Bananaphone Down!

Usually, getting my attention during the morning commute to the Dole Fruit Plant (still not affiliated with Dole Food Company, in spite of some serious efforts on the part of Plant management) is the province of peeple with fashion sense that is SO NOT FASHION as to endanger the eyes of both me and my fellow subway riders. Someone has to stand up for the little guy and tell those peeple just how NOT FASHION they are.

But not today.

Today's subway crisis began, simply enough, with a traditional male-female couple that boarded the A train at 175th Street. I didn't look at their faces, I just got a sense of them as the woman sat down next to me in the middle seat of a bank of three, and her dude stood in front of her holding onto the railing. Somewhere just before 168th Street, he reached into some pocket or pouch and handed her a banana, which I presume she ate. We were between 145th and 125th Streets when I noticed her out of the corner of my eye brandishing the limp, empty banana peel at him. The two of them then had the following exchange:

Girl: My bananaphone isn't working.

Guy: What?

Girl: My bananaphone isn't working. It collapsed.

Guy: It has no dial tone.

Girl: It's not working.

Guy: Mine is ringing.

Girl: Brrring! Brring!

Guy: Hahaha.

Girl: Hello? It's still not working.

She ended up tucking the collapsed bananaphone into his belt or a strap on his backpack somewhere in the 70s or 80s, and when we pulled into 59th Street, she got up and walked past him with what appeared to be little more than a friendly tap on his shoulder.

By then, I was already blaming Barack Obama. This is what happens when an Orwellian socialist Muslim takes over the USA: people become so afraid of the government and public services that they literally let their bananaphones go to waste, or even stupidly attempt self-repair, instead calling up the bananaphone company and getting the help they require. This, in turn, leads to the bananaphone companies not having enough work to merit paying full salaries, which then puts all kinds of talented, qualified bananaphone operators and technicians out of work when the companies outsource their jobs to China and the Philippines and Peru and stuff.

This country is the worst.

Not Our Year

It saddens me to no end to report that in yesterday's New York City mayoral election, it was Mike Bloomberg, and not the Muppets, who took Manhattan.


In fact, the Muppets didn't even come in second. That honor went to someone called "City Comptroller Bill Thompson," whose haircut led me to believe he was at least half-Muppet himself.

(Hey, psst! Am I the only one who thinks "Bill Thompson" sounds like a made up name? How generic can you get? Bill Thompson? It might as well have been Jack Smith or Bob Mitchell or Bill Thompson or something. Bill Thompson is like the kind of name you used to check into a hotel when you don't want the federales or that nosey wife of yours to find out where you're staying. What are you hiding, Bill Thompson, if that fake-sounding name IS your real name?)

Anyway, Bill Thompson lost, and now he has to go back to the same job he had before, and probably have lunch at the same stupid cafe downstairs in the lobby of the same dumb, boring building, which is almost as frowny face as the Muppets NOT taking Manhattan, as I was led to believe they would.

The New York times says Mayor Bloomberg no longer seems invincible, and I agree that he does look pretty vincible, which is what makes the Muppets' failure to take Manhattan all the more heartbreaking. This is like reliving the failed Oscar the Grouch '08 campaign all over again. Only this time, with 30-35 percent more tears.