A Question for the Rabbi

    “Why me?” Aaron asked. “Why me?”

    He had asked Dr. Levine, and Dr. Levine just sat there. “Why you?” he said. “Why anyone? Why not you? That’s the question that being a doctor doesn’t give me answers to. I love helping people. But I can’t help you, and that’s driving me crazy. Why you? Why me? Why did you have to be my patient?”

 

Rudolph at Rest – A Christmas Story

    Growing up wasn’t always easy for Rudolph. His nose was oversized and the other reindeer at school called him all sorts of names – “snot-nose,” “wart hog,” “clown face,” “freak” – and basically treated him like shit.

    Yeah, you know the story. One foggy Christmas Eve and all that…

[A]t the end of the night, they all had to acknowledge that they couldn’t have done it without him. And so they warmed up to him, sort of. Rudolph, however, wasn’t ready to forgive and forget. He knew damn well what a bunch of bastards they all were.

 

Meine Yiddische Barbie

    Kishkas, tuchas, chutzpah, schmuck, dreck, bupkis. All these strange words just flying about… What a torrent of conversation, of kvetching, of noodging, of angsting! They loved to schmooze. There were no awkward moments of silence, not even a second of silence…

    Sheila Barbie loved it all. The talk, the energy, the arguments. With the other Barbies, she had never argued at all. And back then, who knew from politics?

 

How I Started Writing Porn

    I wasn’t sure where to start. I didn’t want to go to the literary magazines. If I sent something in that they recognized… And besides, they didn’t pay anything. And while it wasn’t all about the money, I did want to be treated like a professional. Eventually I found myself looking at lists of “adult” magazines that used fiction….

    I really wanted to send in something original. But it was still too early for that.

 

Would You Die for Me?

    “ ‘Would you die for me?’ It’s a simple question.

    “Let’s say you were sitting here in the living room and there was a knock at the door and you answered it and this strange skeleton-man in a black robe with a black hood was there and said to you, ‘I am Death, and I am here to see Kaley.’ Would you say, ‘Oh, she’s in the kitchen,’ or would you say, ‘She’s not here, won’t you take me instead?’ Which would you do?”

 

Night of the Chimps

    For Rachel, Africa had always loomed as a mysterious part of her destiny. But she had always been an observer, an outsider. She had been in Africa, but she had not been Africa. Now she was.

 

Ileana

    “‘Dave’ to ‘David.’ More mature. Not a kid anymore. Good career move. Best of all, it’s free. Completely free. That makes it a grand bargain indeed in my mind. Excellent. David it is. David, why don’t you just sit down in that armchair while we talk? I’d like us all to be comfortable.”

 

Sweet Dreams, Asshole!

    Timothy looked around the table again. He spotted Jason Schultz, who was all but trying to hide directly under the table. Jason was in sales, and it was obvious that he must have done something wrong, or not done something that he was supposed to have done. Target acquired.

    It was a truly terrible hour for Jason, one that would probably scar him for months if not longer. During all of it, Kyle simply watched, seemingly bored.

 

The Jump

    Ernst did spot one item that caught his attention. It was about a forest named Aokigahara in Japan… famous as “The Suicide Forest.” It is indeed a beautiful setting, and attracts loads of ordinary tourists each year. But at the same time, a continuing flow of people go there as an ideal setting to kill themselves. Some simply go there and take pills. More often, however, they use the picturesque tree limbs to hang themselves… A bestselling Japanese book, The Complete Suicide Manual, recommended Aokigahara as “the perfect place to die.”

    As Ernst thought about all this, he realized that there was an opportunity to create a compelling stage for people who wanted to kill themselves.

 

Schrödinger’s Girl

    There was a girl. An average sort of girl. Not an average girl exactly. But average in the way that you wouldn’t notice her, wouldn’t remember her. On the street, your gaze wouldn’t follow her – there would be other girls, prettier girls, sexier girls, even uglier girls, to notice. You wouldn’t remember her from high school. If she was in a class with you, it would be as if her seat was somehow unoccupied. If she was in an office where you worked and she left, no one would ever say, some time later, “Hey, do you remember so and so?” No one would ever add, “Oh yeah, remember the time she did such and such?” She was like Schrödinger’s cat – she existed and did not exist at the same time.

 

Fast, Faster, Fastest

May 13

Upping training. Now fasting 3 hrs between lunch and dinner too. Total = 6 hrs fasting a day. #fasttofightobesity #gettingserious

May 14

Did it! Suggested reading: Hunger Artist by Franz Kafka. Inspiring. If he can do it, I can too. #fasttofightobesity #kafka-hungerartist #waytogo

 

The Barbie Massacre

    There it was, Curvy Barbie in all her realistic glory. “What about this one?” [Liana] smiled as she held out the box. “It looks a lot more real than the others.”

    Tammi may have been fat, but she was not dumb. She saw exactly what her mother was saying to her – but most importantly, about her. She was not worthy of a “real” Barbie – those were reserved for her friends, some of whom, to be sure, had no worries about weight, and others whose parents were simply not freaking out about messages that the dolls were sending. Tammi just wanted a Barbie that would fit in with the sleek and beautiful Barbies that all her friends had.

 

The Book of Eve

    Eve watched as Adam ate the fruit in his mouth. He was going through a range of expressions that began with fear and moved to curiosity and then to something more. He stood there for a moment as the effects began to take hold. He had never felt anything like this before. The Garden of Eden wasn’t Paradise, this was.

    Adam looked at Eve again. Oh my God, are those boobs?

 

Motorcycle Ken Contemplates Curvy Barbie

    Curvy Barbie goes around insisting on telling anyone who will listen, “I am a curvy woman. My proportions are realistic. That freakish old Barbie with the perfect boobs and tiny ass and long, long legs is not real. I represent reality. I am the one little girls should be buying, not her. Get over it!”

    Motorcycle Ken doesn’t care about any of that. He loved the old Barbie, who is lost to him now. He loved the dream, the sure and vibrant feeling that there was something more in his life than the mud and clay of this world.

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