A Yom Hashoah Music Video

You Might be Dead But Your Body Can Still

CNN has the full story. I'll share the list with you. I think that they forgot to include mannequin and hat/coat rack. I have a few quick comments.

1. Get married (Some people equate marriage with death.)
2. Unwind with a few friends (Sure, I always keep a corpse to pal around with. They never interrupt me.)
3. Tour the globe as a scandalous work of art
4. Fuel a city
5. Get sold, chop shop-style
6. Become a Soviet tourist attraction
7. Snuggle up with your stalker
8. Don't spread an epidemic
9. Stand trial
10. Stave off freezer burn

Wanted: Women to eat chocolate For a Year

Who wants to volunteer for this.

LONDON, England (CNN) -- Scientists in the UK are seeking 150 women to eat chocolate every day for a year in the cause of medical research.

The trial, at the University of East Anglia in Norwich, eastern England, will test whether a natural compound found in cocoa, the main ingredient of chocolate, could cut the risk of heart disease among women with diabetes.

A Belgian confectionist has created the special chocolate bar containing high levels of flavonoids -- a plant compound that has been shown to reduce heart risk factors -- to be used in the experiment. Soy, another natural source of flavonoids, has also been added to the bar.

Participants, who must be postmenopausal women under the age of 70, will have their risk of heart disease tested on five occasions during the year to see whether change occurs.

"The hypothesis of this exciting study is that flavonoids may improve the level of protection against heart disease over and above that provided by conventional drugs," said Dr. Ketan Dhatariya, a consultant in diabetes at the Norfolk and Norwich University Hospital.

"If the trial confirms this, it could have a far-reaching impact on the advice we give to postmenopausal women who have type 2 diabetes."

For the full story click here.

Vocabulary Time Part 7

It is vocabulary time again. Here is part one, part two, part three, part four, part five and part 6. It is probably time to provide a list of the words that have graced your computer screen. You'll be able to find it beneath the current words.

Here are your new words:

Ollendorffian
gerascophobia
bathysiderodrophobia
hormephobia
cacoethes loquendi
cacoethes scribendi

And here is a list of the past vocabulary words we used.

saudade
Scaturient
Walpurgisnacht
barlafumble
defalcate
Dactylonomy
recrudesce
videlicet
temerarious
Tentiginous
Urinator
usufruct
Jackpudding
Jobbernowl
nikhedonia
quidnunckery
mancinism
macroverbumsciolist
mastigophorer
matutolypea
xenodochiophobia

Xenodochium
Knobstick
effulgence
divaricate

Haveil Havalim #163 is Live

I am pleased to announce that Haveil Havalim #163, the Best of The Jewish/Israeli Blogosphere is now live at Tzipiyah.

Bork, Bork, Bork, Sushi.

The following is a Guest post by The Waffle Master.

Floozle; chair

Harumbeldee: lamp

Brap: lightbulb

You've seen these words over and over in the Ikea catalog, yet the voice of the Swedish Chef from the Muppets

keeps ringing in my ears.

Turns out, the Japanese are having trouble with Ikea as well. (source: http://www.thelocal.se/11394/20080428)

Swedish do-it-yourself furniture giant Ikea has been ordered to give better instructions in Japan after a customer suffered minor injuries assembling a chest.
The man in Chiba, in suburban Tokyo, was hurt in the eye by a broken screw last July, the Japanese industry ministry said.

"The cause of the accident is believed to be the customer using an inappropriate size of straight slot driver instead of a cross slot," the ministry said in a recent report.

"But the instructions on the product failed to give enough information on what kind of screwdriver should be employed or to alert customers on the risk of building the product," it said.

Ikea has won legions of fans with its affordable yet stylish designs, but its no-frills self-assembly approach has also caused legendary tales of frustration.

Ikea's giving Chinglish a run for their money.

The Search

Assuming that I don't make any major changes this section follows Redemption.

"Last night, I said goodbye
Now--it seems year
I’m back in the city
Where nothing is clear
But thoughts of me --holding you
Bringing us near

And tell me
When will our eyes meet
When can I touch you
When will this strong yearning end
And when will I hold you again

Time in new england
Took me away
To long rocky beaches
--and you, by the bay
We started a story
Whose end must now wait

And, tell me
When will our eyes meet
When can I touch you
When will this strong yearning end
And when will I hold you again

I feel the change comin’
--i feel the wind blow
I feel brave and daring!
I feel my blood flow
With you
I can bring out
All the love, that I have
--with you there’s a heaven
So earth ain’t so bad

And tell me
When will our eyes meet
When can I touch you
When will this strong yearning end
And when will I hold you again"
Weekend In New England

Euphoria, that was the word. That was what I was feeling, euphoria, I was euphoric. I kind of liked that word. It is so bubbly and upbeat. And after having spent so much time suffering through life I felt like I had been given a second chance at life.

I'd like to say that this was enough to make me change who I had become, but that would be a lie. I had spent far too long acting like a miserable wretch to lose all of the baggage that came along with that. I still was drinking far too much, just not as often. The demon inside was more easily controlled, acts of uncontrolled rage took place with less frequency.

In some ways the hardest part was letting myself feel again. I know that it sounds like some kind of new age bullshit, but I started looking inwards. I began to try to and understand what I was, who I had become and how I could get beyond it all again.

That meant that I had to let myself feel the pain of the loss. I had to admit that not having her hurt. There was a gaping hole inside me that just ached for her. A few times I just broke down in tears. I cried because I had lost my love. I cried because I was ashamed of who I had become and I cried because I felt like I might be able to fall in love again.

"Time in new england
Took me away
To long rocky beaches
--and you, by the bay
We started a story
Whose end must now wait."

And thus began the search for her. I was terrified that I might actually find her and that she might actually take me back and I was terrified that she might not or that I couldn't find her. Just thinking about her made my pulse race and my heart pound.

I was so very afraid that the dream was nothing more than that. We didn't end things because we weren't in love anymore. For that matter, we didn't really end anything. We just kind of imploded or maybe exploded was a better term.

It is not easy to think about those last few moments. She tried so hard to reach me and I tried so hard to be cold and unfeeling. I won't forget the pain in her eyes and how I forced myself to laugh at her tears. Neither will I forget how the love in her voice turned to anger.

She told me that she knew me. She told me that no one would ever take better care of me and I remained silent. Perhaps she knew me better than I realized because she told me that I'd regret that moment and I have.

Reminiscing has its moments. You can get caught up in the good and the bad moments. It is almost easier to lock yourself in nostalgia than to deal with reality. But the time had come for me to leave the comfort of what I knew and venture out into the world.

And thus the search for her began. Armed with a yellow pad of paper and a phone book I began to copy down the listings of people with her name. It took me a week to gather up enough courage to start calling.

The first half dozen numbers were a complete bust. None of them were here. When I finished the last call I breathed out a heavy sigh of relief and leaned my head back on the couch and turned on my iPod and set it to shuffle.

The Gambler by Kenny Rogers came on and I began to sing along with him:

"You got to know when to hold em, know when to fold em,
Know when to walk away and know when to run.
You never count your money when youre sitting at the table.
There'll be time enough for counting when the dealings done."

It was a goofy moment and I felt more than a little silly, but I was desperate to find a way to hold it all together. So I took it as a sign that I was doing the right thing and just closed my eyes.

Alone with my thoughts I imagined what I would say when she answered the phone and pictured different scenarios based upon her reaction. What would I do if I found out that she was married. Would I just congratulate her and fade off into the sunset or would I push on.

Inside my mind I saw myself dressed like a cowboy, but I was wearing a black hat. I don't care if the movies always show the good guy in white, it makes me look like a milkman and that is just not cool. The last thing I wanted to was to reappear in her life looking like that. I needed to be cool, had to be cool. It couldn't be any other way.

The music made it hard for me not to imagine myself dressed like a cowboy riding a train or hanging out in some saloon. The Marlboro Man crept into my mind. He had died of cancer, but he was pretty damn masculine.

And I needed to present myself that way, cool and masculine. Ok, I can do that. I can be that guy.

The song ended and I opened my eyes. I was drained. The search for my girl was mentally and emotionally exhausting. It was time to take a break and do something else. For a short while I puttered around the house, but I couldn't make myself relax.

Finally I went back to my desk and grabbed the yellow pad. It was too late to make more phone calls, but it was definitely time to develop a better plan than just calling out of the blue to beg forgiveness.

It was time to put together my plan.

Best of Me Symphony Is Live

Click Here.

Redemption

Redemption. That is what I was looking for. It took a while for me realize it. It took time to accept that I was capable of hoping for something more. But the thing that took the longest time was accepting that I deserved better.

The things that we do each day turn into habits. What we eat, how we think, how we dress. They are all habits. We may be human, but we're not all that different from Pavlov's dog. Ring the bell and we come running to eat.

I was no different, aside from having convinced myself that I was responsible for all of the bad things that had happened and that I deserved it. Actually that is not all that different from a lot of people. We all feel alienated. From time to time we all feel like losers who don't fit in.

Don't I sound like the motivational speaker.

But I am not that guy. I don't buy into that crap. Maybe it is because of my own provincial mindset, or maybe it is because I see too many of those charlatans robbing people. But then again if you refuse to think for yourself you set yourself up for disaster.

That has never been my problem. I know my what my problems are. I know my weakness. All I can do is try to avoid making the mistakes of the past. Let them stay where they belong. Let them haunt my soul and serve as a warning, whatever. Just let them be far away from my conscious mind.

I can't tell you when the change took place. I can't tell you why or how. I just know that when hope returned I lost some of my edge. I no longer constantly felt angry, frustrated and edgy, but not always angry.

Little things that used to throw me into a rage stopped infuriating me. And it was all because of hope.

Once I began to believe in myself I started to dream about getting her back. I allowed myself to remember the joy she used to fill me with and considered the possibility of having it again.

We had promised each other that we would never let go. We said that if we held onto each other we could beat whatever had come between, in front or behind us. Somewhere in time there still lived a boy and girl who believed in that.

The girl I had loved was a hopeless romantic with such sweet lips. Men don't normally say things like this, but I loved kissing her. I didn't view it as a necessary step to get into her pants. I really loved it.

