home?(Looks at Condom and The Pill startled)

The Pill – Don’t look at me. Not my demographic.

Condom – It’s true. Seniors are fucking like bunnies. I’m there to support them, but they seldom employ me. Their time is limited so contracting an STD is actually appealing. At 95, its way more respected to die of syphilis than heart disease.

(All nod in agreement)

Dental Dam - (Takes out a flier) - I ran into Roofie at the Student Union and he’s offering a seminar called, “How to Present Yourself Effectively in Order to Make Your Dreams Come True While Shattering the Lives Of Others."

The Pill – I don’t know guys. Roofie sketches me out. I just have a bad vibe.

Condom - Why?

The Pill – I met him at freshman orientation and we hung out one night doing shots of spermicidal lubricant. We were laughing and seemed to be connecting because we both grew up as tablets. But then…then...(getting upset)

Dental Dam – (Empathetic) - Oh come here sweetie (hugging Pill)…what happened?

The Pill – (Weepy) – The next morning, I woke up in his bottle...and I wasn’t wearing my pink hard shell covering. I was so ashamed. I just grabbed my milligrams and ran back to my pill case.

Condom - That bastard! (Turns away and makes a cell phone call)

Dental Dam – (Soothing Pill) – Oh honey. You don’t have to go through this alone. We’re here for you. You do need to get tested...but at least we know you don’t get pregnant.

Condom - (Getting off phone) – Ladies, I just spoke to my leader, Magnum. He and his cronies of lamb skins are going to pay Roofie a little visit.

Dental Dam – Don’t worry Pill. He’s going to get what he deserves and I’m sure he’ll soon be locked up in the pharmacy where he can’t hurt anyone anymore.

Condom – And let’s face rape drugs are seen as the scum of the scum in pharmacies…so, his future is bleak.

Dental Dam – Pill, you’re going to be fine. You’re safe now.

The Pill – (Touched) – Thanks guys. You’re the best contraceptives that a medication that women take daily to prevent pregnancy can ask for.

Condom – Let’s get out of here. Abstinence told me that the Born-again Christian Society is having a low-key gathering at the Olive Garden. The theme is: “Ziti Al Forno and Proselytizing”.

(All exit)


Saturday, April 24, 2010

Day 259 - Freak Shows and Digestion

April 24th, 2010

My Facebook status update this morning: Going on a bike ride. Destination: Bacon Chili Cheese Dog at Nathans in Coney Island.

My planned activities were well received because many people commented on my post. With smiley face emoticons:

“Sounds fantastic :)”


“Wowww what a plan! Love it all..." (No smiley face. But I feel the exclamation point really reeks of happiness.)

To my credit, after not being on a bike for 2 1/2 years, I joined some friends for an 11.1 mile ride through Brooklyn to get to Coney Island. Although I did release more than a few primitive “I’ve been on an extended exercise sabbatical” grunts, I admit that I felt wonderfully liberated with my hair flowing in the wind, the tan coming out of hibernation and voyaging wistfully on my “blue steel” colored rental bike. With a basket. For Toto.

Once we arrived at the oceanfront of “America's summer playground”, the allure of consuming a moist soft edible consisting of the last traces of usable meat from a slaughterhouse had dissipated.

I blame my unintended disinterest in moving forward with hot dog action on last night’s excessive meal at my neighborhood’s delightfully under priced Dominican restaurant. My stomach spoke to me candidly, “Jax. I’m occupied. Out of service. Get a hold of yourself. Bitch. And while you’re there….win me a giant blue teddy bear. No reason.” My digestive tract had never been so relentlessly feisty. I assume she was being influenced by last night’s meal of Latin sass.

Although I'm tempted to delve deeper into the specific goings-on in my colon, I will give you the gift of steering away from that theme and share a few of today's Coney Island highlights:

- We rode the Wonder Wheel, a 90 year old steel Ferris wheel with rocking cars that slide along a track. I experienced those warm nostalgic feelings from childhood while being provided impressive aerial views of the carnival, boardwalk and ocean. There was something exponentially old school about riding a rickety piece of heavy machinery that’s been around longer than a woman’s right to vote.

- Next stop was Spook-a-Rama, a haunted house. I’m generally intrigued by any space that is inhabited by what appear to be supernatural beings. That’s why I live in New York. Although I was impressed with Spook-a-Rama’s sounds, lighting and special effects, I left dissatisfied, unfulfilled and only mildly scared. Besides, how good can a haunted house be if you’re alive when you leave?

- Before heading home, we took in a show, “The Coney Island Circus Sideshow”. Tag Line: “They’re here, they're real and they're alive! Freaks, wonders and human curiosities!” Master of Ceremonies, Donny Vomit, did an exceptional job of keeping the show fluid, engaging and amusing while introducing acts like a snake charmer named Sepertina (a little too overweight to be wearing S&M apparel) and fire eater, breather and twirler, Insectavora Angelica.

Our multitalented sideshow host, Mr. Vomit, was able to hammer a 6 inch nail into his skull. Yet word on the freak show blogs is that he's scared to eat a Bacon Chili Cheese Dog at Nathans. However, he is open to drilling a Hebrew National Hot Dog into his cranium. Just the kind of guy he is.

Friday, April 23, 2010

Day 258 - Dialogue Interrupted

April 23rd, 2010

Recently, “Dateline” was doing a piece on why it’s particularly annoying, noticeable and intrusive to listen to people talking on their cell phones. This was fascinating to me for a couple of reasons. First, I generally expect “Dateline” to do weekly pieces investigating (via black light) hotel rooms covered in semen. Secondly, regarding our topic at hand, the reporter exposed that being forced to overhear only one side of a phone call is bothersome because our human physiology is not designed to listen to half a conversation. Our species is wired to fill in the blanks.

Sadly, we are left to connect the dots on our own. One remedy could be combining multiple one-sided cell phone conversations so we aren’t left with dead air. Although the script might be deficient in fluidity, the scenario could alleviate the unsettling reaction we have upon hearing unbalanced dialogue.

Let’s imagine, if you will, that we’re on the Metro North train. New Haven line.

We are surrounded by 3 commuters who are all on their cell phones:

1) Behind us sits WALK OF SHAME GIRL – She’s in her mid 20’s and took the train out to New Haven the night before for a first date. Met on Talking to her best friend, Katelyn.

2) In front of us is JADED MIDDLE AGED EXECUTIVE DAD. Big house in suburbs. Impressive W-2’s. Dead inside. Talking to his therapist

3) Next to us is FLAMBOYANT TEENAGE BOY. On his way to school. Senior at The School of Performing Arts. Fame! Talking to his mother.

(On an early morning train to Manhattan. All on phone)

Walk of Shame Girl - Heading back to the city from New Haven. Yep. Went out with him last night. First date. Met him on No, I didn’t think it was weird that he asked me to go out there.He's really busy.

Jaded Middle Aged Executive Dad – Well...let’s see. I haven’t had sex in 8 ½ months. My wife doesn’t feel good about her extra forty pounds. And I don’t either.

Flamboyant Teenage Boy – Hey mom…can you Tivo “Glee”? My girlfriend Tonya and I love to watch it.

Walk of Shame Girl - He works at Yale. No, not a grad student. Head of the janitorial department. Stop judging Katelyn. He’s the manager!

Jaded Middle Aged Executive Dad – Who’s my best friend? Probably my Solaire 56 Inch Infravection Electric Grill. 2 side burners

Flamboyant Teenage Boy – Yes mom…things with Tonya are fabulous. We’re in love. She just got a mullet, bought a truck and got into Wesleyan .

Walk of Shame Girl - Yeah, went to dinner. I paid. Yes Katelyn. I slept with him. On the first date. That’s OK. Right? When I left, he said, "See ya around." I’m itchy.

