Mucho Groucho

“Ex-Everything” by Michael Cohen aka Mucho Groucho

As I write this, my future ex-wife is with her current boyfriend, Jack; a divorced man who has a beard but no moustache. That she finds this attractive is beyond me. Maybe she likes the “beatnik finds Islam” look. Jack’s little boy is a friend of my daughter and I think she had a little coaching from her mother as to how wonderful the little boy is. One big happy family without me.

When I hit hard times financially my future ex realized how unhappy she had been all these years. An attempted reconciliation failed when loverboy broke up with his ex girlfriend rendering him free for my ex-wife. He makes a nice living and works in the medical field. Good for her. I hope late at night when she is asleep he conducts medical experiments on her. They are probably having a nice barbeque right now and if my future ex-brother-in-law is doing the honors he is probably roasting a large pig in a spit to celebrate the new boyfriend, to piss off his Jewish neighbors and in honor of getting rid of me.

When I go to that place where I start longing that everything was as it were before, I am able to control this momentary insanity by focusing hard on my future ex-mother-in-law. She is an instigator extraordinaire; an expert in the art of mixing and I don’t mean she is a bartender. “Larry David is the best Jew ever” I remember her telling me in a moment of attempted endearment. I guess I was her second favorite Jew but by now I probably fall on the list somewhere under David Berkowitz and other Jewish serial killers.

Look intently at her picture and notice what looks back at you: nothing. Hers was a litany of random complaints; self-pity and the barking of commands not even a pit bull would be able to keep up with. She is the one I leave behind with Jewish jubilation.

These are the things she has been telling my 5-year-old daughter who means the world to me:

“Your dad needs to get a job so he can buy you toys and clothes.” (I am self-employed).

“New Jersey is boring.” (My daughter’s grandparent’s house is in NJ).

“They are not your REAL cousins.” (Referring to any of my child’s cousins on my side of the family).

Did I mention this is what she tells my five year old? So when my daughter asked me why women don’t have moustaches I corrected her that her “Nanny” indeed has one and she trims it once a month.

She has always been a trouble-maker in the television mother-in-law sense of the word but much worse. I take responsibility for my role in the failure of our marriage. My wife’s role was much greater if you asked me but my mother in law was also a BIG help. I’m glad I found her picture to stare at on this lonely Saturday night where my demons have taken the form of roaches and ants to try to drive me insane in my small apartment. The next woman I marry will need to be raised poor so she does not have the kind of materialistic values my wife and her family have, but more than anything I hope her family is in a country far far away. Like Mars. Meanwhile I will get an exterminator and not think so much about my ex-life.

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by Michael Cohen aka Mucho Groucho

(WIDK By Mucho Groucho) — Today is my birthday; I turned 49 at around 2 o’clock this morning.  I usually feel depressed on my birthday but for some reason depression has not set in yet.

When I was born my parent’s couldn’t think of a name for me until the second day of my life so for one day I actually did not have a name.  They should have just named me Mucho Groucho to make things easier for me now; that or Walter.  I always liked the name Walter.  It has a ring of intelligence.  Michael just sounds like my parents gave up and went with the most popular name of that year because they just couldn’t think of anything else.  But I wouldn’t have minded a name that rhymed with my last name like Owen.  Owen Cohen. I am going to name my boy Owen if I ever have a boy assuming I ever get remarried, and my wife is still of child bearing years but at 49 I guess I need to be realistic and give up the hope of marrying a rich, orphaned (no in-laws), beautiful, calm, young and kind contortionist woman.

When I was a child I remember crying every year on my birthday.  How did I know getting older is such a downer?  They did call me a gifted child, I guess that was my gift – like the kid in “The Sixth Sense” who saw dead people.  I must have seen my future self and cried every year.  Maybe I was crying for the donkey we used to “pin the tail” on every year at my birthday parties.  This year I am going to try to pin a tail on a real donkey just to see what happens.

I guess I must really be getting old because like all old people, I believe that things were much better when I was young.  Music was better, movies were better and life in general was light and carefree and without the worries we have now of having to learn Chinese for instance, in order to really make it in the world.  Now I am almost 50, practically broke, overweight and worried about my future.  It’s like being 20 again! But who would argue that everything WAS better?  Who would argue that The Beatles are better than Justin Bieber and Butch Cassidy is better than Harry Potter? Old people.

