Here is to wishful thinking and hoping; to punishing for stealing ideas and rewarding hard work and dedication; to fighting for your dream and not getting snobby. Here is to free market economy, Reagan revolution, and the triumph of the American Dream! (And, of course, to shoulder pads and big hair:))
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Monday, March 30, 2009
OK, WHATEVER YOU SAY
Here is a little chain of events, seemingly unconnected:
One not so fine morning few weeks ago, I have officially (and sarcastically) thanked (again) all the Obama supporters via Facebook. That outpouring of gratitude followed the blatant demonstration of black supremacy and racism witnessed by me that same morning on the way to work. One of my friends was slightly surprised by the fact that I am still bitter; according to him, by now it was only I and Ann Coulter.
One of my younger co-workers, who usually enjoys impersonating Childe Harold, being in his usual chirpy mood, kept sighing and complaining about the hard life. Upon hearing this, I politely suggested he visits Central Africa to learn about true hardships of life and even offered to purchase him a one-way ticket. His reaction? "I wish I could really go there!"
George, our cat, periodically goes on hunger strikes; the only reason we could detect is this: he would eat the food served to him, and then decide (for reasons known only to him) that it is no longer edible. At which point he would complain till he is literally horse, but will not eat the unpalatable offerings. Which, by the way, reminded me of a very first pet my baby brother had: a little hamster called Monster Ball, who did not usually stuff his check pouches and, unless he was really hungry, would totally ignore his food, even if it was literally landing by his feet.
When Bernard Goldberg's "100 people" came out in paperback, it graduated to "110" people, and only recently was I able to lay my hands on this edition. I did not get a chance to peruse it yet (my Dad is doing it right now), but here is my suggestion to the latest edition of people who "are screwing up America":
Number 3: US Congress and US Senate combined (with very minor exceptions)
Number 2: The current so-called President of the United States
Number 1: 61 million registered voters (minus whatever dead people were included in this number thanks to ACORN) who voted for this boy-wonder currently embarrassing and destroying our country from the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately voted for any independent candidate in whatever protest, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately did not vote in this election because they continued to sit on their moral outrage. Whatever the actual number, the honor should go to all of them equally.
You see, even though I do not know Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, and the rest of the so-called conservative radio and TV personalities personally, and therefore cannot vouch with precision as to their emotional state, I am not bitter. I am heartbroken. It has been almost five months since that horrible day in November, and every day since then the nightmare just grows in its monstrosity.
In what other country on earth do you have cats that do not eat because they do not like the food, or hamsters that ignore their food?! Better yet, in the immortal words of one of the D'Souza's readers, this is the only country where poor people are fat! And on that note, in what other country do you have that high percentage of ungrateful swine, homegrown or imported (either voluntarily or involuntarily), who do not appreciate the beauty and unique premise of this country and instead go around with sour faces, complaining non-stop and praising any and all bloody dictatorships as the ideal country to live in?
Yes, "we have serious problems and we need serious people to solve those problems"; that does not mean surrendering at the first sign of those serious problems! Blind, deaf, and dumb sissies! Instead of fighting for this country that gave you everything, you surrendered it to its haters who are destroying it even as we speak! And the biggest part of this heartbreak is that amongst those in the first category are my relatives, friends, good acquaintances, and just Jews - people whom I love and respect, or at least like, and whose souls are connected to mine all the way to the Exodus from Egypt and Mount Sinai! But, hey, I am just a bitter right-wing nut job, and you, guys and girls, aside from being more educated and informed, were just exercising your right to chose! I should just relax, take a deep breath, and "give the dude a chance"; or, better yet, get a life, because, apparently, I should just broaden my horizons and acquire some more interests, aside from politics (my favorite being that my interest in politics stems from my being single and childless, ergo having nothing better to do).
Well, enjoy your choices and the freedom to make them! I only pray that when the final tally from those choices comes in, it will not be something on the magnitude of what I had to survive seven and a half years ago, and that still sometimes haunts my dreams (also a result of choices made by the majority of my people). May The Master of The Universe protect us all!
