Yes we couldn't

Whoever thought that all that hope and change would end up in nothing?

Less or more

Normally I don't write about politics. This isn't because I'm not interested, but rather because I have nothing particularly strident to say about the matter, which in politics is as good as having nothing at all to say. Back in the day, before things were the way they are, I was quite loud when it came to politics, and probably made quite the nuisance of myself. This wasn't any different than anyone else discussing politics of course, so no one really minded.

Today I find myself thinking more and more about the state of Israel, the good 'ol USA, and the people governing both these countries. If there's one thing that's true in this whole sordid saga, it's that we really don't know what's going on. What's Bibi, Barack, Hilary, Avigdor, David, Tzipi, and all the rest really thinking? I wish I knew. But we don't know, and instead we're left reading articles and listening to talking heads and watching silent heads who all really don't know what's going on either, but they're being paid to say something, and by golly they're going to say it.

So what's there to think? You could go for the "L-rd of Israel neither sleeps nor slumbers" route, which is all well and fine, but it's not particularly interesting. In fact, if you choose to look at the world through this particular prism, what else is there to do? Wake up, brush your teeth... brush your teeth, go to sleep. Not much worrying required. Not much thinking required either.

Alternatively, you could rush headlong into the battle, calling up talk shows with opinions no one's interested in, reading every single pertinent article online and making sure to leave at least three comments on each one, and of course going to mikveh every morning to catch up on the latest gossip. This option has the benefit of being exciting, but that's about it. As much as you talk, you're not going to accomplish anything. All right, a lot of people evidently don't mind uselessly prattling away, but even they would (hopefully) admit that it's a waste of time.

This leaves only one option: angsty posts. Yup.

Reports of my disintegration have been exaggerated

Crazy thing, this whole marriage shebang. Takes up a whole lot of time, you know? Seriously.

Meanwhile... the esteemed leader of our local congregation Rabbi Asher Zeilengold attended the Sheva Brachos on the first night of Rosh Hashanah, and mentioned to me there that he thought I was trying to put my own political views into the discussion when I was saying the maamar by the Kabbalos Panim. I thought he was referring to the part where it goes on a bit of a rant about how Jews are so much better than non-Jews. I, cognizant of my audience, had inserted a whole thing about how "What it means is that Jews are not bound by nature and non-Jews are", or something to that effect.

I asked the Rabbi what he meant, and he said, "You kept on saying how Obama is bad!" I said, "Huh?" He said, "Sure, in the maamar, it talks about before davening, when a person considers himself to be a bama, a structure, meaning that he's haughty and full of himself!"

Cute, eh?

Golden

Silence is a pretty wild state of being. Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn't. For example, if your sister has just given birth (which she did, incidentally), then it's probably not a great idea to just sit there numb with the news. Ideally you should jump and shout and whatnot until everyone starts looking at you a little funny, at which point you can go into the kitchen and fix yourself a strong drink.

Another bad time to be quiet is when your team is down by a touchdown/run/(field)goal and they have the ball/puck at the twenty yard line/bases loaded/powerplay/there's a reason they call it the National Boring Association. You shouldn't be quiet at this moment, because it's ridiculous to be quiet when you still have a chance to come out ahead.

Sometimes though it's a good thing to just shut up. When you're sitting in class the first day, and your teacher announces that his name is Mr. Slartibartfast (and even more so when he writes it down on the blackboard), it would not be a good idea to snort loudly and announce to your nearest classmate that your new teacher had a name like a pencil on steroids. Aside from this not being very happy, it would also probably result in threatening behavior from your new teacher.

Silence is also tremendous when you're talking to someone and they're ranting about this, that, or the other, and they have absolutely no clue what they're talking about (this happens to me quite often, strangely enough). What's to do? Sure, you could correct their every misconception and try to help them see the light, or at least stop spreading the darkness, but would this really be effective? Probably not. Most people who engage in this sort of anti-social nonsense aren't willing to have their world views change. Even if they were, they aren't interested in hearing about it from you. So what's to do? Shut your mouth. Let it go. Realize that contrary to what VIN thinks, you aren't going to change anyone's minds.

