Ladies and Gentlemen, meet the Rabbarnacle, a self-proclaimed Rabbi whose barnacle-like tendencies raised a ruckus at 7th and Montana this morning. I knew something was up from the moment he sat at my table. "Hi!-Do-you-mind-if-I-sit-here?-No?-Good!-Are-you-Jewish?-I'm-Jewish.-I'm-a-Rabbi-but-my-Yarmulke-is-at-the-dry-cleaners!-Do-you-have-brothers?-Sisters?-What's-your-name-and-what-do-you-do?," he asked, breathlessly. I looked at him briefly, long enough to notice that he had inexplicably gathered his newspaper into a ball on his lap. "I'm-from-around-here.-Are-you-from-around-here?-Are-you-married?-Are-you-single?-Are-you-gay?-Are-you-straight?-Have-you-ever-been-to-Eastern-Europe?," he continued. By now I realized that he was one Matzoh Ball short of a soup. "Gai Ga Zinta Hate!," he said, "Do you know what that means in Yiddish?" "Yes," I said, you've already asked me that. It means 'Go in Good Health.'" "Well, in that case, Gai Kukken Afen Yam!," he said, "That means 'Go Shit in the Ocean!'" "Thank you," I replied, "An excellent suggestion ... and a big Muzzle-Tov to you!"