One not so fine morning few weeks ago, I have officially (and sarcastically) thanked (again) all the Obama supporters via Facebook. That outpouring of gratitude followed the blatant demonstration of black supremacy and racism witnessed by me that same morning on the way to work. One of my friends was slightly surprised by the fact that I am still bitter; according to him, by now it was only I and Ann Coulter.
One of my younger co-workers, who usually enjoys impersonating Childe Harold, being in his usual chirpy mood, kept sighing and complaining about the hard life. Upon hearing this, I politely suggested he visits Central Africa to learn about true hardships of life and even offered to purchase him a one-way ticket. His reaction? "I wish I could really go there!"
George, our cat, periodically goes on hunger strikes; the only reason we could detect is this: he would eat the food served to him, and then decide (for reasons known only to him) that it is no longer edible. At which point he would complain till he is literally horse, but will not eat the unpalatable offerings. Which, by the way, reminded me of a very first pet my baby brother had: a little hamster called Monster Ball, who did not usually stuff his check pouches and, unless he was really hungry, would totally ignore his food, even if it was literally landing by his feet.
When Bernard Goldberg's "100 people" came out in paperback, it graduated to "110" people, and only recently was I able to lay my hands on this edition. I did not get a chance to peruse it yet (my Dad is doing it right now), but here is my suggestion to the latest edition of people who "are screwing up America":
Number 3: US Congress and US Senate combined (with very minor exceptions)
Number 2: The current so-called President of the United States
Number 1: 61 million registered voters (minus whatever dead people were included in this number thanks to ACORN) who voted for this boy-wonder currently embarrassing and destroying our country from the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately voted for any independent candidate in whatever protest, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately did not vote in this election because they continued to sit on their moral outrage. Whatever the actual number, the honor should go to all of them equally.
You see, even though I do not know Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, and the rest of the so-called conservative radio and TV personalities personally, and therefore cannot vouch with precision as to their emotional state, I am not bitter. I am heartbroken. It has been almost five months since that horrible day in November, and every day since then the nightmare just grows in its monstrosity.
In what other country on earth do you have cats that do not eat because they do not like the food, or hamsters that ignore their food?! Better yet, in the immortal words of one of the D'Souza's readers, this is the only country where poor people are fat! And on that note, in what other country do you have that high percentage of ungrateful swine, homegrown or imported (either voluntarily or involuntarily), who do not appreciate the beauty and unique premise of this country and instead go around with sour faces, complaining non-stop and praising any and all bloody dictatorships as the ideal country to live in?
Yes, "we have serious problems and we need serious people to solve those problems"; that does not mean surrendering at the first sign of those serious problems! Blind, deaf, and dumb sissies! Instead of fighting for this country that gave you everything, you surrendered it to its haters who are destroying it even as we speak! And the biggest part of this heartbreak is that amongst those in the first category are my relatives, friends, good acquaintances, and just Jews - people whom I love and respect, or at least like, and whose souls are connected to mine all the way to the Exodus from Egypt and Mount Sinai! But, hey, I am just a bitter right-wing nut job, and you, guys and girls, aside from being more educated and informed, were just exercising your right to chose! I should just relax, take a deep breath, and "give the dude a chance"; or, better yet, get a life, because, apparently, I should just broaden my horizons and acquire some more interests, aside from politics (my favorite being that my interest in politics stems from my being single and childless, ergo having nothing better to do).
Well, enjoy your choices and the freedom to make them! I only pray that when the final tally from those choices comes in, it will not be something on the magnitude of what I had to survive seven and a half years ago, and that still sometimes haunts my dreams (also a result of choices made by the majority of my people). May The Master of The Universe protect us all!
Friday, March 27, 2009
HAPPY (BELATED) PURIM
Editor’s note: due to the usual circumstances beyond my control, this piece appears today, as opposed to the day after Shushan Purim.
I love all our holidays. Each one brings its own beauty and a balm to the sometimes weary soul. Each reinforces its own message, but all of them remind us again of our unique place in the world and our demanding and privileged relationship with The Master of the Universe. But before I progress with sharing my meager knowledge, let us remember the eight Yeshiva students brutally slain last year on Rosh Chodesh Adar, may G-d avenge their blood!