Somewhere in time there lived a boy and a girl who would do all in their power to find their way back to each other. I really believed it and I had to believe that she believed it.

The bigger question was not whether she did, but where she was. We had lost touch. It had become far too painful and I had let her slip away. I didn't know if she was married. Couldn't tell you if she had kids.

All I could tell you was that I knew she was alive. As stupid as it sounds the heart that had been broken just sensed that she was somewhere.

It was a start, a beginning that I could work with. I didn't know what would happen or how. I just knew that redemption was possible.

Welcome To The Insomniac's Theater- Trying To Connect The Dots

I am trying hard to find a way to integrate all of the pieces of Fragments of Fiction. The other day I took another stab here. This evening I am going to continue the process by revisiting this section.

A couple of comments in response to a few emails. Pieces of this story are based upon experiences of my own and some friends. When I write I try to put myself in the frame of mind for whatever sort of story it is.

I do not know how this story will end, but I do not expect it to be just sad or just happy. If I get it right it will be more reflective of the complex tapestry of life. How is that for a load of B.S. ;)

"There is no pain, you are receding.
A distant ships smoke on the horizon.
You are only coming through in waves.
Your lips move but I cant hear what youre sayin.
When I was a child I caught a fleeting glimpse,
Out of the corner of my eye.
I turned to look but it was gone.
I cannot put my finger on it now.
The child is grown, the dream is gone.
I have become comfortably numb."
Comfortably Numb- Pink Floyd

Hello and welcome to the Insomniac's Theater. As you can see it is a bit rundown, somewhat ramshackle joint. It is a place that is not all that dissimilar to a carnival fun house. As you walk through you know that the reality you are experiencing is a bit distorted. Something is a bit off.
It is not as pronounced as the fun house mirror. You know the one that I am talking about. That wavy one that makes your body look fat/tall/short whatever.

It is not all that dissimilar to being drunk. You know that you are not right. You know that you are not quite as sharp as you should be but at the same time the alcohol says you are. It is that little voice in your head that claims that the fifth of whiskey hasn't impaired your judgment. People should be pleased to speak with the new and improved you. It is version 2.0, enhanced and ready for action.

And then again that little voice whispers in your ear that maybe you really aren't all that smart. Insecurities that during daylight hours grow to monstrous proportions. So you face a decision. Do you face the beast on your own. Do you shine a light on the darker part of your soul and accept your own frailties or do you give in to the demon.

C'mon, it is just another beer. Hell, might as well make it two or three. If you are going to dance with the devil then you really ought to tell him to go fuck himself. What is the point of exercising poor judgment with a care for the future. Georgie used to tell me to "liver hard." Every time he said it he'd roar with laughter.

I can't say if I laughed or smiled. I was beyond caring. Life had no meaning to it, no purpose. I wouldn't say that I was living. I was alive, but I lived in the shadows. Black and white was all I could see and most of the time I didn't bother to see at all because when I tried to all I could find was more evidence of how badly I had screwed up.

I loved her madly. I wanted to marry her and somehow she had slipped through my grasp. My girl with the sweet lips was beyond my reach and the only person I could blame was me.

So I set about punishing myself. I felt like I was incapable of loving and unworthy of being loved. And now you know why sleep was no longer my friend.

The bitterness and regret drove the love out of me. Not just love for others, but for myself. I was so hurt and so angry that I felt like I had to punish myself. I didn't deserve to be happy. I held myself responsible for my loss.

It was my fear. My insecurity. My inability to make a decision had led to paralysis and turned into a clusterfuck of the nth degree. I had started drinking to help numb the pain, but all it did was hasten my descent into a dark and dank hole. It made me angrier and more belligerent.

The combination of alcohol and anger created a monster. I know longer knew who I was. I may have looked like a million other people you see out in the streets, only I really was looking for trouble.

Trouble was only too happy to oblige me. Fistfights became a common occurrence. I didn't care what he looked like or if he was with friends. It felt good to feel my fist pound their flesh and in a sick, perverse way it felt good to be hit. Each time knuckles graced my face or a boot lashed out against my side I knew I deserved it.

My just rewards.

Only there was one problem. I was good at fighting. I hadn't ever received any formal training. No one would mistake me for Bruce Lee or Mike Tyson. They wouldn't look at me and call me graceful either.

But I had grown up in a rougher part of town and hung out with a crowd that had a few scrapes. Early on I had learned how to take a punch and how to make the pain my own. Natural strength and a body built for demolition helped create a creature who wasn't going to just lie down and be beaten.

When you added rage, bitterness and complete disregard for my own welfare you had a rather unpleasant mix.

One day was no different than the next. Day turned into night and night turned into day. It didn't matter much. All I did was eat, drink and fight. Don't misunderstand, those fistfights didn't happen daily. They didn't always take place weekly, but they happened often enough.

Sooner or later I was going to find myself in the kind of trouble that can't be avoided or forgotten. I knew it and I welcomed it. Sometimes I thought that I'd be better off just ending things, that the constant fight to get through each day wasn't worth it.

But those moments never lasted that long. Bitterness and anger may have been my best friends, but suicide was never something that I could really stomach. For a while I thought that it was because I a coward. After a while I realized that it was because I still had some hope left.

Dancing With The Stars- 7 Year Old Boy Edition

I can't stop giggling. Little titters keep slipping out of my clenched lips. Those little spurts and the semi-smirk that I know grace my face are making steam come out of Little Jack's ears.

The reason for this is really quite simple. I showed him this Dancing with The Stars video clip and then told him that I had signed him up for dance lessons.

LJ: "You better not have done that!"
Me: "Why not?"

LJ: "Because if I learn how to dance girls will want to dance with me!"
Me: "One day you'll appreciate that."

LJ: "No. I won't. I hate girls."
Me: "You don't hate girls."

LJ: "I do."
Me: "You don't hate grandma."

LJ: "She is not a girl, she is an old lady."
Me: "Don't say that to her."

LJ: "Why not."
Me: "Because you'll hurt her feelings."

LJ: "Why?"
Me: "Because she doesn't feel old or think of herself as being old."

LJ: "I still won't do it. I am not going to dance."
Me: "You dance with me and your sister. You dance with mom."

LJ: "That doesn't count."
Me: "I suppose that it doesn't. But what if I can't get my money back. I paid for three years of lessons."

LJ: "Three years! I'll be ten years-old! How can I dance until I am ten. My feet will fall off and I won't have any shoes anymore."
Me: Said with a giggle, "Your feet aren't going to fall off."

LJ: "Wait, you're teasing me...DADDY!"
Me: "Who me? Would I do that...."

And now for some Jewish humor. It is a bit off color, but fun.

A modern Orthodox Jewish couple, preparing for a religious wedding, meets the rabbi who is supposed to perform the ceremony. The rabbi asks if they have any last questions before they leave.

The man asks, "Rabbi, we realize it's tradition for men to dance with men, and women to dance with women. But, we'd like your permission to dance together."

The rabbi answers, "No way! "Men and women always dance separately!"

The man then asks, "So after the ceremony you mean I can't even dance with my own wife?"

The rabbi replies, "It's forbidden!"

The man asks, "Can we finally have sex?"

The rabbi replies, "Of course! Sex is a mitzvah within marriage, to have many children!"

"What about different positions?" asked the man?

"No problem," says the rabbi, "It's a mitzvah!"

"Well then, how about a woman on top?" the man asks.

Rabbi replies, "It's mitzvah!"

"How about Doggy Style?"

"Another mitzvah!"

"On the kitchen table?"

"A mitzvah!"

"Can we do it on rubber sheets with a bottle of hot oil, a couple of vibrators, a leather harness, a bucket of honey and a porno film?"

"It's all a mitzvah!"

"Can we do it standing up?"

"NO, NO, NO!" cries the rabbi.

"Well, why not?" asks the man.

Rabbi answers, "Could lead to dancing!"

What Is Matzah

Hat tip: Solomonia

Rediscovering What Was Lost- Two Kinds of Pain Revisited

This is tied into Two Kinds of Pain, at least I am trying to tie it together.

The first time I heard them say she "sucked the life out of me" I giggled. I was certain that it referenced some sort of sex act. It wasn't hard to imagine it either and it was even easier to picture who I wanted to do that to me. Had I not been looking at his face I probably would have made some kind of salacious comment about it.

But I had seen his face and it was clear that he hadn't said it to be funny. There was no male bravado. It wasn't a story of conquest, at least not his. If anything it was a comment about how he was conquered and then broken into tiny little pieces.

Back then I didn't understand what that meant. I hadn't experienced the kind of love that overwhelms you. I didn't understand what it was like to see my partner as being the air that I needed to breathe. That sort of experience was beyond me, but not beyond my scorn. I thought that giving that much of myself was a joke and that those who did were weak.

And then one day I woke up and found out that I had become him. Weak, insecure and broken. I remembered laughter and I remembered love, but I couldn't really feel either. All around me was the pain of my loss. The scorn I had felt for the broken hearted had come full circle. I had become what I had hated.

The joy had left my life and the days had become nothing more than something I had to endure. I didn't want to feel because all I felt was pain. A dull ache that never went away it filled the hole created by my loss.

Some people claim that the hardest time to be broken hearted is at night. Lying in bed they are no longer able to keep busy and in this quiet moment they are left to contend with the awful silence.

I was different. The hardest moments were the early mornings. Because sometimes I would dream about the past and I'd wake up thinking that I was still a whole person. The vestiges of the dream would be so strong I could still smell her, touch her...until I opened my eyes. And then I'd be reminded of what I had lost.

It never ceased to surprise me just how bad that felt. Bitter. Angry. Resentful. For years that was my BAR and there never was a last call.

I remember the day that I realized that I wasn't angry anymore and that the pain was gone. The sick thing about it was the feeling of loss I had because I didn't feel that pain. An old friend was gone. I had been abandoned again.

That feeling didn't last long. After a while I began to realize that it was time to learn how to walk again.

What Kind of Thinker Are You?

Your Thinking is Concrete and Random

You are naturally inquisitive and curious. You're excited by new ideas, and you are a true independent thinker. You are interested in what is possible. You like the process of discovery. You are often experimenting, challenging old ideas, and inventing new concepts. Rules, restrictions, and limit don't really work for you. You have to do things your own way, and you can't be bothered to explain yourself.

