Just when you thought...

If I was a Greek, and worshiped a pantheon of minor deities whose names began with "q", then I would certainly have a lot to be thankful for today. After all, it was undoubtedly these blogging gods who provided me with so much to write about! That would be if I was Greek. Fortunately, of course, I'm not. I'm Jewish. If I had been writing this at any normal time of the night then what would follow would be a serious blog post regarding Judaism in the 21st century, and how each one of us, in his or her own way, can do simply marvelous things. However, it is not currently a normal part of the night, and this gives me a lot of license to be silly. In order to save anyone from any future embarrassment, and me from having to use my brain, I think I'll post an old Joshua story. Here goes:

June 14, 2004
The 6th Joshua
Joshua’s Vacation

Joshua walked into his hotel room and tripped. When he got up he walked over to his bed and lay down upon it. Something faintly bothered him, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. After lying on the bed for four hours, trying to count the brush strokes on the ceiling, he realized what had been bothering him. He wondered what he had tripped on. As a rule, he only tripped on dead bodies, and since he had never seen one of those he rarely if ever tripped.

He got up to investigate what had been lying on the floor. It was a massive stuffed panda bear. He walked over to the door and examined it. The bear was in excellent shape, and it had a note hanging from the foreleg on the right. Joshua read the note. It said:

“Yo Man, what’s up? Like, uh, where you been till now? I been a missing you like so badly that I just like, uh, can’t imagine existing now. Even though I am. Duh.
RSVP Room 565”

Joshua thought about this note for a few minutes. It was obviously someone’s idea of a joke. The room number was not his own, and the writing was positively pathetic. Joshua decided to throw the panda outside the window and see what the rest of the world made of it. The panda wasn’t very heavy, and Joshua soon had it on his shoulders. The only problem with the whole scenario was that his window wouldn’t open. It seemed that his hotel did not believe in allowing its guests fresh air.

Later that night Joshua decided to burn the panda instead of chucking it out the window. He kept the note though, placing it securely between his “State of Florida Passport to Fun Gift Card” and his “Official Back Seat Drivers License with New Personalized ID Photo.” When the maid came in the next morning he asked Joshua what was up with the ashes in the bathtub. Joshua explained to him that he was a phoenix, and resurrected himself once a day, preferably in hotel rooms in Washington DC. The man looked at him like he was drunk, but consented to clean the room and get Joshua an Alka-Seltzer.

After his stay in the hotel Joshua went home. He met his best friend once-removed, and proceeded to have a stimulating conversation with him. “Hi best friend,” said Joshua. “Hi Joshua,” was the reply. After this delightful discourse Joshua walked up to his room, undressed, took a bath, and reflected, once he was out of the water, what had possessed him to talk so volubly with the male maid. “It must have been sheer madness,” thought Joshua, “thankfully I was not crazy enough to tell him of the panda.”

That night Joshua fell asleep. This was not out of the ordinary, but it always filled Joshua with a quite sense of joy that he, unlike his best friend, was able to fall asleep. The fact that Joshua’s best friend had no trouble falling asleep and in fact remained in that state for extended periods of time did not bother Joshua. Not much did bother Joshua. He always felt that being bothered was a very unmanly thing to be and only allowed himself to be effeminate when his best friend was not in sight. Joshua was almost never in the presence of his best friend, and so allowed himself to be bothered more than a careful person like him perhaps should have been.

Joshua woke up, smelled the morning coffee, and went straight back to sleep. He got up out of bed a couple of hours later, and, leisurely stretching his long limbs one by one with little satisfying pops, ate breakfast. He reflected on his boring life and decided that he needed a change. A trip to Florida would be just great. Besides, then he could use his “State of Florida Passport to Fun Gift Card.” He hadn’t used it in almost four months, and that was really a shocking amount of time for a person to not be in Florida when one had the advantage of a “State of Florida Passport to Fun Gift Card.”

