Dear Janet Napolitano and (by association) Barak Hussein Obama,
Thank you to both of you from the bottom of my heart!
According to the latest Homeland Security Report, I am now officially a "right-wing extremist" because I am opposed to any and all government interference when it comes to the individual gun ownership. I also made the grade by being opposed to what you euphemistically call "immigration" and I call illegal invasion. According to that brilliant summation of yours, there are apparently "right-wing extremists" who "stockpiled" guns and ammo with express purposes of shooting "immigrants" crossing borders from Mexico. I am a little hazy on that one: is it not the job of the Border Patrol to shoot those "immigrants from Mexico" due to their blatant violation of our borders? Or, after Ramos and Compean, that job is now relegated to the "fringe elements" of our society?
Last, but not least, even though neither I personally, nor anyone close to me belonged to the Military at any given time; I deeply appreciate the cheap potshot your Report took at the veterans.
Another job well done!
Monday, April 20, 2009
Tuesday, April 14, 2009
HAPPY PASSOVER
To all my brothers and sisters (regardless of their religious affiliation or the lack of thereof), I wish Chag Kosher V'Sameach!
Here is to another wonderful holiday and all the craziness associated with it! To the poor bread eaten in freedom and to the animals that our masters worshiped and we sacrificed at the G-d's commend! Time to re-experience the miraculous liberation from slavery (mental as well as physical), to remember that we were chosen for a very special mission, and to re-affirm our faith.
Next Year in Jerusalem!
Here is to another wonderful holiday and all the craziness associated with it! To the poor bread eaten in freedom and to the animals that our masters worshiped and we sacrificed at the G-d's commend! Time to re-experience the miraculous liberation from slavery (mental as well as physical), to remember that we were chosen for a very special mission, and to re-affirm our faith.
Next Year in Jerusalem!
Wednesday, April 01, 2009
ABBA - Money, Money, Money
When I first heard this song, all it was for me was a very catchy beat with very mysterious words. Ah, the times have changed:)
MORE SHORT TAKES
Thank G-d, I live in this country for a little over twenty years. In this time I have managed to "adapt" to the good life. Sometimes, however, I still find myself in funny situations. One ordinary working day, I was doing "my usual": eating lunch and filing. For the "vegetable component" of my meal, I brought in a can of peas, which I just opened, and then proceeded to consume straight out of the can. Couple of guys stopped by to chat, and both of them were duly horrified by the fact that I was eating cold peas. A moment of mutual amazement: they can't comprehend my consumption of cold canned legumes, and I can't comprehend their astonishment. Ah, chuck it off to my childhood; after all, they will never appreciate the beauty of procuring deficient food items, or the deliciousness of the "Oliv'ye" salad due largely to those cold peas.
As heard on Leno: apparently, there is such a thing as "beady eye vegetarians". Translation: if something has "big, sad, soulful eyes" like a cow, it will not be eaten. If something has tiny beady eyes like salmon, it will be. Leno jokingly added that that sounds very LA: if you do not look just right, you would be eaten!
There are a few people in our office who are a bit on the neurotic bend. But one time somebody went a bit too far. Yours truly had to stay late to put the final touches on the payment requisition to the much respected New York City Department of Design and Construction, which, aside from preparing the said requisition (which is no mean feat), also requires submitting it in four copies. So, I went to the lower level to run those copies, and upon my return discovered that somebody took their evening routine a bit too seriously: they shot the lights, set the alarm, and locked all doors. And here was I, standing on the over side of the glass door, hugging the effing triplicate copies of the payment requisition, and longingly looking on my coat, which was hanging on the other side of the door (and which apparently the neurotic co-worker, busy with regular routine, failed to observe).
One of our junior architects was looking forward to his long weekend for about a month, and he was very vocal about it. On the Friday of his departure he mentioned his early leaving only about six times. Finally, that time arrived; he collected his belongings, and run out the door, barely remembering to say good bye. So, imagine my surprise when he re-appeared about fifteen minutes later. Poor schmuck was so excited; he left all his electronic devices at the office.
The closest book store to our office is Border’s. Unlike earth-sustainers, I do not see any harm in taking a plastic bag when needed, and then saving it for future use (and unlike them, I do not yell about it). Anyway, I had a good accumulation of Border’s bags in my drawer, and I used one of them to put my leftovers in the fridge. Next day, I went to check the fridge for those leftovers, and saw another Border’s bag in there. Ah, I thought, somebody else is doing the exact same thing. But then something about this other bag drew my attention; imagine my amusement when I realized that the second bag was also mine, and contained something else that I brought to the office and forgot about.
It looks like establishments serving kosher burgers have interesting concepts of what constitutes what. If you ask for well-done, you are going to get it burned. If you ask for medium, you are going to get it well-done. Just don’t request medium-rare, if you are not in the vicinity of a grill when you receive your order, because usually it requires additional cooking.
Recently, I had two separate and unrelated discussions with two Obama supporters. Both of them expressed total disbelief and incredulity upon discovering that it looks like our current so-called President’s IQ is only about 127. Speaking of somebody’s brilliance!
As told by one of my co-workers. He has a friend who is a social worker. At her place of employment, they do not get reimbursement for the cell phone usage; instead, they just get twenty five dollars a month towards whatever cell phone expanses they may incur. So, one day, when she realized that her battery was low, she just connected her phone to one of the office outlets, and continued with her work. Her supervisor, upon observing this, accused her of “double-dipping”, since she already receives her twenty five bucks for this. To which she replied that she would love to disconnect her charger, providing that the supervisor would take care of all the clients who would be unable to reach her in the event of the phone dying. Ah, administratium at work; what a thing of beauty!
Another gem from Leno’s monologue: “Recently, Iranian doctors discovered that drinking hot tea may cause throat cancer. This is the first thing they are not blaming on the Jews.”
As heard on Leno: apparently, there is such a thing as "beady eye vegetarians". Translation: if something has "big, sad, soulful eyes" like a cow, it will not be eaten. If something has tiny beady eyes like salmon, it will be. Leno jokingly added that that sounds very LA: if you do not look just right, you would be eaten!
There are a few people in our office who are a bit on the neurotic bend. But one time somebody went a bit too far. Yours truly had to stay late to put the final touches on the payment requisition to the much respected New York City Department of Design and Construction, which, aside from preparing the said requisition (which is no mean feat), also requires submitting it in four copies. So, I went to the lower level to run those copies, and upon my return discovered that somebody took their evening routine a bit too seriously: they shot the lights, set the alarm, and locked all doors. And here was I, standing on the over side of the glass door, hugging the effing triplicate copies of the payment requisition, and longingly looking on my coat, which was hanging on the other side of the door (and which apparently the neurotic co-worker, busy with regular routine, failed to observe).
One of our junior architects was looking forward to his long weekend for about a month, and he was very vocal about it. On the Friday of his departure he mentioned his early leaving only about six times. Finally, that time arrived; he collected his belongings, and run out the door, barely remembering to say good bye. So, imagine my surprise when he re-appeared about fifteen minutes later. Poor schmuck was so excited; he left all his electronic devices at the office.
The closest book store to our office is Border’s. Unlike earth-sustainers, I do not see any harm in taking a plastic bag when needed, and then saving it for future use (and unlike them, I do not yell about it). Anyway, I had a good accumulation of Border’s bags in my drawer, and I used one of them to put my leftovers in the fridge. Next day, I went to check the fridge for those leftovers, and saw another Border’s bag in there. Ah, I thought, somebody else is doing the exact same thing. But then something about this other bag drew my attention; imagine my amusement when I realized that the second bag was also mine, and contained something else that I brought to the office and forgot about.
It looks like establishments serving kosher burgers have interesting concepts of what constitutes what. If you ask for well-done, you are going to get it burned. If you ask for medium, you are going to get it well-done. Just don’t request medium-rare, if you are not in the vicinity of a grill when you receive your order, because usually it requires additional cooking.
Recently, I had two separate and unrelated discussions with two Obama supporters. Both of them expressed total disbelief and incredulity upon discovering that it looks like our current so-called President’s IQ is only about 127. Speaking of somebody’s brilliance!
As told by one of my co-workers. He has a friend who is a social worker. At her place of employment, they do not get reimbursement for the cell phone usage; instead, they just get twenty five dollars a month towards whatever cell phone expanses they may incur. So, one day, when she realized that her battery was low, she just connected her phone to one of the office outlets, and continued with her work. Her supervisor, upon observing this, accused her of “double-dipping”, since she already receives her twenty five bucks for this. To which she replied that she would love to disconnect her charger, providing that the supervisor would take care of all the clients who would be unable to reach her in the event of the phone dying. Ah, administratium at work; what a thing of beauty!