What Kind of Thinker Are You?

My Family is Conspiring Against Me

hy·per·bo·le (hī-pûr'bə-lē)
n.

A figure of speech in which exaggeration is used for emphasis or effect, as in I could sleep for a year or This book weighs a ton.

I'd like to say that every story is filled with hyperbole and that this post was a prime example of it. I covered some of the chaos over here too, including the tale of the car fire in which the cats were consumed.

Hyperbole. I only wish that I had engaged in a bit of hyperbole with those posts, but I didn't. I didn't even come close to fleshing out the story. I could have and probably should have painted a picture that illustrated what really happened. If you would have seen a man cradling these dad cats in his arms you'd have a better picture. If you would have seen his girlfriend's reaction to the car fire, witnessed her flailing her arms, hysterical crying and slip into catatonia you would have a much better understanding. Confession, there was not catatonic episode. I couldn't help myself, not that big a pussy. ;)

There are so many tales to be told. The story of the lawsuit that was served upon a family member by a woman who describes herself as a remarkable intuitive who can help you be the person that you know you can and should be.

Was I wrong for telling her that she is a bitter old crone whose intuitiveness lies in trying to shake down others because she is too stupid to get a real job and too bitter to go on welfare.

I suppose that I could mention the story of the dog watcher who backed out of watching the dog. Pretend for a moment that your parents were staying with one of your 1,982 sisters. Now imagine that the sister and family left for a family vacation, three days before your parents were going to leave.

Pretend that your mother called to ask for your help because your sister was out of the country and the dog watcher backed out of watching your sister's dog at eight 0'clock at night. Add this to the recipe of ridiculousness. Your parents are leaving for the airport at 4 am the next day.

There is nothing like knowing that people plan and G-d laughs. I am still working on trying to be At Peace with Myself. Well, I sort of am. I tend to laugh at a lot of this stuff, because otherwise I might cry, or scream, or I don't know what.

Most of the time I try and remember The Impact of My Actions and respond appropriately to whatever situation is at hand. There are always plenty of stories to tell such as The Sloppy Kisser, More Questions about Body Parts or anything contained in this post. Call me what you will but I Don't Always Believe In Happy Endings.

Sometimes the posts match the title and sometimes they don't. The sad thing is that a bad headline kills the post almost as fast as something that was poorly written. Come up with a snappy, intriguing headline and people take a moment to look it over. I wanted to say flip through it, but this isn't a book or magazine.

As much as I love reading online, it will never replace the joy of holding a real book. A good book is simple pleasure that I can't live without. That reminds me, my bookshelves look like hell. I have run out of space and begun to stack books in odd places. I need to do something about that.

Call me a snob, but if I come into your home and do not see any books displayed I will think less of you. They don't have to be Plato's Republic, just show me some books and let me know that you read.

Ok, it is time for this session of frantic blogging to end. Back later.

Thirty-Something Grandmothers

I cannot foresee this being anything other than foreshadowing an extremely serious problem. I take a very liberal position on a lot of social issues, but this is stupidity perpetuating stupidity.

There's no argument that will make me believe that there is just one way to raise children, but children raising children is a formula that will fail.

"As a result of Britain's high teenage pregnancy rate - the worst in Europe - many women are becoming accustomed to looking after their grandchildren while still in their thirties - and without any sign of a husband.

The new phenomenon raises questions about the social consequences of generations of children being brought up without fathers.

The majority of the women involved don't regret having babies but some who became parents in their teens told a BBC documentary they wished they had done things differently.

Miss Bailee, whose daughter became pregnant at 15, and has an eight-month-old daughter, said: "I put Rickeita on the Pill as soon as she started her periods at 12 or 13.

"It wasn't a case of giving her permission to sleep around but you can't lock a young girl in her bedroom 24/7.

"When she became pregnant I was upset, because she's very clever and I wanted her to go to college first and get a good job.

"I'd had her at 20 and it was hard. I had to buy everything second-hand or make clothes myself."

Miss Bailee, who lives with her three children, in Harleston, Norfolk, added: "I've taken up kickboxing and go clubbing twice a month with friends. You used to think of a granny as being a frail old lady with a blue rinse but I prove that's not the case any more."

She is no longer with Rickeita's father. And Rickeita split with her daughter's father."

Where's The Beef- At Arbys

There was an English teacher at my high school who looked an awful lot like the Where's The Beef woman in this commercial. Alas, it appears that Wendy's is going the way of the dinosaurs.

(AP) After two past rejections, the owner of Arby's shaved roast beef sandwich restaurants is buying Wendy's, the fast-food chain famous for its made-to-order square hamburgers and chocolate Frosty dessert, for around $2 billion.

Triarc Companies Inc., which is owned by billionaire investor Nelson Peltz, said Thursday it will pay about $2.34 billion in an all-stock deal for the nation's third-largest hamburger chain started in 1969 by Dave Thomas. Wendy's had rejected at least two buyout offers from Triarc.

The Great Matzah Shortage of 2008

This week I received a couple of interesting phone calls/emails from various friends who complained that they have run out of matzah. It surprised me as more often than not I hear stories about families that have too much matzah.

Well it seems that there might be more to the story than I realized. I just stumbled across a story on the New York Times about this very topic.

"The reasons behind the matzo shortage range from manufacturing problems, decisions by some stores not to carry the product this Passover and vague talk of a possible work stoppage.

“It seemed like the whole region had a problem getting it in,” said Jason Hodges, a supervisor in the grocery department at a Whole Foods in Miami. A person who answered the phone at a ShopRite in Philadelphia said stores there were sold out, as was the Food Emporium in Briarcliff Manor, N.Y., in Westchester County.

“We heard there was a strike or something,” said the Food Emporium manager, Frantz Baptiste. “The first shipment we had was a month ago, and we never got another one.”

Phone calls and e-mail messages to the largest suppliers of unleavened bread products, Streit’s, Manischewitz and Yehuda, brought no response on Monday, possibly because executives were off for Passover, which began Saturday night.

But Manischewitz officials have said that problems with a new state-of-the-art oven in its only New Jersey plant caused it to scrap this Passover’s supply of Tam Tam crackers, its little six-sided matzo morsels, as well as some less popular matzo varieties.

Trader Joe’s stores opted not to sell Passover matzo this year, as did some Costco stores. “It’s not a huge item for us,” said a Costco spokesman, Bob Nelson."

Snapshot of Recent Posts

Here is a quick rundown on recent posts here at The Shack

A Look Back To Help Look Forward

Jack's Pesach Round-Up- Lakers Edition

Family Photos Revisited

Come Talk To Me

The 50 MPG Car

Unsettled, Unsatisfied, Unyielding

Daddies Love Their Sons- Darth Vader & Luke Skywalker Edition

Passover- The High Cholesterol Holiday

Chores for two: Why men don't pitch in

A Look Back To Help Look Forward

Imagination is more important than knowledge. For while knowledge defines all we currently know and understand, imagination points to all we might yet discover and create.
-Albert Einstein

This morning my son came to me and told me that he was frustrated because he felt like there wasn't enough time to learn everything. I asked him what he meant and he told me that he mean everything. He wants to learn everything.

I suppose that I must have smiled because he looked at me and told me that it wasn't right for me to laugh. I said that I wasn't laughing and he said that I was and it is only because I already know everything. That really made me laugh. Maybe he read my post about eternal life.

Ain't Got You- Bruce Springsteen That song has a lot of meaning for me. The lyrics speak to me. Sometimes I wish that I could write and sing the way he can. I don't sing well, but I do sing loud. I can belt it out, but the problem is it sounds like hell.

It is a strange position to have those eye staring up at me as if I am some sort of guru, an oracle who can dish out sage advice. Sometimes I have the perfect answer and sometimes I make it up on the fly.

Today I took a look back at some old posts to try and help me look forward. As I sift through four years of blogging I see a bunch of recurring themes and wonder if this is how life is always going to be.

As is my wont I'll share links to some of the posts that caught my eye and intersperse commentary.

Bad Blogging- Also Known As This Stuff Sucks- My blog and my writing continue to evolve. I used to wonder if I had come up with my best ideas way back when, but now I am not so sure.

If you have an important point to make, don't try to be subtle or clever. Use a pile driver. Hit the point once. Then come back and hit it again. Then hit it a third time-a tremendous whack. – Winston Churchill

Churchill was right, or maybe that is the excuse I use to continue to recycle old posts.

Happy Holidays Continued- Interaction with the public offers so many...stories.

My daughter likes to try and tease her older brother about her hair, or should I say that she and I both have very dark hair and he does not.

Actors From The 80s- Look at pictures of these actors now and then and you realize that many years have passed. I don't feel old, don't really look it either. But when I see these guys I realize that I must have aged too.

Someone recently asked me to tell them what it was like to watch Magic Johnson and Michael Jordan play. He is 24 and doesn't really remember.

How I Cook- I don't spend enough time cooking, but I still love to do it.

And now for some more quotes that resonate with me:

The possibility that we may fail in the struggle ought not to deter us from the support of a cause we believe to be just.
– Abraham Lincoln

Just because something doesn't do what you planned it to do doesn't mean it's useless.

– Thomas Edison

When you have exhausted all possibilities, remember this. You haven't.
– Thomas Edison

It is a miracle that curiosity survives formal education.
– Albert Einstein

If everybody is thinking alike, then somebody isn't thinking.
– Gen. George S. Patton

I skate to where the puck is going to be, not to where it has been.
– Wayne Gretzky

I used to do a lot of hiking. Back in the day I was famous for blazing my own trail. I didn't do it to be tough or to show off, I did it because something caught my eye and I went to take a closer look. It probably would have been easier to use the trail, but that is not really how I do things. Sometimes I find the harder way, no I usually find the harder way. I need to change that.

I may not always have a perfect plan to follow, but I know more or less what the ultimate goal is. Along the way I may pick up a few scrapes and bruises, but I'll get there, hopefully without getting attacked by the Flying Monkeys. I might even have my own scarecrow and tinman to accompany me.

I Confess- Most of the time I read these and think that I should have come up with better answers.

