WORK FUNNIES

Part 4: Some More Neurotic Tendencies

As mentioned many, many times before, our big boss is quiet neurotic. So, in accordance with this interesting character trade, last Friday afternoon he showed up by my desk, holding something wrapped in parchment paper. "You know, there is this half a sandwich, which was sitting in the fridge door for at least a week. I think something started growing there." And, without further ado, he proceeded to unwrap exhibit A and show it to me. I desperately tried to explain to him that I never held any particular interest in physics, chemistry, or microbiology; all to no avail. He when asked me to warn the populace that in the event of nobody claiming this particular gourmet offering, it will be disposed of. After which, he deposited this marvel on my desk and departed. Hell-o!!

Even when annoyed, I try not to pass an opportunity to enjoy myself at the company's expanse (especially when it is officially authorized). So, after dumping the stinking half a sandwich back in the fridge, I circulated the following e-mail (without any specified subject matter):

"According to my intelligence report, there is half a sandwich in the fridge door that had been seating where for at least a week. It also looks like something is beginning to live and grow in this sandwich. Please claim it, or it is going out.

Thank you,"

Nobody seemed to be a good humor, so I did not get any responses on Friday (and yes, I did dump the farshtukane thing before I left). This morning, while checking my inbox and enjoying my morning cup of java, here is what I got:

Subject: Food Delicious Food

"Your e-mail made me cracking up this morning…
I have to confess now – In the past, when I found something over 2 weeks with mold growing on it, I threw it away without warning. You are actually very kind to remind whoever who probably totally forgot about it.

Thanks for taking care of it!"

INTERESTING SIDE EFFECT

There is one thing my Mom never did and there is another one she almost always never did. She never swore and she almost never took interest in politics. Obama's bid for presidency changed both.

As mentioned many times before, my mother is a very soft spoken person. The biggest "curse" she would ever utter would be to call somebody an idiot or an animal; if she would want to "send" somebody somewhere, it would be to Turkish baths (do not ask me why). All of the sudden, last fall she inquired of me as to how to call somebody a "devil" in English or how to wish them to the warm basement. Upon witnessing my incongruity and quite admiration, she explained that apparently some Obama supporters were behaving with even more grace and class than usually exhibited, and she required some serious verbal ammunition.

I already described how hard she prayed for Obama's defeat. Alas, G-d answered "no". Now, my Mom started listening to Rush!!! As late as last Shabat lunch, she asked me to explain to her some choice phrases, and jokingly added that she is acquiring better proficiency in English expressions. You go, Mommy! May G-d say "yes" to your constant prayers for protection of your children and grandchildren against the socialist miasma that is trying to infiltrate this wonderful country!

RELIGION 101

After getting hooked on Youtube, I have decided that both misery and bliss love company, and hooked my favorite gnomes on it too. The funniest part is that some of my favorite pieces became theirs as well.

Mini Me loves Hava Nagilah in all kinds of different interpretations. So, one fine day we were watching one of those; this one contained a collage of different pictures from the Holy Land. Being of the firm believe that the more information you impart on the younger generation, the more they learn and grow, I was giving explanations to the flushing snap shots. Few of them contained Western Wall, and I briefly touched on the destruction of the Temple. "But why did they destroy it, Papi?" Trying again to explain that the destroyers were "bad" people, who hated G-d and us as his representatives (not in so many flowery words). "But why?" Tried again, after which Golden Delicious just finished watching the clip with very serious eyes and an intense expression on her sweet little face.

Apparently, they were having some cursory discussions about the destruction in her play group as well. Now, whenever we are watching this clip, she keeps re-iterating that "Bais Hamikdash is beautiful, was beautiful", that "bad people destroyed it", and that "Mashiach will help us, Hashem will help us, Hashem will send Mashiach to help us build it again!"

Another discussion, unrelated to Youtube, happened one fine evening in the kitchen of my sister's house, where Mini Me was consuming her crackers with cream cheese in her clever attempts to evade her bed as long as possible. While she was thusly occupied, we were also carrying a very intelligent conversation about our mutual everyday concerns. During this conversation, we discussed (among many other things) our booboos. She was extremely concerned about my big ones on my legs (eczema) and urged me to go to the doctor and get cream for it. Eventually, her Mommy finished the basement chores, and yummy gnome agreed to go "upstairs" with Mommy. On the way there, she expressed her concerns about Papi's booboo, the necessity of going to the doctor and getting the cream, and finally pronounced, with unshakable conviction, that Hashem will make Papi better.

I get very emotional every time I recall those episodes. Her innocent faith touches me more than I can express. And I remember our Mom, whispering to us repeatedly not to tell anyone that we are Jews, her trying to host a Pesach Seder, and getting upset when we boiled franks in a little bowl she designated for milk.

Hear this, murdering Communist atheistic butchers? You did not succeed with my family!!!

Thank You, Heavenly Father, for allowing us to escape. Escape that horrible suffocating jail where we grew up, so that now we can freely teach Sh'ma to our little ones.

WORK FUNNIES

Part 3: Identity Crisis

As I mentioned previously, even though our office is in New York, we are actually a regional, and not the main office; for which big favor from Above I thanked Heavens many, many times. Because being regional office means you are insulated, not completely, bus sufficiently enough not to deal with different degrees of idiocy that usually emanate from the main administration. So, not being in close proximity to the exalted top, the first time I heard the phrase "new identity" was last spring, which apparently was about ten months after the mother ship first initiated this beacon.

Naive I was at first stupefied: who is going into a witness protection in order to have a new identity? Clarification proved much less romantic and significantly less dramatic; all we were talking about was a new corporate logo. What a disappointment! Anyway, as weeks passed by, the magic phrase was repeated more and more often, and the excitement finally reached my station too in the form of a reminder not to over-order supplies with the "old identity". OK, no biggie, I can count (I think). The breaking point for me arrived around mid-July when I found out that the person responsible for organizing everything in our neck of woods was none other than my all time fave coworker fondly nicknamed by me Komsomolka. Oh, Mama!

It started with a cake. Yes, you heard right: apparently, there would be a whole interoffice party for the "unveiling of the new identity", and we should have a very specific menu, topped by carrot cake. And not only carrot cake, but it had to be rectangular, and have very precise decorations, a chart of which, completed with precise measurements and color palette (specifying the colors with numbers familiar only to the graphic designers). And all this brouhaha because "the new identity" would be orange on white.

So, yours truly was calling a whole bunch of local bakeries with the hope of ordering the blessed cake only to be informed, again and again, that nobody bakes carrot cake. Meanwhile, my dear friend Komsomolka was throwing mild hissy fits, while wondering what's holding the whole process (her problem is that she looks and acts like the weight of the world rests on her shoulders, and her projects are the most important ones, and have to be attended to right away). Finally, I somehow persuaded her to order "regular" cake with the specified (but modified) decorations on top.

Then mysterious packages from the mother ship began arriving; those were supposed to be opened in secret by Her Highness (at her convenience); in the interim they were supposed to be stored at my area. At this I had finally put my flip flop down and politely demonstrated to her my need to have access to my filing cabinets at all times.

About a week before "the unveiling" she got into another fit of the vapors because the menu for the party had to be just right (because everyone is very picky when eating free food during the work hours). I foolishly let her choose the menu and the caterer; of course, when the big boss saw the final spread, his head shook only about a hundred times.

Then, the day before, her student intern was closeted somewhere in order to assemble everyone's goody bags, and Komsomolka herself was busily huffing and puffing to and fro. Poor Goth girl of an intern; I do not think anyone wanted to be in her shoes that day.

Finally, the big day arrived. Another intern was dispatched to pick up the cake, and got lost only twice: once on the way there, and once on the way back. The food arrived, raising the brows and promoting the above-mentioned head shakes. Unfortunate interns, directed by Komsomolka, hauled the boxed with the mysterious goody bags back to the main conference room, which then was declared off limits to everyone. And since we only have one room that can be called conference room by any stretch of the imagination, that last order produced some more raised brows, head shakes, stomach acid and hypertension.

OK, drum roll!!!! Everyone was told to assemble and help themselves to food. I decided to at least have some fun and started snapping pictures. Everyone got really excited that we will immortalize this blessed event till I informed them that that was my personal camera. Then everyone just continued to load their plates, aside from one part-timer who was working on her masters in film. She kept screaming not to take her picture; that she is being paid to be on camera; and that she gets overwhelmed from the flash. So, I got great shots of her curls and her hand holding a paper plate in front of her face. While everyone was busy stuffing their faces with very carefully selected free food and thrice-damned carrot cake, some dudes and dudesses were warbling from the TV and applauding each other.

At the end of this important ceremony we were finally given our goody bags. Hear another drum roll!!!! The bags contained: one logo T-shirt (which immediately produced a lively exchange for needed sizes), one logo luggage tag, two logo pens (actually usable), two different logo coffee mugs, our new business cards, and little baggies with carefully counted out ten logo paper clips. After which the cake was again complimented, the bakery inquired about, and the usual round of flat jokes uttered. Then I had to clean up the effing conference room, and, aharon aharon haviv, Komsomolka came up with a brilliant idea which she immediately circulated via e-mail. Since the mail drones at the mother ship did not package the mugs properly, about half of them came broken. So, in respect to the mother earth, whose sustainability is sooooo important, she offered people to take those mugs in lieu of pencil cups. And when yours truly actually dared to suggest that that idea is dangerous, since anyone could easily cut him/herself on those broken mugs, she, with the suffering face, collected all the broken crockery and took it out. But not before one of the sustainers took one for his desk.