Joshua’s flight to Florida had a stopover in Washington DC. He got a strange sense of Yogi Berra syndrome as he stared at the people from the district who were catching the plane down to the water-ringed land of pleasure. At least that’s what their tour package operator, who was a pretty shifty guy, had said. Joshua settled into his seat, and prepared for takeoff. It wouldn’t be coming for twenty-five minutes minutes, but of course one could never be too ready. Joshua stared at the people filing past him. They were a nondescript bunch. Most looked like caricatures of English tourists visiting Cairo for the fifth time, and wishing they had chosen not to always do the same thing, but that didn’t bother Joshua. After all, his best friend was there too. On the plane that is, not Cairo.

Joshua stiffened as a man sat down next to him. It was the maid from the hotel. Joshua was shocked. He didn’t know that people like that could afford to take vacations with sleazy tour operators. Joshua hoped the man wouldn’t recognize him. Of course though, he did. Joshua cursed his infernal luck, and wished that the plane had landed in Tuscaloosa instead of Washington DC. The maid asked Joshua how he was, and expressed surprised that Joshua wanted to go to Tuscaloosa. Joshua hadn’t realized how loud he had wished. “Oh well,” he thought, “this too shall pass.” And it did, of course; everything always does.

As the maid was leaving he handed Joshua’s best friend a package. “It’s the ashes,” he explained, “I thought that your friend here would want them. He really seemed attached to that animal. It’s a pity that it got burned. I would have liked to have met it.” The best friend looked at him strangely, but gave the package to Joshua back once they reached their motel room in Florida. Joshua took one look at it and tossed it out the window, in the process hurting himself. The window wasn’t open. After icing his head for a few hours he went outside onto the beach, took the box, recited a moving and beautiful poem about its demise, and threw it into the waves. By one of the miracles of modern divinity the box traveled a long way. It went through the Panama Canal, across the desolate stretches of the Pacific, and finally lodged ignominiously into a landfill on the waters edge in China. At that point it was buried.

Joshua would have liked to know that the animal got a decent burial in its home town. Well, a decent burial for a stuffed panda that is. Room 565 would have liked that too.

Osama Bin Laden-My part in his downfall

Today is the seventh anniversary of 9/11. I'm sure that a lot will be written, though probably not as much as should be written. One of the mercies of G-d is that over time we are able to forget.
Anyway, I played no major part on that fateful day, but like most people who were alive then I remember it vividly. Here then, in my own words, is an account unlike any other you have seen on this blog. By that, I mean that I didn't take any literary licenses with it.

I was in ninth grade in the Lubavitch Yeshiva of Minnesota-Wexler Learning Institute in the fall of 2001, and the Yeshiva was then located in the east wing of the Sholom Home East. We were taking off our Tefillin following morning prayers when Rabbi Nachman Wilhelm walked into the Zal and told us that a small aircraft had crashed into the Twin Towers, and we should say Tehillim. We said some, and were told that Seder would start at the normal time. After eating breakfast I went into Zalmen Kasowitz's room (did anybody notice yet that I'm an inveterate name dropper?), which also happened to be Avremi Klein's room (who else am I forgetting here?), and we sat and listened to the radio. By that time we heard that a second plane had hit, though neither tower had fallen. We stayed listening for about an hour, huddled up in a corner of the room, afraid that a member of Hanhala would walk in and confiscate the radio. As it turns out, the main member of Hanhala was watching everything unfold on a TV in a different part of the building, but at the time we of course didn't know that.

Afterwords I came into Zal and began to discuss the situation with Rabbi Mottel Friedman. Even at that point we knew that it had been done by Muslim terrorists, and I was convinced that war was in the offing. Later we went into class, and even though no one was interested in learning we did so because, as our teacher put it, "It's in the merit of those who died today."
That night Levi Feller came over and we sat and watched coverage on the TV. Over and over they showed the planes crashing in, and over and over we watched the Twin Towers tumble. A couple of times we saw footage of Palestinians dancing, but later on they stopped replaying it. That night, as I lay me down in my bed, I heard fighter planes circling in the sky, and realized that our national debt was about to skyrocket out of control.
OK, so that part isn't true, but the rest is.