Another gem from Leno’s monologue: “Recently, Iranian doctors discovered that drinking hot tea may cause throat cancer. This is the first thing they are not blaming on the Jews.”
ON YESTERDAY'S POST
Sorry, everyone
For whatever reason (I do not feel like assigning the blame), this piece works on Youtube, but is disabled on my blog. That was basically the last five minutes from "The Working Girl"; if you already watched it, you should remember it, at least vaguely. If you did not, I strongly recommend it: it is very naive by today's standards, but very uplifting and quintessentially American. Plus, is has the now orphaned New York skyline as a prominent feature. So, hopefully, you will enjoy it.
For whatever reason (I do not feel like assigning the blame), this piece works on Youtube, but is disabled on my blog. That was basically the last five minutes from "The Working Girl"; if you already watched it, you should remember it, at least vaguely. If you did not, I strongly recommend it: it is very naive by today's standards, but very uplifting and quintessentially American. Plus, is has the now orphaned New York skyline as a prominent feature. So, hopefully, you will enjoy it.
Tuesday, March 31, 2009
Working Girl - The End
Here is to wishful thinking and hoping; to punishing for stealing ideas and rewarding hard work and dedication; to fighting for your dream and not getting snobby. Here is to free market economy, Reagan revolution, and the triumph of the American Dream! (And, of course, to shoulder pads and big hair:))
Monday, March 30, 2009
OK, WHATEVER YOU SAY
Here is a little chain of events, seemingly unconnected:
One not so fine morning few weeks ago, I have officially (and sarcastically) thanked (again) all the Obama supporters via Facebook. That outpouring of gratitude followed the blatant demonstration of black supremacy and racism witnessed by me that same morning on the way to work. One of my friends was slightly surprised by the fact that I am still bitter; according to him, by now it was only I and Ann Coulter.
One of my younger co-workers, who usually enjoys impersonating Childe Harold, being in his usual chirpy mood, kept sighing and complaining about the hard life. Upon hearing this, I politely suggested he visits Central Africa to learn about true hardships of life and even offered to purchase him a one-way ticket. His reaction? "I wish I could really go there!"
George, our cat, periodically goes on hunger strikes; the only reason we could detect is this: he would eat the food served to him, and then decide (for reasons known only to him) that it is no longer edible. At which point he would complain till he is literally horse, but will not eat the unpalatable offerings. Which, by the way, reminded me of a very first pet my baby brother had: a little hamster called Monster Ball, who did not usually stuff his check pouches and, unless he was really hungry, would totally ignore his food, even if it was literally landing by his feet.
When Bernard Goldberg's "100 people" came out in paperback, it graduated to "110" people, and only recently was I able to lay my hands on this edition. I did not get a chance to peruse it yet (my Dad is doing it right now), but here is my suggestion to the latest edition of people who "are screwing up America":
Number 3: US Congress and US Senate combined (with very minor exceptions)
Number 2: The current so-called President of the United States
Number 1: 61 million registered voters (minus whatever dead people were included in this number thanks to ACORN) who voted for this boy-wonder currently embarrassing and destroying our country from the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately voted for any independent candidate in whatever protest, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately did not vote in this election because they continued to sit on their moral outrage. Whatever the actual number, the honor should go to all of them equally.
You see, even though I do not know Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, and the rest of the so-called conservative radio and TV personalities personally, and therefore cannot vouch with precision as to their emotional state, I am not bitter. I am heartbroken. It has been almost five months since that horrible day in November, and every day since then the nightmare just grows in its monstrosity.
In what other country on earth do you have cats that do not eat because they do not like the food, or hamsters that ignore their food?! Better yet, in the immortal words of one of the D'Souza's readers, this is the only country where poor people are fat! And on that note, in what other country do you have that high percentage of ungrateful swine, homegrown or imported (either voluntarily or involuntarily), who do not appreciate the beauty and unique premise of this country and instead go around with sour faces, complaining non-stop and praising any and all bloody dictatorships as the ideal country to live in?
Yes, "we have serious problems and we need serious people to solve those problems"; that does not mean surrendering at the first sign of those serious problems! Blind, deaf, and dumb sissies! Instead of fighting for this country that gave you everything, you surrendered it to its haters who are destroying it even as we speak! And the biggest part of this heartbreak is that amongst those in the first category are my relatives, friends, good acquaintances, and just Jews - people whom I love and respect, or at least like, and whose souls are connected to mine all the way to the Exodus from Egypt and Mount Sinai! But, hey, I am just a bitter right-wing nut job, and you, guys and girls, aside from being more educated and informed, were just exercising your right to chose! I should just relax, take a deep breath, and "give the dude a chance"; or, better yet, get a life, because, apparently, I should just broaden my horizons and acquire some more interests, aside from politics (my favorite being that my interest in politics stems from my being single and childless, ergo having nothing better to do).
Well, enjoy your choices and the freedom to make them! I only pray that when the final tally from those choices comes in, it will not be something on the magnitude of what I had to survive seven and a half years ago, and that still sometimes haunts my dreams (also a result of choices made by the majority of my people). May The Master of The Universe protect us all!
One not so fine morning few weeks ago, I have officially (and sarcastically) thanked (again) all the Obama supporters via Facebook. That outpouring of gratitude followed the blatant demonstration of black supremacy and racism witnessed by me that same morning on the way to work. One of my friends was slightly surprised by the fact that I am still bitter; according to him, by now it was only I and Ann Coulter.
One of my younger co-workers, who usually enjoys impersonating Childe Harold, being in his usual chirpy mood, kept sighing and complaining about the hard life. Upon hearing this, I politely suggested he visits Central Africa to learn about true hardships of life and even offered to purchase him a one-way ticket. His reaction? "I wish I could really go there!"
George, our cat, periodically goes on hunger strikes; the only reason we could detect is this: he would eat the food served to him, and then decide (for reasons known only to him) that it is no longer edible. At which point he would complain till he is literally horse, but will not eat the unpalatable offerings. Which, by the way, reminded me of a very first pet my baby brother had: a little hamster called Monster Ball, who did not usually stuff his check pouches and, unless he was really hungry, would totally ignore his food, even if it was literally landing by his feet.
When Bernard Goldberg's "100 people" came out in paperback, it graduated to "110" people, and only recently was I able to lay my hands on this edition. I did not get a chance to peruse it yet (my Dad is doing it right now), but here is my suggestion to the latest edition of people who "are screwing up America":
Number 3: US Congress and US Senate combined (with very minor exceptions)
Number 2: The current so-called President of the United States
Number 1: 61 million registered voters (minus whatever dead people were included in this number thanks to ACORN) who voted for this boy-wonder currently embarrassing and destroying our country from the 1600 Pennsylvania Avenue, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately voted for any independent candidate in whatever protest, plus whatever number of registered voters who deliberately did not vote in this election because they continued to sit on their moral outrage. Whatever the actual number, the honor should go to all of them equally.
You see, even though I do not know Ann Coulter, Rush Limbaugh, and the rest of the so-called conservative radio and TV personalities personally, and therefore cannot vouch with precision as to their emotional state, I am not bitter. I am heartbroken. It has been almost five months since that horrible day in November, and every day since then the nightmare just grows in its monstrosity.
In what other country on earth do you have cats that do not eat because they do not like the food, or hamsters that ignore their food?! Better yet, in the immortal words of one of the D'Souza's readers, this is the only country where poor people are fat! And on that note, in what other country do you have that high percentage of ungrateful swine, homegrown or imported (either voluntarily or involuntarily), who do not appreciate the beauty and unique premise of this country and instead go around with sour faces, complaining non-stop and praising any and all bloody dictatorships as the ideal country to live in?
Yes, "we have serious problems and we need serious people to solve those problems"; that does not mean surrendering at the first sign of those serious problems! Blind, deaf, and dumb sissies! Instead of fighting for this country that gave you everything, you surrendered it to its haters who are destroying it even as we speak! And the biggest part of this heartbreak is that amongst those in the first category are my relatives, friends, good acquaintances, and just Jews - people whom I love and respect, or at least like, and whose souls are connected to mine all the way to the Exodus from Egypt and Mount Sinai! But, hey, I am just a bitter right-wing nut job, and you, guys and girls, aside from being more educated and informed, were just exercising your right to chose! I should just relax, take a deep breath, and "give the dude a chance"; or, better yet, get a life, because, apparently, I should just broaden my horizons and acquire some more interests, aside from politics (my favorite being that my interest in politics stems from my being single and childless, ergo having nothing better to do).
Well, enjoy your choices and the freedom to make them! I only pray that when the final tally from those choices comes in, it will not be something on the magnitude of what I had to survive seven and a half years ago, and that still sometimes haunts my dreams (also a result of choices made by the majority of my people). May The Master of The Universe protect us all!