Jaded Middle Aged Executive Dad – The kids are OK. Timmy’s teacher thinks he has ADHD. But he’s really just an asshole.

Flamboyant Teenage Boy - (Nervously uncomfortable) No mom, I didn’t try on your formal wear. By the way, I’m staying in the city tonight. With my friend Françoise. I told you. We were in the senior class production of “Hairspray” together. If we both get into Julliard, we’d like to be roommates…we just have a… connection.

Thursday, April 22, 2010

Day 257 - Talk to Your Drugs. About Kids

April 22nd, 2010

(All the Drugs have met for a meeting in a middle school parking lot)

Cocaine – I appreciate you all meeting me here today. Just so you know…Appletini finally came out of the closet and won’t be joining us. He’s cruising airport bathrooms with Crystal Meth. (Frustrated and looking at his clipboard)…I’m the only one who seems to have enough energy to make our meetings happen…

Pot- We know…we know’re the only one alert enough to get things done. Let’s do this fast. You’re already starting to get irritable…and quite frankly, turning into a major douche.

Cocaine – Watch it Pot. Putting on a few pounds from late munchies of BBQ Ruffles, Cap'n Crunch and Meow Mix?

Cat Nip –Meow Mix?! Nice. If it’s the Seafood Medley...I might just let you pamper my pussy…(Cat Nip starts rubbing herself seductively against Pot)

Xanax - Cat Nip. Get a hold of yourself. You slut. I don’t have a lot of time. I have a meeting with Psychopharmacologist. He’s over prescribing me to the Jewish community…getting a lot of work.

Placebo – Congratulations Xanax. Psychopharmacologist has already done wonders for the careers of Prozac, Ambien and Antibiotic.

Xanax– Placebo. You’re a boring tease and what you have to say is really inconsequential. Not really sure why you’re here.(Xanax and Cat Nip high five)

Cocaine – (Annoyed) Drugs! Jesus Heroin Christ! Back to work. Now! According to my Excel spreadsheet, middle school kids are our perfect target. All that acne, fury and raging hormones make us in demand. Big time. Ritalin is acting as a decoy and has gone undercover in an algebra class. He’ll contact me on the walkie-talkie when it’s safe for us to introduce ourselves to the most vulnerable of the susceptible.

Pot - (Eating gummy bears) – Cocaine, sounds like a brilliant idea. But truth be told, I’m having a hard time focusing since we lost Lunesta.

Placebo - What happened? No one tells me anything.

Pot – Lunesta was riding her giant butterfly under the influence of Herbal Supplement and had a bloody midair collision with a Boeing 747.

Xanax - Her milligrams were never recovered…

Placebo: That’s heartbreaking!

Xanax – It’s for the best. She never was the same after Steroid left her for Mark McGwire.

Pot – Ugh…Steroid. Always bragging about hanging out with Olympic gold medalists and...

Cocaine – (Getting a message on his walkie-talkie. Gives Pot the hand) Shhhh!(Into walkie-talkie) Yeah. I read you Ritalin. Ok. Yeah. Good hustle. We’re on it. (Addressing group) OK Ritalin gave me the signal. He’s in. Time to conquer. We can do this Drugs...focus. Visualize on when Exlax led our epic raid at the geriatric center…

(Group is riled up and they forcefully ambush the school. Riding LSD’s magical unicorns)


Wednesday, April 21, 2010

Day 256– Ask Jax - Part 10

April 21st, 2010

This is the 10th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.

What would Facebook be like in three dimensions? - Edward A. Sotelo – Cleveland, Ohio

Jax’s Answer – My initial reaction is synonymous to when a limber Kevin Bacon in “Footloose” was informed that dancing was illegal in his town. His response was a distraught “Jump back!” On a similar note, three dimensional Facebook would be... not good. We use this virtual addictive time waster to steer clear of legitimate contact at all costs. 3D capacities would unquestionably take away from what we love about Facebook to begin with: Putting forth the thought. But not the effort

Now that I’m older, is it OK to talk to strangers? - Jason Maxham, Chicago, Illinois

I felt it was best to contact, songwriter, musician and actor, Rick Springfield, to give you the answer…that you deserve. Over a soy latte, Rick sang the chorus of his 1982 hit “Don’t Talk to Strangers” while I kept interrupting.

Rick -Don't talk to strangers, baby don't you talk

Jax -When you say baby...I assume you’re referring to Jason Maxham of Chicago, Illinois.

Rick - Don't talk to strangers, You know he'll only use you up

Jax: You’re Australian Rick? How come you don’t sound like it when you sing?

Rick -Don't talk, don't talk, don't talk

Jax - Jason of Chicago loved your work as Dr. Noah Drake on “General Hospital”.

Rick - Don't talk, don't talk to him

Jax - OK Rick .You’re just being repetitive, annoying and a bit off key. Just get to the point.

Rick - Nobody, talk, nobody, ever told you, don't talk

Jax - I digress. OK, Rick. So nobody should talk to strangers? OK. Jason and I will take your cue. Can we have sex now?

Is it still acceptable that a man NOT know his way around the kitchen? - Sepia Prince, Bayonne, New Jersey

The only time it is acceptable for a man to be unfamiliar with the ways of the kitchen is if he’s Lionel Richie in the “Hello” video. Ladies, in an act of sympathy, I suggest sculpting Lionel’s head. Naysayers will say that it is simply too complicated to achieve the subtle nuisances of the Jheri curl. Just remember: If you dream it…you can do.

Tuesday, April 20, 2010

Day 255 - Men. Grilling. Manhood.

April 20th, 2010

Dear Men Who Love the Primitive Act of Grilling,

Heads up. I have broken your code. All winter, I have been doing extensive research on the microfiche in the media center at my local technical community college as to why the majority of your testosterone driven species seem to be born with a genetic disposition towards the grill.

It is irrefutable that exposing edibles to radiant heat encompasses all that is your manhood. Real or perceived.

After delving into my man/grill investigation, I have broken down my findings in the following approach: A man’s aptitude, fundamental nature and sexual prowess can be determined by three things: THE TYPE OF GRILL HE USES, WHERE HE GRILLS and WHAT HE GRILLS.


- Gas and Electric Grills – According to my studies, these two preferences translates to this: You like your grilling like you like your women: Fast, clean and easy.

- Charcoal Grill – If you use this trusty old classic outdoor grill, you’re an old fashion guy who brings his lady flowers, holds doors open and generally tries to treat women with respect. Downside, you have 3rd degree burns on your face from a freak lighter fluid accident.

- Portable Grill –The transportable grill is synonymous with the actuality that you have a hard time committing. Deciding whether you should take the grill on camping trips, to the beach or to a park is equivalent to wavering between being with the powerhouse career woman, the sweet girl next door or a hooker. Name Cheyenne.

- If you don’t own a grill. – You live in a rental. People laugh at your W-2’s.


- On the Balcony – You’re an investment banker. If you’re in the're a douche.

- Suburban Backyard – If asked , “So’s life treatin’ ya?”….You respond with, “Livin’ the dream.”

- On the Street with Neighbors in an Urban City – You lean towards voyeurism, lounge chairs and beer koozies.


- Salmon – Although you have a PhD in Microbiology, you have not mastered sexual aptitude and your highest degree in love making is a BFA in the missionary position.

- Chicken - You have never left your hometown. If you blacken the chicken, you did go to Cancun once. And came back with a collection of shot glasses.

- Calamari - You’re adventurous. Girls like that. Just be careful not to bungee jump at a low rent traveling carnival that brags about having extra long bungee cords.

- Vegetable Shish Kabobs – As my friend Julie Cohen says, "I don’t trust men that are vegetarians. Never have. Never will.”