Odd things

For the first time in many moons, I grew rather angry about this whole Rubashkin saga. I had been taking all their troubles as a big joke, confidently eating their food and waiting for the day when they would once again rein supreme in Jewish food-dom. But now it appears the OU has become involved, threatening to take away their certification of Rubashkin products unless the Rubashkin family stops making those products. Basically, they're a bunch of weasels who are kicking the horse after it's been slain.
Now I'm not defending Rubashkin here. All right, I am. What do you want from me? Should I criticize the meat company that has always been there for me?

In other, better news, I learned a great Maamar this morning, Ki Imcha Haslicha 1949. In it the Friedriker Rebbe curses out sinners. Well, that's perhaps not a fair assessment. He curses out people who convince themselves that what they're doing is not bad. It's a pity that I don't have the Maamar in front of me, because the Rebbe of course says it a whole lot better than I do. Anyway, go learn it yourself, hopefully it'll inspire a little guilt, which I think is all we can expect from this generation.

Moving right along, I'm distressed to see that no one could come up with any ways to make vast amounts of money off my new Chumra scheme. Where have the great Jews gone? I thought Jews were supposed to be the masters and exploiters of the world? Have they really proven the lies false? Is Henry Ford wrong?

Now that we've finished with that particular episode, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention Al Franken's only getting 65 percent of the vote in today's primary in Minnesota. He was supposed to get 90 percent. I actually voted for one of his opponents, Priscilla Lord-Faris, because I wasn't particularly interested in having him be my senator. Sure, Norm Coleman isn't perfect, but he's definitely preferable to someone who grew up in S. Louis Park.
And that, my friends, is all the news that is.

Milk and Meat, among other things sweet

Today I was learning some Chullin when I came across what may very well be the next Chumra of the week. You see, there was some Amora who commented that if his father was like wine, he was like vinegar. His father would wait twenty four hours between eating milk and meat, while the son only waited six. This got me thinking, "Why don't we do this?" I mean, there have been a million other crazy stringencies out there, why not one with an actual basis in the Talmud? As a side note, it's pretty funny that we're as strict as we are when it comes to Kashrus. If someone was man (stupid) enough to rule straight from the Gemara, he could have a much easier life than the one we are currently enjoying.
Anyway, the only problem I came up with my brilliant plan for this new "Chumra of the week" is trying to figure out how it would be possible to make money off it. After all, what's the point of religious extremism if there's no one to siphon cash out of the fanatics' pockets? I thought of several ideas, and I hope that my loyal readership will chip in some more.

1. Is everyone you know keeping Chalav Yisrael this Aseres Yemei Teshuva? One up them, and be the envy of all your Chaveirim, with the new 24 hour Milk+Meat combo wait pack! For more info, please dial 1-426-278-2537.

2. Do you not floss? Does your wife hate you for this? Then you need a religious excuse! Start keeping the new 24 hour Meat+Milk combo wait today! Just send a SASE to

IMAM ORON
C/O PT Barnum
617 6th St. Lakewood, NJ, 08701

3. Tired of trying to figure out if you can eat pizza on Motzei Shabbos? Just buy into our new 24 hour Meat+Milk combo wait! Scared you won't be able to pass the test? Buy our new 24 Cholent-one spoonful and we guarantee you won't be eating for 24 hours!

And now it's your turn folks...

Triple Jew Part II-It rhymes!