Friday, March 27, 2009
HAPPY (BELATED) PURIM
Editor’s note: due to the usual circumstances beyond my control, this piece appears today, as opposed to the day after Shushan Purim.
I love all our holidays. Each one brings its own beauty and a balm to the sometimes weary soul. Each reinforces its own message, but all of them remind us again of our unique place in the world and our demanding and privileged relationship with The Master of the Universe. But before I progress with sharing my meager knowledge, let us remember the eight Yeshiva students brutally slain last year on Rosh Chodesh Adar, may G-d avenge their blood!
On Purim we celebrate the escape from a total annihilation and a sheer beauty of being alive; we eat, we drink, we wear costumes, we share food, and we make sure to remember the needy. We also remember the "hidden" miracles that The Almighty performed on our behalf - hidden because on the surface they look like a natural chain of events, and only through deeper study and understanding do we realize that there was nothing "natural" about these events and their timing.
We also have an opportunity to remember what happens when we forget to be properly proud of whom we are. After all, Jews did not eat or drink something not Kosher; they just went to the feast that in essence celebrated the fact that the prophecy about Jewish redemption did not come to fruition (supposedly), and they drank from the vessels that were taken out of the destroyed Temple by the people who destroyed it (collectively spitting into their own faces). The results were immediate (although not immediately felt): right after the description of the festivities we hear about Haman and his rise to power - G-d had "hidden" Himself from His people.
Another reminder - our continued well-being usually depends (at least in part) on the few righteous people present in our midst. In this particular story we have Mordechai and Esther. Again, I do not presume to claim to even understand what they were feeling and thinking, because these people existed on the level we would never really achieve or truly comprehend. Still, with our puny understanding, try to imagine this scenario: man's wife is kidnapped and taken to a harem of a lecherous and powerful king. For a couple of years, he continually watches over her, sitting by the palace day after day. In the process, he uncovers a plot against the ruler and saves him; which, by the way, is another lesson of Purim: Esther conveyed the message about the plot in the name of Mordechai, teaching us that we should always give proper credit (no matter what the cannons of modern marketing and PR are telling us).
Then the terrible news about the official plans for the total extermination of all Jews broke out Mordechai tells Esther to go straight to the king and beseech him to spare our people. Esther seemed to be hesitant; why? Because not only would her life be in danger if she would go to the king without summons, but by voluntary going to him she would also be unable to return to her husband. But Mordechai sweeps aside her objections, telling her instead that the only probable reason for her to become a queen was for the sole purpose of saving her people now. So, after informing Mordechai that she would fast and pray for three days, and asking him to urge all the Jews in the city to do the same, Esther cleverly outmaneuvers Haman and begs the king for the life of her people.
Another interesting and very important lesson of Purim: perception and cause. After Haman rose to power, everybody was bowing down and genuflecting to him. Everyone, that is, except Mordechai (who, by the way, did not attend the infamous feast either). So, according to the surface story, Haman got really angry, observing that everyone bows down to him except that Jew Mordechai; and that situation inflamed his Jew-hatred to the point of his hatching the plan of "the final solution to the Jewish problem". It sounds pretty plausible, but it is completely wrong. Mordechai did not genuflect in order not to bow down to the idol that Haman was wearing (thus strictly observing the first and fundamental rule of our faith, never mind truly preserving his Jewish dignity). He was not part of the problem - he was part of the solution; but in order to comprehend this, you need the true clarity of vision, which, unfortunately, was and still is not widely found.
But the most important lesson of Purim is the fact that our Heavenly Father never truly abandons us. He is always watching over us, both as individuals and as a nation. During our biggest transgressions He, even in His Anger, sows the seeds of the solution. And there is always hope for a salvation, even (and especially) in our darkest hour.
So, here is to the continued health and well-being of our nation! May all our enemies be destroyed! And may we always keep our dignity, clarity of vision, and true pride in being Jews! May we always be able to have great feasts, be merry, and help each other! And may we always have love and unity, not just in times of great sorrow, but in times of great joy! L'Chaim!
On the very light note, here are my Purim highlights:
Munchkins (due to the great wisdom of their Mommy) were both Elmos. Of course, the slight scuffle broke out because both wanted "Elmo padzamas" as opposed to "Elmo dzaket".
Both Elmos run into another Elmo, who was accompanied by a Cookie Monster.
I thought of a great costume to myself, but, since this great thought came to me a bit late, ended up just wearing my usual clothes. What costume? Well, I wanted a T-shirt with "member of the NRA" in big letters and a big picture of a gun. That, of course, was my second choice. My first choice would have been too dangerous to wear in the five boroughs.
Did not run into one person I usually try to avoid - yeah!!! On the down side, missed my friend Moish and his leather get up again.
For the first time actually visited somebody in The Bronx (as opposed to just passing through this borough in a car or a train). In the process discovered that Jews are funny everywhere: not only was that Riverdale, but, apparently, Riverdale in the slang of Jews gets split up into few parts (somebody was living specifically in the Mid-Riverdale).
Got fed a fantastic meal by my friends, which included another funny element. My hostess, always being an inventive type, served very cute hors d'oeuvres: chunks of spicy salami with veggies on the barbeque sticks, all stuck in the big bright mug. Every woman present, without fail, recognized it as a food item, and partook in it. Every man present, also without fail, deemed those things decorations and had to be explained what is was.
My hosts had a very cute costume arrangement: father was Tigger, Mother - Rabbit, and their tiny twin son and daughter: Eeyore and Piglet. The Big Brother (being almost three) spoiled the whole scheme by refusing the wear his Pooh outfit.
Yours truly, being herself, had two half-glasses of wine, after which the pleasant mellowness followed (OK, I got slightly drunk).
I love all our holidays. Each one brings its own beauty and a balm to the sometimes weary soul. Each reinforces its own message, but all of them remind us again of our unique place in the world and our demanding and privileged relationship with The Master of the Universe. But before I progress with sharing my meager knowledge, let us remember the eight Yeshiva students brutally slain last year on Rosh Chodesh Adar, may G-d avenge their blood!
On Purim we celebrate the escape from a total annihilation and a sheer beauty of being alive; we eat, we drink, we wear costumes, we share food, and we make sure to remember the needy. We also remember the "hidden" miracles that The Almighty performed on our behalf - hidden because on the surface they look like a natural chain of events, and only through deeper study and understanding do we realize that there was nothing "natural" about these events and their timing.
We also have an opportunity to remember what happens when we forget to be properly proud of whom we are. After all, Jews did not eat or drink something not Kosher; they just went to the feast that in essence celebrated the fact that the prophecy about Jewish redemption did not come to fruition (supposedly), and they drank from the vessels that were taken out of the destroyed Temple by the people who destroyed it (collectively spitting into their own faces). The results were immediate (although not immediately felt): right after the description of the festivities we hear about Haman and his rise to power - G-d had "hidden" Himself from His people.
Another reminder - our continued well-being usually depends (at least in part) on the few righteous people present in our midst. In this particular story we have Mordechai and Esther. Again, I do not presume to claim to even understand what they were feeling and thinking, because these people existed on the level we would never really achieve or truly comprehend. Still, with our puny understanding, try to imagine this scenario: man's wife is kidnapped and taken to a harem of a lecherous and powerful king. For a couple of years, he continually watches over her, sitting by the palace day after day. In the process, he uncovers a plot against the ruler and saves him; which, by the way, is another lesson of Purim: Esther conveyed the message about the plot in the name of Mordechai, teaching us that we should always give proper credit (no matter what the cannons of modern marketing and PR are telling us).
Then the terrible news about the official plans for the total extermination of all Jews broke out Mordechai tells Esther to go straight to the king and beseech him to spare our people. Esther seemed to be hesitant; why? Because not only would her life be in danger if she would go to the king without summons, but by voluntary going to him she would also be unable to return to her husband. But Mordechai sweeps aside her objections, telling her instead that the only probable reason for her to become a queen was for the sole purpose of saving her people now. So, after informing Mordechai that she would fast and pray for three days, and asking him to urge all the Jews in the city to do the same, Esther cleverly outmaneuvers Haman and begs the king for the life of her people.
Another interesting and very important lesson of Purim: perception and cause. After Haman rose to power, everybody was bowing down and genuflecting to him. Everyone, that is, except Mordechai (who, by the way, did not attend the infamous feast either). So, according to the surface story, Haman got really angry, observing that everyone bows down to him except that Jew Mordechai; and that situation inflamed his Jew-hatred to the point of his hatching the plan of "the final solution to the Jewish problem". It sounds pretty plausible, but it is completely wrong. Mordechai did not genuflect in order not to bow down to the idol that Haman was wearing (thus strictly observing the first and fundamental rule of our faith, never mind truly preserving his Jewish dignity). He was not part of the problem - he was part of the solution; but in order to comprehend this, you need the true clarity of vision, which, unfortunately, was and still is not widely found.