The sad PS for this silly episode? During the last staff meeting we finally found out the total coast of this wonderful venture, which partially explained our delayed and halved bonuses. But, hey, we got a new orange-on-white, carrot cake hued logo!

Great song

Funnily enough, I only discovered this song here, about ten years after leaving step-mother country; either way, I just happen to love it.

WALL-E

As I mentioned at the beginning of my blogging career, when I kept a paper and pen journal, it was exclusively to record my opinion on the books I read and the movies I have seen. I intended to do this here, in my virtual journal, but, unfortunately, there are some many other things to express my opinion about, and so few hours of mental breaks at work, that I have been consistently lagging behind. I watched "WALL-E" at the beginning of the last Independence Day weekend (back when we still had half-decent President, and not an America-hating crooked bastard), and I have finally decided to pen down few remarks.

Even though I have watched the commercials prior to actually seeing the movie, I still suffered a mildly severe disappointment after being introduced to the actual "work of art". To put it mildly, it was a propaganda fest for the brown-shirt-wearing, red-flag-waiving members of the one of my all time favorite groups - envirowacos. Basically, mother earth became totally unfit for human habitation because it was covered by mountains of garbage produced by our over-crazed consumerism and total disrespect for Gaia. Humanity (somehow exclusively American) escaped Earth (being lied to by corporate goon) on super-luxury space ships that were programmed to cater to their every need, and where they remained for few generations, eventually de-evolving into stupid globs of fat with atrophied legs. Finally, with some help from love-struck WALL-E (a robot), they returned to Earth and started cleaning and re-planting it (in the process somehow resembling evolving cave people).

Animation was fantastic, and the love story between WALL-E and EVA (another robot) very, very touching. A lot of noise was made to the tune that there is practically no dialogue between those two; in my case, funnily enough, it was a fellow moviegoer who pointed that fact out. Whatever the case, the effect was truly, well, effective; the absence of dialogue makes the whole romance that much more touching. But, as a whole, after such funny and heart-warming productions like "Ratatouille", "Monsters, Inc.", and "Incredibles", and such touching, tear jerking masterpiece like "Finding Nemo", "WALL-E" rings hollow with this anti-sustainability, pro-capitalism, jaded and cynical consumer.

YOUR TAX DOLLAR AT WORK

Part 3

Every time I go on vacation, I usually send a whole bunch of post cards to all the friends and relatives (preferably on the first day of my trip). Official disclaimer: if you are reading this, and you did not receive a post card from my last trip, all that means is that I know where your house is, but do not have an exact address, and you were not listed at the time of my packing and departure.

Anyway, my Aruba trip was no different, and on the second night there I was enjoying the balmy weather and the badly received American TV while addressing the post cards. My sister's house was supposed to receive three: one for Mini Me, one for Mini Not Me, and one for my sister and brother-in-law (they are not that enjoyable). Upon my return home I enquired as to whenever my correspondence arrived before us or not. My sibling told me that both cards for the gnomes arrived, albeit separately, but she and spouse did not receive anything. We put it down to the probable efficiency of the tropical laborers, and left it at that.

Then, few days after that, my sister informed me that I have to see something hilarious. Lo and behold, my post card addressed to her and spouse came to them in one of those half-clear postal envelopes with standard caveat that they tried their best, but the correspondence got damaged, and they apologize, blah, blah. They delivered precisely a third of the original post card, with top and bottom torn off, and only a part with the address preserved.

As of today, that fragment of the picture of a tropical paradise is proudly displayed on my sister's fridge.

SOME MORE SHORT TAKES

Everyone who knows me is very familiar with my stance on illegals; but what I really want to put into law pronto is this: anyone who does not bathe, change clothes, and, MOST IMPORTANTLY, does not use deodorant, GETS DEPORTED IMMEDIATELY and mercilessly. I think people who ride the subway (especially during the summer) will sign my petition.

Another pet peeve: I love when people start sharing personal information after a fifteen-minute acquaintance. Case in point: a sales rep who visits our office from time to time once offered me a piece of gum. I politely refused, stating that I do not usually chew gum. "Really?" - was her surprised reply - "Well, I always carry it, with my breath!". Did I really need to know that?

A fellow blogger once dedicated a post, completed with pictures, to the not so bright truck drivers who periodically get stuck under the Q Train tracks, because they do not pay attention to the clearance signs. Well, yours truly once witnessed two trucks, coming from the opposite directions, both getting stuck under the blessed Q train, and subsequently blocking Avenue P on Friday afternoon. Let us just say that was one of the few times when I was duly grateful for the fact that I do not drive.

A triumph of my assertiveness on the subway: putting down my big butt on the bench that was designed for four people, and where three men were comfortably sitting before my arrival.

Ultimate irony: when I bought myself a new prayer book, cashier did not deactivate the anti-theft device properly, and I started beeping by the exit. But here is my question: how can you pray using a stolen prayer book?

Notice on the e-bay action: "After few recent troubles I had with the lost packages, I will no longer ship to Russia". Gratifying to know that very few things changed in step-mother country.

I do not precisely remember what Bridget Jones considered as a "unfortunate laundry crisis outfit", but to me it ended up being a full goth regalia: black top and black skirt (completed with standard for New York winter black shoes).

I do not care about the logic and reasonable explanations: seating on the subway opposite a guy who was studying a diagram of female reproductive organs was just plain yucky.

Another funny bit: I did not get any birthday cards on the actual birthday, but I did get two cards a day before: one was from my Mom, and one was from my dentist.

One fine morning there was a little commotion in our office due to the fact that an entire team was ready to depart to the job site, but the project manager was missing. Long story short, poor guy called his second in command with apologies and a following explanation: "two Polish guys came in this morning, took off my apartment door (for the fridge delivery), and disappeared. I can not leave the house till the door is re-attached."

Few days ago I took fluffies out to an ice cream shop. Mini Not Me just kept trying to sneak candies; ice cream did not really stir him. Mini Me, on the other hand, usually takes very serious approach to her selection. Till recently, it was only a choice between an ice cream you can eat (a cone or a cup) and an ice cream you can drink (a milk shake). This time, she requested to be picked up, so she can view the selection better. I obliged and started rattling off all the flavors; she perused the entire selection very, very carefully, and finally made her choice: "Pink".

A BOOST TO SELF-IMPORTANCE

Two Sundays ago I planned to go to the local Target to get some stuff for my new apartment, into which I did not want to move in the first place (but that is a separate story). And since the weather was not particularly encouraging towards the outdoor activities, it took me till early afternoon to finally collect myself. At which point my sis had put semi-frantic calls on all my communicators because she forgot hers at my new digs. Anyway, to make the long story a bit shorter, I promised to drop by her first, and then we decided to maybe go to Target together and with kiddies.

Due to the strange characters that always roam our charming neighbourhood and ring the door bells at all hours of day and night, munchkins, especially the older one, did not get to nap properly, and by the time of my august arrival were not in the best of dispositions. So, for the reasons known only to the Creator and to these two adorable gnomes, Mini Me, who usually hints to me that it is time for our mutual outing "on choo choo train with a single agla", refused to leave the house and insisted on staying with Mommy. Mini Not Me, on the other hand, reiterated several times that he wanted to "go sto vi Papi". So, he was duly bundled up and placed in "single agla", and off to the Target we went.

On the way to the store he inquired about every half a block as to the whereabouts of Mommy, Efty, and Abba (in that order), but my explanations as to their absence from the immediate vicinity were sufficient. On our arrival to the store, he got a cookie, and a view from a very tall window, and a not so rare opportunity to observe the natives in their natural habitat. All went well till I proceeded to actual shopping; the inquires intensified to about once every minute, and, upon being informed that Mommy and Efty are at home, Mini Not Me expressed the desire to join them.

In between the questions as to the whereabouts of his immediate family, my nephew really enjoyed himself, and even found quite a few things he wanted to purchase for himself, the most prominent amongst them being "Cars" linen set. But very soon he started to demand his return to the bosom of the loving parents quite forcefully and pretty much nonstop. I still held a feeble hope of at least finding a new trash can, and to that end I decided to persuade my little charge. "Listen, sweetie, you are with me," was my reply to his slightly teary demands of Mommy, Efty, and home, "am I that boring?" "Wra" was his immediate reply (which in his present vocabulary means "yes"). Ah, from the mouths of babes...

Book of Calm

A few years ago my roommate wisely pronounced that I happen to have a lot of unexpressed anger, and one of the venues for expressing that anger happens to be the kitchen. All of this happens to be true: yours truly has a tendency of remembering bad things for prolonged periods of time, and a charming habit of banging the pots and pans, swearing at the oven door, kicking the trash can, and engaging the broom in a kick boxing jousts. So, about two months ago, my roomie gave me a copy of the "Book of Calm" with firm assurances that the methods described there were tried and true, and I should really read it. And since I do not read self-help books on principle (Dean Edell being the rare exception), the book just calmly (pun not intended) stayed next to my computer desk.

Fast forward to last night, when I ended up dedicating more than three hours to "straightening up" the kitchen. When I tried to wash the rice pot, the kitchen was greeted with a loud rhetorical question to the tune of would it have killed anybody to soak the pot after they finished consuming the rice. My roomie was interested in clarifying the matter, and explained to me that the pot was emptied only about half an hour before, therefor the soaking would not have been very useful. After informing him that five minutes would have made a difference, I continued grumbling under my nose. In response to which "The Book of Calm" was recommended again.