On Purim we celebrate the escape from a total annihilation and a sheer beauty of being alive; we eat, we drink, we wear costumes, we share food, and we make sure to remember the needy. We also remember the "hidden" miracles that The Almighty performed on our behalf - hidden because on the surface they look like a natural chain of events, and only through deeper study and understanding do we realize that there was nothing "natural" about these events and their timing.
We also have an opportunity to remember what happens when we forget to be properly proud of whom we are. After all, Jews did not eat or drink something not Kosher; they just went to the feast that in essence celebrated the fact that the prophecy about Jewish redemption did not come to fruition (supposedly), and they drank from the vessels that were taken out of the destroyed Temple by the people who destroyed it (collectively spitting into their own faces). The results were immediate (although not immediately felt): right after the description of the festivities we hear about Haman and his rise to power - G-d had "hidden" Himself from His people.
Another reminder - our continued well-being usually depends (at least in part) on the few righteous people present in our midst. In this particular story we have Mordechai and Esther. Again, I do not presume to claim to even understand what they were feeling and thinking, because these people existed on the level we would never really achieve or truly comprehend. Still, with our puny understanding, try to imagine this scenario: man's wife is kidnapped and taken to a harem of a lecherous and powerful king. For a couple of years, he continually watches over her, sitting by the palace day after day. In the process, he uncovers a plot against the ruler and saves him; which, by the way, is another lesson of Purim: Esther conveyed the message about the plot in the name of Mordechai, teaching us that we should always give proper credit (no matter what the cannons of modern marketing and PR are telling us).
Then the terrible news about the official plans for the total extermination of all Jews broke out Mordechai tells Esther to go straight to the king and beseech him to spare our people. Esther seemed to be hesitant; why? Because not only would her life be in danger if she would go to the king without summons, but by voluntary going to him she would also be unable to return to her husband. But Mordechai sweeps aside her objections, telling her instead that the only probable reason for her to become a queen was for the sole purpose of saving her people now. So, after informing Mordechai that she would fast and pray for three days, and asking him to urge all the Jews in the city to do the same, Esther cleverly outmaneuvers Haman and begs the king for the life of her people.
Another interesting and very important lesson of Purim: perception and cause. After Haman rose to power, everybody was bowing down and genuflecting to him. Everyone, that is, except Mordechai (who, by the way, did not attend the infamous feast either). So, according to the surface story, Haman got really angry, observing that everyone bows down to him except that Jew Mordechai; and that situation inflamed his Jew-hatred to the point of his hatching the plan of "the final solution to the Jewish problem". It sounds pretty plausible, but it is completely wrong. Mordechai did not genuflect in order not to bow down to the idol that Haman was wearing (thus strictly observing the first and fundamental rule of our faith, never mind truly preserving his Jewish dignity). He was not part of the problem - he was part of the solution; but in order to comprehend this, you need the true clarity of vision, which, unfortunately, was and still is not widely found.
But the most important lesson of Purim is the fact that our Heavenly Father never truly abandons us. He is always watching over us, both as individuals and as a nation. During our biggest transgressions He, even in His Anger, sows the seeds of the solution. And there is always hope for a salvation, even (and especially) in our darkest hour.
So, here is to the continued health and well-being of our nation! May all our enemies be destroyed! And may we always keep our dignity, clarity of vision, and true pride in being Jews! May we always be able to have great feasts, be merry, and help each other! And may we always have love and unity, not just in times of great sorrow, but in times of great joy! L'Chaim!
On the very light note, here are my Purim highlights:
Munchkins (due to the great wisdom of their Mommy) were both Elmos. Of course, the slight scuffle broke out because both wanted "Elmo padzamas" as opposed to "Elmo dzaket".
Both Elmos run into another Elmo, who was accompanied by a Cookie Monster.
I thought of a great costume to myself, but, since this great thought came to me a bit late, ended up just wearing my usual clothes. What costume? Well, I wanted a T-shirt with "member of the NRA" in big letters and a big picture of a gun. That, of course, was my second choice. My first choice would have been too dangerous to wear in the five boroughs.