- Hebrew National Hot Dogs - You’re on J-date. If you apply Gulden’s Mustard, you’ve been on J-Date since it debuted in 1997. To deteriorate the situation even further, you insist on showing your friends your 20 year old Bar Mitzvah party tape. On betamax.

- Steak - You film yourself having sex. Your partner doesn’t know. But you don't know she has herpes.

Monday, April 19, 2010

Day 254 – Estrogen. In Bulk

April 19th, 2010

I first crossed paths with the enchanting Laura Walters when we were four years old. We’d hang out under tables at potluck dinners when our older brothers were celebrating their trustworthiness, responsible citizenship and not so figure flattering uniforms at Cub Scout banquets. Order of the Arrows. A few years later we reconnected in ballets class, middle school, high school and at the University of Georgia. After college, we were separated when I moved up to New York and she went on to get her Masters at Oxford University.

The universe seems pretty adamant about not keeping us apart for any extended length of time because my lifelong friend now lives a few blocks from me in Brooklyn.We can't quit each other.

Laura is getting married next month and is a stellar example of manifesting true desires. She always had an affinity for Jewish men and, when living in England, developed a primal longing for the ways of the British lads. Danny, her groom to be, is….wait for it… Jewish and British.

For her bachelorette party this past Saturday,13 girls met for dinner at Freemans on the Lower East Side to celebrate all that is Laura. The executive decision was made not to equip this soiree with tacky paraphernalia. But, for the record, there is always room for penis straws. We were a relatively tame group of women, but there is always an unavoidable energy buzz when estrogen is in bulk. Our waiter was undoubtedly worn out after tending to our every edible and drinkable desires. Looking back, someone should have put out for him.

Prior to dinner, childhood friends, Jodie Tuchman-Holtz and Dana Lanier Schaffer, arranged for some of Laura’s oldest friends to meet at a salon in Chinatown where we received makeovers and learned the pros and cons of drinking in the early afternoon. Below are a few highlights:

- Our sassy little makeup instructor was credible because she looked 30. Actual age: 50. A hero to those with a fear of aging.

- Jodie and Dana had arranged for some tapas to be delivered to the salon. Have you ever been handed a cocktail and a scallop wrapped in prosciutto while learning how to contour your eyes? You should.

- I asked a question about mascara clumping. Jodie says, “Good question Jax.” Coming from Jodie, this felt good because she’s always been wise beyond her years. In fact, as 11 year olds, we'd comment on how her 6th grade school picture looked more like that of an eight grader’s. Could have been the up collar.

- Everyone was taking notes and I had memories of feeling insecure about all of their handwriting being better than mine. I write like a second grader. An insane second grader.

- As Laura was being made up, she was going from pretty to prettier. She looked like an angel. But not like the 1984 movie, “Angel”. Tagline: “High School Honor Student by Day. Hollywood Hooker by Night.”

- For no apparent reason, I took out my Mr.T talking key chain that says “I pity the fool”,”Quit your jibba jabba” and “Don’t gimme no back talk, sucka.” No one cared.

- As we were leaving, I had a poignant moment around being with girlfriends who I’ve known since before puberty, sat shotgun in my first car, a ”This might ruin my childhood” early 70’s navy blue Caprice Classic, and were willing to stand by me through brutal hair mistakes: Sun-In, perms and chunky bangs. With feathers.

Thank you girls. That is all.

"One good reason to only maintain a small circle of friends is that three out of four murders are committed by people who know the victim." - George Carlin

Sunday, April 18, 2010

Day 253 - Penis Panic, Vagina Fervor or Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo

April 18th, 2010

On day 158 of my 365 day blog challenge, I wrote an entry called “Jew, Not-a-Jew or Canadian?” I gave you scenarios and asked you which of these three categories the examples fell under. On Day 166, I brought to you another list to test your knowledge of 3 interchangeable people: Bill O’Reilly, Kanye West and Mother Teresa. Determining if you were celebrating Passover, Easter or The Festival of Steve Guttenberg was where we journeyed on Day 235. And just because I was curious, on Day 243, I needed to know if you had the Fear of Failure, Abandonment or Zombies?

Before I present today’s trio, I’d like to recall a topic that we touched on Day 203:” Penis Panic”. I explained how sufferers from this ailment are “convinced that their genitals are disappearing into their bodies. It can be contagious and “penis panic” swept through Singapore in 1967 and thousands of men became convinced that their penises were being stolen.” Now that people are open to talking about this horrifying infliction, it’s time to address two other illnesses that are secretly running rampant among the populace: 1) Vagina Fervor – A grandiose fixation on the magnificence of your vagina. 2) Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo. – The delusion that you're living inside the movie, “Breakin’2: Electric Boogaloo."

There is a 92. 3(repeating) % chance that you are among the masses that unknowingly have one of these diseases. It’s time to confront your fears and admit you’re experiencing the symptoms of having Penis Panic, Vagina Fervor or Breakin' 2: Electric Boogaloo.

Have the following occurrences occurred?

- You feel that you’re lacking something to satisfy your wife sexually. You become suspicious when she says that she was at book club. All night. But comes home smelling like Tiger Woods.

- You incessantly tell friends, family and strangers, “Enough about you, more about my vagina.”

- In high school, you were voted, “Most likely to go to the moon. And walk."

- While visualizing yourself as serial killer transsexual Buffalo Bill from “Silence of the Lambs”, you look in the mirror and repeatedly affirm the following: “It rubs the lotion on its skin or else it gets the hose again”, “Put the fucking lotion in the basket!” and “You taste like chicken”.

- You’re Madonna

- You and Turbo try to stop a developer from bulldozing a community recreation center.

- When showering with men, it’s inconsequential if someone drops the soap.

- At the end of every email you write one of these 3 phrases: “If you can't beat the system...break it!”, “They're back...for everyone who believes in the beat” and “Believe in the beat that's on the street. It's hoppin' and poppin', they're breakin' and lockin'.

- When asked a question, you always reply with, “Before I answer your inquiry…I’ll have to consult my vagina.”

Saturday, April 17, 2010

Day 252 -

April 17th, 2010

I’ve never had an imaginary friend. But if I did, I assume his name would be Voldar. Half serpent. Half transvestite. My made-up companion would stimulate my creativity, imagination and massage my feet while I wrote my daily blog.

Like any imaginary friend relationship, there would be good days and bad days. For instance, Voldar might want us to take an online class called “Learn Finnish in 18 hours”. But I’d rather spend my day marketing my new business, Baby Doo-rags. For Babies. In Baby Gangs. This is a parcel of being one half of a make-believe couple.

Now and again, however, our differences might become more severe and can lead to our demise. There can be signs of looming trouble, and when they are seen with some regularity, it might be time to cut our losses and end our imaginary friend union.

Signs That It's Time To Break Up With your Imaginary Friend

- There’s No Talk of the Future - One of the most natural and exciting parts of being involved with someone that doesn’t exist is seeing a future together. You’re perfectly comfortable to plan for the holidays, dream about a make-believe home and ponder possible names for future imaginary friends.…should you decide to bring more delusional companionship on board. Common in Mormon communities.

- Lack of Effort - Now you can’t even be bothered to come up with fake plans. Gone are the long walks, spontaneous getaways and picnics by the river filled with contaminated sewage.

- Fighting Dirty - For example, I might purposely rile Voldar up by voicing his weak spots– his body image, his mother and his inability to tie his shoe.

Should you be back on the market, there is hope: - The trusted online site for imaginary friends.

Here’s what Voldar had to say:

“When Jax and I broke up, I was certain that no human would be delusional enough to make me up as a pretend companion again. Luckily...I was wrong. I took a chance, created a profile and now I am the imaginary friend to a person way hotter, more interesting and emotionally available. Finally, someone to go parasailing with! Thanks!”