Change we can believe in is quite possibly the most important phrase to ever come out of Barack Obama's mouth, but is that change really going to be accomplished by talking? I don't think so. Look, he's been talking for like fifty straight years now, and what do we have to show for it? The first Kenyan ever in the White House. Whereas when he was finally quiet, at the beer summit, this nation changed in ways more incredibly then you (the average blog reader) will ever be able to appreciate. Of course, since you are reading TRS it shows that you're better than the average blog reader, so maybe there is hope after all. Hmm, interesting question.

Secret journeys of menessness

It's been more than a week since I last blogged properly. So much has happened in that time, and of course I'm not at liberty to disclose most of the excitement (the CIA made me sign a nondisclosure agreement). Still, Leon Panetta knew that I was a blogger when he asked me to do some work for the company, and I'd be remiss if I didn't share some of the exciting adventures that occurred to me in the last few days. It's your choice whether you want to believe them or not, but let's just say that Michael Jackson's death sure was mysterious, eh?
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It all began last Friday morning, when I received a phone call from the CIA asking me to take part in a classified mission. I didn't find out that the call was from the CIA until later, because I didn't recognize the number and why should I pick up the phone if I don't know who is calling me? Anyway, I figured that they'd leave a message if it was really important, and then I'd call them back. They did in fact leave a message, but I didn't pick it up on Friday morning because there were seven messages preceding it, and I wasn't interested in listening to all of them.

That Saturday night I picked up the message, and recognizing the importance of the call immediately resolved to phone them back. I finished my delicious mustard+mozzarella tostino (thanks sister!), had a quick drink, and dialed the phone number. Within minutes I was preparing my kit for what would prove to be one of the most dangerous and thrilling adventures ever experienced by man or woman. I asked what I should tell my faithful readers, who would of course be wondering where I was and what I was doing. My handlers told me to tell everyone that I was on vacation, and helpfully provided the following picture to demonstrate:
Of course, I was really far away doing exciting things. I left for my secret destination at just past midnight, and arrived a couple hours later, disgusted with the talk radio I was exposed to on the way. Look, I'm all for Solomon Dwek ad nauseum as the rest of you, but why oh why do stupid people have to call in to offer their stupid opinions as well? My new policy is that anyone who calls a talk radio show (and a Jewish one for that matter!) must be a couple french fries short of even the most desultorily depressing meals. So that was that.

So there I was, in the most foreign of countries, awaiting further instruction and eating some ginger crunch. When the call finally came I was ready, and I immediately moved into position behind enemy lines. The lodgings I had stayed in when I first arrived were at once rejected by the firm as being far too opulent for the image they wanted me to maintain, and so I was thrust from a life of comparative pleasure for one of much suffering and great distress: the mattress sagged terribly in the middle. Being a professional often requires one to make these sorts of sacrifices, and the additional factor of its being for my country somewhat mitigated the circumstances surrounding this most disastrous (for my back) development, but even this did not prepare me for the crowning misery that was to be my constant companion in that most foreign of countries: a significant lack of wireless internet. No longer would I be able to indulge in the pleasure that is the largely-ceremonial checking of the email or the mostly-menial drudgery that is the the updating of the blog. Still, as I wrote previously (read a few sentences above if you've forgotten already), I was doing this for King and Country, and knew that I need not fear, for the other King was near.

What exactly did my super-secret mission entail? If I told you that I'd have to shoot you-seriously, what did you expect? The mission was super-secret! All right, I understand, you're dying for a little enlightenment. Basically, the CIA really really really wanted me to do some shtuff here, take care of some of these people, and generally make mayhem appear in the mountains and run down like a righteous stream spreading democracy and other forms of goodness for all men and women under the sun. Oh yeah, they also wanted me to locate Porter J. Gross' lost dry-cleaning, but I didn't have much success in that endeavor.