My Interview- Brian's blog was one of the first that I started reading. I still enjoy it. Maybe it is because I have seen him ask so many of the same questions that I do.

These days I do a lot less of the introspective posts than I used to, although I am trying to get back into the groove.

Parents- List Your Child's Most Irritating Toy/Show - Kind of self explanatory, isn't it.

This next post is one that I may have to feature again on its own as it asks a key question whose answer probably changes over time.

What is happiness worth to you?

Jack's Pesach Round-Up- Lakers Edition

Hello and welcome to my Pesach round up of posts that caught my eye. This is the Laker's edition. In a few short weeks we'll all be able to celebrate as another Laker championship banner is raised. It is too bad that Abbagav has retired because I know that he is another true believer, but I digress.

Some of you may not be aware that Haveil Havalim, The Best of The Jewish/Israeli Blogosphere is not going to come out this Sunday.

However it is going to return on April 28 at Tzipiyah.com. You can participate by submitting your blog post to the next edition of haveil havalim using our carnival submission form. Past posts and future hosts can be found on our blog carnival index page.

Updated: Thanks to the magic of computers I somehow lost a ton of the posts that were here. I had thought about recreating it, but I am just not up for it. My apologies. In the interim here is a partial for your consumption.

Soccer Dad discussed Hillary's transformation. Jameel's waffles are so good even Obama is eating them.

In my best Maxwell Smart voice I say, would you believe that Carter calls Rice a liar.

At What War Zone you can read Even the Animals Speak Hebrew. The Rebbetzin's Husband is excited to see an appearance by the RenReb. Once upon a time she even left some comments here.

Batya wrote about the challenge of living far from parents. At Jewlicious they wondered What if 007 were an MOT?

This next title caught my eye: Evil monkey’s guide to kosher imaginary animals. Over at Biur Chametz you Make matzah, not chametz.

New York's Funniest Rabbi is Forever Reliving. Daled Amos shared Kassams And The Beltway Sniper.

Family Photos Revisited

Somewhere in the archives is a link to these photos. Oy, Oy, Oy. It is not nice to make fun of people, but these photos are something else.

Come Talk To Me

(I had trouble sleeping and wrote this post late last night. I thought about nuking it and starting over, but decided to run it anyway. I don't plan on editing it, so take it for what it is worth.)

Come Talk to Me- Peter Gabriel

Some people are afraid of cemeteries, I am not. Sometimes I visit my grandfather. I sit down next to his grave and listen. Every now and then I share a story with him about what is going on in my life.

In an age of Bluetooth earpieces it probably doesn't look like I am the crazy guy on the subway who sits there talking to himself. Although I tend not to do it for too long. After a few minutes it feels a bit screwy so I switch from speaking out loud to telepathy. Ok, telepathy is not exactly what I am doing either, but it is after midnight and I am tired.

Shaking the Tree- Peter Gabriel Every time I see this video I expect a wild hora to break out. On a side note it reminds me a bit of people at camp dancing to Pata Pata, don't ask me why.

A few years ago I was learning with the rabbi at my shul and was shocked to hear that a number of the adults in the room had never been to a funeral, let alone the cemetery. The rav took an informal poll and there must have been a half dozen hands from people who said that they had never been. They ranged in age from early thirties to a man in his early fifties.

I was dumbfounded by this. It seemed almost impossible that someone could go thirty years without attending a funeral, let alone fifty. Surely someone they knew had died. I didn't bother interrogating them about the particulars of why they had never been, it didn't matter.

As we walked to our cars a few of them asked me to tell them about funerals and the cemetery. I was tempted to put on Lux Aeterna and to weave a scary tale about how horrifying the experience had been.

It wouldn't have been hard. D's funeral offered plenty of material. I won't ever forget the look of horror and dismay on his mother's face. I heard his brother mention me by name and tell his parents that I would see that D was properly buried. I could tell a million more stories about that day.

In fact, I had thought that I'd never see a funeral in which people were more heartbroken and then I hit this one. But I digress.

I didn't tell them any horror stories. I gave a very basic description about what happened at the funeral and then explained that a cemetery can be a very peaceful place. I suppose that is not a coincidence, although I wonder. Some people might prefer a different layout, a different set up.

Instead of a tranquil, calm environment it could quite loud. You could build a factory/warehouse and play some loud, disturbing music. Imagine if they piped in the Theme To Halloween or just soundtracks to horror movies in general.

Or even worse, you could listen to Celine Dion doing a cover of AC/DC or Roseanne doing the National Anthem. Incidentally Roseanne's voice sounds the way I imagine the author of the essay in this post must sound.

Ok, I am losing it. Night for now.

The 50 MPG Car

I have been meaning to blog about a story I read on Newsweek for a while now. The subhead on the story says Why automakers don't sell a car that gets 50mpg.

It is an excellent question and one that really needs more attention. This is not just an environmental issue, it is economic. As it becomes more expensive to operate a motor vehicle we will see it begin to impact the economy at large in all sorts of places.

There is no doubt in my mind that we have the ability to produce these vehicles. It really has been a question of desire. Gas is still cheap enough that most people do not have to stop and consider whether it makes financial sense to take a drive for pleasure, go to the store etc. But the day is coming where it is going to be harder and until we see that day I question whether we'll have a strong enough push from consumers to see change.

Let's take a look at some excerpts from this story.

"Wouldn't it be great if you could drive a car that gets 50 miles per gallon? Well, you can. Just hop on a plane and fly to Europe, where all new cars average 43mpg, or Japan, where the average hits 50mpg. Here in the United States, we're stuck at 25mpg in our considerably larger and more powerful cars, trucks and SUVs. So why can't we do better? Here's the dirty little secret: we can. "If you want better fuel economy, it's just a question of when auto companies want to do it and when consumers decide they want to buy it," says Don Hillebrand, a former Chrysler engineer who is now director of transportation research for Argonne National Labs. "Auto companies can deliver it within a year."

A 50mpg car would certainly put a tiger in the tank of the moribund U.S. auto industry. But don't get your checkbook out quite yet. The reality is that you won't see a car on a showroom floor in America with 50mpg on the window sticker for at least three years and maybe longer. Sure, all auto companies are focusing on jacking up fuel economy, especially since Congress just mandated that all new autos sold by 2020 must average 35mpg. The new mileage mantra also is motivated by the fact that car sales are weak, partially because of panic at the pump. But putting out a 50mpg car any time soon is daunting even to the maker of America's mileage champ, the 48mpg Toyota Prius. "We're close enough to spit at that now," says Bill Reinert, Toyota's national manager of advanced technologies. "It's not an incredible stretch, but it's an incredible stretch to do it on a mass-market basis."

It might seem ludicrous to you that there isn't a mass market right here and now for a 50mpg car. For crying out loud, we've entered the age of the $128 fill-up. (The cost of topping off a Chevy Suburban). But here's the problem: to get to 50mpg in the near future, consumers would have to trade off at least one of three very important things—cost, drive quality or safety. That's because the quickest way to make a car more fuel-efficient is to make it smaller, lighter and equip it with some high-tech (a.k.a. costly) propulsion system like a plug-in gas-electric system."

and

Still, all the major automakers are putting their cars on a crash diet. Ford wants to drop 250 to 750 pounds in all its models by 2012. Toyota and Nissan want to cut the fat by 10 to 15 percent. But this slim-fast campaign is running into the drive for more safety features in automobiles. Back in the 1980s, the Honda CRX-HF and the Geo Metro each got more than 50mpg, but they didn't have airbags or steel beams in their doors to protect occupants in a crash. These days, cars are equipped with six air bags, steel safety cages and electronic stability control to prevent spinouts. That makes cars much safer—but a lot fatter. "We are working in two directions," says Toyota's Reinert. "One is to make cars as safe as possible, and that generally makes them heavier. And the other is to make cars as fuel efficient as possible."

Downsizing also has its drawbacks. For starters, U.S. highway statistics show the smallest cars have death rates 2.5 times higher than the biggest. What's more, wimpy engines often (under) power small cars and that's a drawback many Americans won't abide. I recently drove the diminutive Smart car for a week. While it's certainly cute, its puny 70-horsepower engine and slow-shifting transmissions made me feel like Fred Flintstone could outrun me. That might be enough power for twisty Old World roads, but here in America, we have a need for speed. "Going zero to 60 in 15 seconds doesn't fit the average American consumers idea of mobility today," says Reinert. "That's too doggy."

I have to admit that I hate the really small cars. I don't feel safe in them. I also hate not having a car with any guts. It is nerve wracking and dangerous to try and get on the freeway in a vehicle that takes forever to get to speed.

Still, I am certain that there is no reason why we cannot overcome these issues. We have the ability, all we need is the desire.

Unsettled, Unsatisfied, Unyielding

Sometimes the words flow freely and sometimes they come out in a trickle. I blog to vent. I blog to escape the small irritants that aggravate me. I blog to share my pain and express it in a way that helps me to understand who I am and what I am about.

I blog because I am unsettled, unsatisfied and unyielding in my search for the things that provide meaning and substance in my life. The blog is my secret world. It is a place where I share my hopes and dreams. It is where I admit my weaknesses and sometimes roar in anger.

Some of what I write embarrasses me. It is too raw. It is too personal. It is too emotional and it leaves me feeling too vulnerable. So I erase it. I delete it. I make jokes about it. I pretend that it doesn't bother me. And sometimes that works.

Sometimes I don't like what I write because it sounds ridiculous. Sometimes I read it and wonder am I really this big a moron. Sometimes I think that I should just suck it up and live.

And then I read it again and see it differently. I take a look at almost four years of an online diary of my life and I realize that I have made more progress than I had thought. I look at almost four years and I wonder how so much could have happened in such a short time.

Sometimes I laugh at what I have written. Sometimes it is funny and sometimes it reminds me of something funny.

I never cease to be amazed that people read this with the startling regularity that some of you exhibit day in and day out. The blogosphere continues to give me more back than I give and I am grateful for it.

Daddies Love Their Sons- Darth Vader & Luke Skywalker Edition

My son is at a great age. He is old enough to watch some of the cooler movies and still young enough to believe in the magic.

During the past couple of weeks he and I watched the original Star Wars trilogy. We had great fun talking about the characters and what happened. While we watched I made a point to periodically check out the look on his face. I watched his eyes get wide and listened to him gasp and or cheer as warranted by the scene.

