Sections

Carmine’s got a Marathon of a column!

The Brooklyn Paper
Share on TwitterTweet
Share on Facebook
Subscribe

Get our stories in your inbox, free.

Like Brooklyn Paper on Facebook.

I madder than Spike Lee at one of this summer’s block parties in Fort Greene over the fact that I’ve spent way to much time this winter waiting in line for gas because I’m afraid my wheels will run out of fuel during the latest snow blizzard, and I’ll end up having to high-tail it to Florida atop my trusty steed Tornado instead of in the comfort of my Hyundai driven by my lead-footed (but lovely) wife Sharon!

Look, you all know the ol’Screecher stopped using subways the minute I got so heavy I couldn’t make it up the steps of the el on 86th Street, and my subsequent demands that the MTA put in elevators at every station (and I mean every one of them — even them ones on Staten Island that nobody even knows about) fell on deaf ears.

So it would be no surprise to you that when I am not using Access-A-Ride or its too cold to ride Tornado, I spend a lot of time in that great American dream machine, my own personal motor vehicle that’s made in South Korea.

Now, I know exactly what your thinking: “Carmine, if you’re such an American, and, for lack of a better term, such a BIG American, why the heck are you driving around in a car that’s too small to fit your left arm inside it, and why do you force your lovely wife to gets squashed by you when you cram your enormous self into the passenger seat that can barely support you?”

Well, the answer is simple. Economics.

But I digress.

Folks, what you really need to know is that spending all this time crammed into such a small space inevitably leads me to drop things in areas I can’t fit my fat paw to pick them back up. Now, that’s not too much of a problem if it’s a pickle or a Marathon Bar (I’ve got grosses of cases of those at the Stop and Store on Shore Parkway that I bought once I heard they cancelled them in ’81), but it can become a big problem when I drop my darn keys down there.

Which is precisely what happened this past week while I was — you guessed it — waiting in line for gas so I don’t run out during this next coming snow blizzard!

I spent over an hour — broken down into three equal halves — trying to figure out a way to get them back. During the first half, I cursed myself and screamed. During the second, I MacGruber’ed it by building a makeshift tool out of a comb attached to a pencil, but that didn’t work. And in the third half, I took a mail flyer tightened by rubber bands curved at the end of it to try to scoop them up.

None of this worked of course, which once again deflated my trust in the things I learn by watching the Zenith in the living room.

So when I noticed an EMT parkied next to me, I frantically tried to get her attention, but to no avail, as she was eating a hamburger (which I perfectly understand, as nothing keeps me more focused on myself than a double-meat bacon cheeseburger (which probably makes that triple meat)).

I waited until she finished her lunch and politely asked for her help, and she asked me what was wrong. I told her I dropped the keys, and then, using my cellphone as a flashlight to show here where I dropped it, I dropped the cellphone into the same crevasse.

She got a bulldozer to move me out of the way and, in just four swoops, picked up my cellphone, a set of keys, another set of keys and third set of keys, and a few old Marathon Bars. Fortunately the car keys were the first retrieved and the other sets of keys had keys that were no longer used.

My angel EMT saved the day and it even stopped snowing. I thanked her profusely a thousand times and didn’t know what I could do for her to make up for her kindness. Hopefully she’ll hear about this column and contact me through this newspaper. Oh, by the way, with my cellphone retrieved I was able to call Sharon whom was seen by the doctor and was coming down to go into the drugstore.

The motto of this story is that the EMTs who are real angels of mercy during their tours can also sprout their wings.

Now, normally, this is the time where I go on and on about how awesome my latest “Carmine” award-winner is, but I think I ran out of words. So next week, look for my column on Rosalia Bacarella, our School Leadership Award winner.

Screech at you next week!

Read Carmine's screech every Sunday on BrooklynPaper.com. Oh, and you can read all his old columns, too! There all there! With Jim from Cobble Hill's comments as well! E-mail him at diegovega@aol.com.
Today’s news:
Share on TwitterTweet
Share on Facebook
Subscribe

Get our stories in your inbox, free.