On Wednesday a secret CIA spy plane dropped me off at the New Jersey Transit station in Morristown, New Jersey, and I waited forty five minutes for a train. I had run out of provisions the previous night, and was therefore subsisting entirely on earth, wind, air, and fire. When the train arrived I boarded (could a more natural progression be affected?), carrying with me a portmanteau filled with quite valuable products that also happened to way more than your average pet parakeet's panoply of potpourri. A few minutes into our journey produced a stoppage of unusual duration at a train station, followed by the news that a tree had fallen down and blocked the path we were to take to the terminus of our journey's purpose and self-same existent purpose, and we commenced to continue our waiting for a time in the future when all branches would be cleared and we could once again commence to continue our self-same journey in the all the comfort provided by useless redundancies and the Comet V. So that was what, forty minutes? Yeah.

Remember, in a few short hours from then I'd be beginning one of the 25 hour fasts Judaism is famous for, and I was still without victuals. Shortly after making it past Short Hills the power went off, and wild jubilation sprung forth. Correction: there was no longer any air conditioning, and we all began to suffer in turn. At this point I really started to be annoyed with my CIA people persons for putting me on this train, and as if by magic there was instantly projected over the on-board speaker system (give or take fifteen minutes) instructions to vacate the current train because there wouldn't be no train to Krenitz that day. In other words, the lack of electricity was terminal, and if we wanted to reach the terminal in New York we'd best lug our way over to the other track, where a rescue train would soon live up to its name.

At this point I noticed a chassidishe woman (I was unable to see her socks, and therefore could not ascertain which brand of Bobov she pledged her allegiances to) on the train with me, and I thought that perhaps she'd have some cholent and kishke with her, or at least a few rice cakes. Before I had a chance to confront her/beg for food I was faced with the insurmountable challenge of getting to her position, and my heavy case filled with valuable products of a most holy nature proved no match for her three shopping bags. In short, she left me in the dust. Fortunately for her (for who knows what I would have done in my food-fueled rage against the machine?) another train soon appeared on the horizon, and once we arrived in Manhattan I fully expected the inhabitants of the last three hours of my universe to break into spontaneous dance and shower the conducting crew with accolades more deserving of those who wear pink shirts in Oshkosh than of a bunch of overweight white guys just trying to do their jobs and get home in time for supper. I soon learned that this was not to be, and my disappointment was only rescued by a not-so-chance-filled-but-certainly-well-hyphenated encounter of a third kind with a very special blogger in the station that rejoiced in its Pennness.

And thus was Tisha B'Av won.

Like it is

I am a crew member of that ship of fools, the sneering liberal elite, a cheerleader of the chattering classes, a loathsome Labour luvvie, a champagne socialist a – goddammit – a celebrity, a twittering celebrity dripping with the sickening syrup of popular culture, political correctness and nauseating kneejerk liberalism that is the leading symptom if not the primary cause of our national decay. It is as if all nature conspired to make a living suppurating mass, a walking purulent bolus compounded of all the poison and pus that oozes and weeps from the sores of today’s Britain and gave it legs, life and a name.

-Stephen Fry

Dear TRS: Happy?

That's right folks, it's time for another exciting edition of Dear TRS, the quiz show you get to play along with too! Enjoy.
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Dear TRS: Why have you become all holy lately?