Did not run into one person I usually try to avoid - yeah!!! On the down side, missed my friend Moish and his leather get up again.
For the first time actually visited somebody in The Bronx (as opposed to just passing through this borough in a car or a train). In the process discovered that Jews are funny everywhere: not only was that Riverdale, but, apparently, Riverdale in the slang of Jews gets split up into few parts (somebody was living specifically in the Mid-Riverdale).
Got fed a fantastic meal by my friends, which included another funny element. My hostess, always being an inventive type, served very cute hors d'oeuvres: chunks of spicy salami with veggies on the barbeque sticks, all stuck in the big bright mug. Every woman present, without fail, recognized it as a food item, and partook in it. Every man present, also without fail, deemed those things decorations and had to be explained what is was.
My hosts had a very cute costume arrangement: father was Tigger, Mother - Rabbit, and their tiny twin son and daughter: Eeyore and Piglet. The Big Brother (being almost three) spoiled the whole scheme by refusing the wear his Pooh outfit.
Yours truly, being herself, had two half-glasses of wine, after which the pleasant mellowness followed (OK, I got slightly drunk).
I love all our holidays. Each one brings its own beauty and a balm to the sometimes weary soul. Each reinforces its own message, but all of them remind us again of our unique place in the world and our demanding and privileged relationship with The Master of the Universe. But before I progress with sharing my meager knowledge, let us remember the eight Yeshiva students brutally slain last year on Rosh Chodesh Adar, may G-d avenge their blood!
On Purim we celebrate the escape from a total annihilation and a sheer beauty of being alive; we eat, we drink, we wear costumes, we share food, and we make sure to remember the needy. We also remember the "hidden" miracles that The Almighty performed on our behalf - hidden because on the surface they look like a natural chain of events, and only through deeper study and understanding do we realize that there was nothing "natural" about these events and their timing.
We also have an opportunity to remember what happens when we forget to be properly proud of whom we are. After all, Jews did not eat or drink something not Kosher; they just went to the feast that in essence celebrated the fact that the prophecy about Jewish redemption did not come to fruition (supposedly), and they drank from the vessels that were taken out of the destroyed Temple by the people who destroyed it (collectively spitting into their own faces). The results were immediate (although not immediately felt): right after the description of the festivities we hear about Haman and his rise to power - G-d had "hidden" Himself from His people.
Another reminder - our continued well-being usually depends (at least in part) on the few righteous people present in our midst. In this particular story we have Mordechai and Esther. Again, I do not presume to claim to even understand what they were feeling and thinking, because these people existed on the level we would never really achieve or truly comprehend. Still, with our puny understanding, try to imagine this scenario: man's wife is kidnapped and taken to a harem of a lecherous and powerful king. For a couple of years, he continually watches over her, sitting by the palace day after day. In the process, he uncovers a plot against the ruler and saves him; which, by the way, is another lesson of Purim: Esther conveyed the message about the plot in the name of Mordechai, teaching us that we should always give proper credit (no matter what the cannons of modern marketing and PR are telling us).
Then the terrible news about the official plans for the total extermination of all Jews broke out Mordechai tells Esther to go straight to the king and beseech him to spare our people. Esther seemed to be hesitant; why? Because not only would her life be in danger if she would go to the king without summons, but by voluntary going to him she would also be unable to return to her husband. But Mordechai sweeps aside her objections, telling her instead that the only probable reason for her to become a queen was for the sole purpose of saving her people now. So, after informing Mordechai that she would fast and pray for three days, and asking him to urge all the Jews in the city to do the same, Esther cleverly outmaneuvers Haman and begs the king for the life of her people.
Another interesting and very important lesson of Purim: perception and cause. After Haman rose to power, everybody was bowing down and genuflecting to him. Everyone, that is, except Mordechai (who, by the way, did not attend the infamous feast either). So, according to the surface story, Haman got really angry, observing that everyone bows down to him except that Jew Mordechai; and that situation inflamed his Jew-hatred to the point of his hatching the plan of "the final solution to the Jewish problem". It sounds pretty plausible, but it is completely wrong. Mordechai did not genuflect in order not to bow down to the idol that Haman was wearing (thus strictly observing the first and fundamental rule of our faith, never mind truly preserving his Jewish dignity). He was not part of the problem - he was part of the solution; but in order to comprehend this, you need the true clarity of vision, which, unfortunately, was and still is not widely found.
