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I’m madder than Gary Busey after he accidentally stumbled into a Nick Nolte look-a-like convention — and nobody recognized him — over the fact that I have no idea who I’m going to elect mayor once I release my all-powerful endorsement.
Look, I don’t need to tell you that all these wannabes don’t have a shot at Gracie Mansion unless the ol’Screecher gives them his Seal of Approval, but the bad news is I haven’t made up my mind who I want to put in the city’s most powerful chair.
And the worst part about it is there are so many people running for office I can’t keep track. The only guy that I know by name is the one who was sending pictures of his himself in his underwear to some people.
Fact is, I’ll be happy to see the Bloomberg dynasty — and its destruction of our public school system — come to an end!
And now for some really happy news: My beloved Tornado is back from the shop, spry as ever. His much bigger replacement Hurricane was picked up last Thursday, and now I can once again fit through all the doorways in Harway Terrace.
Hurricane, which was built to transport a quarter ton, was not the easiest scooter to maneuver. In fact, it was like driving a Mack truck without brakes. I felt like old B.J. McKay rolling down to Dallas on the side streets of Astoria! And are you aware that there are no brakes on mobility scooters? My lovely wife Sharon was going nuts because my inability to stop had me bouncing off the wall — literally!
Plus, it was almost as wide as the lifts in the Access-A-Ride buses I used.
Sure, Hurricane had left and right signal lights, hazard lights, front and rear lights, and horns on both sides of the handlebars, but its battery didn’t last as nearly as long as Tornado’s, so good riddance.
Speaking of Access-A-Ride, we used it to get Sharon to a neurologist in Bay Ridge. We got there in good time, however the Access-A-Ride system, which delegates pickups to different contractors, really messed up our plans to get home in time to get ready to go to a family graduation party at La Sorrentina on 65th Street and 11th Avenue.
We were out of the doctor’s office by 3:20 pm and didn’t get home until 5:25 pm, giving me a measly 35 minutes to get shaved, showered, and dressed before our 6:02 pm pickup to get to the party. Everything that could go wrong went wrong on that return trip, from picking up a woman several blocks away that entailed the most ludicrous directions to reach her, then, to get to her destination, which was only a few blocks away, that ate up 35 precious minutes. That’s 35 minutes I’ll never get back, and trust me, I’m counting every one.
The driver blamed the dispatcher for adding her pick up at the last minute. The way I was cursing that driver under my breath, I’m surprised he made it home.
Now’s the point in the column where I congratulate one or a dozen of my relatives.
So allow me to give a shout-out to my great nephew Michael for graduating from Saint Francis College, and his sister Jenna graduating from New Dorp High School on Staten Island. Now, you would think that a party such as this with loads of family coming in from Florida, Long Island, Jersey, and Brooklyn would have some sort of logistical problems, but my niece Barbara and hubby Billy did a great job picking the restaurant, the delicious food, and finding a dining room roomy enough for Hurricane and me.
Now, here’s the downer! Wouldn’t you know that my 10:10 pm pick-up got there 25 minutes early, and I had to rush out without my coffee, cake, dessert, and goodies, not to mention the party favor.
To tell the absolute truth, after drinking wine, soda, and seltzer all night, my bladder and I were happy that he came early. I told my wife Sharon to say our goodbyes to everyone, while Hurricane and I were maneuvering to get onto the lift.
Again, congratulations to the graduates, and thank you for a wonderful evening. Happy Fourth of July everybody!
Screech at you next week!Read Carmine's screech every Saturday on BrooklynDaily.com. E-mail him at firstname.lastname@example.org.
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