As promised, I’ll try to deal with the phenomenon of disenchantment with Chabad in particular and Judaism in general. I think that the first thing to make clear is that this is not a new phenomenon. The only stories we’re told, and the only people we hear about, are the guys who done good, the Chassidim who did extraordinary things, keeping their faith in the harshest of conditions. We don’t hear about all the people who didn’t quite make it, because why should our collective conscience wish to remember our failures? This is all perfectly natural, and I don’t think it’s blameworthy in any way. Still, I do think the point needs to be made that our generation is no better and no worse than any other. Heck, the Friedriker Rebbe’s grandson not only left Chabad but also tried to take some of it with him. And who will be remembered from our generation? In one hundred years, they’ll recall R’s Cunin, Feller, Shemtov, et all. They won’t recall the shlubs in Crown Heights or in San Fransisco, even if they stayed Frum and did their thing. They certainly won’t remember the kids who left the faith. Lubavitch at this point is big enough that even if one kid from each family goes out and marries a Muslim, everything will be all right, because the average family has four or five kids. I’m not saying that this is a good thing, because every Jew is precious, I’m just saying that I don’t think it would cause Chabad’s extinction.

One of the problems with Chabad is that we’re stuck in a holding pattern. We’re loathe to address any real issues, like this one, because we think that Moshiach is just right around the corner. I’m not saying that he’s not, I’m saying that this thinking is contributing to the problem. The Rebbeim didn’t avoid issues because they thought that they just needed to wait a little longer and everything would be all right; they dealt with the issues, because that’s what a leader has to do. Even when people say that they appreciate this point, they still don’t act on it. Is Moshiach coming? Yes. Does Chabad need to work on its issues? Yes.

Now onto the the particular people I talked about earlier. The first, our scion of great Lubavitch figures, has abandoned the faith of his fathers because he doesn’t believe in the divine origin of the Torah and he’s not interested in keeping its strictures. Which of these two conditions came first I’m not sure. He’s not the type of guy who can be won over by arguments; perhaps if someone offered him a cash settlement to stay frum he’d take it, but other than that, I’m not sure if there’s anything anyone can do about him. Perhaps when he matures, or leaves the fold for a while, he’ll realize what he’s missing, but whether that happens I can’t be sure. It would be patronizing of me to suggest that in some way he is deficient in his knowledge of Judaism; he knows a lot more than me, and all I can say is that if you don’t believe, or don’t want to believe, then that’s all there is to it.

My second friend is questioning his Judaism but trying to make it all work. His faith has been damaged by his unanswered questions. All I’ve been able to tell him is that he needs a Mashpia, a spiritual guide. What else can I tell him? I certainly don’t have the ability to argue him into the perfect faith that is the ideal of our religion. Of course, the Judaism gurus would have you believe that in fact perfect faith is not necessarily the ideal, and I suppose they’re correct. I also know that my friend would rather not have to deal with his issues, but such is his fate, and he must deal with it.
My third friend believes in Judaism, but he doesn’t understand why it’s so obsessed with details. Again, he’s intelligent, and knows all the answers that anyone could give him. All I was able to tell him was that perhaps he should leave Chabad and become Modern Orthodox or something. I think he realized the ridiculousness of my suggestion, which was my intention. He is of the school of “if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing well”, and will probably not do anything, though he will threaten. At the same time, I never expected to hear him talk the way he did when I spoke to him, so perhaps something interesting will happen. Who knows?

And at the end of the day, maybe everyone is just sowing their wild oats and will come back to the flock later. Or maybe they won’t. And that’s just the way life is.

A quick word of Torah

I know I promised an exhaustive analysis of the situation in Chabad, but right now I don't really have time, so I'll just write a couple of quickies that I heard from Rabi Baruch Zvi Friedman tonight.

At the Kinnus Hamechanchim earlier this year some guy got up and gave a speech about how the way to get our children connected with the Rebbe is through teaching them about his life. Obviously, he elaborated a lot on this point, but BZ didn't, and therefore I also can't. Be that as it may, the Rosh (of YOEC fame) got up to give the next speech, and said that the way to get to know and connect to the Rebbe is not through not his life. After all, do we know Moshe through the stories of his life? No, we know him through the Torah that he gave us. Do we know the Rambam through his life story? No, we know it through the Yad Hachazakah, his seminal work of Halacha, and all his other Sefarim. Do we know the Rebbe through knowing his life story? Sure, it's nice, but we can only know and connect to the Rebbe through learning his Torah.