Sincerely,

Karl

Dear Karl,

Censorship is an interesting phenomenon. Some people are censored by the government, others by their own conscience, others by their own lack of restraint. The punishment for trying to avoid censorship varies as well. In some places the attitude is one of benevolent allowance-try us as much as you want, ain't nothing getting through... but ten points for trying! In other places they not only control what you say but punish you for trying to say it. In those places it's, "What? You dare trifle with me? Guards, go break his legs!" Neither of these approaches really accomplishes what it is that the censor is trying to effect-his job is not simply to remove objectionable material, but rather to remove the conditions that allow for the material to ever get to him in the first place. All right, if the censor is just looking for entertainment then he can have plenty of that with the status quo, but then he's not really the ideal censor. No, what you're really looking for is a guy who can convince the producer of the objectionable material that what he's doing is wrong. Not illegal, but wrong. And yeah, I know it's asking a lot of a pencil pusher sitting in some anonymous government highrise somewhere in the middle of the bible belt to radically affect some radical hippy cross-dressing dudes wearing floral print dresses and floppy straw hats with little pins that say "Free Tibet!" on 'em to make much of a difference, but trust me, it is possible. How do they do it, this select band of censors with soul, this prized group of bowdlerizers with the breath of divine life flowing through their parched bones (for how can a person whose whole being is dedicated to the muzzling of their fellows have anything but the driest of Ezekiel valley special?), these suppressionists with a sense of mission, a belief in the ultimate goal that has eluded so many?

The answer is very simple. Guilt.
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Dear TRS: Why do they use phones to call in guys from the bullpen? Wouldn't texting be much easier?

Sincerely,

Snert

Dear Snert,

Even better, they could tweet it! Just imagine, the manager tweets, "@Orlando Mercado Joe Mauer just walked, we need @Darren Oliver in here pronto!" And the tweet back? "@Mike Scioscia the fireman cometh!"
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Dear TRS: Is there any specific reason why the Twins had to blow the game tonight?

Sincerely,

Joe and Jason

Dear Joe and Jason,

Well, you two certainly did everything that could be expected of you. It's been a tough road trip, eh?
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Dear TRS: Why the heck does Iran have twelve vice presidents?

Sincerely,

Karl (again)

Dear Karl,

The president must have a lot of vices.
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Dear TRS: Since when did it become socially acceptable to roll hoops?

Sincerely,

Mackenzi Van Engelenhoven

Dear Mackenzi Van Engelenhoven, let me first tell you that I really appreciate your question. No, really, I do.
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Dear TRS:

I'm very insulted if my name doesn't appear at least twice in every publication in America,

Sincerely,

Barack H. Obama
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Dear Mr. Obama, happy?
_____________
And that folks is the end of the line. Did you enjoy playing the quiz show you get to play along with too?

It's not polite to belch in my ear

If you're wondering who that was pushing a double stroller around Crown Heights the whole day wearing a long black coat, black pants (thank you very much), a black hat, black shoes, and a very long white scarf, then you've come to the right place for the answer. It was pretty weird too, because some Lubavitcher dude was taking pictures around 770 this morning and it sure seemed like he was taking them of me. But maybe he was capturing Lucky Wolf. I don't know. Or maybe it's just my intense paranoia/egoistic tendencies which would think that someone would ever want to take a picture of me. It's funny in CH, because when you're a little famous they fawn over you like you're the next coming of Michael Jackson, but then when you get big they urinate all over you like you're the next coming of Michael Jackson. So right now I'm not even little famous enough to warrant fawning, but some day soon...
Meanwhile, getting back to that walking of mine. I had just turned from Crown to walk up Kingston (away from 770) and some older guy, normal looking, walks right by me and belches loudly in my ear. I turned to give him a look, he looked right back at me, and continued walking. That was strange. In fact, it was possibly the strangest part of my walk. Running into a bunch of sixth grade girls just coming out of school was also a bit odd, but I had the carriage and two cute nieces to protect me from any harm.

