4:17 p.m. I'm wearing a yarmulke that Colleen made for me. I daresay I look quite fetching in it; I keep looking at my reflection in car windows, in shop windows, in Colleen's sunglasses, and thinking, Now there goes a dapper holy man. How do you do, Reb Dumb-John? Matchmaker, matchmaker, make me a match. I am an attractive Jew.

Colleen suggests, however, that there's more to being a Jew than the wearing of yarmulke, the shouting of "Shalom! Nuke Palestine!" at random intervals, and the singing of lyrics from Fiddler on the Roof. Since she's just a shiksa goy from Michigan, however, I pay her little mind. If any Jews do read this page, please set her straight.

the Funny Show

agriculture poem

my life in the ghost of Bush

time-lapsed (part 1)

unreconciled

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Images are taken without permission from the fine and trusting folks at Folk Arts of Poland; please purchase something from them. Background music stolen without permission from Epitonic, Basta Music, and just about everywhere else my unscrupulous hands could grab something. No rights reserved.

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