TOUCH OF MINK

Or Reality Bites

This fine morning those of us fortunate (or unfortunate) enough to go to work had to navigate something that has a very poetic for such a nasty condition thing called wintry mix, otherwise known in New York as wet snow, rain, slush, puddles, extra grumpy people, treacherous sidewalks, clogged drains, and umbrellas sailing half an inch from your eye. Yours truly was one of these fortunate people.

Considering my total lack of proper footwear (another long story), I was very fortunate in a sense that I almost reached my office building without any mishaps; almost, of course, being the operative word. On the corner of my building, waiting for the light to change (I am dorky like that), I was splashed almost literally from head to toe by a passing black Kraut (read fancy) car that seemed to be in extreme hurry. After I regained my equilibrium by denigrating the driver and his ancestry in two languages, all of the sudden I remembered a movie called "That Touch of Mink", after which I dissolved into the uncontrollable giggles.

"Touch of Mink" is an old goofy comedy starring Cary Grant and Doris Day. Its contents are not extremely profound, but quite entertaining, and, considering the subject matter, really clean. The reason I remembered this movie was because Day's character, a clean cut small town girl, gets dowsed with the puddle water in the beginning of the movie by a passing fancy car of the rich businessman played by Grant. What ensues after that is a very entertaining comedy of errors: Day's character gets to spend some time with Grant's, even advise him on important business matter, receives a proposition to be his mistress, gets a wonderful new wardrobe from Bergdorf (completed with mink coat), and gets whisked away to a tropical paradise.

Of course, her small town morals got in the way, and eventually, after some pretty hilarious twists and turns, they got married.

So, for some unexplainable reason, here I am, sitting at my desk in my drying denim skirt, working and contemplating the disparity between Hollywood and reality. As my little friend Goshka said, while sitting on his potty, "Life!"

NOTHING NEW UNDER THE SUN

Or Remembering St. George

It probably would be a complete chutzpah on my part to re-affirm that King Solomon was a very wise man and a great prophet. But, as mentioned before, I am approaching the middle-age marker; and along with this usually come certain weariness and philosophical introspections (not that I did not over-analyze everything to death when I was younger). But, the more I observe my fellow humans and the more I try (albeit meagerly) to self-educate myself in history, the more I realize the beauty of this profound statement from Ecclesiastes.

Nothing is new under the sun. People seem to be changing constantly: food, clothes, customs, languages, borders of the countries, countries themselves; progress here, regress there, freedom, slavery, cannibalism, advance of human rights... Humanity (especially civilized part of it) seems to be constantly in motion, hopefully towards the better things. And then you stop and look a bit beneath the surface of things, and you realize that nothing really changes, and that the time basically goes in circles, like the times of the year or the phases of the moon. Human beings (even the civilized ones) are actually diminishing with each generation removed from the original pair created by G-d. And all the darker parts of the human soul rear their ugly heads again and again.

Believe it or not, the disgustingly idiotic circus of the past few months otherwise known in this country as the last Presidential elections presented a wonderful demonstration. American public had to opportunity to observe, or even to participate in the oldest, and, in a sense, most repugnant rituals of humans: idol worship, black ingratitude, and the mass hysteria of the demented mob. By the last count, the rituals are still in full swing.

Few months ago, I got into another philosophical mode while reading one of Prelutsky's articles. In it, he was mocking the college commencement speeches that are always praising the graduating class as the best of the best. According to him, most of the graduating youngsters are not dreaming of slaying the dragon; they just want to find a job and start paying off their tuition loans. I agree with Burt that graduating classes are rarely the best of the best, especially in the view of their overwhelming participation in this wonderful cult of personality we all are currently witnessing. But what a sad thing to think that the younger generation is not dreaming of heroic actions! When else in your live can you dream of slaying a dragon and saving everyone, if not when you are a teenager or a young adult?

And sadder still is the realization that even if you did daydream of being a hero in your younger days, the older you get, the more you realize that dragon is not the worst you will have to engage in battle if you want to retain your humanity. Dragon lives in you: your lack of faith, moments of despair, hopelessness, and evil inclination in general. But from the outside enemies, dragon, as horrible and vicious as he may be, always attacks head on. The bloodiest, most exhausting, and sometimes seemingly hopeless battles would always be with jackals and snakes.

Finally, on the heels of all the different disjointed thoughts and musings, another realization crystallized in my mind quite some time ago - I have a bad case of a very old Jewish sickness. Which one is it? The desire to stick my stiff Jewish neck in the matters that should not really concern me as a Jew; you see, I know that this country is only a stop on our very long journey back home, to the Holy Land. But I love this country; I love it with every fiber of my being. This country sheltered me, allowed me to discover who I am and to be who I am, and, as I mentioned before, most probably saved my life. Gratitude is in our genetic makeup; and I will not give up on this country. I will resist her enemies (especially the domestic ones) as much as I can; and I will pray to The Heavenly Father to continue to protect and to bless this here US of A.

LIBRARY UPDATE

Just a little update on the library situation (so to speak). As this "goes to print", Regnery has published fifteen books in the PIG series (Politically Incorrect Guides). By the latest (one second ago) check of the NYPL catalog, library has five titles from these series available. And here are the amusing numbers:

PIG to American History - 58 available copies (when I checked it out, there were 95).

PIG to Darwinism and ID - 4 available copies (originally purchased 5).

PIG to English and American Lit - 1 available copy (originally purchased 2).

PIG to Global Warming - 0 available copies (originally purchased 3); one in storage (huh?); one missing and one lost - Al Gore's supporters falling on the sword for this one and stealing these two copies to the monetary detriment of themselves?

PIG to Constitution - 2 copies available (originally purchased 2); both constantly on hold for somebody else.

Burt Prelutsky - latest book just published (non-political, by the way), another book released few years ago - library catalog does not recognize this name.

One the bright side - 85 copies of Jerry Corsi's book and 72 of David Freddoso's still available on the shelf.

Latest Ann Coulter - 115 copies (some still on order); around quarter of them already on hand (my Dad's, among others), and 59 holds.

The general logic still escapes me, but 115 copies of the most denigrated rightie in the heart of New York - rock on, Ann!

Hava Nagila

I am hosting a little contest: please explain this bizzare performance

1000th

My very first teacher of Judaic studies, ZT'B, once told this slightly amusing parable to my Dad. It will loose some in the translation, but, hopefully, you will get the gist of it.

Jews are different from all the other nations. Gentiles have wisdom and stupidity distributed equally: some get more, some get less, but everyone gets some of both. With Jews, it is quite different: nine hundred ninety nine Jews get only wisdom, and the thousandth gets all the stupidity allotted for this group. They are called The Legion of the Thousandth, and all of them can usually be found in the Israeli government.

After receiving the extremely disturbing news this Motzei Shabat about the cease fire in Gaza, the first thing that popped into my mind was this parable. There is no other explanation for this unilateral surrender, aside from extreme stupidity and extreme cowardice. For the second time in two years, treacherous and corrupt Israeli government managed to snatch the defeat from the jaws of victory. They could have put paid to both Hezbollah and HAMAS, but no; something as simple and as straightforward as defending their citizens is "above their pay grade". Rockets are still firing towards the south of Israel, and HAMAS's jackals are doing celebration dances.

My little, slightly tattered note is staying in my prayer book. Please protect us, Heavenly Father! Protect us from all our enemies, especially the ones within; You are our only hope!

INTERESTING WEEKEND

Weekend before last (after the supposed birthday, not the supposed circumcision) turned out to be quite entertaining. First of all, after years of trying to interest yours truly in going to the Hashivenu retreat, my sister finally convinced me to go this year.

Here is a short list of memorable highlights:

Got to babysit an almost empty office (besides me, it contained one harassed marketing coordinator and one rotten intern, who literally fell asleep by his workstation).

Got to travel on Metro North for the first time in my life; the excitement included figuring out how to purchase a ticket, find a train, and navigate without the help of very useful uniformed employees of the above mentioned Metro North. Also, got to carry my Minnie Mouse suitcase.

Took a scenic ride with my brother in law through the charming city of Hartford (on the way back figured out that I could have actually walked from the station, if not for my blessed dyslexia).

Got acquainted with the Hartford's Hilton, which apparently just turned Hilton this year, and was previously Sheraton. According to my sis, I have missed on heavenly bed and bath experience. But hey, to me going to a nice hotel is already a wonderful pastime.

Got to eat a lot (and I mean a lot) of food; some was delicious, some so so; but the presentation was fantastic either way.

Got to use my bathing suit, which was specifically purchased for my Aruba trip, and since then was idling away in my dresser.

Met an amusing couple from Queens; observed their extremely entertaining interactions with the waiters.

Due to the superior organizational skills of one of our dear friends, ended up meeting and sharing a room with a very interesting lady (more on that to come).

Remembered once again why I avoid places where my people congregate in great numbers.

Witnessed my sister's great act of assertiveness; you go, girl!!

Managed to snap some cute pictures of munchkins.

Over all, it was an enjoyable Shabbat.

Which brings me to Sunday.