Friday, April 16, 2010

Day 251 - Facebook Detox

April 16th, 2010

Facebook addiction is one of the most complicated addictions for you to overcome. Your nervous system becomes accustomed to accommodating constant time wasting, exposure to posting pictures that you wrongly assume are sexy and silly (at the same time) and reconnecting with people you didn’t like to begin with. Facebook detoxification has excruciating withdrawal symptoms that begin within 15 hours of not logging on and peak after five to seven business days. The symptoms include: nausea, the urge to revisit Friendster and, diarrhea, chronic masturbation while watching straight to video movies, abdominal pain, getting along better with your mother, chills and coming to terms that you’re really not a “Fan of Bea Arthur”.

Help me. Help you.

Jax’s Tips for Facebook Detox:

• Surround yourself with a support system of people over 65 who just don’t understand the appeal of this “interweb” thing.

• Once withdrawal symptoms set in, the best things to do is bundle up in a maroon colored Snuggie and ride it out.

• At about the fourth day, you might be able to incorporate solid foods back into your diet. Eat as if you’re recovering from a regrettable one night stand. Start off with beef jerky, KFC’s new Double Down sandwich and dry cat food. Tender Vittles is best.

• Tell your diary how you're feeling. In Dutch.

• A bit of gentle physical activity is good as it releases “feel good” hormones in your body. Richard Simmons’ “Sweatin’ with Mean Drunks” comes highly recommended.

• Disturbed sleep is a normal part of Facebook withdrawal. In your dreams, you have a 73% chance of being visited by Freddy Krueger, a serial-killer with fingers of razor sharp blades. Caution: The scream that wakes you … might be your own.

• You could gain strength from others with addictions to eating dirt, geriatric porn and tapping on hubcaps 5 to 6 times. With sporks.

• By the end of the week, your detox symptoms will have lessened. Although you'll still feel weak, you might be feeling well enough to leave the house. Going to loiter in a gas station parking lot could be helpful at this time.

If you make the commitment to follow my Facebook detox tips, your life will no longer have zest, fun and meaning…but you’re no longer at risk of losing your spouse because of a Facebook emotional affair with your high school sweetheart.

Remember:If you're tempted to have a Facebook relapse, not only are you poking the people you love…you’re really just poking yourself.

Thursday, April 15, 2010

Day 250 - Larry the King and Gastrointestinal Aphrodisiacs

April 15th, 2010

The Gods are smiling on me. Larry King is back on the market. Wife # 7, Shawn Southwick, accused him of sleeping with her hotter younger sister, Shannon Engemann. For 13 years.

Sucks for Shawn but is glorious news for anyone with estrogen and (who like me) craves King’s mystique, fashion forward suspenders and endless cases of Ensure. During his interviews with politicians, athletes and entertainers, I can’t even tell you how many times I’ve thought, “You know...I’d really like to sleep with that guy.”

He will be mine.

Men of the world who are lacking self-assurance in the ways of the woman are in luck. Larry King will be holding a seminar at your local unaccredited technical college entitled:

“How to Score Women Half Your Age That Are Willing to Sleep With You Because of Your Power, Status and Have Come to the Realization That We All Look Good In the Dark.”

Topics include:







For nonbelievers who are not yet convinced that Larry the King is worthy of being the poster geriatric child for all that is manly goodness, you aren’t aware that a lewd sex act has been named after him. Do you? The details of this impressively vulgar action is too risqué to detail in my family friendly blog. However, I am prepared to share a sample sentence from my preferred online defective source of information, Urban Dictionary.

“Last night was so great, Rona and I went back to my place and I gave her the nastiest Larry King. What can I say? She loved it.”

Wednesday, April 14, 2010

Day 249 - A Jewish Approach to White-Collar Crime

April 14th, 2010

On Monday, there was a robbery at a Bank of America in Darien, Connecticut. Was the robber wearing a ski mask? Nope. A stocking on his face? Guess again. Our “It” felon really made a fashion forward decision and sported a yarmulke.

For my gentile readers, a yarmulke(kippah) is a thin, slightly-rounded skullcap traditionally worn at all times by observant Jewish men and sometimes by both men and women in Reform and Conservative communities. Today it’s also common for non-religious Jews and non-Jews to wear a yarmulke to cover their heads as a sign of respect when attending a religious service or Jewish site.

Anyone who has spent 5 to 6 hours a week in Hebrew school is probably not surprised that there is a yarmulke wearing bank robber among us.

To put it quite simply: Hebrew School serves as the opportunity for young generations of Jews to test boundaries. IN BEING BAD.

There just wasn’t time to absorb knowledge of Jewish rituals, customs and gain a better understanding of our people’s history. I’m reluctant to admit that a hefty portion of our time was utilized making fun of, harassing and borderline torturing our teachers, each other and any other reprehensible behavior that was pent up from not expressing our mystified hormonal angst in other aspects of our lives.

Perhaps if our subject matters were more intriguing to easily distracted prepubescents, the Hebrew School experience could have been more harmonious. For all involved.

I briefly offered an online Hebrew school course for students who naturally crave to hone in on their unkosher tendencies. Topics included:

• Strict Adherence to the Laws of the Torah and Felonies

• Gefilte Fish and Cyanide

• What Roles Have Rabbinic Sages Played in Aggravated Assault?

• A Jewish Approach to White-Collar Crime

• How to Carry Out Motor Vehicle Theft in Your Synagogue Parking Lot

• Chanukah –8 Nights of Burning Candles. And Arson

I only had one student…the yarmulke wearing Connecticut bank robber.

It warms your heart when the student has become the teacher.

Tuesday, April 13, 2010

Day 248 - No Woman, No Cry. Or Maybe You Should

April 13th, 2010

My junior and senior year in college, my lifelong friend, Laura, and I went on a Carnival Cruise to escape the pressures of heavy partying at the University of Georgia. A few poignant memories include Laura entering a dance contest and being dropped on her head. Luckily footage of the misfortune played repeatedly in every passenger’s room on the cruise channel. 24 hour cruise channel. As for me, I had developed a deep infatuation for a strapping coed from Rollins College in Orlando. To my delight, he reciprocated my sentiment by throwing me over his shoulder while declaring, “You’re everything I want and more.” Then he passed out. And I fell on my head.

While tanning and tending to our massive head wounds, Laura and I sat by one of three (urine temperatured) pools and were soothed by the band playing calming renditions of “Come on Eileen”, Alanis Morisette’s “You Oughta Know “ and a paella of Color Me Bad gems . All done. Reggae style.

I texted Bob Marley to ask him if he was turning in his grave. He didn’t receive it. No, not because he’s dead. Texting wasn’t a phenomenon in 1996. Come on.

I’d always assumed that the Jamaican singer-songwriter and musician used his melodies to express how challenging life was for people in the Trenchtown ghettos of Jamaica.

BUT. What if the joke was on us and Marley anticipated his style of music to be delivered on cruise ships that were once promoted by America’s sweetheart, Kathy Lee Gifford.
I think it’s time that we dissect the true meaning of “No Woman, No Cry.” As a family. A blog family.