There are always those clichés you need a calculator for, like how many years of your life you spent sleeping.  Whatever that number is all I know is that I am still very tired.; exhausted really.  I often wonder and even ask G-d how many years I have left?  I would like to plan ahead and rack up a credit card bill that will make the bank CEOs really angry when I pass.  “That bastard Cohen.  First it was bankruptcy and now this!” Next year I turn fifty.  Until that happens I will try not to think about being alive a half a century.  I won’t think about the fact that my life is more than halfway over and I am divorced, overweight and practically broke.  Today I will just enjoy myself but first I will call my doctor to make sure it’s ok to take a few extra anti-anxiety pills with my birthday cake!

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“Hunting with Irving” By Mucho Groucho

Last Sunday I went hunting for the first time in my 48 years on Earth. My friend Irving who lives in NJ invited me to help curb the deer population as revenge for one stray that made his way into his home. The deer pranced through his kitchen, sat at his table and ate his last box of Cheerios.

So in support of my friend, I bought a silly hunting outfit, camouflage– which by the way I could never understand. A twig snaps in Upstate NY and the deer in New Jersey are like “What???!! Where??!! What was that? Lets get out of here” but me and Irving are going to fool them with our camouflage.

The deer population is out of control in NJ and they’ll starve which is very inhumane so once a year they let any shmuck with a gun shoot at them. That’s more humane.

I personally am not out for blood, or at least not to kill and I know I won’t be able to get the movie “Bambi” out of my mind – so I figure I’ll do my part to help diminish the deer population.

So I got the pistol I bought at a flea market in the Bronx – grabbed my outfit and I was set. Irving is a traditionalist –  he likes to use a bow and arrow, what can I tell you. A Jewish guy with a bow and arrow doesn’t make much sense to me but what do I know. Maybe he’s one of the lost tribes – Apache – Levi – I don’t know.

As soon I got into the woods I had to go to the bathroom. Must have been the noise from that babbling brook.

I guess I must have rustled the shrubbery a little – because next thing you know Irving was pointing his bow and arrow at me and before I can say “no!!!!!” he hit me with an arrow and it goes right through my head.

I said “what are you crazy?!!!, what are you doing hitting me with an arrow?!!!” He says “I thought you were a moose!!”

I thought: “ok, that’s valid”. So he rushes me to the hospital. I come in and all the doctors and nurses are in shock which really gives you a sense of comfort.

They quickly x-ray me and tell me that I have an arrow stuck in my head. Thank G-d my brain is so small the arrow completely missed my brain – went right above it and I had no permanent damage. But they need to operate immediately. However, first they tell me, I have to call my insurance company – to get approval for the surgery. So I called my insurance company and I get that recording, you know – if you’re a doctor push 1, if you’re a pharmacist push 2, if you have been hit in the head with an arrow push 3. So I’m on hold for a half hour. I’m sitting in the waiting room and people are using the arrow sticking out of my head as a coat rack. I say, “Hey! do you mind?!!” Finally someone gets on the phone. “ She says: “Hi my name is Janine, how may I assist you today?”

“Hi” I said frenetically, “it’s an emergency, we were hunting, Irving thought I was a moose and to make a long story short I have an arrow sticking out of my head I need immediate surgery. So she puts me on hold for an authorization number. Again, I’m on hold now for 10 minutes.

I’m listening to “Raindrops Are Falling On My Head” finally she gets back on the phone and says “sir”. I say “yes, yes, please hurry! I need an authorization number for my surgery” hen she tells me: “Sir, I’m sorry – your surgery was not approved.”

I said: “my surgery is not approved? what are you talking about?”

So she says: “I’m sorry Mr Cohen, we don’t feel it is a medical necessity – we can not approve the surgery”.

“Did you hear me correctly?!! –I have an arrow through my head – medical necessity?!!!”

She said, “I’m sorrry sir since no damage has really been done except for the arrow through your head which is more of a cosmetic problem, you’re not covered for that, and we will not be able to approve your surgery. We suggest going to a hardware store, buying a saw and cutting the arrow on both sides to improve your appearance.

“So you mean – you’re not going to approve the surgery?”

“No sir, i’m afraid not”.

“So that’s it?!!! Go to a hardware store and buy a hacksaw? That’s what you’re telling me? Can I at least send in the receipt and get reimbursed for the hacksaw?

“No sir, I’m afraid not”. I was in shock. I was speechless.

“Is there anything else i can help you with today?!!”.

“Is there anything else you can help me with today?!!!!! Are you kidding!! Did I not happen to mention that I have an arrow stuck in my head!! How about starting with that?!!!’ So she hangs up on me. We went to a hardware store and Irving saws both ends of the arrow off and dinner is on him and that was that but I’ll never go hunting again. I won’t even go fishing!!! I’m afraid of where the hook might end up!