The Rosh continued

I hear bochurim in my Yeshiva making fun of Bochurim in "snag" yeshivos, saying that they're motivated to learn only because they're told that one day they can grow up to be a Gadol Hador, or at least a Talmid Chacham. In our Lubavitch Yeshivos, they motivate Bochurim to learn by offering them (And the following is the Rosh's exact words) one thousand dollars, or three thousand dollars, or even Rachmana Litzlan an iPod! And that's fine, if you need an iPod to learn, then great. But don't you dare make fun of snag Bochurim then who learn in order to become a Talmid Chacham!

Triple Jew

Three times in as many months I have listened to Bochurim describe to me their disenchantment with Chabad in particular and Judaism in general. I'd like to write a whole post explaining what they're going through, why it's quite terrible, and the six steps we can all take to prevent such things from occurring in the future. Unfortunately, that won't be possible, because there is no one answer, or indeed even three answers to this issue. Many would argue that indeed there is no issue. With most people I would simply shrug my shoulders and say something along the lines of, "You win some, you lose some," or, "Just separating the wheat from the chaff," or perhaps, "Good for them." But you see, these are three Bochurim who have not only entrusted their stories with me, but are also vain enough, even if they wouldn't admit it, to want to those stories be published, even if it is only anonymously.
Still, I'm hardly in the mood for biography tonight, and so I'll merely make some general comments on the state of Chabad in general and Judaism in particular.
One of my friends has given up the faith because he's lost his belief in the religion; another is terrorized by questions of deep religious import, and the third is disgusted with Jewish life (hypocrisy being a chief complaint) as we know it today. All in all, three different complaints, and yet they all do have one thing in common. The system has failed them. And it's not like they are of one stock: one is a scion of great Lubavitchers, while another only became fully Frum after his Bar Mitzvah, and the third is the son of Baal Teshuvahs in Crown Heights, and a product of the Lubavitch educational system in that great bastion of Chassidism.
It would seem that we've failed these guys. Or maybe we've failed everyone. Or no one. It's so difficult to understand what is really happening. There are guys who seemed to be failures at the age of fifteen, and yet ten years later they're a credit to their community. Others were early-bloomers, and like roses in December they have disappeared, all the glory of their religion and learning seemingly lost in the cold winter of reality. And yet...may there yet be a spring for them, may they one day come back and reclaim the heritage which they cast off so many years ago?
Who knows? This is the problem with pontificating on these matters; it's so hard to do so without sounding bombastic.
Perhaps I'll deal with the matter at a further date. Perhaps not. I'm sure ya'll'll survive either way.

Shameless partisanship on a stick

It's really sickening that I've been so greatly affected by a couple of speeches at a political convention. Rudy Guiliani, Mike Huckabee, and Sarah Palin gave some great speeches tonight. It really pains me greatly that I have nothing snarky to say here. Still, I think that one woman's speech last night trumped all these, and will probably be a better speech than any we hear in the future. I'm talking about Laura Bush's speech. It's got to be really tough for her, to know that she won't be first lady in a few months, and that whoever replaces her will be married to a man who is a lot more popular than her husband is. And she stood by her man and told the world why she still thinks he's great, a position that I agree with. You think his presidency was a failure? Are you kidding me? First of all, in 2000, I took on my entire class, and my social-studies teacher, and won. If Bush had not triumphed in Florida, who knows where I'd be now? The man provided many hours of humor, and even saved a bunch of people in Africa, which I suppose is a good thing. It's a pity that I have yet to find a transcript of the speech, but here's a video. Watch it. You may find yourself thanking our President for a job well done.