But he really caught me off guard with his reaction to one particular scene during Return of the Jedi. It is in the video just below this. If you watch you'll see the fight between Luke and Darth Vader followed by the Emperor's attempt to kill Luke.

As the Emperor sends lightning shooting into Luke's body there is a moment where Luke screams "Father, please!" At that moment my son grabbed my hand and said he won't die, his dad will save him.

I sat in silence. I wanted to let him learn what happened for himself. I watched his reaction as he sat up straight and his eyes got wider. Moments later he learned that he was right in his assessment of what would happen.

With a big smile on his face he hugged and kissed me and said "I know that you'd save me too."

If you would have seen my face you would have seen a big stupid grin. "Of course I would," I said.

Then that little boy of mine burst my bubble. "You know, you do share something in common with Darth Vader."

"Oh really, what is it."

"When you sleep you sound just like him."

Passover- The High Cholesterol Holiday

When I asked people to share their favorite Pesach memories I forgot to include one of my own. One of the things that I like best about Pesach is the food. There are some dishes that only come out once a year. One of my favorite is my mother's Apple Matzah Kugel.

However as much as I like it, there is only so much kugel that I can stand. I love fried matzah (matzah brei) and I love brisket, but there is a limit to these too.

As a not quite recovering carbaholic it is tough to go all week without it. Ok, it really isn't that hard to do. The hard part is being told that I can't have it. Take a memo, if you don't want me to do something you should never tell me that I cannot. Call it childish, call it obnoxious, call it whatever you want, but the fastest way to encourage me to do something is to say that I cannot do it.

It just makes me see red, but I digress. Back to the matter at hand, food.

Passover recipes are chock full of items that are sure to send your cholesterol soaring. In the old days I used to eat enormous amounts of eggs. I am sure that my picture was on the wall at the chicken post office as public enemy number one.

Now in a more enlightened time I head off to Costco and grab a case of Egg Beaters and it is off to the races. On a side note one of the nicer things about using Egg Beaters is that it reduces the amount of collateral damage caused by young children handling eggs because in my house they love to crack those eggs.

Really, it is no yolk. Give those wacky children of mine some eggs to crack and they're happy as a clam. Not that I'd feed them clams. No clams, crabs, mussels or the like in this house and that is not for shellfish reasons.

Oy, the puns aren't very funny so I'll have to wrap this up. But before I do allow me to say that I do have one other Passover food that I enjoy. Gefilte fish. The mighty Gefilte, king of all the fish is a fine treat during this lovely holiday.

One of these days I'll have to share the tale of what happened during my last fishing trip. I was strapped into the fighting chair for a solid six hours. The battle that took place between me and the mighty Gefilte was epic, the stuff of legends. Stay tuned and I just might share the tale with you. Note, that I said tale and not tail. I don't like sharing tail, but since this is a family blog we'll just end this post right here.

I Love Shark Movies

Movies like this make me believe that one day someone just might buy one of my screenplays.

Chores for two: Why men don't pitch in

I don't know how I stumbled onto this article, but something tells me that if I had somehow ended married to this amazing catch I'd be divorced.

It is a polemic about household chores and who does more. As you might have gathered this woman goes on and on and on about how hard women work and how men do not do anything around the house.

Call me what you will, but I found her shrill rant to be annoying. And the poor schlemiel she is married to, whatever is he going to think of her portrayal of him. Let's take a look at this.

"And yet everyone acts as if Jeremy deserves some kind of medal just for making a run to the supermarket. No one has ever suggested that I’m a heroine for doing the things every mother is expected to do. I admit that my husband helps out more than many men, but here’s another news flash: It isn’t because he’s such a fabulously enlightened being. Left to his own devices, he would doubtless park himself in front of the TV like some sitcom male-chauvinist couch potato while I did all the work. The reason Jeremy “helps” as much as he does (an offensive terminology that itself suggests who’s really being held responsible) is simple: He doesn’t have a choice.

From the beginning of our relationship, I made it very clear that I wasn’t going to be any husband’s unpaid servant. If Jeremy wanted to be—and stay—married to me, let alone have kids, he couldn’t stick me with all the boring, mundane stuff nobody wants to do. We were going to share the work, or we were going to forget the whole deal.Unlike my first husband, who announced after our wedding that he didn’t like the way the French laundry did his shirts and he now expected me, the Wife, to wash and iron all of them, Jeremy recognized both the righteousness of the principle involved and the intransigence of the woman he’d married, and proceeded to pitch in.

That was 17 years ago, and while we haven’t exactly achieved equity, we’ve come a lot closer to it than most of our peers, judging by all the dreary surveys proving that men are slugs and their wives are superwomen. So how have I accomplished this? By holding my husband’s feet to the fire every single day of our lives, of course." (emphasis added by me)

It must be nice to be married to a stereotype, a caricature of a person. The poor husband couldn't possibly do anything by himself. Of course by using sex you can get your way. No really, you can offer it as a bribe or cut it off, just ask the amazing author.

Yes, dear readers, it’s true: Maintaining some semblance of parity in your marriage requires you to deploy the same kinds of nasty tactics you swore you would never stoop to as a parent but nonetheless found yourself using the minute you actually had a kid. Bribery and punishment work; so do yelling and complaining. Threats are also effective, as long as everyone knows you mean business. With husbands, tender blandishments and nooky are particularly useful, as is the withholding of the aforementioned.

Who wants to be married to Cruella Devil. If she is half as nuts as she comes across in this piece I'd tell the man to run to the nearest divorce lawyer and get the hell out.

My word.

Far Too Much To Spend on a Children's Party

CNN has a story about extravagant birthday parties for children that made me shake my head.

(LifeWire) -- Two years ago, Stephanie Kaster of Manhattan set out to plan the birthday party of a lifetime for her daughter. Granted, little Sophie didn't have many parties under her belt with which to compare it: She was not yet 3.

"I just thought, 'If I go to another paint-a-ceramic-bowl or stuff-a-bear party, I'll shoot myself,'" says Kaster.

So she booked a fondue restaurant, hired a musical troupe to perform as the Wiggles (her daughter's favorite group) and ordered a four-layer cake. Each guest took home a Fisher-Price guitar and custom CD.

The price tag? $5,000.

"I couldn't believe that I'd ended up spending that much," Kaster says.

I am well familiar with the challenges and costs involved of throwing a child's birthday party, but there are limits and then there is the realm of the ridiculous. The example above is ridiculous.

Let's ignore whether the birthday girl needs so much extravagance and deal with what she will remember from the party. The answer is that it is unlikely that she'll remember anything. Sure, there may be pictures and or video memories, but...

What lessons are we teaching our children. I haven't any problem with the idea of renting a room/facility somewhere, provided that you can afford it, but this over the top stuff is ridiculous.

Out here in L.A. I'd say that the average cost of a birthday party for a young child is somewhere around $500.00 or so. That includes a kid's facility (gym, indoor playground) and a couple of their staff, around 20-25 kids, cake and a pizza lunch.

Now I suppose that to some people that my own example sounds ridiculous as well. In theory I'd say that it would be great to throw a party in my own home. There are a couple of issues. One is size and the the other is that the kids are going to wreck my house and then I'll spend a huge chunk of time cleaning up after they're gone.

More than that, it is probably going to cost at least $300.00 to have it my house. If I can come up with the difference I take care of a number of things including entertainment and fear of children wrecking my home.

The good news is that in our school around the time kids turn 7 or 8 the group parties disappear and it turns into a much more manageable gathering of three to four good friends.

Related link:

Gifts For The Children of The Obscenely Rich

The World's Fastest 95 Year-Old Man

One of these days I am going to take the various posts I have about my grandparents, print them out and put them into a folder. It is on that giant list of things that have to be done. I'll get to it. No, really I will.

My grandmothers have gotten short shrift on this blog. There is an awful lot that could be said about them and I have been negligent about sharing it. In part it is because I spent more time with my grandfathers than my grandmothers, but that doesn't mean that they didn't play a very large role in my life.

Not long before I got married Grandpa Jack took me aside offer some friendly advice. He looked at me and said something to effect of "You'll never find anyone who can make you happier or more irritated than a woman."

With a smile on his face he told me that I should always squirrel away a couple of bucks for myself. Just some kick around cash that I could have for myself. I remember smiling and nodding my head.

My other grandfather had similar advice. He was more specific. "When you get married you and your wife are going to have different ideas about how to spend your money. Take a few bucks from each paycheck and save it. Eventually you'll have enough to do something with. Don't forget to get her something too."

With that comment he got more than a nod and a smile. When I was five he promised to buy me a pony. My mother was not pleased about this. She didn't like seeing him tease me, or anyone for that matter.

As I have mentioned to my mother many times, it didn't bother me. I can't remember a time where I was upset about not having a pony. However, in the gulp, 34 years since his promise I have had my own share of fun with him about my pony.

Last week was the latest example. I told him that I had a way for him to make the whole pony thing up to me. He laughed and asked me to give him the details.

"Grandpa, you just turned 94."
"You're math is bad, I am in my 95th year.

"You're right. What did Lincoln say at Gettysburg."
"Ok smartass, what is your idea."

"Grandpa, you used to tell me that when you were a kid you were really fast. You said that you used to win the 100 yard dash."
"It is true. I did."

"Good. It is time for you to go back to your roots. You're going to start training."
"Oh, I am."

"Yes, I am going to promote you as the world's fastest 95 year-old man. Nike, Reebok, one of these companies will be happy to spend millions of dollars on a nice ad campaign."

"And you plan on taking a few of those bucks."
"Absolutely. If we do this right by the time I am 50 I can retire."

Giggling he said, "This is all because of the pony, isn't it."
"Yep. That pony could have been the next Seabiscuit."

This is the point at which my grandmother entered the conversation. Instead of taking engaging the two of us in our silly fantasy she began to chastise my grandfather for making such a foolish promise. And thus I learned that not only had my mother yelled at my grandfather for making such a promise, but my grandmother had as well.

I interrupted her and told her that it was ok and tried to reassure her that I wasn't upset. It didn't work. It is funny. Over the years many people have remarked that my grandfather is a real character, but they missed seeing that in many ways the power in that relationship lay with my grandma.

