Post-A-Day: Garbage Car (By Special Guest Jarret Berenstein)
(Today I'm happy [and thankful, for the day off] to present my first ever guest blog post from my good friend and comedian, Jarret Berenstein. We saw this car while we out the other night and it stopped us dead in our tracks. Truly a fascinating specimen. Enjoy!)
Garbage Car: A Tragedy. -by Jarret Berenstein I don't understand garbage car, and I don't think I ever will. Garbage car is full of garbage. It is FULL of garbage. No room for passengers. No room for a driver. Just packed to the roof with a shit ton of garbage. I know what you're thinking. "Jarret...a car FULL of garbage? Surely there is at least some room in the back for a baby seat. How are they going to transport babies around if not?" Go ahead and examine the photos. This car is full of garbage.
Full disclosure - We did not examine the trunk, so we cannot say with any certainty what it was full of. But based on the evidence at our disposal however, I comfortable offerring this educated guess: Garbage. The mysteries surrounding garbage car seem endless. Who owns garbage car? Why is it so full of garbage? Isn't there a better place for garbage than every square inch of the inside of a car? Can a car that is so disgusting and full of garbage even been called a car, as it surely is garbage itself as well? I'm fine with all of those questions. I really am. I can accept any crazy explanation of garbage car that one could come up with. Aliens? Sure. Government conspiracy? Fine. Petty divorcee? I'll take two. But there is one thing that drives me crazy about garbage car. And that is that it is parked in lower Manhattan, and there is no street parking in lower Manhattan during the week. Garbage car, what are you thinking? What happens when you have to be moved on Monday before 9am? If you had at least left some room for a driver, then I would understand. You could be moved to somewhere non-ticketable. A parking garage, or landfill for example. But you are driverless, garbage car. It is impossible to move you, lest we disrupt some of the garbage that gave you your name. Why, garbage car? Why did you decide to exist on a street that gives you only temporary sanctuary? In a scant two days you will be ticketed, or towed, or emptied of some of your eponymous garbage. City ordinance has sealed your fate. You have an expiration date, and it is rapidly approaching. You are only a moment. A whisper in the cacophonous annals of time. You are drawing in smoke. Garbage car, you have signed your own death warrant. Your very existence is assuring your inevitable destruction. Why, garbage car? Why go through all that work to be so repulsive only to be enjoyed by a handful? By a courageous few? I have not been back to see garbage car. I don't think I could bear it. Either it has sold out and moved some garbage to make room for a driver, or it just sits, awaiting its end like a political prisoner at the steps of the gallows. Whatever your fate, garbage car, know that I will always remember you. Not as an anomaly. Not as a phenomenon fading with time, like a snow man in the spring. I will remember you as you are. A car that is 100% full of garbage.