But the most important lesson of Purim is the fact that our Heavenly Father never truly abandons us. He is always watching over us, both as individuals and as a nation. During our biggest transgressions He, even in His Anger, sows the seeds of the solution. And there is always hope for a salvation, even (and especially) in our darkest hour.
So, here is to the continued health and well-being of our nation! May all our enemies be destroyed! And may we always keep our dignity, clarity of vision, and true pride in being Jews! May we always be able to have great feasts, be merry, and help each other! And may we always have love and unity, not just in times of great sorrow, but in times of great joy! L'Chaim!
On the very light note, here are my Purim highlights:
Munchkins (due to the great wisdom of their Mommy) were both Elmos. Of course, the slight scuffle broke out because both wanted "Elmo padzamas" as opposed to "Elmo dzaket".
Both Elmos run into another Elmo, who was accompanied by a Cookie Monster.
I thought of a great costume to myself, but, since this great thought came to me a bit late, ended up just wearing my usual clothes. What costume? Well, I wanted a T-shirt with "member of the NRA" in big letters and a big picture of a gun. That, of course, was my second choice. My first choice would have been too dangerous to wear in the five boroughs.
Did not run into one person I usually try to avoid - yeah!!! On the down side, missed my friend Moish and his leather get up again.
For the first time actually visited somebody in The Bronx (as opposed to just passing through this borough in a car or a train). In the process discovered that Jews are funny everywhere: not only was that Riverdale, but, apparently, Riverdale in the slang of Jews gets split up into few parts (somebody was living specifically in the Mid-Riverdale).
Got fed a fantastic meal by my friends, which included another funny element. My hostess, always being an inventive type, served very cute hors d'oeuvres: chunks of spicy salami with veggies on the barbeque sticks, all stuck in the big bright mug. Every woman present, without fail, recognized it as a food item, and partook in it. Every man present, also without fail, deemed those things decorations and had to be explained what is was.
My hosts had a very cute costume arrangement: father was Tigger, Mother - Rabbit, and their tiny twin son and daughter: Eeyore and Piglet. The Big Brother (being almost three) spoiled the whole scheme by refusing the wear his Pooh outfit.
Yours truly, being herself, had two half-glasses of wine, after which the pleasant mellowness followed (OK, I got slightly drunk).
Thursday, March 05, 2009
ANOTHER WEEKEND UPDATE
Editor’s note: due to the circumstances beyond my control (situation continuing from last week), this entry goes to print today, as opposed to Monday morning.
First of all, my news summary for last week: my roomy and I adopted a cat named George, and I became an official card-carrying member of the NRA.
On Sunday I again had to honour of playing host to Mini Not Me, this time accompanied by his older sister. Of course, they really wanted to see George, and then my roommate; yours truly came in the un-illustrious last. Highlights of the visit included:
Mini Me enjoying my roomie's Wii; gosh, I feel old, since I do not even have an IPod, never played, never mind became addicted to, any kind of video games, and yet to figure out what exactly Wii is. Meanwhile, our three year old American Gnome is playing Wii. My only consolation is that she was most interested in the pink TV that comes with that Wii, since she is very much into the color pink right now.
George was alternatively hiding on the bookshelf, between the boxes, and in the closet. The theory is that he was really scared by a bunch of kids before, because he is really scared of our munchkins. But the overtures were made towards the tentative peace treaty, eventually resulting in George not running away from Mini Me and even allowing her to pet him a bit.
Mini Not Me discovered my jewelry pouch, which I was unsuccessfully looking for on Friday night and Shabat morning. My theory is that he hid it somewhere on his last visit, and re-discovered it yesterday.
Mini Me, on the other hand, was seen playing with my key ring, which at the press time is still missing in action.
Royal meals were carefully prepared by two chefs this time: yours truly and the person sharing my humble dwelling. Mini Not Me participated with his usual appreciation. Although he requested a cookie and refused to eat without it, it (the cookie) ended up being just a slightly licked accessory in his delicious little hand. Mini Me, on the other hand, was her usual finicky eater.
We watched more Elmo and Barney on YouTube; the royal permissions were alternating and not always in accord (if he wanted to watch Barney, she wanted Elmo, and vice versa).
I finally connected the dots: Mini Not Me goes around singing "yummy, yummy, yum", and I could not figure out what precisely was he singing. This Sunday finally clarified the issue: it is Elmo and The Singing Pizza.
There were many more delicious hugs and smiles.
Which, of course, brings me to Monday morning, which said morning conveniently forgot that is was the beginning of March, and gifted us with more snow, freezing temperatures and blistery winds. This fact prompted your humble servant to propose the following course of action: Al Gore, all the senior ranking members of IPCC, senior ranking members of the Weather Channel, Leo DiCaprio and his Hollywood chums, and the rest of this cabal (including our so-called President) are to be taken in their skivvies, or better yet, in their altogether, outside of the UN Building and stuck in the freshly fallen snow under a heavily armed guard. They should remain thusly till they admit to their continuous, blatant, and malevolent lies about the anthropogenic global warming. And please to not mention the Geneva accords to me: they are not the prisoners of war; we are.
First of all, my news summary for last week: my roomy and I adopted a cat named George, and I became an official card-carrying member of the NRA.
On Sunday I again had to honour of playing host to Mini Not Me, this time accompanied by his older sister. Of course, they really wanted to see George, and then my roommate; yours truly came in the un-illustrious last. Highlights of the visit included:
Mini Me enjoying my roomie's Wii; gosh, I feel old, since I do not even have an IPod, never played, never mind became addicted to, any kind of video games, and yet to figure out what exactly Wii is. Meanwhile, our three year old American Gnome is playing Wii. My only consolation is that she was most interested in the pink TV that comes with that Wii, since she is very much into the color pink right now.
George was alternatively hiding on the bookshelf, between the boxes, and in the closet. The theory is that he was really scared by a bunch of kids before, because he is really scared of our munchkins. But the overtures were made towards the tentative peace treaty, eventually resulting in George not running away from Mini Me and even allowing her to pet him a bit.
Mini Not Me discovered my jewelry pouch, which I was unsuccessfully looking for on Friday night and Shabat morning. My theory is that he hid it somewhere on his last visit, and re-discovered it yesterday.
Mini Me, on the other hand, was seen playing with my key ring, which at the press time is still missing in action.
Royal meals were carefully prepared by two chefs this time: yours truly and the person sharing my humble dwelling. Mini Not Me participated with his usual appreciation. Although he requested a cookie and refused to eat without it, it (the cookie) ended up being just a slightly licked accessory in his delicious little hand. Mini Me, on the other hand, was her usual finicky eater.
We watched more Elmo and Barney on YouTube; the royal permissions were alternating and not always in accord (if he wanted to watch Barney, she wanted Elmo, and vice versa).
I finally connected the dots: Mini Not Me goes around singing "yummy, yummy, yum", and I could not figure out what precisely was he singing. This Sunday finally clarified the issue: it is Elmo and The Singing Pizza.
There were many more delicious hugs and smiles.
Which, of course, brings me to Monday morning, which said morning conveniently forgot that is was the beginning of March, and gifted us with more snow, freezing temperatures and blistery winds. This fact prompted your humble servant to propose the following course of action: Al Gore, all the senior ranking members of IPCC, senior ranking members of the Weather Channel, Leo DiCaprio and his Hollywood chums, and the rest of this cabal (including our so-called President) are to be taken in their skivvies, or better yet, in their altogether, outside of the UN Building and stuck in the freshly fallen snow under a heavily armed guard. They should remain thusly till they admit to their continuous, blatant, and malevolent lies about the anthropogenic global warming. And please to not mention the Geneva accords to me: they are not the prisoners of war; we are.
Friday, February 27, 2009
ONE OF THE MANY REASONS TO HATE MONDAYS
Publisher’s notice: Due to the circumstances beyond my control, this entry is appearing today as opposed to Monday, when it was supposed to appear in the first place.
This past Sunday I had the supreme honour of the august presence of Mini Not Me in my humble abode for most of the day.
The highlights of the visit included:
Royal meals: personally prepared by yours truly macaroni and cheese (not from the box), minced fillet of the finest fish, battered and baked (aka fish sticks), aged Kosher cheese, and the best of seasonal fruit (apple), also prepared to perfection by yours truly (washed, peeled, and cut into the bite-size pieces).
His highness was greatly (and repeatedly) amused by the plentiful, diverse, and colorful array of my fridge magnets.