'Cause I remember when we used to sit
In the government yard in Trenchtown
(And by Trenchtown...I mean the lido deck)
Oba, ob-serving the hypocrites
As they would mingle with the good people we meet
(Drunk frat boys hitting on mildly insecure sorority girls)
Good friends we have had, oh good friends we've lost along the way
(We lost the passengers thrown overboard. Under suspicious circumstances.)
In this bright future you can't forget your past
(Unless you have no future because your body is never recovered)
So dry your tears I say
(or keep crying because crimes on cruise ships don't have jurisdiction)

No woman, no cry
(Come here you)
No woman, no cry
(You look like you could use a hug)
Little darlin' don't shed no tears
(Tears are God’s gift to us. Our holy water)
No woman, no cry
(OK. Now you’re just getting annoying)

Said, said, said I remember when we used to sit
(Sitting in our third tier room. When we opened the curtain...there was a wall)
In the government yard in Trenchtown
And then Georgie would make the fire light
Log wood burnin' through the night
(Genitals burning from promiscuous sex with other spring breakers)
Then we would cook corn meal porridge
(Ate the bottomless shrimp bowl at the midnight buffet)
Of which I'll share with you
(If you beg for it)

My feet is my only carriage
So I've got to push on through
But while I'm gone...
(Gone to the ATM with a $20 service fee)

Ev'rything's gonna be alright
(Unless you gambled away your pension, Roth IRA and wedding band at the 24 hour casino)
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
(Unless you missed the cruise’s departure and got left in Cozumel because you were drunk on Corona at Carlos'n Charlie's)
Ev'rything's gonna be alright
(Unless you’re on the Titanic)

So, no woman, no cry
(Unless you’re dropped on your head. In the discothèque)
No no woman, no cry
(Please. stop calling me)
No, no woman, no woman, no cry
(You’re pushing too hard. Not sexy)
Oh, little darling, don't shed no tears
(I slept with your sister. And your mom)
No woman, no cry
(That’s ok with you? Really? OK. You’ve left me no choice. I’m putting a restraining order on you)

Monday, April 12, 2010

Day 247 – Ask Jax - Part 9

April 12th, 2010

This is the 9th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.

Do these pants make me look fat? I mean you can be honest. I will NOT be offended. – Jarod Kearney, Staunton, Virginia

Jax’s Answer - Your pants make you look smart. Not like MENSA smart. More like your high school guidance counselor saying, “Jarod would be well suited for a mildly reputable state school.” Heads up. Today’s Man is having a sale on skirts. For men. Of today.

The new double down sandwich at KFC... how many people will be put in the hospital due to this "sandwich"? - Diana Sause, Poughkeepsie, New York

Jax’s Answer - The majority of people in red states are destined for hospitalization. Anyone who’s been perusing their favorite “genetically manipulated organism" blogs has heard about KFC’s newest heart attack waiting to happen, the Double Down sandwich. What gastrointestinal system wouldn't want a visit from two slabs of fried chicken holding together two pieces of bacon, melted mucusy slices of monterey jack and pepper jack cheese and the Colonel’s special toxic sauce? It’s my understanding that the Double Down was first introduced in Providence, Rhode Island and Omaha, Nebraska. The test markets all agreed that, “It tastes like death. But the good kind.” In the mist of this cholesterol-palooza, there are some other notable populations that are suffering the consequences of this new fast food darling. Cardiologist visits have gone up 1800%.... leaving these heart specialists suffering from severe exhaustion. Unable to accommodate all ailing victims of an item intended for population control, our nation’s podiatrists have volunteered to serve the surplus. Buns have also been protesting their dismissal. In strip malls across America, the forgotten bread has been chanting their battle cry that is in no way connected to their cause. “Stop the Lying. Stop the Hate. Separate the church and state!”

If you have to type LOL, are you really going to do it, how often does anybody actually LOL when they are by themselves anyway? I have made a personal vow never to type LOL ever again, so this is the first and last 3 times i ever will do it. Mark Deutsch – City Unknown, United sates

Jax’s Answer - I’m ashamed to admit that your inquiry leaves “Ask Jax” perplexed. I just assumed LOL was the acronym for Lots of Labia.

Sunday, April 11, 2010

Day 246 – STD Happy Hour

April 11th, 2010

(Chlamydia and Gonorrhea are standing by a pinball machine during happy hour at a dive bar called The Itch. Blue Oyster Cult’s “Burnin' for You” is playing on the jukebox.)

Chlamydia – Gonorrhea, I think it’s great that we make the effort to meet up periodically to discuss business.

Gonorrhea – I am too Chlamydia. Remind me, why can’t Syphilis and Herpes make it?

Chlamydia – Herpes got a gig with Eliot Spitzer and Syphilis went to England to research his ancestry.

Gonorrhea - That’s right! His roots go back to Henry VIII.

Chlamydia – And Christopher Columbus…

Gonorrhea - Syphilis is old school. We’re lucky to know him. Look. There’s Bladder Infection!

Chlamydia - Man. She’s so smokin’ hot. Even though she’s not technically a STD, I’d still love to get a piece of that urinary tract.

(Gonorrhea waves her down and she walks over)

Bladder Infection – Hey guys.

Chlamydia – Bladder Infection…it’s been a while. You’re looking well. Where've ya been?

Bladder Infection – I was out of commission for a few weeks. I had a nice gig with a promiscuous college girl with low self esteem. God bless insecure women.

Chlamydia – Seriously

Bladder Infection – Anyways, I was under the impression that it was going to be a long term assignment until she drank cranberry juice, took antibiotics and became less desirable after putting on the freshman 15. No one wanted to see her naked.

Gonorrhea – Yeah...that really affects our numbers.

Chlamydia - I’m gonna get a drink. Can I get you guys anything?

Gonorrhea – Sure, I’ll have a rohypnol tonic with a splash of spermical lubricant.

(Chlamydia walks to the bar and HIV and HPV walk out of the bathroom to join the group)

Bladder Infection – HIV. HPV. Wow, you were in there for a while. So, business well?

HPV - Never been better. According to STD prevention pamphlets, 50% of the population have me.

Bladder Infection – That’s great! And HIV?

HIV – Work is going well. My handlers got Magic Johnson to endorse me and that’s significantly helped my image.

Gonorrhea - That sounds positive. I mean...HIV positive.

HIV – Thanks Gonorrhea. Oh Jesus. The condoms just walked in. (Yells over)..Hey condoms! You’re not welcome here.

(Surrounded by his posse, the leader of the condoms, Magnum, walks over.)

Magnum - We just came with a message for you all. We’ve been working out and are more waterproof, elastic and durable than ever.

HPV – That means nothing to us. Too many of our targets are naïve, alcoholics and bad decision makers.

(Magnum and HPV get face to face and are held back before a brawl ensues.)

Magnum – Just watch your back. Lamb skin is making a comeback.

(Condoms walk away)

Bladder Infection – They’re such Dicks. Hey! Check it out! Tiger Woods, Bill Clinton and Jesse James are over by the pool table.


Gonorrhea - Let’s get to work guys. Questionable discharge is our business. And business looks good!

(They all high-five)

The End

Saturday, April 10, 2010

Day 245 - Sexy Census Counter’s Calendar

April 10th, 2010

We asked for it. We got it. We’ve already been transfixed, enticed and lured in by the magnetic artistry of calendars filled with Sports Illustrated swimsuit models, sexy firemen and adorable kittens. 2010 has stepped up to the plate and given us something more erotic, playful, and yes, Government approved.

The 2010 Sexy Census Counter’s Calendar!

You will be the envy of your colleagues at your dead end job when you flair up your gray carpeted cubicle wall with this arousing 12 month pictorial of census workers. America's true heroes.

Who wouldn’t want to see the taut fit bodies of these hot blooded American citizens whose life path has lead them to a short term temp job paying $14 an hour?

Let’s meet some of the counters:

Mr. February – Donnie Davis

While growing up in Cincinnati, Ohio, Donnie had a calling to systematically acquire and record information about the members of a given population. Mr. Davis is an African American (which explains why he was chosen for the February spread. Black History month.) Although he steered off track by getting a PhD in neurobiology, taking Kabbala courses guided him back to his life’s purpose. Even though he is deeply offended that ‘Negro’ is an option on the census, it doesn’t overshadow his heartfelt passion. Counting.

Ms. July– Lauren Bernard

Lauren was raised in Aberdeen, South Dakota, spent three years as a customer service captain at Wal-mart and was born with a knack for locating households. She feels blessed to have been chosen over the stringent competition of lost souls who needed short term temp jobs. Lauren has been praised for going that extra mile with her census work. For example, she suggests using an abacus in heavily populated Greek communities.

