I Need a Cracked Oxygen Sensor Like I Need a Hole in the Head

For  this I paid $360? No, it's not an IUD.

Yesterday I wrote that the “check engine” light on my Volvo came on…again. For like, what? The ten thousandth time this year? Maybe there should be a light that says, “check 'check engine' light.” So, it turns out there are three million reasons why the check engine light might come on. You think any of them are any good? You think a single one costs less than a hundred bucks to fix? Don't ask. George, my goy mechanic who makes like, what? Five hundred dollars an hour? What does he think, he’s my endocrinologist? Anyway, he tells me I have a cracked oxygen sensor. I already know there’s oxygen. It’s everywhere. I need my car to tell me this? And surprise, surprise, it's going to cost a lot to fix. What am I? The Bank of America? But George says if I don’t fix it the check engine light will torment me and my gas mileage will be bubkis. With my luck I’m going to spend $3,000 fixing things and then George is going to tell me my check engine light is faulty.

And speaking of faulty. My wife? Judy? Married twenty years. You think she could screw the cap back on the toothpaste? This is too much to ask?

Setting Up A Blog: What a Pain in the Tokhis

I'm 57 years old. I'm supposed to understand all this mishegas? What do I know from blogs? Settings, designs, passwords, gadgets. What are gadgets?  I'll ask my friend, Bill. He's a goy. He'll know, and if he doesn't know then screw him. He thinks he's so smart? Such a putz.

This is Bill, my social networking technical advisor and spin instructor.
Check out that form. Painful but effective. He owns Spynergy in Wellesley, MA.
Don't try this at home. 

Anyway, so today the check engine light in my Volvo goes on. Again. For like the tenth time this year. The check engine light came on a few months ago, too. I couldn't stand looking at it anymore, so I bring the car to my mechanic at the garage on the corner. He's not Jewish, either. Anybody know a Jewish mechanic? Please. So, he tells me I need a new hose. Yeah, I said, that's what my wife says. Very funny. He didn't get it. OK, so he fixes the hose. There's no hose worth $198 but to get the check engine light to turn off I'd've paid him twice as much! One week of peace and quiet. Then the check engine light comes back on. What? I don't have enough trouble? I think there's some goy working at Volvo in Sweden who can control the check engine lights on every Volvo belongs to a Jew in the world and he's sitting there in the dark, because it's dark in Sweden six months a year, driving us crazy turning on the check engine light.

So, I call my mechanic and I say, "George, it's my hose again." And you know what he tells me? See a doctor, and bring your car in in the morning.