We watched Elmo, Barney, and Ella Enchanted, washing it down with healthy amounts of "kek" and "dink".
Mini Not Me was also fascinated by my "bankey" with pictures strongly resembling (at least in his eyes) Mommy. In reality it was Ariel the Little Mermaid, but in any case he refused to be covered by it for his nap.
Another interesting object of play was found on my desk in the form of one of the Eucerin samples from my dermatologist. It is a little rectangular box containing body wash, lotion, and cream. So, I explained to him the designations of each strange object, and he had fun for the good part of an hour by taking them out of the box one by one, naming them one by one, and then trying to put them back in the box one by one. Which, by the way, proves again that most of the toys adults buy are for adult entertainment mostly; kids, especially little ones, can amuse themselves with just about anything.
Mommy and Efty were inquired about only at about fifteen minute’s intervals. Abba and his "ca" were mentioned at around every hour. Most of the time, I was able to deflect his highnesses attention by something unrelated to Mommy, Efty, Abba, or his car.
I was treated to lots of delicious hugs.
At the early dinner time, happy reunion of Mini Not Me with Mini Me after a very long absence of about seven hours was punctuated with Indian Chief Style yells, running around, horseplay, and many, many happy, innocent and delicious smiles. At the conclusion of the said reunion the fruits of the shopping expedition of Mommy, Efty, and Abba were displayed and discussed as well, especially Efty's New Dresses and New Accessories.
Basically, it was an event-filled Sunday; which brings my story to Monday.
After the usual subway ride in the car filled with different representatives of the "inner city", and the usual jostling in the coffee shop by the members of the stronger sex and their briefcases, I arrived at my place of gainful employment. In the kitchen, the big boss run into me; by his tone of greeting I figured out that something was amiss. Sure enough, half a minute later he informed me that after I was done in the kitchen, he needed to "have a conversation with me". After being informed that I am available at his leisure, he told that he will call.
I went back to my desk, frantically trying to figure out what the heck I have done now to warrant "a conversation"; the said exercise preventing me from fully enjoying my Bridget Jones style breakfast. After about two hours he finally showed up at my desk, and the glimmer of understanding appeared when I saw what he was holding in his hand. It was a copy of my company Amex statement that all of us lucky enough to have a company Amex got the previous Friday. Still, since I was sure that no charges from Abigail’s stake house, e-bay, Border's books, CafePress, WND store, Regnery Publishing, or Lane Bryant were on that statement, I just plastered a polite expression on my face and mentally steered myself.
The rant was long and boring, but the gist of it was that there were charges from a different department (the fact that technically I assist the whole office, and I am not his personal EA somehow escaped him), that we have to cut costs as much as possible, that the times are tough, and what about all the reimbursable expanses from the other cards? Who is notifying the main office? Who is processing what? Blah, blah, blah, grrrr! (The fact that there is a perfectly logical system in place at the moment was also forgotten). Then he demanded to see my receipts, and then he made rounds with all the other card holders, which was pretty amusing because if yours truly is just a humble laborer, all the other holders are senior associates.
Then I got the e-mail from the NYPL that the last available PIG to US Constitution became unavailable. In a fit of generosity they bought two copies that were constantly in demand; then one copy became unavailable ("missing"), and now another, or "the last available copy". Grrr!
Then the big boss started giving me instructions on opening a separate accounts receivable file, employing a different filing system. When he was informed that that was also in place, he got a bit taken aback; the little demonstration and explanation he gave me in my first week here apparently also evaporated from his memory.
Basically, the entire office was very tense for the whole day. Then I went home (again on "multicultural" train), dropped by the bakery for some fresh bread, came home, put on my "shmate" attire, and dedicated the next three hours to the thankless task of cleaning my kitchen. Please do not ask me at what time I had dinner, because my MD is going to have conniptions when she hears about it.
So, on both days I went to sleep exhausted. But on Sunday, my world was lit with the innocent love of two little kids who think that I am "Papi - The Height of Cool". On Monday, the mundane idiocy sapped my strength. And that is one of the many reasons of why I hate Mondays!
This past Sunday I had the supreme honour of the august presence of Mini Not Me in my humble abode for most of the day.
The highlights of the visit included:
Royal meals: personally prepared by yours truly macaroni and cheese (not from the box), minced fillet of the finest fish, battered and baked (aka fish sticks), aged Kosher cheese, and the best of seasonal fruit (apple), also prepared to perfection by yours truly (washed, peeled, and cut into the bite-size pieces).
His highness was greatly (and repeatedly) amused by the plentiful, diverse, and colorful array of my fridge magnets.
We watched Elmo, Barney, and Ella Enchanted, washing it down with healthy amounts of "kek" and "dink".
Mini Not Me was also fascinated by my "bankey" with pictures strongly resembling (at least in his eyes) Mommy. In reality it was Ariel the Little Mermaid, but in any case he refused to be covered by it for his nap.
Another interesting object of play was found on my desk in the form of one of the Eucerin samples from my dermatologist. It is a little rectangular box containing body wash, lotion, and cream. So, I explained to him the designations of each strange object, and he had fun for the good part of an hour by taking them out of the box one by one, naming them one by one, and then trying to put them back in the box one by one. Which, by the way, proves again that most of the toys adults buy are for adult entertainment mostly; kids, especially little ones, can amuse themselves with just about anything.
Mommy and Efty were inquired about only at about fifteen minute’s intervals. Abba and his "ca" were mentioned at around every hour. Most of the time, I was able to deflect his highnesses attention by something unrelated to Mommy, Efty, Abba, or his car.
I was treated to lots of delicious hugs.
At the early dinner time, happy reunion of Mini Not Me with Mini Me after a very long absence of about seven hours was punctuated with Indian Chief Style yells, running around, horseplay, and many, many happy, innocent and delicious smiles. At the conclusion of the said reunion the fruits of the shopping expedition of Mommy, Efty, and Abba were displayed and discussed as well, especially Efty's New Dresses and New Accessories.
Basically, it was an event-filled Sunday; which brings my story to Monday.
After the usual subway ride in the car filled with different representatives of the "inner city", and the usual jostling in the coffee shop by the members of the stronger sex and their briefcases, I arrived at my place of gainful employment. In the kitchen, the big boss run into me; by his tone of greeting I figured out that something was amiss. Sure enough, half a minute later he informed me that after I was done in the kitchen, he needed to "have a conversation with me". After being informed that I am available at his leisure, he told that he will call.
I went back to my desk, frantically trying to figure out what the heck I have done now to warrant "a conversation"; the said exercise preventing me from fully enjoying my Bridget Jones style breakfast. After about two hours he finally showed up at my desk, and the glimmer of understanding appeared when I saw what he was holding in his hand. It was a copy of my company Amex statement that all of us lucky enough to have a company Amex got the previous Friday. Still, since I was sure that no charges from Abigail’s stake house, e-bay, Border's books, CafePress, WND store, Regnery Publishing, or Lane Bryant were on that statement, I just plastered a polite expression on my face and mentally steered myself.
The rant was long and boring, but the gist of it was that there were charges from a different department (the fact that technically I assist the whole office, and I am not his personal EA somehow escaped him), that we have to cut costs as much as possible, that the times are tough, and what about all the reimbursable expanses from the other cards? Who is notifying the main office? Who is processing what? Blah, blah, blah, grrrr! (The fact that there is a perfectly logical system in place at the moment was also forgotten). Then he demanded to see my receipts, and then he made rounds with all the other card holders, which was pretty amusing because if yours truly is just a humble laborer, all the other holders are senior associates.
Then I got the e-mail from the NYPL that the last available PIG to US Constitution became unavailable. In a fit of generosity they bought two copies that were constantly in demand; then one copy became unavailable ("missing"), and now another, or "the last available copy". Grrr!
Then the big boss started giving me instructions on opening a separate accounts receivable file, employing a different filing system. When he was informed that that was also in place, he got a bit taken aback; the little demonstration and explanation he gave me in my first week here apparently also evaporated from his memory.
Basically, the entire office was very tense for the whole day. Then I went home (again on "multicultural" train), dropped by the bakery for some fresh bread, came home, put on my "shmate" attire, and dedicated the next three hours to the thankless task of cleaning my kitchen. Please do not ask me at what time I had dinner, because my MD is going to have conniptions when she hears about it.
So, on both days I went to sleep exhausted. But on Sunday, my world was lit with the innocent love of two little kids who think that I am "Papi - The Height of Cool". On Monday, the mundane idiocy sapped my strength. And that is one of the many reasons of why I hate Mondays!