Mr. November – Abe Arthur

Abe has been the reigning bingo champion at the Shorefront Jewish Geriatric Center in Brooklyn, New York for the past decade. He admits that asking people their sex, age, date of birth, race and ethnicity can be an exhausting undertaking for a man his age. He rehydrates with Ensure. His innate ability to conduct brief personal interviews with citizens and record responses on paper forms…will leave you wanting more.

Run to the nearest dumpster behind your local Barnes & Noble to get your copy of the Sexy Census Counter’s Calendar.

Why should we salute these virtuous census counters that epitomize strength, character and ability while knocking on our doors? Because, in reality, they’re knocking on our hearts.

Friday, April 9, 2010

Day 244 - Pick Your Battles. Or I Will

April 9th, 2010

Over the course of our lives, scenarios present themselves that tend to be catalysts for us to react in a manner that could be interpreted as hot headed, reactive and, as the kids say, uncool. On day 244 of my 365 day blog entry challenge, I want to challenge all of us to respond to life’s stressors in an unruffled manner that might seem counter intuitive. What if someone actually told us during our formative years that life was supposed to be hard? Perhaps we would have avoided gut wrenching angst if we allowed ourselves to realize that we’re supposed to be tested. Our challenge lies in finding methods of controlling our reaction to the fan. When the shit hits it.

Let's consider how these events of the past and present could have been and can be drastically altered by practicing a reaction of peace, calm and tranquility that would make our mom proud. And Jesus Harold Christ.

Stress inducing event -

Kanye West storming on the stage when Taylor Swift was presented Best Female Video at the VMAs. He cut the stunned 18 year old off, grabbed the mic and protested in support of Beyonce.

Jax’s Alternative Reaction -

Yes, this did not settle well with Beyonce, Kanye’s handlers and America. But guys, seriously, look at the happy accident that transpired. As I wrote on Day 46 in an entry called “ Conscience Be Gone”, “Taylor Swift should be thanking Kanye West. Hardcore. Don’t get me wrong. I know that KW is the exaggeration of self righteousness and lives in a giant statue of himself in the land of delusions of grandeur. But from a PR standpoint, his VMA opera moment(me me me me me I I I I I) introduced the innocent young country pop star to many who were unfamiliar to the Swift that is Taylor. The newest fans are now personally invested in her career and post interruption emotional state. “I just feel her pain. Taylor has been like a daughter to me.” Taylor will be fine.

Stress inducing event -

Stepping in dog crap

Jax’s Alternative Reaction –

Once you shift your annoyance, take a deep breath and download an ebook on relaxation, you’ll discover a positive spin and be saying, “I really envy that my neighbor’s German shepherd has such a healthy digestive track. I should eat more kale.”

Stress inducing event -

A douche bag at a bar tells your girlfriend, “If your left leg is Thanksgiving, and your right leg is Christmas, can I visit you between the holidays?”

Jax’s Alternative Reaction –

Instead of involving yourself in a spiteful bar brawl, say to yourself, “My special lady’s luminescent personality and award winning cleavage really light up a room. In fact, she’s so special that strangers want to make time for her during the busy holiday season.”

Stress inducing event – You lose your job

Jax’s Alternative Reaction – Enjoy your unemployment and get in the European mindset. They take four hour lunches. And take August off. If you’re in a French state of mind, you have more time to dabble with anti-Semitism.

Stress inducing event – Your significant other walks out on you.

Jax’s Alternative Reaction –

Alleviate the pain by telling yourself, “If I so badly wanted to be with the wrong person, just think how conscience altering beautiful it will be when the right one comes along.” Also, remind yourself that it was peculiarly toxic that you were dating your third cousin.

Thursday, April 8, 2010

Day 243 – Fear of Failure, Abandonment or Zombies?

April 8th, 2010

On day 158 of my 365 day blog challenge, I wrote an entry called “Jew, Not-a-Jew or Canadian?” I gave you scenarios and asked you which of these three categories the examples fell under. On Day 166, I brought to you another list to test your knowledge of 3 interchangeable people: Bill O’Reilly, Kanye West and Mother Teresa. On day 235, we determined if we were celebrating the interchangeable holidays of Easter, Passover or The Festival of Steve Guttenberg?

Today we’re going to test if you’re suffering from fears that are most likely keeping your psychologist, spiritual adviser and drug dealer in business.

Do you suffer a debilitating anxiety around experiencing failure, abandonment or zombies?

Let’s take a look.

• You failed the second grade. You feel like an insufficient underachiever and fear having the career path of New Coke.

• During your formative years, mom and dad left you. In your adult life, you end up exerting a great deal of energy to please others, are self-sacrificing and constantly attempt to elicit the approval of others. You cry.

• In preparation for a doomsday scenario, you stockpile water, non-perishable food and suitable weaponry capable of destroying the brains of the living dead. Machetes, crowbars and wood chippers are highly recommended. By Oprah.

• You failed the bar exam 5 times. You feel like an insufficient underachiever and fear having the career path of an Enron executive.

• Your spouse walked out on you. In your next relationship, you develop a dependent personality that leaves you docile, passive and nonassertive. You cry. Like a baby.

• You have befriended young boys who play Dungeons and Dragons in their parents' 1970's wood paneled basement, watch the “Thriller Video” (once every 27 minutes) and have never kissed a girl.

• You failed your drug test. For your new job. At Wal-Mart. You feel like an insufficient underachiever and fear having the career path of “My Buddy”. The doll. For boys.

• Your children want nothing to do with you and you continually hum the chorus from Cats in the Cradle.”

• “And the cat's in the cradle and the silver spoon
Little boy blue and the man on the moon
When you comin' home son?
I don't know when, but we'll get together then son
You know we'll have a good time then.”

Then you cry. Like a baby. That is little.

• You have dreams of the undead violently devouring your human flesh. Evidently, you taste like chicken.

Wednesday, April 7, 2010

Day 242 - Ask Jax - Part 8

April 7th, 2010

This is the 8th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.

Dear Jax: Please reconcile the following paradox: Pinocchio’s nose only grows when he lies. If he says "my nose will now grow" and it grows, then he wasn't lying. If his nose doesn't grow, then he is lying... but shouldn't his nose grow? Please help as this issue has made me incontinent for days.
- Matt Schwarz, Winston Salem, North Carolina.

Jax’s Answer – Matt, yes indeed, this inconstancy has perplexed fairytale historians for years. Luckily I can shed some insight because I dated Pinocchio briefly in 1883. First let me say that P’s elderly, impoverished woodcarving creator, Geppetto, never approved of our union. I was a live person and he was a fictional character. I celebrated Hanukkah and Pinocchio partook in Kwanzaa rituals. I ate meat and he was…vegan. A little self righteous in fact. Pinocchio suffered from FNS. Flaccid Nose Syndrome. The stress and fatigue of being a lead character in a bestselling fairy tale was the catalyst for much angst that resulted with performance anxiety. His nose would lose momentum before he could blow it. Devastating. This segued into a psychological disorder that lead him to interpret all truths as lies and all lies as truths. My puppet began a mental spiral. Downward. Then his nose just gave out on him. At first we were able to overcome the strain this caused our relationship because of open and honest communication. Once that dissipated, I felt it was best to move on and date other little boys from fairy tales like Peterpan, Little Boy Blew and Hansel. I also had a brief lesbian stint. With Gretel.