On Sunday we were supposed to attend our cousin's wedding ceremony. Highlights included the following:

Fluffies, overexcited from our previous trip, decided that they have exhausted their quota of decent behavior, and ended up demanding Mommy exclusively, which prompted some tricky manipulations on our side, resulting in somehow coming home hungry.

I personally could not understand the constant rendition of bad poetry by the guy leading the processions, but hey, I am strange like this.

Likewise, I could not, for the thousandth time, understand why Goth clothes are de rigor for all the occasions, especially weddings.

Met with a passing acquaintance, who was desirous to know how come I was at this particular wedding; maybe I was a friend of the bride? No, cousin of the groom. Cousin of the bride? Can't be! No, cousin of the groom. No way! Apparently, if I do not belong to their circle of young, hip, recently discovered Judaism Jewish professionals, I somehow do not know anyone, or have any friends, never mind family members.

Last, but not least: despite all hope and precedent, could not get drunk after three!!! drinks.

Over all, it was a great weekend. On the side note, I got reaffirmation of my previous plan: if and when I find somebody crazy enough to marry me (and get crazy enough to marry him), we will definitely elope! (Destination to be kept in strict confidence till actually needed).

A LITTLE NOTE

(I have wanted to write this post for a little while, but now, unfortunately, it became current)

As mentioned before, my daily prayers are usually accomplished on my morning commute. To that effect, my trusty and much worn compact Artscroll Siddur had been a permanent resident in the succession of wacky purses I usually carry. Few months ago, while leafing through the usually unused sections of my Siddur, I have stumbled on a little paper stuck there.

The paper, ironically, was torn from one of those standard note pads one usually gets with the requests for donations from strange places one never heard of before. It is a little square made out of cheap recycled paper, and on top of it there is a quote in English from Psalm 23 "Only goodness and kindness follow me all the days of my life". The note itself contained four names, written in standard black ballpoint pen and half faded already: three of those names were the names of the soldiers, whose kidnapping started the last war with Hezbollah; the fourth name was a name of the unknown to me Israeli civilian.

Those were the people we were all praying for back than: kidnapped soldiers and civilians caught in the cross fire and asking their brethren outside of the Holy Land (through the chain of Rabbis) to beseech The Heavens on their behalf. Few days after I have discovered this paper, we all heard "breaking" news about Israel exchanging a whole bunch of Muslim terrorists and murderers for the remains of the two of the soldiers.

Today, a fresh name goes on the other side of this paper: a name of another IDF soldier whom I do not know, and who needs all the prayers we can offer because, while I am here, in the comfort of my office, sipping my tea, he is out there, in the harm's way, defending the Holy Land and our brothers and sisters. Defending them from the vicious thugs who call themselves freedom fighters and the followers of the only true and peaceful religion; baby killers who hide behind their just as vicious and just as murderous wives and daughters; and while this battle is taking place, the almost entire so called international community will shed crocodile tears for the "poor, innocent, homeless, displaced Palestinians". There will be moans and groans about the "humanitarian crisis" in the Gaza, followed by inevitable condemnation of the "Zionist aggressors".

Merciful Heavenly Father, please protect all your children and the Holy Land! Please do not forsake us!

OK, IT IS OFFICIAL!

As mentioned many times before, my favorite niece looks very much like yours truly. It's not just the facial features and the mop of curly hair; she has a lot of my mannerisms, poses, and gestures, which my sibling loves to point out on numerous photographic representations of our Golden Delicious.

But few weeks ago she solidified her status. When she decided to cut short her "vacation" by her grandmother and return home early, the first thing she did was to pack all her stuff. "Oh, that's what Barb used to do when she was little" was a unanimous response from all the family members who remembered me at my tender years.

So, it is now official: Mini Me is in fact Mini Me!

MEME

OK, I have been tagged for two memes (or whatever they are). I am not tagging anyone, because I think all the bloggers I know already got tagged by this, but here goes.

BOOK Meme:

"...You do not need to look like a duchess.'

She accompanied him through the house, thinking she would rather not ride alone in a carriage with him again. She had never entirely recovered from the long journey from Rouen.

The carriage waited in all its splendor. Daniel settled across from her and the wheels rolled. "

OK, I have a whole bunch of romances all other the place at work (I do need to utilize the drawer space, after all). That one was from "The Seducer" by Madeline Hunter (and despite the title, it was really a great love story).

NEXT Meme:

7 facts about me:

1. I do not have a driver's licence, and never finished my driving lessons.

2. I know how to milk cows.

3. My personal library contains about 800 romances.

4. I was able to name all the wives of Henry VIII: their names, their order, what happened to them, and what happened to their offspring. That was long before Cinemax launched it's series about Tudors.

5. I hate putting on make up for purely practical purposes (and not moral, religious, or nonconformist reasons, as people believe). Aside from taking time, I usually feel suffocated if I cake my face with anything even slightly oil based.

6. I am a single girl without kids, but I can hold my own (and even offer informed opinions and advise) in the conversations with parents. I even have my favorite brand of diapers: Huggies, of course:)

7. I am one of the few people who, being born with curly hair, actually enjoy having them curly, and adamantly protest against all the attempts to straighten it (even if one of my former friends claims that straight hair is more elegant).

Happy Birthday, Mini Me!

Here is to my wonderful niece! May Hashem bless you, and may you always be a blessing and a source of joy to us and all the Jews!

Many Happy Returns, little one!

HAPPY HANUKAH!

Of course, I am posting it on the last day, but it is still Hanukah! So, here is to understanding the true meaning of this wonderful Holiday, to our spiritual survival, to remembering our unique and important role in the Universe, and, most importantly, to His Miracles and Blessings!

Let the light of our collective Menorahs show us the true way!

Happy Hanukah!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY AND HAPPY THANKSGIVING

When I was a kid in a late, unlamented step-mother country, I always resented the fact that my Birthday was in the end of November, meaning in the middle of nowhere: after the break for the Celebration of the Glorious Revolution, and before the New Years and Mid-Winter break. Basically, I did not like to go to school on my Birthday.

I still do not like to go to school, or worse, to work, on my Birthday, but the appreciation of the timing of my arrival into this world changed dramatically: now it is close to Thanksgiving, so it always puts me at least in a good mood, if not exactly festive. So, here is to another year of my life! As always, this year was filled with things both wonderful, the most notable of which was my first trip to the Caribbean, and the opposite of wonderful, one of which was my friend of nineteen years proposing the break up via e-mail.

As a whole, I was really not in a mood to celebrate this year; but, as always, I did attempt. My attempts consisted of taking the day off, having a relaxed and very enjoyable breakfast out with my sis, and then going on the town and blowing my non-existent money on my favorite things: books and chocolates. My wonderful mom also hosted a family get-together with magnificent and plentiful food, and my siblings threatened me with presents coming in the immediate future. Again, my plan to get drunk was nixed this year, and again due to my being on meds: this time it was not just antibiotics, but a combo of antibiotics and anti-inflammatory. But, thank G-d, the meds worked, and in the process my MD discovered my B12 deficiency, so, hopefully, more energy coming up pretty soon:)

But, honestly, celebratory spirit was really quiet low this year, and mostly it was due to (yes you guessed it) the election results. I know I have already offered my opinion on it, and I know it may sound illogical; I really do not care. To me these results signified only one thing: people who do not appreciate the beauty of this country, or do not realize or appreciate the multitude of blessings that come to us simply by living here, have summarily surrendered USA to people who openly hate it and are proud of it. So, while waiting for Thanksgiving, I could not stop thinking about very familiar, but not the less lamentable for it, human trait of not appreciating the multitude of good things we do have. And then came the Thanksgiving itself, and the horrible murders in Mumbai, the thoughts of which still bring tears to my eyes.

As I mentioned before, I am slowly approaching middle age. So, naturally, a person is expected to gain certain wisdom at this point. So, what did I gain in all those years so far, aside from becoming increasingly sarcastic, jaded, and pessimistic? The cornerstone of wisdom actually came to me when I was twenty two, in that memorable summer of taking statistics and secretarial courses (at the same time, but in different schools), meanwhile battling a strep of a six months duration. Anyway, while studying the bell curve, and especially its application to the matters of human IQ, there is a simple and clear pattern, and remembering it usually saves you from numerous occasions of pre-hypertension blood pressure: 64% of human population (the ones between first standart deviations on each side) has very average intelligence. That's it!

And that is the wisdom for the ages! Majority of population consists of people whose outlook on life is, well, just average. They never ponder the deep meaning of anything, and will swallow any and all lies, providing that the lie will guarantee them quite existence and fatter wallets, to which end they aspire their whole lives anyway. Then add to this the fact that even if people were born with good brains, they were not necessarily taught to expand and exercise those brains; moreover, around half the people with decent brains and educations use those to commit sins against the rest of humanity. This picture, of course, is very rosy, but, once you absorb it, the life becomes that much easier.

What else did I learn? It's wonderful not to conform and live according to logic, and not the opinions of Mr. and Mrs. Jones next door. Unfortunately, the people who will most suffer for your uniqueness, aside, of course, from you, are the ones who are closest to you and love you the most. It is fantastic to be a woman, but it is a man's world, and you will not have an easy lot, no matter which road you will choose. Nobody, and I mean, nobody cares about your level of eruditeness or your college GPA, but everyone will comment on your style of dressing yourself (or the supposed lack of thereof). Your good manners will not impress the scofflaw; moreover, those manners will get you pushed away, pushed around, and stepped on your toes. Very few good deeds are appreciated, and even fewer go unpunished. And commitment to work earns you the opportunity to pick up the slack for all the not so committed co-workers, plus ulcers and the above-mentioned hypertension. Basically, to quote one of my favorite movies: "The world is being FedExed to hell in a hand basket" (and has been for a while, by the way).