Sunday, February 22, 2009
Swan Lake - Act 2, Pas de Quatre
Here is to my strange childhood! This number is forever more stuck in my brain as a song about bananas and their unavailability in Moscow:)
Thursday, February 19, 2009
FAMILY VIGNETTES
One evening Mini Me granted me the supreme honor of reading her a story before bed (a privilege usually reserved exclusively for Mommy). We were reading her favorite "Olivia", and that evening her comments went along the lines of whatever Olivia did in the book, our American Gnome does with her Mommy. So when we came to the part where Olivia goes to the museum in the rainy weather, Golden Delicious immediately piped up that she is always going to the museum with Mommy during rain. I love conversing with her as a whole, so I asked her if she remembered our lone trip to the Met. "No, I go to the museum all the time, with Mommy". "No, cookie, you went only once, and it was with me". "No, every day, with Mommy." After that we returned to Olivia's adventures. Later on, while I was reporting to my sister on the accomplished mission (sleeping child), I told her about this conversation, jokingly adding that I am a purist, ergo I wanted to clarify the matter. "And my daughter is a loyalist!" - was my sibling's proud response.
Here are two suggestions from my beloved siblings as it pertains to my career goals: the first one was a PhD in Harry Potter Studies; the second one was a PhD in Modern American Romance Novel Studies.
During one memorable Youtube session with Mini Me and Mini Not Me, we were listening to one lively piece accompanied by a collage of different pictures. One of them was a Botticelli. "Un dat" was my nephew's immediate request. Great taste, my little one! Our school!
My sis and I both started at the same college. She had the good sense not to finish there, but that is a different story. Anyway, since the learning institution at that time was relatively small, we ended up with a few of the same professors. One of them (my favorite, despite being a complete crackpot) made a very interesting connection between us. Now, bear in mind that my sis and I look very much alike (Mini Me is a delicious prove of that). So, during one particular discussion, the prof turned towards my sibling and asked her if she had a sister whom he taught before. She replied in the affirmative, to which he added that he was sure about it, because we both have a very finely developed appreciation of sarcasm. I do not know how she feels about that one now, but I still consider it a compliment.
Here are two suggestions from my beloved siblings as it pertains to my career goals: the first one was a PhD in Harry Potter Studies; the second one was a PhD in Modern American Romance Novel Studies.
During one memorable Youtube session with Mini Me and Mini Not Me, we were listening to one lively piece accompanied by a collage of different pictures. One of them was a Botticelli. "Un dat" was my nephew's immediate request. Great taste, my little one! Our school!
My sis and I both started at the same college. She had the good sense not to finish there, but that is a different story. Anyway, since the learning institution at that time was relatively small, we ended up with a few of the same professors. One of them (my favorite, despite being a complete crackpot) made a very interesting connection between us. Now, bear in mind that my sis and I look very much alike (Mini Me is a delicious prove of that). So, during one particular discussion, the prof turned towards my sibling and asked her if she had a sister whom he taught before. She replied in the affirmative, to which he added that he was sure about it, because we both have a very finely developed appreciation of sarcasm. I do not know how she feels about that one now, but I still consider it a compliment.
Monday, February 16, 2009
TWO LITTLE DEMONSTRATIONS
Both of these happened at my place of employment, which, in the best traditions of educated people on both coasts, is almost totally staffed with serious lefties.
One: being a serious Harry Potter devotee, I was impatiently waiting for J.K.'s 800 word composition which she had penned for charity and which was supposed to be from "the prequel she is not working on". Long story short, I missed buying it from the publisher and ended up haunting the e-bay actions. Finally, the coveted transaction was completed, and now I was impatiently waiting for my package to arrive. After a while I was ready to e-mail the seller and politely inquire about the actual shipping date; lo and behold, I get the office mail to sort, and here it is: a hated orange post card with "we attempted to deliver your package". I ran after our rude mailman with the effing card, pointing out that a) the date indicated was a business day, and b) I was right here. No dice; he point blank lied about somebody else sorting the mail that day, and then rudely suggested that I should just go "around the corner" to the post office and claim my package. Since I do not get lunch break during the winter time, for yours truly it meant not only going to deal with another rude and disgusting federal employee, but also staying late after work to make up the time.
Overjoyed about the whole scenario, I called into question the competence, mental capacity, and legitimacy of the above mentioned post people. One of my co-workers happened to pass by my desk at the time and jokingly suggested to me to express my emotions and not battle them up. What he did not know was that my name calling and frustration were not just directed at the federal employees, but at him and his colleagues as well. Because the day it happened was the election day, and I knew that almost all of them made special efforts to vote for the new stinking messiah, who's official campaign promises were to put a whole new army of these incompetent nincompoops, who cannot even read properly and carry a 1.6 pound package to its destination, but somehow would be the only people capable and equipped to fix the economy and healthcare, usher the world peace, and control the climate, just to name a few.
Two: you are all familiar with the old leftie songs about raising taxes "for the rich”, "spreading the wealth around", et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, ad infinitum. The words may change, but the tunes are always the same. Anyway, back to the story. One of our offices had been floundering financially for a while, mainly due to the almost total lack of business acumen of the person in charge. At the periodic staff meetings, we were informed for about three times in a row that that office was performing at a loss. Finally, the powers that be announced that almost everyone at that office was let go (aside, of course, from the head who messed it up in the first place). Guess what happened next? One of my leftie, earth-sustaining, taxes-are-patriotic co-workers told me that he was glad it finally happened because (are you ready for this) this office was dragging the whole company down and it affected our bonuses and 401(K) s! Do not get me wrong, I understand the cold, sometimes brutal laws that govern capitalists-based economy. But for this bleeding heart leftie!!! Of course, he had to make a caveat that he sort of feels bad, he wants to be a team player, blah, blah, blah. All the compassionate, feel good rhetoric went down the drain when he felt the direct results of such wealth-spreading; and the fate of around thirty people who are now unemployed did not really bother him that much.
One: being a serious Harry Potter devotee, I was impatiently waiting for J.K.'s 800 word composition which she had penned for charity and which was supposed to be from "the prequel she is not working on". Long story short, I missed buying it from the publisher and ended up haunting the e-bay actions. Finally, the coveted transaction was completed, and now I was impatiently waiting for my package to arrive. After a while I was ready to e-mail the seller and politely inquire about the actual shipping date; lo and behold, I get the office mail to sort, and here it is: a hated orange post card with "we attempted to deliver your package". I ran after our rude mailman with the effing card, pointing out that a) the date indicated was a business day, and b) I was right here. No dice; he point blank lied about somebody else sorting the mail that day, and then rudely suggested that I should just go "around the corner" to the post office and claim my package. Since I do not get lunch break during the winter time, for yours truly it meant not only going to deal with another rude and disgusting federal employee, but also staying late after work to make up the time.
Overjoyed about the whole scenario, I called into question the competence, mental capacity, and legitimacy of the above mentioned post people. One of my co-workers happened to pass by my desk at the time and jokingly suggested to me to express my emotions and not battle them up. What he did not know was that my name calling and frustration were not just directed at the federal employees, but at him and his colleagues as well. Because the day it happened was the election day, and I knew that almost all of them made special efforts to vote for the new stinking messiah, who's official campaign promises were to put a whole new army of these incompetent nincompoops, who cannot even read properly and carry a 1.6 pound package to its destination, but somehow would be the only people capable and equipped to fix the economy and healthcare, usher the world peace, and control the climate, just to name a few.
Two: you are all familiar with the old leftie songs about raising taxes "for the rich”, "spreading the wealth around", et cetera, et cetera, et cetera, ad infinitum. The words may change, but the tunes are always the same. Anyway, back to the story. One of our offices had been floundering financially for a while, mainly due to the almost total lack of business acumen of the person in charge. At the periodic staff meetings, we were informed for about three times in a row that that office was performing at a loss. Finally, the powers that be announced that almost everyone at that office was let go (aside, of course, from the head who messed it up in the first place). Guess what happened next? One of my leftie, earth-sustaining, taxes-are-patriotic co-workers told me that he was glad it finally happened because (are you ready for this) this office was dragging the whole company down and it affected our bonuses and 401(K) s! Do not get me wrong, I understand the cold, sometimes brutal laws that govern capitalists-based economy. But for this bleeding heart leftie!!! Of course, he had to make a caveat that he sort of feels bad, he wants to be a team player, blah, blah, blah. All the compassionate, feel good rhetoric went down the drain when he felt the direct results of such wealth-spreading; and the fate of around thirty people who are now unemployed did not really bother him that much.
SOCIAL WHIRLWIND, MIDWOOD STYLE
Social hierarchy, norms, modes of dress, and the general structure overall are much more complex right here, in the midst of "diverse" Jewish community of Brooklyn, than it was amongst the British aristocracy. You just do not perceive it as such till you actually lived in the midst of this very strange tribe for a while; but today's discussion is not about the complexity and my personal opinion about it. This is just to recount a crazy chain of events that happened yesterday.