Do you think someone's personality can be determined by the direction that they choose to put a toilet paper roll on the holder? I know some people prefer it to be "over" and some "under".
- Pamela Mohr Weinstein, New York, New York

Jax’s answer: From what I’ve not thoroughly researched in the toilet paper annals (ironic..yes), there are perceived stereotypes claiming that a person’s over/under preference determines their character. Real or perceived generalizations tell us that straight-lacers are uppers and free spirits are downers. I propose a challenge: Step out of your comfort zone and do the opposite the next time you change your toilet paper. Your ability to overcome the familiar will be conscience altering and create a sense of well being and calm. You will leave your toilet knowing that it is possible to create a world where unders and overs live together. In harmony. Wiping in unison. Without judgment.

Where's the restroom? - Ken Miller, Colorado Springs, Colorado

Jax’s answer -Sorry. Restrooms are for customers only. If you buy a casket, the bathroom is the second door on the left. Past the urns.

Tuesday, April 6, 2010

Day 241 - Spring. I'm Ready to Put Out

April 6th, 2010

Dearest Spring,

I write to you with an open heart, soul and willingness to embrace all that makes you so powerful, vulnerable and giving. Your gentle nurturing warmth has heightened my senses, melted the frozen stream of my heart and made me keenly aware that I am capable, ready and deserving of all you represent: Rebirth. Renewal. Growth.

You’ve crossed my path so many times before and I never looked at you the way I see you now. Sometimes what you’re looking for is right in front of you. Too cliché? Bad time to say,” I couldn't love a season until I loved myself?”

Thank you for waiting for me. My soul needed to experience the pivotal lessons of seasons past before I could open myself up to you. Yes, Summer burned me. Literally. I regret not applying SPF on Bastille Day. Unfortunately, my beret (that read, “My parents went to Champs-Élysée and all I got was this stupid beret”) didn’t block out the intensity of Summer’s brutally direct ultraviolet rays. Afterward, I sought the comfort of Fall and we had a short...intense run. I was undeniably touched by its depth, awareness and what it could do with autumn produce. Although I saw its beauty with the changing of the leaves, I couldn’t ignore that it had a mean streak and a short fuse that often resulted in the most unpleasant bursts of anger that would penetrate my thinly veiled being. At first I was angered and felt its darkness discredited its beauty. But then I came to terms that Fall was on its own journey. I can imagine it’s hard to have your season’s trees rolled with toilet paper every Halloween. Traumatic indeed. I moved on and hibernated with Winter for a short time. At first it felt comforting. But I am woman of the people, and only absorbing the energy of one tormented season of short days began to debilitate me. Although Winter was successful and performed blizzards all over the world, I felt trapped and my soul began to freeze and was no longer in sync with my life force. In addition, it came to my attention that Winter suffered from Hot Toddy-ism. I possess the compassion to stand by my seasons… but not when they’re mean drunks. It was devastating to leave Winter because I knew that I would knowingly be leaving one pain and walking into another. The depths of my soul were tested when I crawled through the frigid air, wintry mixes of precipitations and poorly sung Christmas carols.

I am not angry with the seasons of my past. I trust that they’re doing the best they can. Besides, they can’t control their proximity to the sun.

Sweet Spring, I’m aware that it does frighten us both to love gain. I know you have had despair in your past. We all remember what you endured during the blizzard of March’93. But you shook hands with your pain. The most noble of abilities. Saints sink. And rise again. Now you are strong, kind and steady (with the help of your global warming meds.)

Please know that I see how you look at me and your authentic calmness ignites an impulse of light into my being.

Thank you.

Nothing can express my sentiments better than the popular 1986 prom theme song by song Gloria Loring & Carl Anderson .

'cause I'll be your friend
And I'll be your lover
Well, I know in our hearts we agree
We don't have to be one or the other



Monday, April 5, 2010

Day 240 - Male PMS. It's Real

April 5th, 2010

On day 179, I introduced male readers to “Jax’s Safety Guide for Men to Protect Themselves from Women with PMS” in an entry entitled “PMS – Natures Most Unforgiving Natural Disaster.” I sympathized with the plight of what a man must endure the week before their lady is visited by Flowy McRubyred.

Since my aim is to present issues that are fair and balanced in my skewed interpretation of journalism, I bring forth the notion that male PMS is also real. Why? Because my favorite discredited source, Urban Dictionary, delivers, as always, a convincing sample sentence that is simply impossible to refute.

“Steer clear of Hans today, man--must be a case of male PMS.”

Often called Irritable Male Syndrome (IMS), male PMS can be the cause of mood swings, anxiety and stomach cramps. Much like an earthquake, this ailment can present much further danger than the female equivalent because it can sneak up at any time. ANY TIME. Except during morning sex.

Ladies, I urge you to protect yourselves should you be in danger of the frightening and destructive effects of male PMS. It’s best to familiarize yourself with my online pamphlet:

“Jax’s Safety Guide for Women to Protect Themselves from Men with PMS”:

• Take cover under a sturdy desk, stay away from windows and cover your eyes with a sleeping mask because there is a strong chance that the man might be wearing cut-off jean shorts. It is essential that you do not see these. You will go blind. And turn to stone. Be prepared as the man might react negatively by describing his bowel movements. And scratching his balls. In public.

• If you are in a car and your guy unexpectedly shows the symptoms of male PMS, exit the vehicle immediately and run to the nearest "Today’s Man”. This low end menswear store (made with fibers from Formally Known as Pluto) is like kryptonite to anyone with testosterone.

• The male often tries to lure a woman out of hiding by suggesting that they read “Eat Pray Love”, watch Oprah” and talk about their feelings over a cup of General Foods International Coffee. Vienna Blend. This is a ploy. He will simply go on a rampage arguing the benefits of keeping the toilet seat up. Then scratch his balls.

• Know emergency telephone numbers. There is a chance that you can survive his frenzied behavior if you are advised by his mom, spiritual adviser or mistress.

• Lessen his force by suggesting that he watch “Reservoir Dogs”, eat beef jerky and saying , “You know.. even though you say you’re 7 1/2 inches. I’m gonna go with 8.” This protective mechanism will most likely be the voice of reason and alleviate a man’s hypersensitivity. If he scratches just one ball…preferably the left one, you are no longer on high terror alert. The storm is passing.

Sunday, April 4, 2010

Day 239 - “How to Resurrect” – by Jesus H. Christ

April 4th, 2010

The critics all agree.

“Jesus has done it again! Carpenter, Philanthropist, Omnipotent being. And now author!”

“Finally an easy ‘how to’ guide that will have you resurrecting in no time! If you liked Judas’s critically acclaimed ‘Trader. Liar. Friend’...this book’s for you!”

“This guy makes stigmata look sexy.”

It only seems fitting that Jesus’ long awaited novel, “How to Resurrect”, has hit the bookshelves on this Easter Sunday.

Here are some of Christ's excerpts from this sure to be bestseller:

• “Timing is key. Don’t resurrect too soon or you’ll give off the impression that you’re trying too hard. On the flip side, don’t wait too long or you’ll risk the chance of being forgotten and replaced by the new ‘It’ entity. I had no interest in making my comeback and hearing, 'Oh. I think that’s that Jesus guy. Didn’t shower much. I still suspect he took a piss on my lawn.’ Give yourself the weekend before you make the grand return. Take a ‘me’ day. You deserve it. That’s what I did. It was a great opportunity to do some cardio to burn off my high caloric Last Supper meal, catch up on Season 3 of ‘24’ and get a pedicure. Please, just turn off the Blackberry.”

• Details Details Details. You’ll be returning from the afterlife so it’s essential that you take the time to rehearse your entrance, up your confidence and practice your gliding capabilities. Take a continuing education class in public speaking to jump start your self-esteem. It’s crucial that you assure yourself that you've got something to say. And people (well, yeah… Christians at least) will be listening. Getting a new, fresh and cool outfit and haircut is highly recommended. Stay away from boring solid colored robes. That’s so B.C. Hint: This spring, J.Crew offers a wide array of robes. Choices include: Electric pink, paisley and ducks.

