I just want to thank all my fans out there for the positive feedback they’ve given to me and my wonderful columns. Why just the other day I was walking down Commonwealth Avenue and one of my fans yells, “Hey idiot, why don’t you actually write about something?!” He proceeded to give me a gift, in the form of a paper cup filled with Coke thrown at my head. My favorite.

“Thanks for reading,” I said while lying on the ground from the impact. His excitement was no doubt the result of my ability to make a difference in people’s opinions; I am an extraordinary talent. As I stood up, two upstanding citizens, also apparent fans of mine, helped me.

“Wait a minute, it’s the idiot guy who writes about crap,” one said, in a tone I could only assume was out of the respect he had for my last column.

“Leave him to die,” the other said, praising the dry wit of my writing.

And, for as much fun as we’ve all been having, I’ve decided to test the boundaries of my fan base yet again this week by touching upon some bold and controversial issues. The only problem is I don’t care much for bold or controversial issues, nor do I care about mediocre or agreeable issues. In fact, the only way I get the news is by looking over someone’s shoulder on the T, and that usually forces me to combine stories or kiss the person reading the paper.

So, as a 21-year-old slacker, I don’t think my opinions could hold any weight, lacking both experience and knowledge of any relevant subject matter. Thus, I decided to interview someone whose experience and knowledge can show people the human side of such important issues.

That person is my 89-year-old grandfather: Morris Yenta Farkas. Raised in the Jewish section of Prague and an émigré to Brooklyn in 1947, my grandfather has a strong and balanced opinion about the world that can teach us all something …

Me: Hey Grandpa, nice to have you here. How are you?

Grandpa: Oy, my sonny boy (kisses my head numerous times). You’re so handsome! Is that good for your little interview? I think my grandson is handsome! No that’s a fact, right?

Me: OK, well-

Grandpa: Where’s your mother?

Me: Back home in New Jersey.

Grandpa: She doesn’t call. How should I know? Tell her to start calling. Your grandmother is sick from not speaking to her daughter. She could die, and your mother would not know. Oy, I should not speak of such things (clutches heart).

Me: Um, OK. Grandpa, what do you think of the War in Iraq?

Grandpa: If she were to die now, I would feel awful. Let me see if she’s OK. (Grandpa walks out of room and screams out the window, “Litzi! Where are you?!” My grandmother screams back, “I’m coming up. I had to get the soup out of the car!” I roll my eyes knowing that my grandmother made me too much soup again. Grandma enters the room.)

Grandma: Danny! My grandson! You’re so handsome! (Grandma hugs me and kisses my head repeatedly.) I’ve got your favorite soup. You’re so skinny. Don’t they feed you here? What are your parents paying for?

Me: An education but thank you, Grandma. I haven’t eaten in weeks- Grandma: Weeks?!

Me: No, I was being sarcastic-

Grandma: What kind of a boy doesn’t eat?

Grandpa: You’re a growing boy! You’ve got to eat.

Grandma: Eat something! (Grandma begins to cry.) My grandson!

Me: OK, all right. I’m sorry. I promise I’ll eat. Now please let me interview Grandpa.

Grandma: I’ll heat you up some soup.

Me: Great.

Grandpa: Raw eggs …

Me: What?

Grandpa: What?

Me: I thought you said like raw eggs or something. I don’t know. Listen, what do you think of raw eggs – I mean the War in Iraq?

Grandpa: Aye-yaye-yaye. That Saddam is bad man. What kind of a man kills his own people? A coward! Oy, and how he hates the Jews, Daniel. Thank God you’re here living in Brookline. (Quietly, into my ear) Maybe you could bring home a Jewish girl. That would make your grandmother very happy (kisses me a lot) (back to normal volume). My grandson! You’re safe in America! And so handsome.

Me: So, Grandpa, you support Bush and his decision to invade Iraq despite the false pretenses of “weapons of mass destruction?”

Grandpa: Every time I leave the house I have to lie to your grandmother about why I’m going somewhere.

Grandma: (from the kitchen) What was that?

Me: (deep breath) Then what do you think of Bush’s response, or lack thereof, to the recent disaster in New Orleans, Grandpa?

Grandpa: Listen to these questions my grandson asks me. You’re so curious ever since you were a baby. Bush is a busy, busy man. Hard-working, like you. And I think he doesn’t like the ‘shvartzes.’

Me: (angry sigh) Well, Grandpa, I’m out of space, and the only opinion I got out of you is that you love me. That’s great, very profound. Don’t you care about the world surrounding you with all the atrocities and like political atrocities that happen? Am I all that matters to you?

Grandpa: Is something wrong with that?

Me: Smart people seem to think so.

Grandma: Soup’s up!