And then you remember Stendhal’s quote about the fact that there are many more great people than you think (at least I think it was Stendhal’s). And every morning, on the way to work, you see your old neighbour patiently waiting for Asses-A-Ride, so he can go to his wife in a nursing home. And on the way from work, you see a girl with a crutch giving her seat on the subway to a pregnant woman. And another guy on the subway rides extra four stops, so he can try and pick you up because he was fascinated by you repeatedly laughing out loud while reading a romance. And every 9/11 anniversary, you remember ordinary people like Todd Beamer and Amy Sweeney, who acted with courage and patriotism in the face of horrible odds.

Oh, and the character from the movie? He found out that he is about to be a father right after uttering that wonderful sentence.

So, here is to another year, better things to come, and all the G-d's Blessings! L'Chaim!

OK, ONCE MORE

There is a reason why I do not moderate comments to my blog at all. That is because I actually enjoy getting them, no matter what (especially when they tend to confirm my original opinion). I do not care if they are signed or anonymous, or if they contain objectionable language or sexual innuendoes; although, with all due respect to my friend, I draw a line at the c- word.

With all that in mind, when some comments leave me with the impression what a person did not understand, or did not want to understand my opinion, I would like to clarify it. When other comments suggest that I really should not be thinking and feeling what I was thinking and feeling, I feel the need to remind them that this is one place where I can freely express my thoughts and feelings.

Which brings me to a fairy recent discovery: the phrase "constructive criticism" is in actuality an oxymoron. Because when you are criticizing somebody, that automatically implies that you think (and maybe rightly so) that you are more wise, knowledgeable, or experienced, at least in this particular instance.

On that happy note, happy blogging and happy commenting!

GREAT QUOTES OF THE WEEK

"And once again, Republicans are asleep at the wheel while another close election is being openly stolen by the man whose contributions to Western Civilization include the "Planet of The Enormous Hooters" sketch on "SNL."
Ann Coulter

"What is "public service" anyway? Prostitutes perform a public service, and it's one I'm sure even Charlie Sheen would agree is more important than the one performed by most politicians in Washington. True, it's inherently unfair to place both prostitutes and politicians under the "public service" umbrella – unfair to prostitutes. If a prostitute was a "public servant" in the way a politician is, you'd drive up, she'd get in, you'd hand her $50, she'd kick you out, keep the $50, steal your car, loan the spare tire to GM and then drive over to spend the night with George Soros.

And what happens when a politician does in fact perform a true "public service" –such as, say, helping keep the country free from a terrorist attack for over seven years? That politician is rewarded with a dismal approval rating, is mocked by the media and called a "war criminal" by the very public that was an unwitting recipient of that valuable public service.

If anybody in the United States Congress is reading this, please put into motion legislation
that would ultimately prohibit the use of the term "public service" as applied to any politician. Ironically, this would be your greatest act of public service ever. "
Doug Powers

"Where liberals are concerned, one thing you can always count on is that they regard themselves as morally and intellectually superior to those who disagree with them. And, yet, surely there must be liberals somewhere who possess enough common sense to realize how absurd it is when the city council of Berkeley, Calif., instead of dealing with potholes and street vendors, came up with a resolution condemning the Iraq war, or when a grand jury in Willacy County, Texas, recently decided to indict Dick Cheney and Alberto Gonzales. Aren't there any liberals who find such things even faintly amusing?

It does occur to me now and then that we are well on our way to becoming a banana republic, but with a lot more bananas than republic.

The other day, during an e-mail exchange with one of my readers, Don Melquist, he explained how a Judas goat would be used to lead a herd of sheep aboard a railroad boxcar. I said I understood the goat's function, but I could never figure out how the animal could then make its way past all the sheep and out the door. Mr. Melquist, who had been raised on a farm, explained that goats are extremely agile and could easily get through a bunch of bleating sheep in order to receive their food reward. He finished up his report, stating, "Goats and sheep may seem rather similar, but there is a huge difference in their habits and intelligence."

I wrote back, "Sounds a lot like liberals and conservatives."
Burt Prelutsky

And now for the grand finale. Last week I spent five bucks on e-bay and got myself my very first own book by Edmund Burke. As I began to leaf through it, this is what I found almost immediately:
"It is better to cherish virtue and humanity, by leaving much to free will, even with some loss to the object, than to attempt to make men mere machines and instruments of a political benevolence. The world on the whole will gain by a liberty, without which virtue cannot exist."
You got to love those dead white male dudes!

MY BRIDGET JONES MOMENT # 666A

NOT FOR MARRIED PEOPLE!!

One fine Monday evening I came home after a particularly annoying work day, laden with G-d knows how many heavy grocery bags. After this I proceed to do the usual "female" work: I cooked, cleaned the fridge, did a mountain of dishes, and straightened out the kitchen. All in all, I almost missed the Tonight Show with all this homegrown entertainment.

And in the midst of all this amusement, my brain began to wonder, and funny thoughts started creeping into it. Why, precisely, do I want to get married? Why do I waste my precious time going out with losers, chip skates, and obnoxious morons? Why do I humiliate myself over and over again (despite the repeated promises to self to cease and desist) with all those so-called matchmakers? Because this was a sample of the bliss that would be awaiting me immediately after Sheva Brachot (most of it before, come to think of it).

An overgrown baby who would moan and groan if he gets a cold (slight or otherwise), and moan and groan even more if I would get a full blown flu (not from taking care of me, mind you; just from the removal of the comforts due to him). His family would be nasty to me; I would be expected to be nice to them at all times; he would be nasty to my family whenever he is in a snit; my family and I would be expected to just swallow it and exercise diplomacy at all times. There would be constant complains about my housekeeping abilities, my cooking abilities, absence of home cooked meals, and my general (very lacking) time management (even if both of us work the same amount of time). There would be constant suggestions concerning my wardrobe and hair covering; and, believe me, one area where I am very tolerant of my fellow humans is their wardrobes. I would still be doing all the housework (very thanklessly); he would expect a hit parade if he washed his coffee mug. If he is in a bad mood, I would be expected to be understanding and supportive; if I am in a bad mood, I am a quarrelsome, bad tempered witch. I won't be able to spend time with my friends without him racking some kind of huge bonus; he would be able to just go with his friends at a whim. If he made a decision, he would just act on it; if I made a decision, I would have to employ major stratagems so wonderfully portrayed in "My Fat Greek Wedding".

Basically, men go through two stages of development: maturing and aging. In the process, somebody always have to stroke their monumental egos, always confirming their ideas of their superior mental powers and superior understanding of the world. Gloria Steinem and her coven can do any number of pushy, mean, and idiotic things; at the end of the day, it is still very much a men's world, and women come out on the losing end no matter what. And, the saddest of all, all those observations and conclusions did not come to me from books; they came from years of observing my married friends, relatives, and sundry acquaintances.

Jay Leno's "Headlines" calmed me down somehow; afterwards, I devised an intervention plan. When my sis finally gets her humongous professional portrait of The Fluffy Heads, I would ask for another one for my kitchen as a good reminder that such results are worth dealing with man's idiosyncrasies; I should also hint to people not to fight in front of idealistic and impressionable friends. And, most importantly, I shall revisit Hayden Rothwell.

FALL IN NEW YORK

Last Tuesday I finally got to do a humongous load of laundry, the exact dimensions of which I would be embarrassed to admit; but sorting through it made me think on New York's fall again.

When I was a kid, I hated the fall. After all, September First was The Dreaded Day. The day before one absolutely could not watch a movie after "Vremia", schlep with one's parent (usually Mother) to the flower market to buy an extremely overpriced and strange looking bouquet of flowers, make sure an ugly uniform and equally ugly knapsack (stuffed with office supplies American students should see just to appreciate their lives a bit more) were ready for the battle, and go to sleep extra early. And on The Day itself you had to perform the forgotten for a three-month period exercise of dragging yourself out of bed early, donning that ugly (never mind uncomfortable) uniform, picking up the ugly knapsack, dragging yourself to school, meanwhile mentally preparing yourself for nine months of almost uninterrupted torture of socialist-kommie brainwashing, occasionally interspersed with math and sciences. Oh, joy! On the side note, I actually enjoyed learning for learning's sake, even though I hated school. Ironically, it was American college that killed my appreciation of organized education, burned me out, and, for a while, crushed my fighting spirit (but that is a separate story). Suffice it to say, fall was not my favorite time of the year while I was growing up.

New York changed that; I love fall! The first indication for me (independent of calendars) is the secession of the dependency on air conditioning. They are live savers; but it is such a joy to sleep without them! First there is no A/C; then you can sleep with the open window; then you have to wake up in the middle of the night to get a blanket because you realized that you are freezing; then you have to actually start sleeping with your windows closed. All these do not necessarily come in order; moreover, they come and go as they please, return and disappear, then reappear at their own accord. The weather fluctuations, always crazy in New York, are especially erratic in the fall, and you never, ever know what to wear (that, by the way, why I was thinking of the fall while doing laundry: too many different things for the period allotted). Still, I love the fall.