• Now you’re ready for your flashy (yet tastefully elegant) and memorable resurrection that is sure to scream, ‘Hey, you. I AM the central figure of the Christian faith. Dog.” Hire an apostle to announce your name, work the spotlight and play “Eye of the Tiger” as you make your unforgettable entrance. Strut down the aisle, slap hands with your followers and give an evil ‘I told you so’ glance to the nonbelievers. Shoot them the finger to drive the point home. Find a good place where everyone can see and hear you. First pose. Then say, ‘As you would that men would do to you, do ye also to them likewise.’ Pose again. Then demand a beer.

Saturday, April 3, 2010

Day 238 - Teeth. And Why you Need Them

April 3rd, 2010

This morning I was having my morning coffee with my neighbor who has become a good friend. This is now a morning ritual where I have become that woman celebrating the moments of her life over a cup of General Mills International Coffee. The Vienna Blend.

We sat in the sun on her balcony as she was telling me about last night’s date. She met this guy online and felt that he was promising enough to meet for a drink. Although this man of the interweb did end up piquing her interest to a kind of above average degree, there was one unbearable Red Flag-apalooza : Missing tooth. A front one, a rather pertinent member of the dentature family. “Jax, he had a mouth of a dragon.”

I would imagine that an online dating seeker should be weary of profile pictures of people with a concealed mouth. There’s the possibility that what lies behind the lips could cause distress and be offensive to view. The same could be said should we choose to date our hostage whose mouth is duct taped shut. In our basement.

In my friend’s case, she can't imagine getting intimate with a mangled orifice. She needs a respectable mouth to take home to the family. Seems fair. Besides there are other inarguable benefits to having teeth. All of them.

• It shows that you take a certain amount of care when it comes to your physical appearance.

• Not taking proper care of your teeth greatly increases the risk of gingivitis, halitosis and you’re much more likely to transmit disease-causing bacteria to others and yourself. The same bacteria that causes gum disease can spread to other parts of your body and increase your risk of a heart attack, stroke and diabetes.

• The Tooth Fairy shouldn’t be required to visit anyone after puberty. And come on…like she’s not busy enough. She Tooth fairies at night. And strips during the day.

In an effort to make a 180 on day 238, let’s delve deep into the oral cavity and uncover the possible benefits of being one tooth less of someone we would want to sleep with.

• Your employment check is not spent on toothbrushes, floss and Crest Whitening Strips. No more “It hurts that means its working Listerine.”

• People assume you’re a bum, feel sorry for you and give you a lot of nickels.

• No teeth could up your marketability should you have a career in porn. Just ask the stars of “Saturday Night Beaver”, “Honey, I Blew...Everybody" and “Honey, I Blew...Everybody…Again”.

Here’s the deal. I am a teeth girl. I like them. I want you to have them. And not just because I enjoy seeing my reflection in someone’s stunning set of calcified, white structures residing in their jaws.

Paleontologists say teeth are among the most long-lasting features of the mammal species. They’re found in fossils that date back hundreds of millions of years. And you can’t hold onto them for 1 lifetime? That’s just sloppy.

Guys, it’s unfair of me to cast an opinion about your ability to cope with females who are unfamiliar with the world of orthodontics. But women like their man’s teeth to be the epitome of glorious beauty and splendor. Then we can learn to live with his 3 inch penis.

Friday, April 2, 2010

Day 237 - Ask Jax - Part 7

April 2nd, 2010

This is the 7th installment of my "Ask Jax" series. I'm open to answering any of your pressing inquiries. Any topic. I can't guarantee instant publication, but I will hold onto all questions and attempt to answer them at some point during my 365 day blog entry challenge. Remember there are no stupid questions. Just stupid people who ask questions.

Will Steve Guttenberg ever win an Oscar? - Dara Podber Albright, Atlanta, Georgia

Jax’s Answer: I loathe being the messenger of dread and sorrow… but Steve Guttenberg is fated to forever leave the Academy Awards Oscarless. If he’s even invited. It’s simply impossible for him to repeat the effects and nuanced grace of his performance in “Short Circuit”. Failed actors turned movie critics for small town newspapers in red states all agree that Mr.Guttenberg simply lost himself in this brave, stirring and tremendously dignified performance.“As scientist Newton Crosby, he delivered lines that left no one with a dry eye:
- “Howard it's hard to say, it's malfunctioning, it may not do anything.”
- “I don't know; I guess it can't triangulate its position.”
- “No, what?”
It pains me to deliver an unsettling answer. If I can extend any solace to you sweet Dana, know that Guttenberg has won an Oscar. In my heart.

Is cat urine love or spite? Neil James, Brooklyn, New York.

Jax's Answer: It depends on the circumstances. If the cat uses the litter box and covers the liquid waste in the shape of a heart, then you are loved. Bonus if kitty can write you a message with her urine. For example, “Neil, you’re tops! You know how to pamper a pussy.” Be aware that you are deeply spited when your cat pisses on the faces of burly white gay men. Known as “Bears” in some circles. What? You fit that description. Your cat is uncool. And homophobic. 3 words: Feline tolerance camp. Stat.

I'm frying up a whole chicken tonight. I hear peanut oil is best, but I have an allergy! Help! - Jon Reitzes, Brooklyn, New York

Jax’s Answer. Preparing this delicacy to precision doesn’t lie with the oil. It’s the chicken. Or so called chicken. KFC knows how to deliver fried chicken-licious goodness. Use a "genetically manipulated organism". Substitute chicken with biological entities that have been altered using scientific engineering techniques. Your family is sure to approve. And your 4 year old will grow breasts. (This post has been endorsed by my pasty angry vegan following. Both of them.)

Thursday, April 1, 2010

Day 236 - April Fools Joke = Justifiable Emotional Abuse?

April 1st, 2010

Taco Bell has announced that they have purchased the Liberty Bell from the city of Philadelphia and they will be changing the name to the “Taco Liberty Bell”.

April Fools y’all!

I’m awesome.

On April 1st, 1996, Taco Bell took out a full page ad in the “New York Time’s" (and six other leading U.S. newspapers) announcing that they had purchased the Liberty Bell to "reduce the country's debt" and renamed it the "Taco Liberty Bell".

Thousands of people protested before the deception was revealed at noon on April 1st. Taco Bell sales shot up half a million dollars the first week of April.

The spork friendly chain restaurant (that squirts sour cream out of an abnormally grandiose piece of metal machinery) was successful in pulling off this elaborate hoax.

Was it admirable? Or mean? Let’s go with # 2.

Often the purpose of partaking in an April Fools “joke” is a justifiable excuse to take an action (usually layered with conscious or subconscious malicious intent) that could leave the recipient feeling confusion, anger and distress.

You know what else has the same affect? Emotional abuse. If a=b and b=c then April Fools jokes = Emotional abuse.

Here’s why:

• April Fools pranks and emotional abuse can both be subtle. An effective April Fools hoax is telling your fiancé, “I still have flashbacks from being stuck in a well.” The subtlety is achieved when delivering the news in a causal scenario. Like at your wedding.

• Emotional abusers isolate you so you're reliant on them. The abuser discourages you from spending time with friends and family. On April 1st, be careful when someone tells you that he/she has planned a crab bake with all your friends and family. Just to celebrate you…then they exclaim, “April Fools Day mother fucker! Now make me a sandwich!”

• Often the abuser won’t acknowledge your value or worth. They degrade, insult, ridicule, yell, swear or publicly humiliate you. Every day is April 1st to Bill O'Reilly.

So, please, steer away from April Fools jokes like the following:

- Don’t tell people that Facebook is going away.

- Don’t pay the “New York Times to create a false headline that reads, “World War III. Underway!”

- Don’t tell your child that he is adopted…when you just stole him.

You’ll just be hurting people. And yourself.