Manhattan Cocktail
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About this ebook
In the spirit of Robert Benchley, with the updated slant of humorists such as Dave Barry, Lewis Burke Frumkes brings us Manhattan Cocktails. In this delirious collection, Frumkes parodies normalcy through mild-mannered satire, bizarre concepts, and sly sophistication.
Manhattan Cocktail intoxicates us, blending vintage Americana with modern mania. Frumkes puts a spin on our lives, adding a twist to our perceptions of children, social status, balding, executive giftmanship and all the other staples of daily living. Both old fans and new will be delighted and entertained as they immerse themselves in Frumkes' outlandish observations.
Lewis B. Frumkes
Lewis Burkes Frumkes is a writer/humorist/teacher/broadcaster. In addition to the many books he's written his writing has appeared in many venues, including Harper's, Punch and the New York Times. He has taught Humanities at Marymount Manhattan College and Harvard University. He lives in New York City.
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Manhattan Cocktail - Lewis B. Frumkes
All Rights Reserved © 1989, 2000 by Lewis Burke Frumkes
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the permission in writing from the publisher.
Published by toExcel an imprint of iUniverse.com, Inc.
Originally published by Simon & Schuster Inc
For information address: iUniverse.com, Inc. 620 North 48th Street Suite 201 Lincoln, NE 68504-3467 www. iuniverse .com
ISBN: 0-595-00235-8
ISBN: 978-1-4759-1783-3 (ebook)
Contents
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
MANHATTAN COCKTAIL
1
2
3
4
5
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
For Yussel, who would have enjoyed this book.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
Tim McGinnis, from the first, until the end, was my advocate, my inspired editor, and my friend. I will always owe him a debt of gratitude. I wish to express special thanks also to Laura Yorke, my bright, talented, and impossibly optimistic editor, and to Robin Rue, my loyal and canny agent, who for some ungodly reason thinks I am a riot. I believe it has to do with the fact that she once played the drums in a rock group. It’s out now Robin, Pandora made me do it. And finally, thanks to Dorothy Pittman for her grace and intelligence, and always sage advice.
MANHATTAN COCKTAIL
MANHATTAN COCKTAIL: 1, Any drink or beverage used to
While away the time waiting for friends to show up. 2. A
blend or intoxicating mix of sophisticated urban humor
1
MANHATTAN COCKTAIL
I’ve been losing patience with people who make dates and habitually show up late. You know the type. In a typical scenario I’m waiting at a restaurant.
Care for another drink?
No thanks, bartender, twenty-three Perriers has just about quenched my thirst, but if you’d be good enough to pass those peanuts. Thanks.
Waiting for friends?
Yup.
What time is your reservation?
Eight.
Its nine thirty-five.
I know. Hold it, I think this is them now.
Oh, Lewis dear, were so sorry. John had to have open heart surgery just as we were leaving the house. Hope you haven’t been waiting long.
No, of course not, just got here myself. Oh bartender, what do I owe you for the Perriers?
Thirty-five dollars.
Or.
We’ll pick you up at seven-thirty, okay?
Great.
Mrs. Hillpift said she’d be right down, something about a white rabbit.
Thanks.
Radio: This is the Rex Martin Show
This is Guess That Tune
This is Lamont Cranston, The Shadow This is Inner Sanctum
This is the Late News This is Father Benjamin Mignonette This is the 7 A.M. News, Good Morning! Oh, Lewis, how nice of you to wait. My dress got caught in the computer and had to be rewoven—the buttons from Paris didn’t arrive until just a few minutes ago. You know how those French pilots are, as if they had all the time in the world. Why Lewis dear, you’re sweating. Are you sick, do you have a fever?
Margaret, the party was yesterday.
Oh dear, oh dear! I hope you’re not angry/’
No, of course not. Will John be down soon?
Oh yes, any moment now. He was just checking the Encyclopedia Britannica for spelling errors."
Suppressing the urge to strangle them I foolishly play their game. If they are usually a half hour fate and I want them at eight for a dinner party, I simply tell them to come at seven-thirty.
Sometimes people aren’t footed by being told to come early, especially when they have arrived early two dates running. They regroup and come an hour fate the following time.
Oh dear, are we late again?