My favorite, of course, are the changing colors of the leaves, especially the maple trees. It is such a pleasure just to walk around, observe the trees, and sink your feet into the ever increasing amounts of the leaves on the ground. Oh, what wonderful joy!

Autumn also brings to me the philosophical introspections (not that I am free of them at any other time of the year). This is the time when most things either die or hide for the winter; but for us, it is the beginning of the New Year: renewed hope and refreshed souls. Of course, Rosh Hashana if the anniversary of the creation of the human being, and originally, till the Generation of the Flood, the seasons did not change, and it rained only once in 4o years. Still, The Creator knows the future; so, what is the message and where is the connection?

On the lighter note, here is to the few days of wonderful weather, gorgeous leaves in different colors, and the fleeting (and the more enjoyable for it) beauty of the New York fall.

GREAT QUOTES OF THE WEEK

Here are more wonderful pearls of great satire from the incomparable Burt Prelutsky:

"as most of you are aware, homosexuals have been rioting pretty much non-stop ever since California’s electorate once again put the kibosh on same-sex marriages. They have picketed and vandalized Catholic and Mormon churches to display their displeasure, which suggests to me that, instead of “gays” being their euphemism of choice, perhaps “cranks,” “louts” or “bigots” might be more appropriate.
The one group of churches they haven’t gone after are the black ones, even though 70% of blacks voted in favor of marriage being limited to one man and one woman. What’s more, blacks were very vocal about objecting to homosexual marriages being touted as a civil right. The fact that, in spite of all this, homosexuals have given black churches a wide berth suggests that while gays may not always practice safe sex, they certainly practice safe demonstrations."

"Next, I don’t ever want to hear a Democrat claim, as I believe Joe Biden did, that paying taxes is patriotic. Paying taxes is about as patriotic as going to the bathroom. In other words, at times, it’s necessary, but it’s always compulsive. I believe that for a thing to be patriotic, it has to be done on a voluntary basis. I suppose a case could be made that if a person paid more than he owed, he was being patriotic. So, as an example to the rest of us, I would love to see such tax-loving liberals as George Soros, Mr. and Mrs. John Kerry and all the various Kennedys, pay at the rate they would if most of their income didn’t come to them in the low-taxed form of trusts and off-shore accounts."

"It’s no secret that I am not looking forward to an Obama administration. The notion that the liberals will control the House, the Senate and the Oval Office, for the foreseeable future makes my blood run cold. The mental image that first comes to mind is a bull in a china shop, but the ensuing damage in that case would be inadvertent. The bull, after all, isn’t looking to destroy the crockery. It is merely looking for the quickest way back to the farm and the cows, whereas the liberals are looking to create an America in their own cockeyed image. That makes me think of vandals taking knives to the Mona Lisa or firebugs burning down a virgin forest."

"Many people are questioning why Obama, the alleged agent of change, is filling his administration with a lot of Clinton re-treads. I am reminded of what took place in Germany after World War II. Suddenly, it seemed like all the mayors and bureaucrats were former Nazis. The explanation was that after a dozen years of Hitler, only the Nazis had the necessary leadership experience. Well, when you realize that since 1980, the only Democratic president was Bill Clinton, it figures that Obama would be forced to furnish his White House with second-hand goods from the Clinton thrift shop."

ANOTHER LITTLE PS

Plus, a bit more musing re: Harry Potter

Ladies and Germs:

Thank you again for all your comments regarding my reaction to the results of the last elections. As always, I was not disappointed (by and large). So, here is my response (again, not humble):

One: again, this is just my blog; not an official publication, or editorial, or a textbook, or even Internet news venue. Just my little ole blog. So, with all due respect and admiration, I reserve the full right to express my opinions, as unpalatable as they may be. Ditto for my language. Thank The Good Lord, this is still a free country; I have a full freedom of speech under the much abused and misinterpreted First Amendment. BO is not in full power yet, so, no official censorship or thought police were instituted yet.

Two: I would love to posses the eternal wisdom, all the secrets of the Universe, the ability to always be right, and to always know the correct answers. Common sense dictates that I am just a human being, ergo flawed and prone to errors. Having said that, I firmly confirm already expressed opinion: anyone who voted for Barak Hussein Obama was, at best, a well-meaning useful idiot. Next on the list are plain idiots, misinformed idiots, uneducated idiots, ungrateful swine, racists, morons of all stripes, America-hates, and, lastly, people who plainly committed treason. With all the facts glaring into everyone's faces, the decision to vote for that pathetic excuse for a politician was, at best, misinformed.

Three: he is NOT my President. Since he officially gave up his Senate seat, and till the official confirmation by the Electors he is just a figure head, albeit in this case an extremely loud one and full of chutzpah. Only after the official Electoral confirmation does he become a President-Elect, and only after official swearing in next January does he become a President. And, here is a final little snag: I refuse to acknowledge him as my President-Elect or my President, till he produces his original, official, and confirmed by an unbiased specialists as real, birth certificate. Until this worthless windmill confirms that he satisfies ALL Constitutional requirements for the office of the President, considering him as such is a violation of the letter of our Constitution; never mind the spirit, since I am sure that the writers and ratifiers of the Constitution did not even dream of such America-hater as a citizen, never mind the Presidential candidate, never mind the actual President. On the practical side, here is the petition that demands the birth certificate:
http://www.wnd.com/index.php?fa=PAGE.view&pageId=81550

Four: I am unwilling to give him a chance because he does not deserve one.

Five: till January 20 (or 21; sorry, dyslexia strikes again), George W. Bush is our President. By the way, apparently, I have been spelling his name in a Jewish way; sorry, Mr. President! The only thing it means, aside, again, from my dyslexia, is that I still got respect for you.

Six: the main quality of a good leader is not "confidence of the citizens"; it is his or her ability to lead, not to collect overexcited crowds of fainting fans; and, most importantly, to do the right thing for the country despite the opinion of the majority, or the opinion of the educated morons, or the opinion of the uneducated idiots, or, for that matter, despite the opinions of the prostituted media or treasonous Hollywood.

Seven: again, despite my wishes, I can not see into the future, clearly or otherwise. Hopefully, Merciful Father will spear us, but I can not help but feel deep glum at the prospect of this unillustrious Presidency.

Finally, this brings me to another matter. As you are aware, there are many newsworthy, or, in my opinion, spittoon-worthy tidbits floating all other the TV, newspapers, and the Internet. One of such brilliant observations was a little article to the tune that our dear Barak is, apparently, a geek, since he read Harry Potter and has some kind of wacky screen saver on his computer (the other details I do not recall). Being a pretty hard-core Potter fan, this particular article made me wonder a bit. Which character from the series best characterizes Obama? I did not have to think long or hard to come to the following conclusion: he is definitely a cross between Peter Pettigrew and Gilderoy Lockhart.

After that, I tried to imagine our dear BO under the sorting hat. Again, I think The Hat would have ratted out the answer immediately upon hitting that ugly head. Obama does not posses the chivalry and bravery of Gryffindors, nor the loyalty and humility of Hufflepuffs, nor the true wisdom and studiousness of Ravenclaws. He does, however, posses plenty of guile and the willingness to achieve his goal by any means that characterised Slytherins. And speaking of Slytherin: Obama is a half-blood that takes any advantage he can from belonging to one side while always denying the other. Remind you of anyone else from the Slytherin House?

TESTING THE WATERS

You can count me fanciful, or obsessed, or blind, or just plain stupid; but to me, the meaning of the last week's terrorist attacks in Mumbai was, unfortunately, crystal clear: members of the religion of peace were rattling their sabers and basically testing the waters, and in the process also flipping the bird; all in response to the recent demonstration of the collective stupidity of American electorate re Barak Hussein Obama. Allow me to elaborate (and please forgive the usual accumulation of cliches; after all, they are pretty expressive).

Indian government, media, and all the sundry involved parties can harp from today till the aria of the Rubenesque lady that "the unfortunate incident" happened as a result of the unending tensions over the Kashmir region, and were specifically perpetrated by some kind of free-lancing wings of Pakistani militants. That would have made sense till you filter through your brain two chilling components: attackers specifically separated American and British citizens, and, the most horrible, they targeted the Chabad House, probably the only Jewish dwelling in Mumbai.

Great Britain is the only European country who still protests, albeit pretty feebly (but despite the idiotic ramblings of the Archbishop of Canterbury), the advancement of the global Caliphate and the tender mercies of the loyal followers of the prophet that are being perpetrated on the infidels in the course of that advancement. Of course, the fighting spirit that defeated Napoleon and Hitler is in pretty short supply on the shores of Albion now a days; never the less, the still fighting infidels deserved a clear message.

Our own much, much maligned and denigrated US of A, remains, again forgive the cliche, the last standing and still fighting pretty strongly bastion of freedom in the world. Needless to say, we needed a little remainder as well.