But the most important lesson of Purim is the fact that our Heavenly Father never truly abandons us. He is always watching over us, both as individuals and as a nation. During our biggest transgressions He, even in His Anger, sows the seeds of the solution. And there is always hope for a salvation, even (and especially) in our darkest hour.
So, here is to the continued health and well-being of our nation! May all our enemies be destroyed! And may we always keep our dignity, clarity of vision, and true pride in being Jews! May we always be able to have great feasts, be merry, and help each other! And may we always have love and unity, not just in times of great sorrow, but in times of great joy! L'Chaim!
On the very light note, here are my Purim highlights:
Munchkins (due to the great wisdom of their Mommy) were both Elmos. Of course, the slight scuffle broke out because both wanted "Elmo padzamas" as opposed to "Elmo dzaket".
Both Elmos run into another Elmo, who was accompanied by a Cookie Monster.
I thought of a great costume to myself, but, since this great thought came to me a bit late, ended up just wearing my usual clothes. What costume? Well, I wanted a T-shirt with "member of the NRA" in big letters and a big picture of a gun. That, of course, was my second choice. My first choice would have been too dangerous to wear in the five boroughs.
Did not run into one person I usually try to avoid - yeah!!! On the down side, missed my friend Moish and his leather get up again.
For the first time actually visited somebody in The Bronx (as opposed to just passing through this borough in a car or a train). In the process discovered that Jews are funny everywhere: not only was that Riverdale, but, apparently, Riverdale in the slang of Jews gets split up into few parts (somebody was living specifically in the Mid-Riverdale).
Got fed a fantastic meal by my friends, which included another funny element. My hostess, always being an inventive type, served very cute hors d'oeuvres: chunks of spicy salami with veggies on the barbeque sticks, all stuck in the big bright mug. Every woman present, without fail, recognized it as a food item, and partook in it. Every man present, also without fail, deemed those things decorations and had to be explained what is was.
My hosts had a very cute costume arrangement: father was Tigger, Mother - Rabbit, and their tiny twin son and daughter: Eeyore and Piglet. The Big Brother (being almost three) spoiled the whole scheme by refusing the wear his Pooh outfit.
Yours truly, being herself, had two half-glasses of wine, after which the pleasant mellowness followed (OK, I got slightly drunk).
Thursday, March 05, 2009
ANOTHER WEEKEND UPDATE
Editor’s note: due to the circumstances beyond my control (situation continuing from last week), this entry goes to print today, as opposed to Monday morning.
First of all, my news summary for last week: my roomy and I adopted a cat named George, and I became an official card-carrying member of the NRA.
On Sunday I again had to honour of playing host to Mini Not Me, this time accompanied by his older sister. Of course, they really wanted to see George, and then my roommate; yours truly came in the un-illustrious last. Highlights of the visit included:
Mini Me enjoying my roomie's Wii; gosh, I feel old, since I do not even have an IPod, never played, never mind became addicted to, any kind of video games, and yet to figure out what exactly Wii is. Meanwhile, our three year old American Gnome is playing Wii. My only consolation is that she was most interested in the pink TV that comes with that Wii, since she is very much into the color pink right now.
George was alternatively hiding on the bookshelf, between the boxes, and in the closet. The theory is that he was really scared by a bunch of kids before, because he is really scared of our munchkins. But the overtures were made towards the tentative peace treaty, eventually resulting in George not running away from Mini Me and even allowing her to pet him a bit.
Mini Not Me discovered my jewelry pouch, which I was unsuccessfully looking for on Friday night and Shabat morning. My theory is that he hid it somewhere on his last visit, and re-discovered it yesterday.
Mini Me, on the other hand, was seen playing with my key ring, which at the press time is still missing in action.
