Oh yes, we most definitely live in ”Newrotic York”. Do you want to hear about a neighbor of mine who, the very first time I ever met her, asked me if I was inquiring about her ”ethnic background” because I said ”where are you from?”. Do you want to hear about a close friend of mine who is incapable of throwing anything out of her apartment because ”someone might want it.” You cannot convince her that probably nobody wants one of her mother’s old nightgowns from her honeymoon in the 1930’s. And then of course there was my own father who would fall asleep on our sofa on his Sunday visit – and when you woke him up he swore he was not taking a nap, he was ”rehearsing for death.”
But you’re right, Woody Allen has a long laundry list of ”issues”. Here are just some of the whack-o things that I have always heard attributed to him: Fear of heights and insects. Fear of elevators and peanut butter. Claustrophobia. Fear of germs. Needing the drain in his shower to be in the corner, not the center of the shower. How did he get that way? I don’t know for sure – but I did see a great documentary about him called ”Wild Man Blues”. At the end, they show him having a meal with his parents. His father was only interested in the engraving on all the awards he had won. His mother told him that because he was dating a non-Jewish girl, he would be responsible for Jews disappearing from the face of the earth. Oy vey! But somehow none of that says ”child abuser” to me. Anyone that phobic about things like germs… well, little kids tend to be dirty.
What makes me crazy? Neurotics.