Like Brooklyn Paper on Facebook.

Reasonable discourse

Jim from Cobble Hill says:
Get a magnet wand.

http://allmagnetics.com/device/pickuptool.htm
March 2, 2014, 2:51 pm
Michael from Bay Ridge says:
Well, you've eaten yourself to disability. Creepy, stupid, sad, confusing, pontless, easily fixed by eating a normal diet - these are just some things that come to mind when reading your article.
Is Sharon not disgusted by your enormous and useless body?
March 3, 2014, 8:34 am
John Wasserman from Prospect Heights says:
I hate to be the one to suggest this on the air, but have you considered selling your bellybutton lint to China? Pardon the interruption.
March 3, 2014, 12:38 pm
Jim from Cobble Hill says:
Shut up Wohn Jasserman
March 3, 2014, 9:16 pm
John Wasserman from Prospect Heights says:
Assuming you've mis-spelled my name (John Wasserman), I’m going to have to kindly ask you, Jim, to shut up. I hate to have to be the one to tell you this. If you hate Carmine so much, why do you always have something negative to say, every week? At least I was offering him a suggestion that could quite possibly be quite lucrative can you imagine the fabric in there?). Also, my helpful suggestions are really none of your business.
March 4, 2014, 11:44 am
ciccio from bensonhurst says:
you all a smell youse shutta you face youse are a smelly bums
March 4, 2014, 6:35 pm
Jim from Cobble Hill says:
You can ask me to shut up all you want, but I won't be taking anything from the guy who makes comments about bellybutton lint. That comment was bad and you should feel bad. Negative things should be said about this awful column until it goes away. It's worse than Smartmom ever was and that's saying something. It is crap and needs to be told it is crap. So are you.
March 5, 2014, 4:45 pm
John Wasserman from Prospect Heights says:
So, what you are suggesting is that the person that writes these articles wouldn't benefit from his potential bellybutton lint sales? At least I don't use foul language like "crap" on the air. You are the one that should feel bad. I'm just as God made me, sir. Who are you to suggest that I am "crap"? It's people like you who want to make me go home and bite my pillow. I just hate you, and your a$$ face. Pardon me-I don't hate anyone. But "shut up" is an abusive thing to say to someone.

John Wasserman/Prospect Heights resident/Patriot

ps. Was there something in your childhood that makes the subject of bellybutton lint a touchy subject, Mr. Smuggy-pants?
March 5, 2014, 8:29 pm
John Wasserman from Prospect Heights says:
If you don't mind my asking, Jim, what are you givng up for lint this year?
March 5, 2014, 9:04 pm
ciccio from bensonhurst says:
ay jim giva you soma baloney and you a wanna bite the pilow youse guys lika each other giva him some baloney and he a bita the pillo too youse could hava some fun and maka the fethers fly
March 7, 2014, 10:03 pm

Enter your comment below

By submitting this comment, you agree to the following terms:

You agree that you, and not BrooklynPaper.com or its affiliates, are fully responsible for the content that you post. You agree not to post any abusive, obscene, vulgar, slanderous, hateful, threatening or sexually-oriented material or any material that may violate applicable law; doing so may lead to the removal of your post and to your being permanently banned from posting to the site. You grant to BrooklynPaper.com the royalty-free, irrevocable, perpetual and fully sublicensable license to use, reproduce, modify, adapt, publish, translate, create derivative works from, distribute, perform and display such content in whole or in part world-wide and to incorporate it in other works in any form, media or technology now known or later developed.

First name
Last name
Your neighborhood
Email address
Daytime phone

Your letter must be signed and include all of the information requested above. (Only your name and neighborhood are published with the letter.) Letters should be as brief as possible; while they may discuss any topic of interest to our readers, priority will be given to letters that relate to stories covered by The Brooklyn Paper.

Letters will be edited at the sole discretion of the editor, may be published in whole or part in any media, and upon publication become the property of The Brooklyn Paper. The earlier in the week you send your letter, the better.