A brief pre-holiday phone call with Uncle Slappy.

The Jewish High Holidays are upon us and that means, with the regularity of the sun rising in the east and corruption in the banking industry, that Uncle Slappy and Aunt Sylvie have flown north from Boca.

Uncle Slappy called just now, prior to boarding the 8:30 flight.

“Don’t bother, boychik,” he said, “picking the altecockers up at the LaGuardia airport. Aunt Sylvie and I will take a Tuber.”

I couldn’t help but correct him. It was a reflex-reaction, really.

“You mean Uber,” I said.

“No,” the old one said, “I mean Tuber.”

He paused, like Jack Benny, for a good ten seconds.

“Tuber,” he repeated. “It’s a car-service for couch potatoes.”

And with that, he hung up the blower, and I headed off to work, more than a little dazed.