What I Did

Wednesday morning, Jordana’s alarm went off while we were talking and hugging. I’ve never seen her so upset, never, not on September 11th, not when she’s lost shows and jobs, never. And while I’m sure it might be shocking to many of you that she would be more hurt by this election than by September 11th, you should know that her people have been expecting attacks from the outside world for thousands of years, it’s when you are attacked by your own people that it is hard to swallow.

She left for work and I went to the gym and worked out for an hour and a half. I decided it was a new year, starting November 3. This is a new year for me, I just had a birthday, I’m now five. I turned two when my parents were divorced, I turned three when I was divorced, I turned four when I remarried and it’s time to turn five. I went and got my hair cut.

We all know the small things we could do in order to get ahead, we all know the secret things we should be doing. It’s terrifying, this life. We worry about failure. We worry even more about success. We worry about death, about pain, about loneliness. As a nation, we nominated John Kerry because we were worried what middle America would think if we nominated Howard Dean. We wanted someone electable, and we tried to play to the center. We were wrong.

I’m not going to do it anymore. The post I published some weeks ago about the Republican mindset was a peace offering, an explanation when I felt like the debate was too full of hate. I am no longer interested in the debate, I am no longer interested in your point of view. I have children waiting to be born, I have audiences waiting for my work, I have a voice that hasn’t sung in years because of *caution*, because I wanted to be electable.

I will never again back a candidate because he’s electable. I’m going to lose, shot down in a blaze of glory, my kind is always denied access to the polls, my kind is always going to get punched in the face, we will *ALWAYS* get beat up by the school bully, so I’m not gonna give him my lunch money any more. Beat me up, either way, you won’t get my fucking lunch money.

We all know the small things we should be doing, and on Wednesday I started. I went to the gym, I cut my hair, and I started making phone calls. I have the names of three agents who will meet with me next week. I have three casting directors who told me to use their names. And Gideon met.

We talked about our show, our next show, the show after that. We talked about politics, sure, but none of that matters at all. We’re New York Jews, you hate us anyway. We’re faggots. You hate us anyway. You want me to pretend like I’m *not* smarter than you? Like I *don’t* look down on you? Will you hate me less then? Will you think I’m cool? Will you like me? No, you won’t. I can pretend to like you, to respect you, but I don’t.

We’re New York Jews. We’re faggots. You hate me anyway. But soon, I’ll be on your TV. Me and my faggot Jew friends. We’ll keep cashing your checks. You don’t know who you’re writing it to anyway, you don’t care. You want fat stand up comics with hot smart wives who love them, and you want funny funny commercials for Palmolive and you don’t want to know who the check is going to. So, soon, I’m gonna take it.

You watch TV and you don’t know when you’re being spun. You listen to Rock and Roll, you don’t know you’re being spun. You don’t read the bible, you have it read to you by people scared of pretty girls and faggots, scared of bold behavior, and you stay so scared you have to own a gun and drink your meals in halogen kitchens with children bred on terror and vapors. Wood paneling living room lit by the glow of must-see TV and the faint smell of over fried chicken and gin, with the faintest whirring of your brain buzzing out “Seinfeld isn’t bad for a jew”, and you’re advising *me* to be less arrogant.

I woke up Wednesday and by the time I went to bed Wednesday night, I had started my future. I’m never leaving here. I’m dug in. And I am going to lord it over you, when they come for you. Every Mormon that voted for hate, voted side by side with Christians that think they are a cult. Every Jew that voted to protect Israel stood side by side with every southern anti-semite. Every person who lost their job voted for more jobs to be sent over seas. Every person who voted for Jesus, voted against tolerance and love.

They will come for you. They will come for me first, sure, my wife, my children. They will come for my neighbors, the New York Arabs, the Liberal Elite. They will come for me first, but I’ll survive, I will thrive because I am in the right, because I am elite. Then they will come for you, and you will be too scared, too terrified to do anything. You will hold your head in your hands and say, “I wanted *them* to change, not Me! I wasn’t voting so that bad things would happen to ME! How did this come back to me? Why can’t I worship and love and have a job? How did this happen?”

I went to bed Wednesday night, but I didn’t go to sleep. I got up Thursday and I went to the gym. I made more phone calls, I wrote more music and I taught children. Your children. I taught them to be bold. I told them to stand up, I told them that no-one in my group judges another for singing differently. I taught them that we are the music makers, that we are the dreamers of the dream. I taught them to be the next generation of loud mouths and degenerates, battling always toward absolute unfettered freedom.

I came home exhausted, drained, and I had dinner with my wife and my mom and we laughed and laughed. We didn’t watch the news, we talked about our music, about my kids in rehearsal, about our dreams. My mom is getting a job as an editor for textbooks. Whoops! I’m teaching children. UH-OH! You don’t have enough hate in you to stomp us all out. They will come for me, for my wife, my kids, sure. But they will come for you next. The left doesn’t need to wake up, the liberal elite doesn’t need to change a goddam thing. You don’t have to wake up either. Sleep as long as you can. But they are coming for you, rest assured.

I went to bed last night. I went to bed exhausted, but I did not go to sleep.