Meanwhile, in other news, it was nice to see Barack Obama get down to shirt sleeves in the Oval Office. Sure, it's classy and all to wear a suit jacket all the time, but doesn't it get hot? And if you want to tell me that they'll turn on the air conditioning, isn't that bad for the environment? And the tax payer's dollars? And if you'll tell me that it's winter, and it's all right if they simply turn down the heat a little, I'll say, "But hey, what about the wee wifie and the wee kiddies?" I mean, are they to suffer because of a sport coat? And if you'll say to me that they can take off their own coats, I'll say to you, "What if they weren't wearing any?"And even if they were, what if they didn't want to take them off? And what about Rahm Emanuel? The poor guy is a Chassidishe dude, obviously, who never takes off his jacket, even when he's eating salami sandwiches. With mustard of course. You understand the mesiras nefesh involved? Here he is, potentially lethal amounts of honey dijon goodness spraying all over, and he's wearing a jacket. And now that the Mr. President has taken off his, it's even more important for Rahm's ego to keep its on. Because Rahm has to show who's boss in this relationship. And to be perfectly frank, it ain't the black man. So yes, it is imperative that certain things be done in an increasingly strange manner as befits the oddness that is TRS.

The TRS inaugral special: W we love thee

After all the stress I've been under the last few weeks preparing for the test I thought I'd take today a little easy. Naturally that found me beginning Taaruvos. First thoughts? These beis yosef's are huge! The typeset in these shulchan oruchs isn't half as good as in the bassar b'challavs! And the maareches hashulchan is no shaarei yoreh deah. Man, I'm going to miss that. What a great Sefer. Rabbi Brod, if by some odd chance you're reading this, do the world a favor and continue the series, because even though Rabbi Chaim Schapiro argues with you a bit, you still made a great Sefer.

Meanwhile, several people asked me today if I'd be blogging about the inauguration. At first I thought not to, because truth be told I don't really care about it too much, but it is a historic occasion (Dick Cheney in a wheelchair!) and anyway it's nearly 1:00 AM and I don't really have anything else to write, so why not?

Barack Obama is about to become leader of the free world. That's a pretty cool job. And how will he assume these responsibilitys? With a mighty expensive party. Not that I begrudge him that. Still, it makes you think. Jews also have an inaugration of sorts every once in a while. Actually, it's a coronation. And some would claim that Mr. Obama is being corona ted right now, but again, I won't get into that. Point is, how do we crown our king? We pray mighty hard. Starve until lunch. Don't even get mezonos faren davenen. It's funny, because the snags all get to eat before shofar, but we don't. And once again I won't get into that.
So there we are, about to accept G-d upon us as king, all solemn as synagogue mice, listening to the blasts of the shofar and praying that we should be inscribed for a good year. And how does it work here in USA land? The guy's gonna give a big speech, which will probably not be among his best (he may think he's Abraham Lincoln, but trust me...), and there'll be all sorts of balls and parties and environmentally responsible stupidity. Where's the solemnitude? The reflection? All right. I'm sure it's there. I was just trying to form a comparison where none should have been attempted.
And yet. And yet tomorrow night, for the first time in eight years, there won't be a Republican in the White House. That is a bit depressing. I really like the guy who's leaving now. He never pandered to the public that placed its trust in him. He did what he thought was right, not what the public opinion pollsters thought was right. And he stood his ground when the whole world was arrayed against him. And now? How does it feel to be, what, sixty years old, and know that the most important thing in your life is now done? After this, it's all downhill.
But we can learn from our forefather Jacob, who saved his best years for last, that it doesn't have to be like that. Because if you're still alive, then you still have a job to do in this world. For our retiring president, that'll mean figuring out a way to get a Republican not named Bush (unless by some miracle Jeb decides to run) into power for the first time in what will be nearly a quarter century. That's a long time. So yeah, Mr. Bush, keep the faith, because I still believe you got it in you. And Mr. Obama? Do the right thing. As Americans we expect it of you.

And after all that political twaddle, how can you not be inspired folks?

Pictures!

Here are those pictures I promised a bit earlier. For more, and some videos, check out TC's site. He took the photos, so he's entitled to some credit, right?

Here's the Karkafta...


Group Tefillin...I'm wearing his baseball cap while he wears my Yarmulkeh (If that explains anything)


Shema


Part of the Line...