Partially due to the fact that it just happened to be a Sunday before the national holiday, partially due to the fact that we used to be quite sociable once a while (hence have quite a few friends), and partially due to the gorgeous spring like weather that we had yesterday, our family (almost in total, or just the most important representatives) ended up attending four different social events yesterday. Those were (in chronological order): a circumcision, a second birthday party for a little girl, a third birthday/special first haircut for a little boy, and a long overdue visit to an old friend whom we first met while he was a single student, and who is now blessed with a wife and few kids. Phew, that was exhausting.
Just to summarize a la MasterCard commercial:
Wake up calls to early for Sunday: 1 (your humble servant also had to go to a Medical professional in order to take care of her raging eczema)
Carefully prepared bag of food, snacks, and treats for munchkins: 1 (by Grandma, of course)
Total time spend looking for parking: 40 minutes
Total time spend in a car: 3.5hours
Pizza consumed: about 1 slice total per major player involved
Cake consumed: about 3 slices total per major player involved
Homemade sushi consumed: about 2 rolls per regular and 1/2 roll per vegan consumer
"Packalach": 2
Balloons involved: 3
Adult tempers frayed: 3
Vans borrowed: 1
Overtired toddlers: 2
Happy babies observed: 1
Mischiefs managed: about 50
Few extra pictures and memories of munchkins smiling and playing: priceless
Partially due to the fact that it just happened to be a Sunday before the national holiday, partially due to the fact that we used to be quite sociable once a while (hence have quite a few friends), and partially due to the gorgeous spring like weather that we had yesterday, our family (almost in total, or just the most important representatives) ended up attending four different social events yesterday. Those were (in chronological order): a circumcision, a second birthday party for a little girl, a third birthday/special first haircut for a little boy, and a long overdue visit to an old friend whom we first met while he was a single student, and who is now blessed with a wife and few kids. Phew, that was exhausting.
Just to summarize a la MasterCard commercial:
Wake up calls to early for Sunday: 1 (your humble servant also had to go to a Medical professional in order to take care of her raging eczema)
Carefully prepared bag of food, snacks, and treats for munchkins: 1 (by Grandma, of course)
Total time spend looking for parking: 40 minutes
Total time spend in a car: 3.5hours
Pizza consumed: about 1 slice total per major player involved
Cake consumed: about 3 slices total per major player involved
Homemade sushi consumed: about 2 rolls per regular and 1/2 roll per vegan consumer
"Packalach": 2
Balloons involved: 3
Adult tempers frayed: 3
Vans borrowed: 1
Overtired toddlers: 2
Happy babies observed: 1
Mischiefs managed: about 50
Few extra pictures and memories of munchkins smiling and playing: priceless
Wednesday, February 11, 2009
TOO GOOD TO BE TRUE
I had a little chance to complain before about my friend sort of standing me up for the Hashivenu weekend; here is an entry dedicated to the interesting young lady I ended up sharing a room with.
Thankfully, I did not really get a chance to socialize with her till Saturday night, because we both came there for different reasons, with different friends and relatives, and with different plans. Anyway, Saturday night, after enjoying the pool with my sis and the munchkins, I went back to my room and found my roommate watching financial news on MSNBC (which should have given me the first clue). Anyway, we engaged in some small talk, in the course of which she divulged to me that she used to work on Wall Street back in the day, but is now out of this racket, and happier for it. I just kept nodding and uhu-ing politely; and then the Madoff's name was mentioned on TV, and she shook her head and pronounced something to the extent that she cannot believe the gullibility of the people. "If it sounds too good to be true, how can you fall for it?" - was her wise exclamation.
"Why are you so surprised “ - was my answer -” just look at who was elected the President". Oh, Mama, who asked me to open my big yup? "What do you mean?" - was her immediate and aggressive response. I tried to explain my basic objections to the guy, to my detriment. I was treated to a whole lecture. She is a Republican (so what?); she disapproved of the war (what else is new?); Bush was a horrible President (again, what else); it is high time to elect a black President (thanks for repeating the lefty tripe); it is wonderful that so many Jews voted for him (so now HAMAS will withdraw their approval of his candidacy, Sharpton will yell "mea culpa" for the Crown Heights riots and will voluntarily report to the NYS DOC to serve a life sentence for the murder of poor Yankel Rosenbaum, and Jackson will publicly apologize for all his past anti-Semitic rants and completely retire from public life); just look at the wonderful cabinet Obama assembled (to her credit, back in December all we knew about those boys and girls wonders was that they were, to quote Burt, "retreads from Clinton's thrift shop"; now we know what a wonderful collection of honest people they are as well); she was very torn before the elections, and even consulted a Rav, asking him if she would harm our people by voting for Obama, and the Rav did not directly say that she would (to quote "Guys and Dolls", I plead the Fifth Commandment; or, in plain Yiddish, Oy, gevalt). There was more, of course, but my recollections are a bit hazy. Few times I tried, unsuccessfully, to offer to agree to disagree; to no avail; she plowed on.
To conclude: if you vote for a proven demagogue who refuses to even prove his basic eligibility for the office; who's friends, acquaintances, mentors, neighbors, and political allies are all domestic and international terrorists, Marxists, socialists, Mafiosi, crooks, cheats, and liars; who's own lady wife is open America-hater; and who's candidacy was celebrated by every single Jew-hating group here, and was endorsed by HAMAS; and, last but not least, who himself is full of arrogance and hot air that usually comes from the wrong body orifice - to vote this for the President of the United States is a result of hard brain work. But to fall for the clever manipulations of a big time financial schemer - that is, at best, a very naïve decision on your part.
I rest my case (at least for now).
Thankfully, I did not really get a chance to socialize with her till Saturday night, because we both came there for different reasons, with different friends and relatives, and with different plans. Anyway, Saturday night, after enjoying the pool with my sis and the munchkins, I went back to my room and found my roommate watching financial news on MSNBC (which should have given me the first clue). Anyway, we engaged in some small talk, in the course of which she divulged to me that she used to work on Wall Street back in the day, but is now out of this racket, and happier for it. I just kept nodding and uhu-ing politely; and then the Madoff's name was mentioned on TV, and she shook her head and pronounced something to the extent that she cannot believe the gullibility of the people. "If it sounds too good to be true, how can you fall for it?" - was her wise exclamation.
"Why are you so surprised “ - was my answer -” just look at who was elected the President". Oh, Mama, who asked me to open my big yup? "What do you mean?" - was her immediate and aggressive response. I tried to explain my basic objections to the guy, to my detriment. I was treated to a whole lecture. She is a Republican (so what?); she disapproved of the war (what else is new?); Bush was a horrible President (again, what else); it is high time to elect a black President (thanks for repeating the lefty tripe); it is wonderful that so many Jews voted for him (so now HAMAS will withdraw their approval of his candidacy, Sharpton will yell "mea culpa" for the Crown Heights riots and will voluntarily report to the NYS DOC to serve a life sentence for the murder of poor Yankel Rosenbaum, and Jackson will publicly apologize for all his past anti-Semitic rants and completely retire from public life); just look at the wonderful cabinet Obama assembled (to her credit, back in December all we knew about those boys and girls wonders was that they were, to quote Burt, "retreads from Clinton's thrift shop"; now we know what a wonderful collection of honest people they are as well); she was very torn before the elections, and even consulted a Rav, asking him if she would harm our people by voting for Obama, and the Rav did not directly say that she would (to quote "Guys and Dolls", I plead the Fifth Commandment; or, in plain Yiddish, Oy, gevalt). There was more, of course, but my recollections are a bit hazy. Few times I tried, unsuccessfully, to offer to agree to disagree; to no avail; she plowed on.
To conclude: if you vote for a proven demagogue who refuses to even prove his basic eligibility for the office; who's friends, acquaintances, mentors, neighbors, and political allies are all domestic and international terrorists, Marxists, socialists, Mafiosi, crooks, cheats, and liars; who's own lady wife is open America-hater; and who's candidacy was celebrated by every single Jew-hating group here, and was endorsed by HAMAS; and, last but not least, who himself is full of arrogance and hot air that usually comes from the wrong body orifice - to vote this for the President of the United States is a result of hard brain work. But to fall for the clever manipulations of a big time financial schemer - that is, at best, a very naïve decision on your part.
I rest my case (at least for now).
WORK FUNNIES
Part 5: A Case of Disappearing Psychiatrist
To the newcomers to this blog: I work in an architectural firm that basically specializes in two areas: municipal and healthcare projects. The first involves building and renovation of jails (both adult and juvenile), police precincts, schools, homeless shelters, ect.; the second involves the building and renovation of hospitals and laboratories; pretty nifty, actually, till you have to deal with one of my favorite population segment: people described by the oxymoron "public servants". But this story is actually about the other part of the firm.
