my chanukah story

Sen Charles Schumer lives in a fancy ass joint overlooking Prospect Park, as Brooklynites probably know cause he trots out his BKLYN4LIFE tattoo whenever possible, kinda like when Bloomberg gets all self-righteous bout riding the subway (/walking across the BKLYN bridge) cause it makes him a Real New Yorker (and it’s a nice way to distract from the 50 gazillion dollars he donated to GWBUSH BUT IT’s NOT WORKING, I STILL SEE YOU! TRYING TO BE MARTY MARKOWITZ & STUFF)
So anyway there’s this 22-foot modernist menorah (mad angular) in Grand Army Plaza right now, and as I emerged from the woods on my chilly-ass jog yesterday, Schumer himself was there on a mic singing (pitch a little shaky, but the baritone was nice & meaty) the appropriate menorah-lighting songs (of which I do not know the titles) while this other dude in a crane with a keyspan worker (in full flourescent workvest regalia) lit the candles. I wanted to go thank him, not for the job he’s doing per se, but because someone always answers the phone whenever I call his office. (In contrast, Hillary’s constituent-line often puts me straight to voice mail/ “all circuits are busy.”). But it felt inappropriate to approach him during a religious ceremony. Also, I was returning from a jog, and was sweaty and gross. THAT IS MY STORY. HAPPY CHANUKAH!