Al Gebra

Thanks, Esti:

NEW YORK – A public school teacher was arrested today at John F. Kennedy International Airport as he attempted to board a flight while in possession of a ruler, a protractor, a set square, a slide rule and a calculator.

At a morning press conference, Attorney General Alberto Gonzales said he believes the man is a member of the notorious Al-gebra movement. He did not identify the man, who has been charged by the FBI with carrying weapons of math instruction.

“Al-gebra is a problem for us,” Gonzales said. “They desire solutions by means and extremes, and sometimes go off on tangents in a search of absolute value.

They use secret code names like ‘x’ and ‘y’ and refer to themselves as ‘unknowns’, but we have determined they belong to a common denominator of the axis of medieval with coordinates in every country. As the Greek philanderer Isosceles used to say, ‘There are three sides to every triangle’.”

When asked to comment on the arrest, President Bush said, “If God had wanted us to have better weapons of math instruction, He would have given us more fingers and toes.”

White House aides told reporters they could not recall a more intelligent or profound statement by the president.


I’m writing a one-act play (Thanks for the link James). I’m about a quarter of the way done. It’s gonna make you laugh, it’s gonna make you cry. It’s gonna strip you of your self and help you learn who you really are. And it’s going to involve aliens abducting your favorite pet and going back in time to deliver it to a younger version of yourself.

Or maybe it’ll just be mildly entertaining, like something you’d watch on television if all the other channels were yanked off the air.

Born Again

I was sitting at home when the call came;
I had the afternoon off and the house to myself.

I anticipated telling a telemarketer to get lost.

Instead I heard a shaky voice on the other end,
barely more than a whisper; after a few odd questions, she said:

“I think…I think you’re my mother…”

Thirty-four years later, and now I was back in that hospital room:
eyes bleary with tears so I couldn’t even read the papers I signed;
my shaky hand scribbling a signature that only resembled my own.

Thirty-four years later, and I still hadn’t figured out what I was going to say.
“Um…I hoped you might find me someday,”

My voice was barely more than a whisper, like hers,
but inside my heart screamed:

I just wanted you to be okay!! I just wanted you to be okay!!

“I hoped I would, too,” she whispered.

“Would you…would you like to meet?”
My body trembled the way it did
that day, as I went home without my child.

“I would love to,” she answered.