Israeli government, with all due respect, is, as I mentioned before, impersonating a cowardly lion for the past few years, and is ready to surrender not only territory, but their dignity as a sovereign and independent country able to defend themselves against all enemies. Nevertheless, any Jew alive is an insult to the peaceful followers of the one true prophet, so, Jews had to be attacked too. Moreover, that attack was very specific: according to Ellis Washington, whose weekly column I always enjoy reading: "The chances of indiscriminately killing perhaps Mumbai's only Jewish family? One in 18 million. "

So, Americans, Brits, and those pernicious scape goats who refuse to disappear off the face of the Earth no matter the effort, were sent another clear message. And the timing of the message contained another, even clearer meaning: the "active" members of the religion of peace that are currently "engaged in warfare" against innocent civilians are not afraid anymore. And why should they? Brits are almost ready to surrender. The current situation in Israel makes only Jews weep; the rest are very happy. And, most importantly, they are not afraid of the American retaliation: whatever efforts poor, much maligned President Bush extended in order to defend our country against Islamists earned him the moniker of the worst President in history. Three weeks before the attack we, Americans, had a chance to elect a person who, despite his many flaws, was an honorable Veteran with a very clear position in regards to the defense of our country. Instead, we elected a proven demagogue, whose friends represent different strata of America-hating, and who is willing to have diplomatic meetings with the worst terrorists on the international scene. So, I am horrified, sad, and heartbroken; but not surprised.

My heart goes out to the families of Rabbi Gavriel and Rebetzen Rivka Holtzberg; especially to their poor parents. May The Heavenly Father protect all Jewish parents from such horror! And in all the usual media hoopla and the political grandstanding, I am waiting for all the famous possessors of the bleeding hearts, who are always the first ones to cry and moan the supposed horrible fates of the poor Palestinian children, to cry and moan about the poor Moshe Tzvi Holtzberg! I would dearly love to see Brangelina or Michelle Obama sending him toys or paying him a personal visit. I would also love to see Barak Hussein picking up the phone, dialing his grandparents, and repeating that perfect line from the overwise idiotic "West Wing" "I am a parent too; I don't know what to say".

I know I will be waiting in wain, but still... Poor child, whose brutally slain parents were American citizens, by the way, just turned two years old the day after that horrific murder! And, due to the idiotic bureaucratic red tape, he can't even be with his nanny, the only other constant in his life. He is forever denied parental love and the possibility of having normal family and siblings. Hanuka is just few weeks away, and he will not be able to light the Menorah with his Mother and Father, this or any other coming Hanukah. His mother won't sing him to sleep anymore. His parents won't be able to teach him Sh'ma, or his first letters; they will not swell with pride at his Bar Mitzvah, or dance at his wedding. Little Moshe Tzvi's parents were brutally torn away from him for committing the most horrible crime in the eyes of Muslim murderers: they were Jews.

Dear Heavenly Father, on this day, just like any other day, I offer you my humble prayer and request: please watch over Your Children! Please do not remove from us Your Protection and Your Blessings! May You, in Your Infinite Mercy, grant peace to little Moshe Tzvi, and some semblance of closure to his poor grandparents; may You comfort everyone affected by this horrible tragedy!

Another Blow To The Heart

Members of the religion of peace dealt another blow to the collective heart of my people, amongst many direct hits they already scored and are planning to score in the near future, G-d forbid.

Last week they brutally murdered young Chabad Rabbi Gavriel Holtzberg, his wife Rivka, and six more Jews at the Chabad House in Mumbai. May G-d avenge their blood and bring a measure of peace to all the ones left behind.

Veteran's Day

A fellow blogger (sorry, do not remember which one) told this amusingly sad story. He was entertaining a visitor from England who was duly impressed with the fact that we honour all the veterans, not just the fallen ones; to which my "colleague" was embarrassed to add that for most of the people it's basically just a day off (that, at least, is the gist of the story). Oh, how sad and true that is.

Of course, the original intent for the Veteran's Day was quite noble and really intended to honour all of them, dead and alive, and to give our thanks for their noble sacrifice. Because no matter how you look at it, once a person joined the Army (for whatever reasons), and then he or she is send to an active battlefield, it irrevocably changes their lives, and their actions become a sacrifice for our freedom; as simple as that. And, somehow, it was pretty clear to most Americans, before or after the official institution of the Veteran's Day. Clear, that is, till that wonderful generation of spoiled brats and ungrateful swine, otherwise known as the hippies, came on the scene in all their unwashed and unshaven glory.

All of the sudden we are not just a sovereign country protecting ourselves (and in the process the freedom of the few more ungrateful swine beyond our borders), never mind the lofty title of the beacon of freedom for the world, but an imperialistic/fascist dictatorship, bent on world domination, and our soldiers are killers and rapists, heartlessly wiping out poor civilian population everywhere. So, it logically follows that we may protest to our hearts' content the wars that are basically fought in defence of our country, and the reasons for which we usually do not comprehend, but can offer wonderfully catchy slogans in return along the lines of "make love, not war". In the process of protesting and making love, we may also denigrate our soldiers to our hearts' content, spit at them (literally and figuratively), and call them murderers and rapists (among other colourful epithets). And the worst horror in this situation is that all those protesters, far from being punished, are accepted by society as youthful idealists and truth seekers, and all the garbage they were spouting somehow became acceptable as well. The hated, disgusting peace symbol became a fashion accessory, while Vietnam vets are swelling the population of homeless and mentally ill.

So, is it any wonder that in such a healthy climate we totally forgot about the meaning of Veteran's Day; that it is just an extra day off for some, and an extra excuse to have sales? But the Veterans are still among us, and more and more are swelling their ranks, because, as tried and cliched as it sounds, freedom is not free, and now we need to protect it more than ever. Fortunately, the usual silent majority of Americans does not share the views of the hippies; even more fortunately, they are beginning to break their silence. This time around, anti-war crowd was met with a pretty decent resistance from the "uneducated and warmongering" populace. So, G-d willing, when our guys and girls win this current war and come home, it will be to well deserved admiration and respect. Meanwhile, I personally recommend this website: http://moveamericaforward.org; among other things, they constantly organize care packages to our troops.

Most of you, I am sure, did not watch Leno's on Veteran's Day, so did not get the chance to hear a heart-wrenching story told over by Senator McCain. He was telling about a fellow POW who contrived to have a makeshift American flag on the inside of his blue prison uniform, to which they all pledged allegiance every evening. At a certain point, Vietnamese found out about it, took the guy out of the cell, and beat him up for a couple of hours. That very same evening, beaten up and badly hurt, he proceeded to make another flag.

So, here is to you, whenever you are with us or not, all the Veterans who fought and continue to fight for our freedom! Here is to your allegiance to the flag, bravery, patriotism, and tremendous self-sacrifice! I, amongst many other grateful Americans, thank you from the bottom of my heart.

CHILLING ANNIVERSARY

Yesterday, November 9th, marked the 70th Anniversary of Kristallnacht. The 70th Anniversary of the beginning of Holocaust, the most horrible tragedy in our history that cost us 6 million lives of our brothers and sisters, including 1 million precious lives of our children. May Heavenly Father always protect us and always judge us with Mercy.

HISTORIC ELECTIONS

These elections were definitely historic; not in the sense the prostitutes from the media would like us to see, but historic none the less.

Some time ago my sis, in the best traditions of sisters and best friends, chided me for my excessive use of the word "stupid". In her opinion, considering my vocabulary, I should spice up my speech a bit. Agreed; but sometimes, especially when you are in a grip of a strong emotion, simple words are the best, so, dear readers, gird yourselves: you will see a lot of "stupids" in this composition. Another memory, also involving my sister, has something to do with our trip to London. Like any decent tourists, we went on the double-decker tour on our first day. Our over hyper guide kept repeating the same phrase over and other again "Princess Diana: gone, but not forgotten"; at the certain point of the tour, everyone starter finishing the darn phrase for him. After all, it was 1999, and her death was still fresh in everyone's memory; although, come to think of it, they still can't let the poor disturbed woman rest in peace. Anyway, I will impersonate this guide here by repeating, over and over again, "thanks, media". OK, introductions are over; let's begin.

First of all, we have seen the historic display of stupidity that was displayed by the American electorate. Nothing else would explain why we are now saddled with a President-elect whom Eric Rush very eloquently called "one of the greatest purveyors of male bovine fecal matter in human history". It is just very sad to realize that in our age of computers, Internet, cell phones, satellites, billions of bits of information and their lightning quick dissemination, the majority of the people who showed up by the polls have voted for a pathological liar. Oh, yea, and thank you, media!

I mean, it really boggles the mind: a lawyer who went to school solely due to affirmative actions and support from America-haters, a guy who had spend 143 days in the Senate, has no real life or political experience to recommend him, refused to produce his birth certificate to prove his citizenship, has consistent and uninterrupted history of associating with racists, anti-Semites, black supremacists, socialists, Marxists, domestic and international terrorists and their sympathizers, consistently voted along the liberal left lines, expressed the desire for diplomacy with the world's most vicious dictators, and, along with his beautiful wife, expressed open contempt for this country! And this monstrosity is presented to us as a half-deity, a new messiah, a unifier of the nation, an end to all of America's woes, a lover of the "little guy", and a new dawn for the country! Thank you, media, for creating this bizarrely surreal image! And my deep, everlasting gratitude to every single stupid moron of a registered voter who cast a ballot for this nightmarish chimera!

Let's see: 96% of black votes went to him, but that is not racist at all, no siree bob. More than 70% of single women without children voted for this sex symbol as well; girls, with all due respect, and even though I belong to this particular electoral group, this is going to be a first time in my life when I will side with the opposition (judgmental harpies) and tell you these two things: no wonder you are single, and there is no need to perpetuate your genetic pool. Majority of Hispanic votes went to this dude as well: no comment (or rather, a separate entry). All together, majority of women voted for this one, as long as some white men. In my not humble opinion, anyone who is "white" or makes anything slightly above the minimum wage, and who had voted for this demigod, was simply performing an exercise in masochism. Ladies and gents, why did you not just come out and said so? I am sure you would have been provided with leather, restrains, whips, chains, and whatever else you require by the other part of the electorate (I personally would have volunteered my last dollars towards this worthy endeavor); I mean, we are all adults here, so why so sheepish all of the sudden? Believe me, we would rather you perform your rituals on yourselves, and not confide us to what looks like four years of hell in the bargain.

