DADWAGON

First, to the “5-foot-4, dark-haired Jewish girl in her early 20s” who wrote this brilliant Times article on baby-drinking in Park Slope: come on, my fine little journo-Jewess, don’t you think you’re being ein bissel ayngeleybt in zikh (take that, Crown Heights!).

I mean, really, why does it have to be all about you? What about all those fair-haired, blue-eyed, lederhosen-clad goyim in the bar looking to score with some of their pure-blooded brethren? Wouldn’t your Jewy-ness fuck with their game? Seriously. How can a Nazi, in good conscience, get laid in a bar in Park Slope if Risa Fucking Chubinsky is there? Can a Nazi not get a little love in this town?

Another quibble: I don’t like the term breeder, particularly when used by the barren and forlorn.

When talking about me, Fraulein Chubinsky, the term d’art is “Can Breeder.” As in, I can do it, can you? (I like to do it, as well, sometimes just for practice not procreation; my girlfriend tells me I’m getting quite good at it).

But seriously, folks. What in the world is all the hullabaloo about? We’re not talking about making babies while at the bar, are we? Nor are we talking about killing them. Just drinking in their vicinity.

The whole debate is so hopelessly parochial I can’t believe New Yorkers insist on dragging it up every few months. I thought we’re all supposed to be freegan-loving, dumpster-diving, carbon-emission-denying, non-traditional-family-unit-accepting, wonder-progressives! And if we’re not, shouldn’t we keep it to ourselves? The Mississippians have ears, folks!

How now, Risa?