All right, the partisanship is killing me right now. Is this the same TRS who attended a Barack Obama speech in the House that Norm Built? Has the humor which I pretend to totally been swept aside by the soaring eloquence of a few hack politicians who are desperately trying to stay relevant in the next four years by asserting their place at the GOP table now? These are questions I ask you.
Meanwhile, last night I had a request to explain what exactly I meant when I said that this was how the west was won. At the time I was merely referencing a popular, and rather ancient, movie, but now I suppose the time has come to defend my proposition and show that not all I say is entirely meaningless and without merit.
The west was won by community organizing, voting present at the state senate, and writing memoirs. No seriously, it was won by sitting in a prison in Vietnam for five years and banning people from taking other people's money to run roughshod over other people in elections. Oh yeah, and he also put thousands more of Americas troops in harm's way, despite the counseling of virtually everyone, and somehow managed to come out looking like a genius.
Oh man, I just can't seem to shake this GOP thing I got going now.
And some might even say that that's a good thing.

Where have you gone?

So people are getting bored of Joshua, eh? I guess it might just be time to stick him back in a closet and wait another five years until he's appreciated again.
Today I went to a Republican Jewish Coalition event at the Walker Art Center which was ostensibly about honoring pro-Israel governors. Sure, we got there half-way through, but is that any excuse for there being no governors when I arrived? Dennis Prager emceed the event, but as I say, it was basically over by the time I got there. Nu nu. The good news was that I got to see a lot of people eat non-Kosher food (and I'm not being OCD Frum here either-we're talking Wolfgang Puck catering) at a Jewish event. Sure, there was Kosher food also available, but it was by the back wall, and all the servers going round with tasty-looking Hors Dourves were certainly not carrying Kosher food on their trays. I asked several people if they wanted to put on Tefillin. One, who looked like an ex-Yeshivishe guy, declined, and wondered if I should be asking people to put on Tefillin at a private event. I said, "Hey, it might be private, but by golly it's Jewish!" He didn't put on, and neither did anyone else, but hey, at least I tried, right?
Following this extravaganza it was time for Civic Fest, which is a really cool event in the Minneapolis (our not so fair twin) Convention Center, which brings together lots of political and Minnesota exhibits under one roof. At the RJC they were giving out lanyard-type credential thingamajiggies. You know, the things that hang from people's necks and allow them to do shtuff from which mere mortals are forbidden? Great.
The reason I bring this up is that workers at Civic Fest wanted to know if I was a delegate to the RNC. I told them that I wasn't, which was the whole truth, but wish I had just once said that I was, and seen what happened. Maybe they take delegates into a special room and give them lots of money. Maybe they don't. But I'll never know, will I?
Anyway, Civic Fest itself was very nice. I shmoozed with several people, and even gave an Israeli vendor the chance to put on Tefillin. He said he had done it earlier that morning, though I didn't believe him too much. Let's just say that I trusted him about as far as I'd trust a dead dog in April, which ain't too much at all.

And that, my friends and compatriots, is how the west was won.

Joshua gets feisty!

You know what really gets me annoyed? It's not Gustav. Sure, this pathetic hurricane which did nothing to anybody upstaged S. Paul, but I understand that. What really gets my fur ruffled is all these stupid protesters who are making a mess of my city. Who do they think they are? If I went around chucking rocks through windows and destroying cop cars, I'd be put in jail, but these people claim that they have rights, that it's an expression of "free speech". Morons, they should all be shot.
Meanwhile, I've heard calls for a treatment of the possible sexist attitudes towards everyone's favorite soon to be grandmother/VP candidate. Once again, I'll be passing the buck to Joshua, and let him deal with the situation.