Looking at the myriad of absolutely delirious with happiness faces that were celebrating Obama's victory, I could not help but wonder: OK, the case with white morons I just explained; but what about the black morons? If America is such horrible country, which began with slavery and continuously exercised the politics of racial inequality, than what force on earth prevented the blacks, beginning with approximately 1865, from following the path of the young couple from the infamous novel by Harriet Beecher Stowe? In case you are unfamiliar with this literary masterpiece, I will explain: what exactly holds the blacks here, in the US, and prevents them from expatriating to their beloved Africa, the cradle of life? The answer is very simple, and if it does not stare you straight in the face, again, very not humbly, I cannot help you.

The dust is beginning to settle, so to speak, but the carnival of idiocy is hardly over; in depth commentary, from both sides, of what went wrong for the Republicans. Here is my uneducated and not humble opinion. One: you cannot fight a pool of crocodiles, jackals, and sharks using Queensbury rules of engagement; period. That was the main mistake of the Busch presidency and the McCain's campaign. Two: thank you, media! It is pretty hard to fight a constant campaign of deliberate misinformation waged by every single major network, newspaper, and Internet venue, while armed with only Fox News, independent Internet news venues, and a bunch of dedicated bloggers. Three: our rotten education system, long ago taken over by aging and young hippies, including former "weathermen", which, of course, explains the overwhelming support of under thirty voters for the new messiah. Four: the stock market crash, which was, of course, Clinton's mess, but, thanks to number two and three, ended up being, of course, Busch's, and, by default, all Republicans' fault (I am sure Clintons and their cronies are laughing themselves silly right now). Five: two unpopular wars, in case of which I would like to ask: should the members of the religion of peace hijack another few plains and fly them into the Sears Tower, John Hancock Building, The Empire State Building, and the Space Needle, for a good measure, for these wars to become popular again?

This, by the way, brings to my mind a little scene from a book I read in my lonely childhood about the Spartacus rebellion. The scene goes like this: a bunch of drunken patricians, quickly becoming more and more intoxicated, were raining different curses on the government. They were getting more and more inventive, and finally, one of them yelled "Let the Jupiter incinerate our Senate!", to which another drunken young man quietly added: "just let him warn me in advance, so I should not come in that day". So, in case Osama (who, by the way, is probably getting drunk from joy right now in whatever cave he is hiding) is planning another terrorist action against us, I do not mind another plane (providing it will only contain Mohamed and Abdulla) flying into our Senate, as long as at that particular moment it will only house Pelosi, Reid, Boxer, Kucinich, Kennedy, Obama, and, most importantly, Murtha.

Speaking of Murtha, what in blazes happened to the population of the good state of Pennsylvania? One guy threatens to bankrupt their main source of revenue, and they elect him a President; another one insults them from here to eternity, and they re-elect him to Congress. Another exercise in masochism and stupidity.

And speaking of paradise on earth in general, and economy in particular; since when is it a goverment's job to provide us with jobs, free medical and dental care, education, houses, and chickens in every pot? Here is the definition of capitalist economy given by Walter Williams, who has a Ph.D. in the subject and teaches it in college: "economic system based on private ownership and control over of the means of production. Under laissez-faire capitalism, government activity is restricted to the protection of the individual's rights against fraud, theft and the initiation of physical force." Expanding on that, government’s role all together should be in protecting us from criminals inside, enemies from outside, and in protection of our individual rights and freedoms as guaranteed by the Constitution. Ha, ha, hearty har har with a cherry on top! According to the new crown prince of Kenya, who is now our President-elect, government is our new and better mommy, who is going to kiss our every bubu and take away all our worries.

So, now (at least, according to Yahoo and MSN), everyone is concerned with the new "first puppy", its potential breed, and the best names for it. Second on the least is Michelle Obama, with her elegant style and her plans for moving the family to the White House. Where is the spittoon when one needs it? Meanwhile, the one and only kisser of our bubus is creating a new cabinet full of former Clintonistas, promising the civilian trials for the suspected terrorists at Guantanamo, and, all of the sudden, reminding us that we should not expect immediate fixes and prepare ourselves for a long wait. All of this, while leaders of HAMAS were rushing in their official congratulations; they really wanted to be the first ones to congratulate him!

As to my people... Deep sigh. Can I just remind you, guys and gals, that turning the other cheek is not in our religious cannons? How blind, deaf, dumb, and stupid did we have to be to vote in such overwhelming majority for a guy whose friends are a bunch of anti-Semites and terrorist hacks? Moreover, a black liberal, supported by blacks and Hispanics, who both are biggest anti-Semitic groups in America today (right after Muslims, that is). The day before the elections some Jewish sounding dude posted an article on JWR, which started by posting a question: how come both Muslims and Jews support Obama in such overwhelming numbers? Well, one of them must be stupid, and his money was on the Jews. What a brilliant observation! For my part, allow me to add this: forget about the "mystical" connection we all have, or the fact that both our good and bad deeds have profound effect on the rest of us. Let us just look at the issue from "mundane" point of view. All of you are free, thinking (hopefully) human beings, endowed by our Creator with the freedom of choice, and the full right to stand by those choices. So, when you attend a congregation that is run by a spiritually corrupt leader, that is your choice and your problem. When you send your children (and subsequently pay the tuition) to the school that I would love to destroy, because I know for a fact that it destroys faith instead of instilling it, that is your choice and both your and my problem. But when you willingly and proudly voted for that bastard son of a whoremonger, in the process betraying this country, the Holy Land, and the best interests of our people, and then arrogantly declared your happiness with your choice, please do not expect me to either respect you or your choice, or to be quiet, for that matter.

For me, the outcome of these elections is a test of faith. I know that He heard our prayers and said "no"; I firmly believe that He will never forsake us or this country; but I am human and I can't help my overwhelming sadness and the feeling of defeat. Since the official announcement, I have run though a whole score of emotions. A former psych major in me recognized a certain pattern; finally I realized that the succession of emotions was that of grief. Not for President Busch, Senator McCain, or Governor Palin, even though I really feel for them on different levels, and wish them all the best. My feelings are for my country. My beautiful country, which gave me shelter, freedom, and a sense of my true purpose. My country was voluntary surrendered to the people who hate it! I can't sleep, or stop crying, and my blood pressure is up 14 points since last August. OK, deep breaths, Barbie, deep breaths.

One of the many things that I learned in my twenty years of living here is undying hope and unbeatable optimism. So, I will dry my tears and remind myself that surrender and defeat are never viable options. Yes, we suffered a tremendous blow. But we can always fight, even in small ways; always remember that He Alone ultimately knows the past, the present, and the future; and always hope for His Mercy and His Blessings.

SHANA TOVA

To all my Jewish brothers and sisters, regardless of your religious affiliation (or the absence of such), or regardless of whenever you consider yourself a Jew, or know that you are a Jew; to all of you I wish Shana Tova!

May the Master of the Universe bless all us with a good, sweet, and wonderful year, filled with health, happiness, prosperity, wisdom, clarity of purpose, and, most importantly, pride in being Jews and unconditional love for each other!

I will not exaggerate if I tell that I love all of our Holidays, because each has a distinct flavor and a unique balm for the soul. High Holidays bring with them the reminder to evaluate and re-evaluate our lives, our relationship with The Heavenly Father, and, most importantly, our relationship with each other. It is the opportunity to honestly examine and re-examine your soul; to once again proclaim His Mastery over the universe; to repent and cleanse your soul; and to start a new year with the new hope and renewed faith; then comes Succot, a time to report on the fulfillment of our mission.

My cynical side, on the other hand, cannot help by notice the human failings. I mean, this is the time to repent and ask each other's forgiveness. So, what's with the astronomical prices on food, homicidal driving, and more than usual rudeness, especially at the synagogue during services or to your own family members? And please do not tell me that that is a reaction to our crazy living.

On the lighter note, what is it with the continued explosion of the Goth clothing line amongst our ladies? I personally felt like a white, sorry pink, crow on Yom Kippur. I mean, almost everyone was attired in "elegant" black, including little girls and very young women. I guess our population, both male and female, disagrees with Burke about the effects of the black color.

So, here is to our souls pardoned from sins, loving each other, being a credit to His Name, and remembering that profound commentary by Rabbi Hirsch about sins being committed due to the non-use of our intellects.

Shana Tova U'Metukah!

MORE GREAT QUOTES

Here are two great quotes from last week:

"Forget about Ayers' domestic terrorism when Obama "was 8 years old." Does he agree with Ayers' idiot ideas right now?"
Ann Coulter

"If I were McCain, I'd start out by asking Obama if he thinks ACORN or that other famous community organization, the Mafia, is the more dangerous group. I, personally, have more respect for the Mafia. After all, they favor capitalism over socialism, they genuinely like America, they don't try to destroy the election process and, what's more, they dress a lot better, favoring camelhair coats over those corny red sweatshirts."
Burt Prelutsky