Royal meals were carefully prepared by two chefs this time: yours truly and the person sharing my humble dwelling. Mini Not Me participated with his usual appreciation. Although he requested a cookie and refused to eat without it, it (the cookie) ended up being just a slightly licked accessory in his delicious little hand. Mini Me, on the other hand, was her usual finicky eater.
We watched more Elmo and Barney on YouTube; the royal permissions were alternating and not always in accord (if he wanted to watch Barney, she wanted Elmo, and vice versa).
I finally connected the dots: Mini Not Me goes around singing "yummy, yummy, yum", and I could not figure out what precisely was he singing. This Sunday finally clarified the issue: it is Elmo and The Singing Pizza.
There were many more delicious hugs and smiles.
Which, of course, brings me to Monday morning, which said morning conveniently forgot that is was the beginning of March, and gifted us with more snow, freezing temperatures and blistery winds. This fact prompted your humble servant to propose the following course of action: Al Gore, all the senior ranking members of IPCC, senior ranking members of the Weather Channel, Leo DiCaprio and his Hollywood chums, and the rest of this cabal (including our so-called President) are to be taken in their skivvies, or better yet, in their altogether, outside of the UN Building and stuck in the freshly fallen snow under a heavily armed guard. They should remain thusly till they admit to their continuous, blatant, and malevolent lies about the anthropogenic global warming. And please to not mention the Geneva accords to me: they are not the prisoners of war; we are.
First of all, my news summary for last week: my roomy and I adopted a cat named George, and I became an official card-carrying member of the NRA.
On Sunday I again had to honour of playing host to Mini Not Me, this time accompanied by his older sister. Of course, they really wanted to see George, and then my roommate; yours truly came in the un-illustrious last. Highlights of the visit included:
Mini Me enjoying my roomie's Wii; gosh, I feel old, since I do not even have an IPod, never played, never mind became addicted to, any kind of video games, and yet to figure out what exactly Wii is. Meanwhile, our three year old American Gnome is playing Wii. My only consolation is that she was most interested in the pink TV that comes with that Wii, since she is very much into the color pink right now.
George was alternatively hiding on the bookshelf, between the boxes, and in the closet. The theory is that he was really scared by a bunch of kids before, because he is really scared of our munchkins. But the overtures were made towards the tentative peace treaty, eventually resulting in George not running away from Mini Me and even allowing her to pet him a bit.
Mini Not Me discovered my jewelry pouch, which I was unsuccessfully looking for on Friday night and Shabat morning. My theory is that he hid it somewhere on his last visit, and re-discovered it yesterday.
Mini Me, on the other hand, was seen playing with my key ring, which at the press time is still missing in action.
Royal meals were carefully prepared by two chefs this time: yours truly and the person sharing my humble dwelling. Mini Not Me participated with his usual appreciation. Although he requested a cookie and refused to eat without it, it (the cookie) ended up being just a slightly licked accessory in his delicious little hand. Mini Me, on the other hand, was her usual finicky eater.
We watched more Elmo and Barney on YouTube; the royal permissions were alternating and not always in accord (if he wanted to watch Barney, she wanted Elmo, and vice versa).
I finally connected the dots: Mini Not Me goes around singing "yummy, yummy, yum", and I could not figure out what precisely was he singing. This Sunday finally clarified the issue: it is Elmo and The Singing Pizza.
There were many more delicious hugs and smiles.
Which, of course, brings me to Monday morning, which said morning conveniently forgot that is was the beginning of March, and gifted us with more snow, freezing temperatures and blistery winds. This fact prompted your humble servant to propose the following course of action: Al Gore, all the senior ranking members of IPCC, senior ranking members of the Weather Channel, Leo DiCaprio and his Hollywood chums, and the rest of this cabal (including our so-called President) are to be taken in their skivvies, or better yet, in their altogether, outside of the UN Building and stuck in the freshly fallen snow under a heavily armed guard. They should remain thusly till they admit to their continuous, blatant, and malevolent lies about the anthropogenic global warming. And please to not mention the Geneva accords to me: they are not the prisoners of war; we are.
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