Dr Jew

harder than I 'd laughed in many years, and any theater employee or homeless person sleeping between seats in that cool, cool theater would have surely thought me a bit off the rafters on hearing my cackle when all that remained of the film were the credits.
    I finally came to my senses. The off-black color of the screen vanished. The theater lights came on. I considered theater hopping to An American Tail 8/The Land Before Time 23 , but knew that would make me late for dinner with Alger, and resisted temptation in the name of manners.

    He looked the same as ever.
    "So you survived Swine Trek ," he said.
    "I actually quite enjoyed it," I said. "Really. Gilbert was wonderful."
    "You are more generous than most, my friend. I doubt that even I will go near it again. But didn't you provide a minor consultation on it? Perhaps you're a bit biased, eh?"
    When he winked it was somewhat creepy.
    "Me?" I said. "Well, nothing really. Nothing major. Did I? Hmm, I'll have to check my diary for that."
    "Your modesty is despicable. But enough of that… film. Did you watch the inauguration?"
    "What inauguration?"
    "Uh, the presidential inauguration."
    "Was there an election?"
    "You don't get out much, do you, Doctor?" Alger sighed. "What brings you to Chicago? Surely Swine Trek hasn't been removed from all the San Francisco theaters?"
    "Actually it has," I said. "But no, that's not what brings me. You see, I'm doing a bit of wandering. Gave up my place in SF."
    "Really? You? I never thought you'd abandon it. You seemed so comfortable there. No?"
    "Perhaps I was too comfortable. How did Emerson put it? 'Every mind must make its choice between truth and repose.' Yes, a bit too comfortable and forgetful of life. Buried under my habits and position."
    "I don 't think I've ever heard you talk this way," said Alger. "Something has clearly happened."
    "Sure, but it could have happened anytime. Anywhere. Because it happened within me. The world and its doings was but a backdrop."
    "Okay, Mr. Miyagi."
    "Thank you. An idol of mine."
    "Well, whatever caused this change – maybe I can get it out of Simpatico."
    I faltered for but a second. "Oh? You'll be seeing him soon?"
    "Yeah, I 'm flying out for an interview."
    "About Swine Trek ? I thought he'd already shot himself in the foot with that one. The Playboy interview."
    " No, not Swine Trek . You haven't heard, have you? Sergio signed a three-picture deal to make Nice Nazis prequels."
    "He… did?"
    "Yeah! Fans are willing to put Swine Trek behind us now that he's signed on. Even the Jewish community has formally forgiven Simpatico."
    "That 's wonderful. Who'd have thought it? The Nice Nazis back on the big screen."
    "Actually, since they 're prequels and still Nazis they're probably not that nice. I'm gonna ask Sergio about that. And what about Anne Frank before she was in the annex – before she was a spooky, cool zombie? Boring! But maybe Sergio can pull it off."
    "If anyone can, it 's him. I wouldn't put it past him. He is a great director."
    "Well he ain 't winning any Oscars this year!" Alger laughed. "I'll tell him you said hi when I see him."
    "Eh? No, Alger. Please. I'd rather you didn't."
    "Ah, the truth comes out. Bit of a tiff between you?"
    "Something like that. I think it best you not even pass my name through your ruby lips."
    "Sure, sure. If that's how you'd like it. Or as Westley says in The Princess Bride , 'As you wish.'"
    "Thank you, Alger."
    "Of course."

    Evening descended and in the postprandial gloom I walked through a Chicago park hoping for a mugger or rapist to enliven things, but there was nary a barking dog or wino and I strolled along till I found a bench and made my arrangement, comfortable, not particularly caring if I fell asleep there or made it back to my hotel. I was thinking about Alger and his mechanical life, coordinated around beauty and his deft aesthetic sense and the despicability of clichés, and you know what I realized? I couldn't remember if the man was married! I had known him for over eight years, from when we had done the Dog Away commercial. We had exploded dogs! That should bring people together – yet I couldn't recall if he was married. I'm sure I could find it all online, but why hadn't I bothered to look it up, or better yet, ask him? Was I so myopically entrenched in my concoctions and machinations that I couldn't look into a man's family life (excluding Sergio, and I only investigated his when my ulterior motives drew me to it) and