For five minutes she laid into him. Finally he barked back and was rewarded with the sort of glare that would send most of us out for flowers. And then as quickly as the storm had started it was over.

I don't really know what happened, but he walked over and they shared a moment. Yet again I felt like a bit of an intruder. I don't know if they are more conscious of their age, but these sorts of moments seem to be happening more often.

A moment or two passed and I looked at my grandfather and said "for a moment there I bet that you really wished that you were the world's fastest 95 year old man."

He laughed again and told me that he wanted to show me something on his cane. I laughed and told him that his grandson wasn't a fool. He smiled and asked for the remote. I handed it to him. He turned on the television and within moments he and my grandma were both asleep on the couch...holding hands.

What is Your Favorite Pesach Memory?

My son asked me to tell him about my favorite Pesach memory. It is the kind of question that should be a gimme. It doesn't involve body parts or questions about sex. There is no philosophical discussion such as the one about why people do bad things or why is there war.

It is just a simple question in which I get to tell him about my favorite memory of the 35 or so sederim that I remember. Yet the truth is that I found it to be more than a little frustrating. I don't have a favorite story, at least I can't seem to think of one and that bothered me a little.

It seemed to me that with so many experiences to choose from I should be able to pick one or two, but I just can't seem to pinpoint those extra-special moments. It made me wonder if perhaps I hadn't taken them for granted.

So I spent some time thinking long and hard about Pesach and realized that I have a hundred favorite memories. Perhaps it is a cop out, but it is true. So here is a brief list:

1) The way that my parent's house smelled. Brisket, Apple Matzoh Kugel.
2) The seder that I was finally old enough to stay awake the whole way through.
3) Listening to my great-grandmother tell my sister that she was shikkered (drunk) when all she had was grape juice.
4) My cousin's matzoh ball soup.
5) My first time reciting the four questions by myself
6) The first time I led the seder.

How about you. What is your favorite memory?

Thursday Afternoon Music

Machar Ani Babayit (Tommrow I'll Be Home)- Ethnix
Could You Be Loved- Bob Marley & The Wailers
No Woman No cry- Bob Marley & The Wailers
"You All Everybody"- Driveshaft
Woke up this morning- A3
Centerfold- J. Geils Band
Freezeframe- J. Geils Band
City of New Orleans- Arlo Guthrie
My first, my last, my everything-Pavarotti & Barry White (If I could sing like Barry I might have stayed single forever. ;)
"Scream"- Billy Idol
The Man's Too Strong- Dire Straits

Bonus:

Adam Sandler In The Wedding Singer.

Back later....

America's Top 50 Rabbis

Last year Newsweek shared a list of America's Top 50 Rabbis. The second annual list is here. The excerpt below shares how the list was developed. Not unlike many lists I take this one with a grain of salt.

Here is the second annual version of the list—generated by Michael Lynton, (chairman & CEO, Sony Pictures Entertainment), Gary Ginsberg, (executive VP, global marketing and corporate affairs, News Corp.) and Jay Sanderson, (CEO and executive producer, JTN/JTN Productions)—of the 50 most influential rabbis in America. In the fall of 2006, the friends, interested in the future of American Jewry and the evolving role of the rabbi, started a conversation that eventually became "the list." The machers ranked the rabbis based on the following unscientific criteria:

• Are they known nationally/internationally? (20 points)
• Do they have political/social influence? (20 points)
• Do they have a media presence? (10 points)
• Are they leaders within their communities? (10 points)
• Are they considered leaders in Judaism or their movements? (10 points)
• Size of their constituency (10 points)
• Have they made an impact on Judaism in their career? (10 points)
• Have they made a greater impact beyond the Jewish community and their Rabbinical training? (10 points)

Weird News

Sometimes we just have to share the junk we stumble over. Here are a few stories interspersed with my comments.

He Took The Gator For a Ride

...the trooper noticed a 6-foot alligator contentedly riding next to the back window of Johnson's car. Johnson said he found the gator on the side of a road.

I feel confident that the trooper was able to assess the mental state of the gator, but wait, there is more to the story. What happened when in a separate incident a different officer spoke with Mr. Johnson.

Johnson advised the officer that there was a water moccasin snake in his car and that the snake had already bitten him on the hand.

An animal control officer found the snake and removed it, Longbotham said.

Johnson refused medical treatment for his hand.

Early Sunday a resident of a local mobile home park said Johnson knocked on his door and asked for help hauling a big television out of a mobile home, Longbotham said.

"The neighbor told him that's not your house," the chief said.

Then the neighbor noticed the alligator in the back seat of Johnson's car, Longbotham said.

Johnson left the television in the yard and drove away.

If I saw an alligator in a car, I'd probably call the police. Ok, on to the second story.

What do you do when your surgeon laughs at you. In this next story we learn that a patient suffered severe embarrassment from the laughter of doctors and nurses involved in his operation. Now, I don't condone their laughter, but when you read the story you'll see that he should have been embarrassed just to be there.

Sun.Star: CEBU CITY, Philippines - Unethical and scandalous.

That's how several doctors described the behavior of Vicente Sotto Memorial Medical Center (VSMMC) doctors and nurses during the operation to remove a perfume canister from the anus of a male patient.

Doctors involved in the operation were seen laughing boisterously during the operation, which was recorded on video. A video clip was later uploaded to the video sharing website YouTube.

Dr. Emmanuel Gines, VSMMC media liaison officer and emergency room department head, said in a radio interview that they will apologize to the 39-year-old patient identified only as Jan-Jan because of the embarrassment he suffered.

And as has been said many times. Teleconference means you are being televised.

What To Do With Children's Art Projects

I love the smell of markers in the morning. There is nothing better than starting my day with the smell of black, blue, purple, red, green and pink marker filling my nostrils. Even better is the pattern the wet markers make on my forehead.

You see, one of the many artists in the house loves her daddy so much she has to make a "beautiful picture" for him every day. Often times I am the lucky recipient of more than one. Sometimes the dear girl is so excited she can't wait to show me.

On the odd occasion that I am granted a few minutes extra sleep she will wake me by sticking the picture on my face and shaking me, thus the smell of markers in the morning. What is a little headache in exchange for a smile that could power the sun. Ok, the few times that she has managed to spread the markers onto the comforter are a bit less thrilling, but it is hard to be angry when she is so happy.

As I mentioned earlier she is not the only artist in the house. She has an older brother who really enjoys art projects too. Between those they do at home and those generated by school we're running into a small issue regarding what to do with them.

There simply isn't space to hang all of the pictures. There is not enough room to place the various other items on shelves. Over time we have acquired a number of clear plastic bins in which we have stored many of the better projects, but that has its own issues as well. These kids are still young. At the current rate in less than five years I'll have more than 2,983,092,092 art projects to consider what do with.

Some of you are probably wondering why we don't surreptitiously dispose of some these items. The answer is that when possible we do, but these kids have memories that would shame an elephant. It is not unusual for them to ask what happened to such and such and so and so. I don't like lying to them, but I don't really want to say that I didn't think that beautiful picture was beautiful enough to save.

I sometimes consider carrying vast amounts of candy in my pocket for moments like that. "What did you say about a picture? Hmm...eat this and let me try and remember."

Did I ever mention that I used to consider becoming a kid's dentist. After each visit I was going to give them a toy filled with sugar. And for the older kids I'd provide skateboards and roller blades with specific instructions to ride down a hill without pads.

Stop scowling, I am allowed to make a living. And you, with the funny looking Rav4, you may think that you're environmentally conscious but your gas money still supports the terrorists who want to kill us. That ought to shut you up for a moment.

Sorry, didn't mean to get feisty but I just got hit in the head by the beautiful pencil holder. And now if you'll excuse me I am off to find an ice pack for my head.

Pesach Preparations Have Been Completed

With the exception of heating the food all of the preparation is complete. Now all that is left is leisure time. Hah! I hear some of you cursing me now. That is not nice.



Ok, did I mention I was only kidding. ;)

A Simple Post

The song above is by Aya Korem and is called SHIR AHAVA PASHUT, or in English A SIMPLE LOVE SONG. And this is a simple post about everything and nothing.

I can't get the image of my grandparents walking away hand in hand out of my head. In some ways it was incredibly comforting and at the same time it was a bit nerve wracking. For a moment I couldn't help but wonder if I'd see them again. You know that the day is going to come and one more piece of my childhood will be gone.

Before they left my grandfather asked me to bring my kids over to look at some family photos. Hanging on the wall are a ton of family pictures, including pictures of his grandparents. Lately I look at them a bit differently.

I stare at them and silently beg them to speak to me. They have been gone for almost seventy years. I can't help but wonder about them. They were born into a different world than myself and a far different world then the one my children occupy.

So I stare at them and wonder about who they were and whether I have any traits of theirs. I wonder if we would have liked the same foods and what they'd think of life in the 21st century.

Not far away are pictures of my parents, siblings and myself. The kids look at pictures of me and shake their heads. They can't quite imagine that their dad was eight or ten or even twenty. Ok, they can picture twenty, but they giggle. My son stares at the picture of the guy with the flat top and asks "what happened to your stomach?"

I smile and ask what he means. "You used to have lines in your stomach and now it kind of sticks out." So I lift up my shirt and flex my stomach. "Dad, I can almost see the lines. Should I get a pen and draw them in?"

And thus a seven year-old simultaneously inflates and deflates his father's ego. This brings me to the topic of Pesach, or Passover and my decision to go full bore on the Atkins diet.

Ok, it is not solely my decision, but what the hell. I do it every year and this year I think that I am going to try and make a real effort to continue. I have this fantasy that I am going to lose every single extra pound and that I'll keep it off.

A dear friend told me that she'd like to have me around for the next fifty years and asked if I'd consider losing some weight. I told her that I'd be happy to lose 135 and that she should get lost. She laughed and then said that she had known me too long to be offended.

If I actually lost as much as she suggested I'd weigh less than I did in Junior High, but I suppose that sooner or later I need to get serious about dropping a few pounds. I have a large enough frame that I am able to hide some of the extra poundage, but the time has come to try and get more serious about it.

