Last night, on the subway to Joe's apartment, I encountered a man. He was handsome, black, in his early twenties, conservatively dressed, and carrying an executive Day Timer. He was also screaming at the top of his lungs in Spanish.

"Christ loves you! Christ is the only savior!" Blah blah blah. Nothing we have not heard before. This diatribe was made only remotely appealing by its cadence and the fact that he managed to make it rhyme.

OK, so yelling in a subway car is not unusual. Encountering religious whackos is not unusual. Hearing Spanish in New York City is not unusual. Here is what struck me as a bit odd: at the end of his repetitious presentation, this yelling, Spanish-speaking religious whacko switched to accented English and announced that, should anyone want to learn more, his church would be congregating on Thursday at seven o'clock. He also gave the address in English. Anyone who spoke only Spanish, in the unlikely event that they were struck with the desire, would obviously be unable to follow through. Anyone who spoke only English would hear only the time and place and not understand why they should show up.

Thus, the entire situation was a complete waste of time for everyone but whatever insane bilingual people would find appealing the tiresome message of a screaming madman.

Last night, I lay awake imagining an entire congregation comprised of such people, plucked off mass transit only to return as rush-hour proselytizers.

And people wonder why I want to move to the moon.