Barack Obama moments before I didn't shake his hand...


While we were in line I figured we should have a group photo, hence:


A random reporter from Fox who we met (and TC harassed)...

Barack!

Yes, tonight I went to the Obama speech in downtown S. Paul. It was pretty wild. We parked at 6:55, and encountered a line that was, oh, ten blocks from the Xcel Energy Center. We tried to find the end of the line, which took us another six blocks. Another four blocks formed after us. It was incredible. Literally tens of thousands of people all waiting in line. (Quick note: I just read these lines on MPR's website "You're noting the diversity of the crowd, right? As it wound down Cedar, there were Somali women on cellphones walking with men in yarmulkes." That was us! The only Frum Jews in a crowd of 40,000! Anyway, back to the story). We took a bunch of pictures, which will be going up tomorrow, and generally had a really great time in our two hours of standing on line. It was pretty funny, because all the people there were of course huge Obama supporters, and then there was us, four schmendricks who wouldn't vote for a Democrat for anything less than thirty-thousand in cash. Not that we broadcast our political views of course. After winding our way to, oh, five blocks from the arena, the cops came and told us that there was no more room. Officially Barack was only going to speak at 9:30, and like I told several people, now that he had said that his name was kind of Jewish it meant that he was on Jewish time and he'd speak at 11:00, earliest. It was only 9:10, so instead of giving up right then and there, like most people did, we ran the five blocks to the entrance, and encountered another line which was slowly snaking in. We hopped in, and it was there that the whole point of the evening was manifest. I somehow got into a conversation with a teenage kid, and asked him if he was Jewish. Of course he was. I happened to have my Tefillin with me, and asked if he'd like to put them on? Of course he did. So we made a Bar Mitzvah, right there in front of the Xcel Energy Center, with a large crowd looking on, and it was really wild. As I wrote, there'll be pictures up tomorrow. Who would've thought I'd get a Karkafta in the middle of a Barack Obama rally?
Anyway, we heard Barack begin to speak just as we made it past the Secret Service (they took away my laser pointer :(, but don't worry, I'll get over it) and up the escalator to the nosebleeds. At first we found seating in the stairs of the aisle, but then we were told to move for safety reasons and spent the rest of the speech standing, trying to see.
The man is a great speaker, but you already knew that. As pointed out in some article I read earlier this week, he has an incredible talent for cursing out McCain like there's no tomorrow and then accusing McCain of cursing him out, and this all being very unfair or something. And the crowd loved it. I couldn't hear several lines in the speech because the cheering was so loud. I myself didn't even clap my hands once, because why would I want to do that?
After it was all over we ran downstairs, and I came this ( - ) close to shaking his hand. Dang. Michelle came over, but I quickly withdrew my hand, because after all, though they may be pathetically low, I do have standards. We finally left at 10:30, after waiting for twenty minutes outside the X for him to come out.

So why did I go? It was really cool, a chance to see the next President, and oh yeah, that Karkafta. My first one too.

