What About Babka?

I live in dread of lots of things-- random gunfire, intentional gunfire, a fatal asthma attack while I'm home alone, my car's airbag blowing up in my face after driving over a Philadelphia pothole, poisonous reptiles. The weather.

As you can see, most of the things I live in dread of are things that are far beyond my control. My mother has repeatedly advised against worrying about things I cannot control, but these admonitions have not stopped me.

Nothing can stop me. Except, of course, a fatal asthma attack.

Another additional occurance in life I live in fear/dread of are Seinfeld references.

Oftentimes, in the course of my mundane, banal, repetitive existence, I feel like a batter standing at the plate watching a spinning baseball zooming right towards his face, in slow motion. I can feel a Seinfeld reference coming, in rather the same way that I know I'm going to get a four-star sinus infection when I feel the back upper row of my teeth start to hurt.

Scene: You're standing in line at the bank on a Friday, waiting to deposit your miserable little paycheckette. There are two foreskinlips standing behind you in sweater-vests and nylon pants.

Random Dickhead: Hey, Bob-- you up for a game of golf this weekend?

Random Twatwad: Yeah, Dale, sure thing.

Random Dickhead: Got your Titleists ready?

Random Twatwad: Sure thing. Oh, hey-- do you remember that episode of Seinfeld where fuckin' Kramer hit the fuckin' Titleist into the blowhole of the fuckin' whale? Oh, man, that was fuckin' SO FUCKIN' FUNNY!"

Random Dickhead: Oh, yeah! Oh, man! Hahahahhahaha!

Hardy har har, d-bags. I want to run both of you over with a wheat-thresher.

Scene: You're at your parent's house for dinner. You're trying to have a nice time.

Me: The bread's great, guys-- where's it from?

Mom: Oh, it's the 3-cheese loaf that you like from Panera.

Me: Oh, thanks for getting that.

Dad: You remember the episode of Seinfeld with the marble rye? That was SO FUCKING FUNNY!

Scene: You've just returned from the dentist and you're all Novacaine'd up and you look and talk like Dick Clark for two hours. You're in agony.

Person Who's Supposed to Be Your Friend: How was the dentist?

You: Unnngghhhh....

Person Who's Supposed to Be Your Friend But is Really the Devil Incarnate: Sucks. Oh, hey, remember that episode of Seinfeld where Kramer goes in for dental work and then goes to that charity dinner and sits next to Mel Torme who thinks he's a retard and then Mel Torme sings to him while Kramer acts like a retard? That was SO FUCKING FUNNY!

Want to order soup? Forget it.

Waiting for a table at a Chinese restaurant with a group of people? Someone's gonna bust out a "SEINFELD? FOUR!" and you can put money down on it. It might even be you. If so, just un-follow me right now-- I can't take it anymore.

If you're ever with a group of friends in an underground parking garage and you can't find your car, one of your pals is going to reference the episode where Jerry pees in the lot. Once you do find your car, be sure to lock this supposed "friend" out and then run him/her over.

If I seem like an insufferable misanthrope to you, um-- where have you been? I get it, of course, that the fact that this show has been off the air since the late 1990's and is still quoted and referenced so consistently and has so weaved itself into the very fiber of our being is a credit to Larry David and his cast (yes, including the recently-insane Michael Richards). I get that it is perhaps the most influential television program since "The Dukes of Hazzard" and "Maude."

I understand all that.

But, really, is it too much to ask that people restrain themselves a little bit? There really is no law that implicitly or explicitly states that, anytime you spot a male jogger sporting bitchtits you must suggest to your traveling companion that this jogger get himself a "Bro" or a "Mannsiere."

Really, it's not written anywhere. I swear.

And, really, if you want to call my blog gay for all the times I talk about wearing bowties and loving Gilbert & Sullivan and for being sensitive, that's fine. Just please, please, please, for the love of God and all that's holy, don't add, "not that there's anything wrong with that."