The "healthcare group" has a few projects with one of the local hospitals; one of them was simply coded "Dr. Q". OK, computer accepts, and I definitely do not care; that is, till somebody actually explained to me what the project implied. Apparently, Dr. Q was some kind of hot shot psychiatrist with celebrity clientele, and the whole project involved converting a place originally designated for seven employees into a place designated for two employees (completed with private shower room), so that those celebrated clients can have privacy.
The project already went into a construction phase, and yesterday the project manager went to the job site, accompanied by a couple of assistants. Upon arrival, however, they were informed by one of the hospital's project managers that an interoffice e-mail was circulated the evening prior, informing the select few amongst the hospital staff that Dr. Q was no longer with the hospital. Our firm, in turn, was advised that the project is officially "on hold", and that was basically all the information we would receive.
My co-workers, being creative people, decided to hold a contest by providing explanations of what actually occurred. The best came from the guy who explained to me the meaning of the project to begin with: Dr. Q was probably the one who supplied ARod (or whoever he is) with steroids!
To the newcomers to this blog: I work in an architectural firm that basically specializes in two areas: municipal and healthcare projects. The first involves building and renovation of jails (both adult and juvenile), police precincts, schools, homeless shelters, ect.; the second involves the building and renovation of hospitals and laboratories; pretty nifty, actually, till you have to deal with one of my favorite population segment: people described by the oxymoron "public servants". But this story is actually about the other part of the firm.
The "healthcare group" has a few projects with one of the local hospitals; one of them was simply coded "Dr. Q". OK, computer accepts, and I definitely do not care; that is, till somebody actually explained to me what the project implied. Apparently, Dr. Q was some kind of hot shot psychiatrist with celebrity clientele, and the whole project involved converting a place originally designated for seven employees into a place designated for two employees (completed with private shower room), so that those celebrated clients can have privacy.
The project already went into a construction phase, and yesterday the project manager went to the job site, accompanied by a couple of assistants. Upon arrival, however, they were informed by one of the hospital's project managers that an interoffice e-mail was circulated the evening prior, informing the select few amongst the hospital staff that Dr. Q was no longer with the hospital. Our firm, in turn, was advised that the project is officially "on hold", and that was basically all the information we would receive.
My co-workers, being creative people, decided to hold a contest by providing explanations of what actually occurred. The best came from the guy who explained to me the meaning of the project to begin with: Dr. Q was probably the one who supplied ARod (or whoever he is) with steroids!
Tuesday, February 10, 2009
YOUR TAX DOLLAR AT WORK
Part 4
For some strange reason, I ended up knowing quite a few people in the construction/house renovation business. So, without further ado, here is a charming little story straight from one of my acquaintances.
This past Sunday morning, he was on his way to check on one of the job sites. All of a sudden, one of his workers calls him in a panic: "Inspector is here, and he told us to shut down!" So, the poor guy floors it, arrives at the site in record time, and finds the esteemed employee of the great city of New York issuing the following royal proclamation. Since there is no permit for working on Sunday, he is going to give tickets for every single building (that would have translated into a considerable hunk of lettuce), plus issue a stop order for two weeks (that would have basically left the owner of the project without his next to last under wears).
My acquaintance, being of the somewhat diplomatic bend, at first tried to explain that is was not his project, and he was only a subcontractor - the officer could not care less. Next, the sum of, if I am not mistaken, three hundred dollars was offered, which was met with open incredulity and comparisons to the sum total of tickets. The somewhat lively telephone exchange followed between the contractor and the subcontractor, during which the polite city inspector was making his own phone calls and yelling at his opponent about the "f-king Chinese" (I guess they were his previous or next stop). Finally, the following resolution was reached: the subcontractor paid the fully tax-subsidized city employee fifteen hundred dollars in cash, after which he (the subcontractor) was warned that if somebody else from the city comes and issues more tickets, it was not his (inspector's) problem. On that amiable note he departed.
Gee, I really wish I was able to work like this! Salary and gorgeous benefits for the whole family (willingly or unwillingly provided by the taxpayers); and then you would be able to put in a little overtime and earn some cash for vacation that you would need after such hard labors! I further wish somebody would offer me fifteen hundred dollars in cash and tax free; just imagine: my insurance company would save on my B12 shots, because I would just go to a spa, rest, and "pay up" some of my sleep debt. Everybody would win: my employers would gain better productivity, my insurance would save on payments, and the spa and spa employees would get extra revenue. I guess esteemed half-Kenyan; half-Muslim that managed to slither into the White House has it right, after all: government employees are the best people to stimulate the sluggish economy!
For some strange reason, I ended up knowing quite a few people in the construction/house renovation business. So, without further ado, here is a charming little story straight from one of my acquaintances.
This past Sunday morning, he was on his way to check on one of the job sites. All of a sudden, one of his workers calls him in a panic: "Inspector is here, and he told us to shut down!" So, the poor guy floors it, arrives at the site in record time, and finds the esteemed employee of the great city of New York issuing the following royal proclamation. Since there is no permit for working on Sunday, he is going to give tickets for every single building (that would have translated into a considerable hunk of lettuce), plus issue a stop order for two weeks (that would have basically left the owner of the project without his next to last under wears).
My acquaintance, being of the somewhat diplomatic bend, at first tried to explain that is was not his project, and he was only a subcontractor - the officer could not care less. Next, the sum of, if I am not mistaken, three hundred dollars was offered, which was met with open incredulity and comparisons to the sum total of tickets. The somewhat lively telephone exchange followed between the contractor and the subcontractor, during which the polite city inspector was making his own phone calls and yelling at his opponent about the "f-king Chinese" (I guess they were his previous or next stop). Finally, the following resolution was reached: the subcontractor paid the fully tax-subsidized city employee fifteen hundred dollars in cash, after which he (the subcontractor) was warned that if somebody else from the city comes and issues more tickets, it was not his (inspector's) problem. On that amiable note he departed.
Gee, I really wish I was able to work like this! Salary and gorgeous benefits for the whole family (willingly or unwillingly provided by the taxpayers); and then you would be able to put in a little overtime and earn some cash for vacation that you would need after such hard labors! I further wish somebody would offer me fifteen hundred dollars in cash and tax free; just imagine: my insurance company would save on my B12 shots, because I would just go to a spa, rest, and "pay up" some of my sleep debt. Everybody would win: my employers would gain better productivity, my insurance would save on payments, and the spa and spa employees would get extra revenue. I guess esteemed half-Kenyan; half-Muslim that managed to slither into the White House has it right, after all: government employees are the best people to stimulate the sluggish economy!
Monday, February 09, 2009
ONE FINE EVENING
One fine (at least I think it was fine) evening yours truly was making her slow way from the place of employment to the place of residence.
On the way home I stopped at the local supermarket. Checked the prices of food and cursed my favorite green people for driving those effing prices through the roof with bio fuel production and other nonsense. While shopping, also marveled at the latest abundant “multiculturalism” of my neighborhood, their universal and extremely unappealing non-Americanism, and cursed everyone responsible for the catastrophic influx of so called "undocumented workers". Finally came to my building; encountered more Russian cannibals (legal or illegal, I really do not care); cursed all responsible for allowing those cannibals to come here. Finished my chores. Went to my room and re-discovered the reason for my not only cursing, but actively fighting as well. Here, on my dresser, in plain view, was a latest picture of my niece that I was planning to frame. Later in the evening, accidently rediscovered another reason by glancing into a mirror that was never hung properly. I am not just fighting for the next generation, which was blessed enough to be born here; I am also fighting for myself and my generation!
G-d bless this country!
On the way home I stopped at the local supermarket. Checked the prices of food and cursed my favorite green people for driving those effing prices through the roof with bio fuel production and other nonsense. While shopping, also marveled at the latest abundant “multiculturalism” of my neighborhood, their universal and extremely unappealing non-Americanism, and cursed everyone responsible for the catastrophic influx of so called "undocumented workers". Finally came to my building; encountered more Russian cannibals (legal or illegal, I really do not care); cursed all responsible for allowing those cannibals to come here. Finished my chores. Went to my room and re-discovered the reason for my not only cursing, but actively fighting as well. Here, on my dresser, in plain view, was a latest picture of my niece that I was planning to frame. Later in the evening, accidently rediscovered another reason by glancing into a mirror that was never hung properly. I am not just fighting for the next generation, which was blessed enough to be born here; I am also fighting for myself and my generation!
G-d bless this country!
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!"
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!
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!
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)