Devarim Shonim

Happy Yom Kippur Katan everybody! Today I had three or four half-baked ideas about what I wanted to blog about, and then I came up with this great idea; blog about Yom Kippur Katan. I did a quick search of the internet, and lo and behold, there's already a ton of sites that'll tell you all you want to know about it. So maybe I should just blog about various random-style tidbits?
A. For example, why is it that after you finish doing laundry there's always one sock that is still wet? It doesn't make any sense! Everything else is already beginning to burn, but this one sock has to decide to remain damp. And it's not like you can just put it back in the dryer, because who turns on a dryer for just one sock?
B. Why do we fast on the day before Yom Kippur? Because the moon is small. What does this mean? There's a story that in the beginning, the sun and the moon both shone, but the moon complained that two kings can't share one crown, so Hashem told the moon to go and lose its light. Asks the sefer "Chiddushei Shnei Hameoros", what does it mean that the moon should "go"? And how does the moon make itself smaller? He explains that in the beginning, the moon really didn't have any light of its own; rather, the moon shared a window (whatever that means) with the sun, which shone for both of them and made the moon think that it was shining. The moon complained, so Hashem told it to get out and find its own window, and automatically the moon became smaller.
C. Erev Rosh Chodesh is known as "Yom Kippur Katan" because it atoned for all a person's sins of the past month. Artscroll thinks you should all be fasting. Merely out of a deep sense of loathing for everything they stand for, I'd advise you to eat several slices of pizza today. Yes, I use four five Artscroll publications every day, but does that mean I shouldn't spit in the well which quenched my thirst? I think not.
D. Barack Obama is giving a major speech tonight in S. Paul's Xcel Energy Center. I'm trying to find a way to go. Why would I want to go? Mivtzoyim of course! But seriously folks, I think it would be cool to go hear the future President of America.
E. Is it really possible to always divide humanity into two parts? No matter which criterion is used, is it always haves and have-nots, hungry and satiated, exhumed and still-buried, hunter and hunted, bored and not yet bored, etc. ad infinitum? You get what I'm saying? That I have nothing more to write? Yeah, I figured.

Bill Clinton-Bubba, the first Hubba

You like the title, huh? I think it's pretty good. Unfortunately, I can't take credit for it. That goes to my close friend, Ira, who'll feature more prominently a little later on. In other news...
Take to the streets. Fine, don't take to the streets. Keep to your homes, where it's safest. All those who want a little excitement, danger, and possibly doughnuts should, however, leave their safe abodes and join the revolution. I am referring, of course, to the Barack Obama movement which is sweeping through our youths' brains and turning them all into mush. This movement, along with Lake Michigan and hybrid vehicles, is one of the greatest advances of the 21st century. An Obama presidency would be pretty boring to tell you the truth, or at least selective parts of it. The second anyone made fun of the guy, they'd be called a racist. Now if Hillary wins, Bill will be first lady, and that would be great. Just imagine the possibilities.
Why the sudden sarcasm you ask? Well, it's 5:00, I'm a bit tired, and life is moving in a stranger manner than my taste generally accounts for. See, I spent Shabbos in S. Paul, only the third time I've done so since, oh, Noach. It was nice, because there were a bunch of people here. It was like a Shabbos over the holidays, except that there was neither Matza nor Sukkah, so it wasn't too hard on anyone.
Many years ago, and I'm talking (ok, writing) really a long time ago, I had a very good friend. Tonight I just had a four hour IM conversation with him. Did we accomplish anything? I'd like to think so. Otherwise I'll be sleeping tomorrow for no good reason. That's all I'm really trying to accomplish here, you know, to help people a little.
And that's the last of it. Oh, and about Yossi Green's "The 8th Note". At first I couldn't stand it, but now I love the MBD song "Anovim Anovim", the Shloime Gertner number "Beshivtocha", Avraham Fried's "Hesech Hadaas", IM Helfgot's "Kanei", and Ohad's "Hatav Hashmini". Oh, and how could I forget Chaim Israel's Ve'oz Yihyu"? The others are slowly growing on me, especially "Layehudim" and "Yossel". It's funny, because whenever I curse a CD I end up loving it and looking like a moron. But that's not so terrible, right? My apologies especially to Chaim Rubin (living his life) for doubting his judgment. Please don't shoot.
The same thing happened with Shloime Gertner's CD "Nissim", both of Ohad's CD's, and Lipa's Likro Et Hahallel and L'ilu Ulilu. Man, I just butchered that. Sorry. Point is, it's better to have good music and look dumb than to have bad music and look smart, right?

