Downtown Diary

“So, young protege Ikey,” I said as we sat in The Abbey, “I read today in The New York Times — which, with the exception of a few noble souls like Maureen Dowd and Paul Krugman, truly has become a Tass for our times — that a certain Dr. First at Columbia University is researching a very rare human psychiatric disorder called ‘body integrity identity condition.’”

“What’s that?” the young rebel asked as he crunched on his biscotti.

“The obsessive desire for the amputation of one’s own limb or limbs,” I said, biting into my espresso shortbread.

“Fuck me!” he screeched.*

“It’s true, young Ikey! Not only are the humans mutilating us and each other, they want to mutilate themselves!”

“I’ve never heard of that, I mean, I would never even have dreamed that up!” Ikey squeaked.

“And some of the humans who have lost limbs through accidents or disease are really angry at these wannabes,” I added. “It’s all very dramatic; I see in my mind a West Side Story-style fight scene, clumsy though it may be.”

I took a sip of my ristretto and pushed my beret back at a jaunty angle.

“And of course the other battle,” I continued, “is for the psychiatrists to get this disorder into their Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, which is, so to speak, the bible of their profession. Who knows, having ‘body integrity identity disorder’ soon might be the thing among teens, like getting a piercing.”

“What is this world coming to?” Ikey asked incredulously.

“I don’t know, my young protege,” I said, “but it affirms my belief that when possible, one ought to keep the humans at arm’s length.”

*The editors are saddened to see that Ikey’s vile cussing disorder has resurfaced.