No problem, Janet, the Bushes said to send you their regards. That Barbara is such a love. Maybe you can meet them next time. Care for a drink?
Of course if you don’t know the Bushes you may have to learn relaxation techniques to help you through the difficult waiting period. Personally,1 would cutivate the Reagans.
Scientists have found that white waiting for a fate friend to arrive, the average person experiences contractions
or tension spasms
of the whole body. These contractions left unattended can reduce the person waiting to a whimpering, sobbing, howling bowl of jelly. Enter Lamazel
As the tension mounts in your upper torso and neck, and you find yourself belching hitherto unknown expletives to the bartender about your friend, begin a gentle pattern of slow, rhythmic pant-breathing accompanied by counting from one to ten. After about a half hour of this breathing, just as you are shifting into acute spasm and foaming at the mouth, try what the French call effleurage
or butterfly stroking. Lie
down across the top of the bar at the restaurant and move your fingertips in soft circles over the centers of tension (in your case your entire body). Try not to pay attention to other diners who out of ignorance may be calling an ambulance or the police. Relax!
Finally, when dealing with inveterate, degenerate late-comers, persons who flagrantly abuse your good graces and nature by asking specifically when they should meet you only so they will know when to be late—swift retribution is called for. Biblical justice.
Hi, I hope I haven’t kept you waiting long.
Unfortunately you have, Patty.
(Signalling to the executioner waiting in the wings near the brazier) "Off with her
head!"
This last solution never fails to elicit responses of surprise from those who are late (pathological minds do not expect capital punishment for being late), and it really works. Unless a special presidential reprieve arrives, hand delivered, I urge you to use it. Trust me, with people like the Beemaxes it is the only way. Here they come now. Ready?
Oh, hi dear, I hope we haven’t kept you waitin’…
Rat-a-tat-tat-a-tat-tat-a-tat.
Others will respect you for your stand.
2
FRUMKES FOR PRESIDENT
I like Dukakis. Dukakis is small and cute and calls everybody my friends,
whether they are or they aren’t. But were talking about electing a president of the United States, my friends, a leader who will be the most powerful man on earth. Dukakis, with or without his friends, just isn’t exciting enough. I also like George Bush. George is tall and handsome, the kind of man every divorced woman in America hopes she’ll meet on a blind date. George can boogie like a demon, hit golf balls with the best of them, and model V-necked sweaters for GQ; but, lets face it, friends, he’s just too wimpy to be president. That is why I have decided to run for president.
But where am I coming from, you ask? What is my platform? Good question.
As you probably know, the Russians are winning the arms race. Back in the seventies, when the peaceniks and mollycoddles were talking Salt II and détente, and we foolishly stopped producing arms, the devious Russians continued to build weapons behind our backs—Build, Sergei, build! Yo, ho, heave ho! Catch the capitalist dogs now, but don’t let them see you.
Today they not only have parity with us, they have surpassed us in every major military area. I’m sure I don’t have to tell you about their SS-20, PLr4, and PI-5 missiles, all huge and MIRVed and equipped with needles and spiders, capable of taking out planets the size of Saturn. They are awesome. Or their Gruntov Battle Titan, a gigantic evil robot that eats soldiers in the field and then spits them out again. "Ha, ha, ha! Imperialist peeg! Grrrl Crunch, crunch! Ha, ha, ha! Believe me, the Russians are fiends. They are tough and mean and never show mercy.
Please, comrade, no, spare me. I will learn ‘The Volga Boatmen by heart, please—arghhh!" In any nuclear confrontation they would kick our teeth in. I wouldn’t lie to you. If you don’t want your children to be eaten by a Gruntov Battle Titan or incinerated by a nuclear missile, you had better get your priorities straight and jump on the Frumkes bandwagon now. Uncle Lew needs you!
How will I offset the Russian lead, you ask? I will build not only a Stealth bomber, that invisible flying wing you have seen drawings of in Time magazine, but Stealth aircraft carriers that launch invisible fighter planes, and Stealth submarines and Stealth tanks. I will build an entire Stealth army
equipped with black cloaks and Reebok sneakers so that we can tiptoe across the Russian border without being detected and walk right up to Gorbachevs office inside the Kremhn walls.
Did you hear something, Boris?
No, not me, Mr. Chairman. It must have been the wind."
I will allow private