…to that one little pudgy orthodox Jewish kid at Camp Mildale who, in 1974 or thereabouts, I hit so hard in the back of his head with the red-rubber Greek Dodge ball that—after one of the hippie counselors finally managed to scoop him off the asphalt and reattach his beanie with a borrowed hairpin—the poor kid spent the rest of the day eating pudding and ice chips in the air-conditioned administration building, the entire time muttering in Yiddish and likening himself to Job (though instead of scorched fields, rumor had it he kept complaining about how God was “denying him Fruit rollups”).
Which, looking back on it, a) I’m not even sure those things are Kosher; and b) in the competitive world of Greek Dodge, you simply don’t turn your back on a kid with a canon for an arm, particularly when your large bobbing head, frantic in bumbling retreat, is affixed with a decorative knit yarmulke whose pattern approximates a homemade bullseye.
—But be that as it may. This post is about apologies, and I’m sorry for the face rash and the little piece of ear tip you lost. And for the whole Job dementia thing.
And I really do mean that, man. It ain’t just the wine and mescaline talking. Because if it were, trust me: I’d be howling like a loon right now at the image of you sprawled out on the blacktop, your legs spasming at irregular intervals, one Chuck Taylor knocked clean off even as that big red ball rolled on and on and on for what seemed like hours until it finally came to rest at the steps of a nearby crafts pavillion…
Yeah, me too. Since this is the mea culpa hour I’ll go ahead and apologize to Tommy for hitting him in the forehead with the baseball bat in the 2nd grade. I really didn’t mean to, it was that hard ground ball to third that made me fling the bat back and scoot for first.
I’d like to think there was no harm done, but Tommy just didn’t turn out real well. Maybe just genetic and had nothing to do with that softball size lump above his left eye.
Incidentally—at not at all related, really—I have an extra copy of Henry: Portrait of a Serial Killer on DVD that I’m looking to get rid of.
One of the most disturbing films ever made—an indie that made Entertainment Weekly’s 20 scariest films of all time—it is not for the faint of heart. For my money, the best and most honest portrayal of a sociopath on film.
Uh, from what I’ve heard.
First $10 takes it, domestic shipping included.
Ok, were the Chucks high-tops or low-tops, and were they black or white? Because it makes a difference to the story, jeff.
If you’re making the joke I think you’re making, you’re a very bad man.
But in a good way.
So, does this make you the Man with the Canonical Arm?
I may be picking nits here, but I don’t recall that fruit rollups (commercially made, not homemade deals that you make on a dehydrator) were sold until the latter half of the 70’s…
This story has a lot of holes in it. Are you sure this isn’t some false memory planted in your head by some psychologist? I’m just sayin’.
I was wondering that too, tio. Is this “transference”. Was Jeff the fat Jewish kid with the Job complex who got nailed. And has he never forgiven the girl with the rifle arm that nailed him. And is this why he has issues with the opposite sex?
Just wondering.
You do realize this guy is now going to find this on Google and relive this horrific incident all over again.
Don’t mention it.
I’d mostly forgotten.
Mostly.
To beat a bully at dodgeball:
1. Take one ball, throw it high into the air near the bully.
2. Invariably, the bully will gaze up in wonderment at the arc this ball is travelling.
3. When the bully does look up, take the second ball and drill him in the face. (Hint: a lound slapping noise on contact indicates a solid hit.)
*Also works in pillow fights.
It’s time for you to get straight with the Lord, my brutha.
And on the second day he iced and said, “this is good!”
And on the seventh day he was still icin’, and said”Gawd this is so good!”
Thanks for the tip, Patches!
Please. Clearly you found out you were on the Steve Buscemi List, but refused to follow Adam Sandler’s lead and make a decent, heart-felt apology.