Confession of the moment. Part of me wants to say screw it and just go eat with reckless abandon. What would basketball be like if I tipped the scales at over 300 pounds. But then again I enjoy seeing my feet, not to mention I like looking down and seeing all of me, including the parts designated for fun and good times. 300 pounds would put a real damper on that.

As I publicly shame myself I'll take a moment to say that I have been good about doing push ups. It is a daily activity and I have found that I have made improvement there. Every now and then I'll let my daughter climb up on my back and give her a ride.

Earlier tonight my son and her both hopped on. I was able to complete one push up and then promptly collapsed. If all goes well by the end of the year I'll be able to handle both of them at the same time.

One more comment and then it is off to bed. For a couple of hours each day I am trying to disconnect myself from the computer and my BlackBerry. It is bit nerve wracking. I have a home office so it is really easy to make the excuse that I need to check in with work, but at the same time I really need to focus on doing it less around the children.

What prompted this? I heard my son tell his grandparents than I am either on the phone, the computer or in the bathroom. I asked him if that was what he thought I did and he said not all the time. He clarified things by telling me that I also played with him and his sister. I was happy to hear him say that, but since it wasn't the first thought I think that I'd better work on it.

Anyway, it is bedtime for this old me. See you all in the A.M. Laila Tov from Los Angeles.

Recent Posts

Here is a short roundup of recent posts:

Passing The Baton- Grandma is 94
Letting It All Hang Out
Using Math/Science to Explain Women
HH #162- Worth More than A Dime
Remote Controls
I Am Taking Requests...
We Won't Be Shaking Hands

And your blast from the past:

Morality Without Religion- A Comment to The Self-Righteous
Why The Baal Teshuva World Irritates Me
What Is Your Favorite Topic To Blog About?

Passing The Baton- Grandma is 94

Sunday night and the house is almost quiet. The sole noise is that caused by my fingers tapping on the keyboard and the music in the background. At the moment I am listening to Aya Korem sing Shir Ahava Pashut.

A few hours ago my daughter said "Abba, I want to twirl now." That is code for "it is dancing time." The girl has spent all sorts of time in dance class, not to mention watching Dancing With the Stars. She has big plans for her old dad. She puts her hands on her hips and provides careful instruction as to what I am to do and how. It is important that I help her twirl just right.

I told her that I'd share some of those songs with you. We danced to Wonderful Tonight, Something, (Want to hear James Brown's cover? Click here) I am, I said and The Bad Touch by The Bloodhound Gang. I did my best to ignore the lyrics of that last song and just go with the wacky beat, which was pretty easy, thanks to the loud squeals of laughter from my baby girl.

This week marks the first seder to be held at my house. Up until now every seder I have ever been to has been elsewhere. Technically it will not be the first seder I have led, but the fact that it is going to be here is significant to me.

More significantly this marks the first time in 38 years that I won't celebrate the chag with my parents. I suspected that it would bother me, but I was surprised to realize just how much. The parental units have just returned from several months in Israel and have decided to camp out on the East Coast with one of my 3,987 sisters.

If you attend a seder with my family you'd hear singing that sounds a bit like a cross between James Brown and Luciano Pavarotti. Not sure if that is a good or bad thing, it just is. My grandfather used to say that he didn't sing well, but he did sing loud.

He used to like to sing Molly Malone.

"In Dublin's fair city,
where the girls are so pretty,
I first set my eyes on sweet Molly Malone,
As she wheeled her wheel-barrow,
Through streets broad and narrow,
Crying, "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh!"

"Alive, alive, oh,
Alive, alive, oh",
Crying "Cockles and mussels, alive, alive, oh".

I don't have to close my eyes to see the twinkle in his bright blue eyes as he belted it out.

Here are some versions for you to check out:

Sinead O'Connor
The Dubliners
Shamrockfest 08

Stumbled onto this song Ordinary Day and kind of liked it. More Passover thoughts later this week.

Can't finish this without giving my grandmother her own special section. Today is her 94th birthday. We put together a real nice brunch for her and grandpa and managed to gather half of her great-grandchildren to help celebrate.

Macular degeneration has taken her eyesight and her short term memory is a little rough, but overall she is in really good shape. She told me that she thinks that her age has finally caught up to her. That may or may not be true, but she still exudes quiet strength and she still is among the happiest people I have ever known. If you ask her why she'll laugh and tell you that life is hard and that is why you have to smile. If you press her to provide a less cryptic answer she will, but that is a story for a different day.

For now I'll leave you with a few thoughts. Just before I drove her and grandpa home I watched as the grandchildren ran up to give her a hug and a kiss goodbye. The excitement in their eyes made me smile, great-grandmother and great-children alike.

When I dropped them off at their home I had to take a moment. They both hugged and kissed me goodbye, and then without any further ado they held hands and walked off towards the entrance. When I tried to follow them in my grandfather stuck his cane out and told me not to interrupt his time with his special girl and with a twinkle in his eye told me to tell the office that they wouldn't make it to dinner tonight.

My apologies for not being able to provide a better description of those two, but sometimes less is more.

Laila tov.

Letting It All Hang Out

Using Math/Science to Explain Women

HH #162- Worth More than A Dime

The man has come through and done an outstanding job with the latest edition of Haveil Havalim, The Best of The Jewish/Israeli Blogosphere.

Go take a look at Haveil Havalim #162 - Pesah Edition.

Remote Controls

During the past several years the ancient lady known as the Shmata Queen has complained to me that she can't figure out how to use the remote control for the television. Since I have a puckish sense of humor I tend to refer her to the picture below.

No matter how many times she sees it she still cracks a smile, albeit a tiny one. I suppose that it might help if I stopped making comments about her advanced age and or stopped offering to get her a walker. Excuse me while I duck and cover.

Ok, now back to the post. I must admit that the old girl has a point about the remotes growing more and more complex. In an effort to make life simpler the manufacturers have created a crazy configuration of beeps, bells and whistles that do more than adjust the volume and change the channel.

Now from the comfort of your recliner you can turn the lights on/off, adjust the stereo, turn on/off the microwave/oven/stove, play DVD/VHS, open/close the garage, feed the dog/cat and fire a Taser at the kid on the porch whose sole mistake was trying to sell you magazine subscriptions.

If you think that I am exaggerating just look at the picture below.

But hey, it is a wireless world baby. Time to get with the program, or so they tell you. Technology is a wonderful thing. Even the most intimate events can be handled from a distance, although you would think that Ma Bell's push to reach out and touch someone has some real validity.

So here we are living in a material world with children who don't know from Black & White television sets, don't understand jokes about rabbit ears or how you could use tinfoil and a wire hanger to improve reception.

They don't know about Rotary phones. Dick Tracy's watch is not fantasy and it is becoming less and less unusual to see younger kids walking around with cellphones. They don't stress out about technology, it is a part of their world.

In fact if you have Luddite tendencies or are just confused about how to change the channel on your television the best piece of advice I have is to get yourself a six year-old child. All you need to do is hand them the remote and you can guarantee that in less than a minute they'll have that set buzzing.

And if you don't believe me you can ask the old SQ how she solved her problem and she'll confirm it.

P.S. I wasn't referring to her major malady of having to admit to being born in the land of the burning river. That is one thing that only time and copious amounts of therapy can fix. ;)

Shavua Tov Y'all.

I Am Taking Requests...

It is reader feedback time. If you have anything special you'd like me to blog about let me know. 

We Won't Be Shaking Hands

Yesterday I learned more about one of the guys at the gym then I wanted to know. Here is the scene.

I walk into the locker room and head to the bathroom. As I enter the room I see "Tom" walk out of a stall. He is barefoot and completely naked. Apparently he doesn't worry about athletes foot, but why should he.

Within moments of leaving the stall he manages to pick his nose, scratch his tuchus and then stick his hand out in greeting.

I look at him and tell him that it is nothing personal, but I'd rather he wash his hands first. But what I really am thinking is that if he ever invites me over to dinner I am going to be busy that day.

I am not easily grossed out, but that whole scene was bad.

Star Trek Heroes Sing Songs That Make You...

A Brief roundup

Here is a quick roundup of recent posts:

The Last Lecture- Remarks of a Dying Man
How To Deal With Failure
Just a little Aggravation
Yom Hashoah Music and More
Writer's Block- Do You Stop Blogging

The Last Lecture- Remarks of a Dying Man

I think that I might have covered Randy Pausch before, but I didn't see it in the archives. Anyway, I thought that this was worth showing again.

If you're not familiar with the story Randy Pausch is a college professor who is dying from pancreatic cancer. He is 47 years old, married and has three small children. The video below is of his final lecture.

He is still fighting the battle, but as his home page says "Pancreatic cancer is the most deadly of cancers, with only a 4% 5-year survival rate."

I enjoyed his lecture. I hope you will too.

How To Deal With Failure

Rocky Balboa: I'd hold you up to say to your mother, "this kid's gonna be the best kid in the world. This kid's gonna be somebody better than anybody I ever knew." And you grew up good and wonderful. It was great just watching you, every day was like a privilege.

Then the time come for you to be your own man and take on the world, and you did. But somewhere along the line, you changed. You stopped being you. You let people stick a finger in your face and tell you you're no good. And when things got hard, you started looking for something to blame, like a big shadow.

Let me tell you something you already know. The world ain't all sunshine and rainbows. It's a very mean and nasty place and I don't care how tough you are it will beat you to your knees and keep you there permanently if you let it.

You, me, or nobody is gonna hit as hard as life. But it ain't about how hard ya hit. It's about how hard you can get it and keep moving forward. How much you can take and keep moving forward. That's how winning is done!

Now if you know what you're worth then go out and get what you're worth. But ya gotta be willing to take the hits, and not pointing fingers saying you ain't where you wanna be because of him, or her, or anybody!
Cowards do that and that ain't you! You're better than that!
(You can see the clip here.)

Some of you may roll your eyes, but as my friend RWAC will tell you that scene is a great teaching tool. Life is hard. Life can be very good, but it can also be exceptionally rough. As a father one of the most important jobs I have is to teach my children how to deal with failure and how to overcome adversity.

