7-Year Old Daughter attempts to unlock the mystery of unconditional parental love while I tuck her in:

“Daddy, will you always love me?”

“Of course, I will.”

“Even if I punch you in the eye?”

Daughter, you can punch me in both eyes. Just don’t break my heart.

If I find myself with a spare :20 minutes to kill and a church is nearby, I always duck in for a quick meditation session. I’ll say one thing about people in churches: they know how to keep their mouths shut. The silence is conducive to a peaceful meditation.

Our Lady of Pompeii is just off 6th Avenue in Greenwich Village. It’s an old school Italian church that contains many of the types of icons that drove me out of Catholicism many years ago and into the loving arms of Buddhism. I don’t have the right to call myself Buddhist yet but I may get there someday.

How is Buddha typically depicted?

An overweight, happy man. He wishes well on everyone, regardless of their theological beliefs. There are no sad Buddhas and no condemnation if you don’t follow him!

Christian icons? Lots and lots of pain and suffering. Here we have St. Lucy with this afternoon’s blue plate special: eyeballs of martyr. Does that come with toast?

Here is St. Rocco showing off his fancy open, festering sore on his leg. Yuck!

I’m not sure who this chap is, but someone better tell him that the top of his head is on fire!

He reminds me of Mayor Ralph Perk of Cleveland, whose hair caught on fire during a 1972 ribbon cutting ceremony when he got too close to a welder’s arc.

And here is Christ, dead in his mother’s arms. Just imagine holding your dead child in your arms! Horrible imagery. And remember, he died because you are a sinner. I’ll bet you’re sorry now.

The Christ in this statue has the bluest eyes you’ve ever seen. This pic doesn’t do them justice. They’re sky blue. What are the odds that someone who was living in the Middle East in the year 35 A.D. had Tiffany box blue eyes? Well, you have to play to your audience, I suppose.

And here is Christ carrying the cross in Louis XIV splendor.

Look, I don’t mean to poke fun (well, perhaps just a little) but the relentless negativity—the scenes of torture and mayhem—finally did me in. And they teach this stuff to children! Should a church look like a Halloween haunted house with scenes of gore and violence? Have you seen the Stations of the Cross? It’s not right. Count me out.

7-Year Old Daughter took my job loss pretty hard at first but since then she has gotten quite use to having my unemployed ass around the house. Both Daughters seem delighted. I love them but, honestly, I could use a change of scenery.

I walked downstairs in my best suit and tie and 7-Year Old Daughter asked if I was going into the city for another interview. I told her I was and that, hopefully, I would be back to work very soon.

She burst into tears. “I don’t want you to go back to work! I want you to stay here! Can’t you work in my school?!” Later, she said that she hopes I find a job, but not for the rest of the year.

God forbid.

I honestly don’t know what happened to me. I use to drive drunk, have unprotected sex and smoke a ton of weed. Today, I get my kicks by chasing rare books. I’m sure I’m a big disappointment to my friends back home.

I attended the annual rare book fair at the Park Avenue armory. Holy Mother of God what a show. When it comes to rare books I have a rather weak disposition and it was probably not wise for me to walk into a large room filled with temptations. But I am happy to report that although I had a few moments where I was woozy and weak, I successfully fought off all attempts to rationalize a purchase.

The one item I would have loved to own was a set of early (1966) broadsides by Charles Bukowski in PERFECT condition in a custom made clamshell box. But at $37,000, it was easy to say no. Here are a few fun items. You can click on these pics to for a better look.

A first edition of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s Tender is the Night. Not one of his masterworks but just look at the design on that jacket. Beautiful.

It seems to me that authors don’t take pride in their signatures like they use to. Here’s a signed copy of The Beautiful and the Damned by F. Scott Fitzgerald signed in 1922, the year of publication, in his hometown of St. Paul Minnesota. Look at that handwriting and signature!

Hemingway was another author whose inscriptions have an art-like quality. Here’s an inscribed copy of The Green Hills of Africa by Hemingway signed in Key West in 1936.

Here’s another example of Hemingway’s signature. This is a signed first edition of For Whom the Bell Tolls. Isn’t that grand?

This is a first edition of Ian Fleming’s Casino Royal—the first (and most violent) Bond book. The jacket was designed by Fleming and the phrases in the wreath reads: A Whisper of Love. A Whisper of Hate. I love that. The price is a measly £18,750.

The fair is mainly about books, but there are also autographs, some artwork and other sundry items. Here’s a manuscript leaf in Mozart’s hand from the Serenade in D Major. Take it home and hang it on your wall for only $195,000!

I just had our taxes done. Last year, we had to write the I.R.S. a check for $4,000. This year, I am getting a $1,000 refund.

“Why the difference?” I asked Tim the Accountant.

“You suffered monumental losses in your equity accounts.”

That was 2008 for a lot of people, I suppose. But I’m happy about the refund. It’ll come in handy.