"Hail to thee Joshua, how goes the battle?"
"Hi."
"That's it? I go all Elizabethan on you, and all I get is a simple 'Hi'? How reprehensible your behavior has become."
"I'd love to talk, but I'm too put out by all the nonsense I've been hearing lately."
"Like what?"
"For example, some doddering old fool has announced that some beehive hairdoed' mother of five is to be his mate in the running for the highest office in the land. What gives man?"
"You approve not of this most brilliant of choices?"
"I think it's ridiculous. Women are fit only for the kitchen."
"Joshua, I'm surprised at you. Even if you really believe what you're saying, I thought that you were at least PC enough to keep your feelings to yourself."
"There is a time for sweet words, and another entirely for the truth to be released from the bounds which hold it captive. In other words, I've had enough with the proletariat running roughshod over the Bourgeoisie-down with the revolution! Let loose the hounds of capital, unbind the hands of social repression, apply the chains of lower-class sublimation, allow the domination of the masses!"
"That's all well and good for a baron of industry, but what does it have to do with women?"
"Sorry, I got a little carried away. Let me try again: Men of the world unite! For too long have out hands been shackled, our legs manacled, our manhood stampeded beneath the train of fury that hath wrought upon us this lowly creature that presumes to rise from its natural lowness and replace its crassness with an assumed power over its rightful owners. The usurper will fail, it must fail, for its success would auger a terror to terribly alliterative to behold. What sin have we done to deserve this fate, an end more terrible than any other the human mind could possibly comprehend. Has the power which in former days we called our own forever left us? Rise up men of the world, and proclaim to all and sundry that the time of our submission is over; no longer will horror be out lot. Look out, you women of the world, for the end of your posturing is nigh. Men of the world, unite!"
"Quite impressive."
"Thanks. It was all I could get up at the spur of the moment, but I hope you liked it."
"Yes. But tell me, do you really believe these things? Even the most conservative have swooned at the woman you despise."
"I don't despise her, I just think she should be at home taking care of a down syndrome child and keeping a close watch on her promiscuous daughter."
"You cad! How can you criticize the mother of a down syndrome child, or castigate the family of a candidate? Even your messiah has declared that these people are off limits, and he's said that he'll fire his people for commenting on her people's dealing with other people, or something very much like that."
"If I was bound by the pronouncements of that puppet of the vast left wing conspiracy to deliver America to her enemies and prepare for the second coming of Karl Marx, then I wouldn't be here pontificating on an obscure blog in the outskirts of humanity's drive for sanity."
"What? That made very little sense."
"All I'm trying to say here is that I'll say what I want, when I want, because despite what the current President seems to think, this is still America, and I can still say whatever I want."
"Actually, in many cases, it is illegal to incite people to do certain things."
"Yes, I suppose that's true."
"It's also funny that on the one hand you're quite elitist, and seemingly an upstanding right-winger, and at the same time you harbor a visceral hatred for the people who currently inhabit the big house on Pennsylvania Avenue."
"I'm actually a big fan of the Junior Bush in the White House. No matter how many mind-numbingly stupid things he may have been accused of doing in the past eight years, he is still-"
"Joshua?"
"Did you just interrupt the eloquence issuing from my mouth?"
"Yes, and here's why: I think that it's time for you to settle down in the world, and start having some real positions, to begin to actually believe something."
"But that would be so boring!"
"Contrary to your opinion, life is not all about excitement."
"But if people were to know what I actually believe, then I couldn't argue with myself effectively."
"Do you think you effectively argue with people as it is? Your opinions are so wild and your words so ridiculous that no one listens to you seriously anyway. They're just being polite."
"No, they're actually fascinated I think that you're confusing their stares of shock and awe with those of politeness. A careful student of the human condition, as I am, will be quick to note that the two are in fact quite different."
"How so?"

I bet that the following words, if left alone, would excite the most comment on this blog, even if they're really periphery in every respect. Now that I've said that, of course, no one will dare give me the satisfaction of being correct, and they'll unwittingly make me right by not commenting. Of course, it they comment, then they're also proving me correct. They can't win!

"Polite people have a glazed look in their eyes that says that they're more interested in the doughnuts you're undoubtedly holding in your hands than in anything you have to say. Shocked and awed people have their mouth hanging open in bewilderment, and if you can keep the effect going for long enough, then they might even drool, which is always quite gratifying."
"Maybe the drool is because of the doughnut."
"Impossible. They'd have stolen it out of your hand long before any drool would begin its slow descent out of the mouth and its much speedier fall to the worms of the earth."
"That's quite disgusting, and with that I think I'll have to end the conversation."
"Charmed, I'm sure."
"Hardly."