Now the point

As you probably read already, today is my birthday, so I think we'll all celebrate by writing the top ten reasons not to vote for Barack Obama.
1. He's a Democrat (that one was obvious).
2. There's no substance behind his rhetoric.
3. He's developed a cult.
4. There's only one messiah, and he sure ain't a Christian.
5. He's surrounded himself with advisors who want to see the end of Israel and the destruction of world Jewry.
6. He opposes the war in Iraq.
7. Seriously, why would anyone want to abandon our commitments?
8. A President with the name Hussein?
9. Oprah likes him.
10. Your vote might make him win.

Am I being very nice here? Fine, so maybe not, but this guy is seriously scary. No other candidate that I can remember has ever had such a great chance of winning and such a lack of substance. Would Dole, Gore, Dukakis, or Kerry have been so bad? Probably not. Nothing would've changed in this country. But with Obama? Bad things will happen. The country will begin to demand healthcare, taxed will rise like nothings ever risen before, and I might even have to leave the country and go to California. Wouldn't that be fun?

Every day is a Super Duper Day!

I know that everyone was eagerly awaiting my post today, and I'm sorry that it's coming so late, but I only just (well, in the ballpark) came home from the Republican Caucuses, which I'll now describe for you in excruciating detail.
I showed up at my caucusing place, Expo Elementary School, at about 6:45. The place was packed. It took ten minutes to get past the lobby and into the gym. This gym was, by the way, the most pathetic excuse for an exercise facility that I have laid eyes upon in my many years upon this rapidly browning earth. Anyway, as the district leader said, they normally get about 100-150 people, and this year, due to the great interest showed by the public, they set up chairs for 250 people. About 600 showed up. First we got an invocation from a Reverend, who's name I unfortunately can't remember, who also happens to be deaf and actually signed first his prayer and then a political speech to us. Obviously, we got an interpreter.
Update! During Davening I remembered that his name is Emory Dively, and his website, though seldom updated, is http://www.emorydively.com. We then all stood for the Pledge of Allegiance, and I doffed my hat for the Stars and Stripes, and recited the pledge for the first time in, oh, ten years or so.
Anyway, we got some speeches from people running for Congress, as well as the state house, with much cheering in evidence when one of the would-be politicians called out Michael Pay-more for doing what he does best and trying once again to raise taxes. Then it was the turn for each candidate's people to give a two minute speech telling us voters why we should commit to their guy. First the Mccain guys roused the crowd, and it was nice that they mentioned his strong support for Israel. Next up was the Paul people, who were quite noisy, but also not too endearing. My view is, if I wanted to vote for a Nazi, then I'd move to Germany. Or Austria. Or somewhere like that. Huckabee's local spokesman then came to the fore and basically said that if you hate abortion and same-sex marriage, then go for him. Romney's young man said that he was Huckabee with a plan for the economy and the chance to win.
We split up for the actual voting, which goes by precinct, and I'd like to report to you that p3w6 (if I recall correctly) not only sat on chairs designed for six year olds but also voted 9 for Romney, 7 for Huckabee, 6 for Mccain, and 3 for Paul. Later we voted for delegates to the BPOU convention, which I would have been happy to attend except that it falls out on a Shabbos, which of course means that my religion prohibits my attending. Oh well. At least I got to tabulate the results, as a "teller", and though I was given the chance to skew the results I held firm and reported what people actually voted back to my caucus. Since none of the candidates really meant anything to me, I decided to vote for the four people who were trying to get into the convention for the first time. A little note here: We were entitled to five delegates, with three alternates. Since we only had seven people actually running it really made no practical difference one way or the other. We did have Georgia Dietz as our caucus chair, and from some recent articles in the Highland Villager (our local news organ) at appears that she's quite the live wire. It also appears that she used to teach at the Cheder (our local Lubavitch schooling organ).
A recommendation was passed supporting the gold standard or something. And that, my friends, was that. A beautiful exercise in Democracy, or Republicanism, depending on your bent, and now we can all rest assured that the Real Shliach's candidate, who I by the way neglected to mention, so I'll reveal my secret to the world and say that it was Mike Huckabee, will go on to great heights, but not the White House.