I have a fix-it ticket that is lingering around, threatening awful consequences. Mainly increased fees, but it did dredge my deep fear of prison. I've watch Gangland: I wouldn't last an hour in there. It makes me think of Milhouse's classic line, "I can't go to Juvie: they'll use me as currency in there!"
However, I do feel pretty safe, in that I'm Jewish. I believe that if push came to shove, the Elders of Zion would totally step in and talk to the judge. Or another judge. Or another judge--I can't imagine that you'd have to go through more than three judges to hit a Jew. We're Jews, we have an image to uphold. We can't be sent to prison like a common white person.
Oh, and back to this ticket: now it's with "Collections" which incites images of broken-teethed men coming to my door to take my couch. (It's actually a smelly futon no one uses, so that'd be fine.) Again, I think Collections only happens to poor people in rural Pennsylvania. Maybe that's why we Jews put Mizzuzzah's on our doors, so that the Repo man knows that they can't mess with the occupants.
Meanwhile, car's still broken, but should be fixed tomorrow. I'm having the nice Mexican at Pep Boys take care of it--Juan? Felix? He said he went by both, which doesn't do much for traditional stereotypes of "you all have the same four names!" And then, back home to make chicken soup.
Friday, October 9, 2009
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