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“Platypus – A Poem” by Michael Cohen aka Mucho Groucho

Today a Platypus escaped from the zoo

he waddled to the park, I waddled there too.

There at the roots under a towering willow

I lay my head on a Platypus pillow.

When I awoke and saw him there

I begged his forgiveness for my boorish stare

He said:

“I know what you’re thinking: ‘is he mammal or bird”

I said: “your a bammal!”

he said: “That’s absurd!”

He sighed a sullen sigh at his unfortunate fate

then he offered me a taste of the shrimp that he ate.

As we shared our meal I pondered with zeal

What did God think?

Did he sneeze? Did he blink?

I patted his head and my heart also ached

for this kindred spirit, a cosmic mistake.

When the zookeeper found us and they were bound for the zoo

I said: “be brave my friend” I am a platypus too!

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The “Do Not Ask Me or Tell Me” List - by Michael Cohen aka Mucho Groucho

A few years back Congress passed a “do not call” list bill, outlawing the constant harassing sales calls that interrupted our lives at the absolute most inconvenient times possible, which for me is the period of 6 or 7 hours of napping I do during the day, every day before I go to sleep for the night.

I am proposing another list I would like to see implemented called: the “don’t ask me, don’t tell me” list which will prevent customer service reps and other agents of torture from engaging in the corporate language they use when dealing with us on a daily basis. If they interrogated the prisoners at Guantanamo Bay, using that same antiseptic, robotic, blood curdling language, we would have won the war against terror years ago.

Cable Television Agent to Prisoner

Guantanamo Bay, Cuba:

“We can offer you our Triple Pay package for $99.00 a month and I will read you the terms that should only take about 20 minutes or so, or perhaps you would like to tell me when the next terror attack is scheduled to take place or where Osama Bin Laden is hiding? Ok. As you wish. This is a two year contract commencing…..”

This “do not ask or tell me” list is not limited to the telephone. For instance it also applies to the 17 year old gum chewing, friend texting grocery cashier who “axes” me if I would like a bag for the 30 items I just bought.

“No, I think I will juggle them while riding my unicycle home. Can you just toss me that can of tuna when I tell you…? Ok…..NOW!!”

This is my list. Feel free to add to it according to your own pet peeves, neurosis, quirks and idiosyncrasies.

After waiting on hold, and then speaking to 3 different people who ask for the same exact information that I entered on my “telephone keypad” a half hour ago, I am told by my Insurance Company agent that I am not covered for that unaffordable, life saving drug I need. I have the option of either paying out of pocket or dying. This is followed with:

1 – “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“No, I think the prospect of an early death is quite enough for now but can I get your extension just in case because you have been so helpful. What’s your name again? Barbara? Barbara, are you by any chance wearing a long black robe and carrying a reaper’s sickle in your right hand?”

Then they have the nerve to ask:

2 – “Would like to take part in a survey regarding your satisfaction?”

“Yes, I would like to take the survey but I want it to be given by the CEO of your company and there may be some really foul language involved. Can you transfer me to the f-er now?”

3 – “Would you mind holding?”

“Yes, I mind holding. I would like you to bring the phone with you every where you go while trying to get an answer for me and just keep me on the line. I want to hear EVERYTHING that is said and you should know that your call may be recorded for “quality assurance” or training purposes or as Exhibit A when I take you to court.

Last month I didn’t realize there was an actual time of day deadline indicated on my credit card bill on the day the payment was due by. It was 5pm. To me, the day ends at 11:59:59 so at 11:00 PM I felt that I had plenty of time and I made my payment online. Then when I got my bill, I saw that I received a $50 late fee. I was 7 hours late according to their clock; I had a whole 59 minutes and 59 seconds according to mine. When I called this is what the agent told me:

4- “I waived the late fee as a one time courtesy………”

I answered in Brooklynese:

“Oh yeah? How about if I wave my FIST by your FACE

as a one time courtesy warning?!!”

Asked by every hairstylist that ever gave me a $20 hair cut”

5 – “Would you like me to trim the hair off your ears?”

“No, no!! Please don’t!! I am letting it grow out the way my Uncle Stanley’s ear hair did when he was 80 years old. I am also letting the fungus between my toes cultivate because I want to see if any tiny mushrooms might pop out. It’s an experiment.”

And back to the corporate world, the famously ridiculous:

6 – “Would you like to subscribe to our newsletter?”

“No thank you. I learned everything I needed to learn about your company when you denied me coverage for the unaffordable drug that could have saved my life. I won’t be receiving emails in Heaven but I will be petitioning God to strike your CEO with an attack of a pre-existing condition he won’t forget!!”

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