*Unless you are the lead dog the scenery never changes*

Part of me hates that line and part of me hates me for hating it, more on that a different day. The real comment here is that our society expends copious amounts of energy lauding winners. Coaches tell their players that second place is for losers. Commentators made up of former athletes talk about how they managed to overcome adversity to win the championship, gold medal whatever.

Next to no time is spent on those who didn't win. I am a realist. My kids are not always going to be the best, sometimes they are going to lose. So my job is to help them learn from those experiences, teach them how to use that in a positive fashion and not allow them to be overwhelmed by negative energy.

As their daddy I have very clear goals for them. The number one goal is for them to be happy and well adjusted. In my mind that means that they need to learn how to live with themselves so that when the lights go out and they are alone with their thoughts they can close their eyes and feel good about who they are.

Coping with failure doesn't mean that you don't try hard or do your best. If you want to feel good about yourself than it is a moral imperative to go out and try. If you do your best and you fail, well that may not be a great feeling but you know that you put the effort in.

I don't have any illusions that sometimes this philosophy of mine is going to fall short. I have written about my own frustrations with not being good enough. It hurts to come so close and to still fall short. There may be a door or two that needed patching, but I'll never say for certain.

So the trick here is to try and teach them the balance. I want them to go for it. I want them to try hard. I don't want them to just settle, not unless they absolutely have to.

Settling- that is a conversation that the boys and I seem to have a lot lately. What are you willing to do to ensure your happiness. What compromises are you willing to make. What role do your children play. How long do you subjugate your wishes and your desires for them. But again, that is a different post.

My son loves to wrestle with me. We go at it every day. And every day I win. But I am careful about how I win. When he was a little bit younger it used to kill him to lose. He hated it, but over time he has learned the difference between losing a battle and winning the war.

When we finish I often ask him for his thoughts. Tonight he told me that he thinks that eventually he is going to win because I get tired more easily. I was very proud of him. Not only did he not care that I won, but he has begun to notice my weaknesses. It may sound silly, but I love it.

It shows that he is thinking and that is what I want him to do. I want him to focus on the bigger picture and not get caught up in narishkeit. Now he understands why it is important to practice. Now he sees that if he works at it he will succeed.

Of course once I stopped huffing and puffing I went and banged out several sets of push ups. With any luck I should be able to maintain my dominance until I am 50 something. You know us men, the fragile male ego is not nearly ready to lose to my little boy.

Anyway, let's get back to the topic of failure or perhaps we should just call it dealing with adversity. The bottom line here is simple. If the adults in his life don't teach him what do when things get rough, then it is we who have failed and that sort of failure is the kind that I just cannot accept.
(TherapyDoc can take responsibility inspiring this post. Go take a look at her blog and tell her I say hi.)

Just a little Aggravation

I could write a story about people who travel to Israel for two months. It would have a mother and a father. They'd travel around the country and report back to the family about what a nice trip they were having.

Midway through they'd share a tale about how the father contracted pneumonia and had to be hospitalized. Since that is not dramatic enough I'd be sure to write in a scene in which they hit the E.R. the same time as the victims of a terror attack.

They'd weather the storm and go through a few more ups and downs and eventually we'd hit the climax. That would be the part where three days before they're supposed to return home the father pays a visit back to the doctor. I'd throw everyone by writing about how it was a routine follow up, or at least it was supposed to be.

Instead of going off without a hitch the visit would bring a recommendation from the doc for the father to use oxygen on the flight back to the states. See, in a pre-911 world that would have been no big deal. But in today's climate you can't just bring it on board.

No, now you need to jump through all sorts of hoops.

Did I mention that the story would include a part in which the mother and father tell their son that the airlines don't want to let them board without a trained medical professional to operate a small oxygen tank.

Not to mention that only some of the airlines are even willing to let you bring it on board.

Then, just to add a little spice I'd include a part about how the happy parents were scrambling to find a hotel room because not only is it Israel's 60th birthday, Pesach is just around the corner.

One of these days I'll have to really tell the tale. When I do I'll include all the crazy parts that I have left out of this fictional account, because the truth is always stranger than fiction.

Yom Hashoah Music and More

During my search for new music I came across a song I hadn't heard before. However I was familiar with the artists. Anyway, here is the video.

God Almighty When Will It End? Subliminal & Miri Ben-Ari.



As a bonus here are a couple of others I enjoy

Ani Yachol- Ron Shoval Subliminal ve Hazel
Machar Ani Babayit (Tommrow I'll Be Home)- Ethnix

Writer's Block- Do You Stop Blogging

I recently received an email in which I was asked if I ever suffer from writer's block and if so, do I stop blogging. The answer is that like everyone else I have moments in which I suffer from writer's block.

Sometimes I just can't seem to think of what to blog about. Since I am not paid to blog I don't spend a lot of time worrying about it. I don't have to worry about whether I'll lose readers because of poor quality or because the topic is poor. Of course I prefer to have good topics and great quality, but that is a side issue.

The second form of writer's block is the one that I find to be far more pernicious. Instead of struggling to come up with a topic I struggle to write what I consider a quality post. The writing doesn't flow. It is stilted, awkward and lacks any sort of rhythm.

This begs the question of how to handle these situations. The answer for me is simple. I never stop writing. Writing takes practice. It doesn't matter if I can't seem to get it out, I keep pushing. Sooner or later I find my way again.

Let me clarify a few things.

My first rule of blogging is to read other blogs. Read, read, read and then read some more. The blogosphere is full of some wonderful writers. Some of them are simply amazing. Simple, eloquent, powerful pieces of writing are all around us. Expose yourself to them and you begin to learn how to adopt some of their tricks for your own use.

The second rule of blogging is to write even when you feel like you cannot. Write, write, write and then write some more. Technically you should take a moment to review and rewrite your posts. As my long time readers know this is something that I rarely do. It is probably a mistake on my part, I could certainly improve my posts.

The third rule of blogging is to write with passion about something that you are passionate about. It is not profound. It is not all that insightful and I am not the first person to say this, but if you like what you are writing about it will come out in your writing.

I don't want to get caught up in writing about rules. I have an issue with authority. I don't like rules, I often break them so why should I list them. Instead let me share another idea/thought with you. Music inspires me. I often find that I can break through whatever challenge is facing me by playing music.

Music is a language unto itself. Obviously I like to share that with you. Right now I am listening to Daler Mehndi. I haven't the foggiest idea what he is singing about, but it has a nice beat and he has passion. That is a good combination.

One more suggestion for you. If you really enjoy writing I encourage you to purchase a few books that you can use to help build your vocabulary. It is another good way of finding ways to break through those tougher moments. I have a few of these books.

Words That Make a Difference And How To Use Them In A Masterly Way- Robert Greenman
Rare Words- Jan Leighton
The Highly Selective Thesaurus For The Extraordinarily Literate- Eugene Ehrlich

They have all been very useful. I would suggest that you be judicious in your use of them. That is, it is good to expand your vocabulary but don't let new words spoil your natural rhythm and flow. Introduce new words slowly and it will sound natural. Insert too many at once and you can come off sounding like a pretentious fob.

Well, it is after midnight here so I think that we'll call it a night. See you all in the A.M.

Tikvah- This Song Does it For Me

I am not the first blogger to feature this, but as it seemed to help remove some of the writer's block I decided to feature it. If you want to see other comments go here and here.

Working On A Post

I am working on a couple of different posts right now. Since they're not quite where I want them to be I am going to go with the default post of what I am listening to right now.

Always on My Mind- Elvis Presley
Suspicious Minds-Elvis Presley
Did I ever mention that occasionally I dress up in a white Elvis Jumpsuit and pretend to be him. And when I am not playing Elvis I pretend to be Evil Knievel. ;)
In The Ghetto-Elvis Presley
Strangers in the Night -Frank Sinatra
"Autumn Leaves"-Frank Sinatra
You and I-Michael Bublé
Heroes- David Bowie
Young Americans- David Bowie
Shema Israel- Sarit Haddad
Al Kol Eyleh- Joe
This next one is for my neighbor's kid.
Ani Yachol- Ron Shoval Subliminal ve Hazel
Tikva (Hope) [Subtitled]-Subliminal & The Shadow

MLBF

Howdy June.

The Joys of Flying Commercial Airlines

CNN has an article in which they offer tips for cranky passengers. Some of them are common sense type tips such as to make sure that you know your rights, pack light and prepare for the worst.

Well, I don't know about you but I find it offensive to be told to prepare for the worse. It may be practical, it may be sensible, but it irritates the heck out of me to think that I need to do so.

The airlines continue to cry about being impoverished all the while they cut back on the things that you used to be able to count upon. Food, pillows, blankets and space seem to disappear but the price continues to go up.

I remember when flying used to be fun. It used to be quite enjoyable, but not I see it as having become quite the chore. Something isn't right about this. There has to be a better way to do things. There has to be something that can be done.

Stop telling me that fuel and security have made it what it is. I wasn't the CEO of the airlines that were hijacked and used as flying bombs. It wasn't my responsibility to ensure that my crew and passengers were safe.

It wasn't my responsibility to see that we ran things smartly. It is not my responsibility to see that customer service is more than a pipe dream.

^$*&U^$$#%U&^$U*^$U*& is what I have to say to all that.

For those who are interested here are some related links.

Cruising At 34,000 Feet
All My Bags Are Packed
Airplane Trouble? Kill a Goat
Flying The Unfriendly Skies
Crying Child Forces Family From Plane
The Land of Lost Luggage

A Song From My Past

This helped get me through a few rough spots.

Living Colour - Broken Hearts

Jimmy Kimmel- Richard Simmons For a Day

Shopping for Pesach- Bring Big $$$$

I don't mind having the family seder at my house. In fact I very much enjoy it, but what irks me to no end are the inflated costs of purchasing Kosher for Pesach foods.

The truth is that we don't really buy all that much in the way of the premade mixes and what have you. It is much more enjoyable to make our own stuff and far tastier. But we seem to have fallen into the trap of buying Pesach cereals.

The kids like them and I admit to enjoying a few of them myself, but the cost for such a small box is ridiculous.

One of these days I think that I am going to break down and try out one of the Pesach retreats.

Why Monday Night Aggravates Me-So Far

Mom gets sick, kids go bonkers.

Dad gets home to sick wife, crazy kids.

House looks like tornado hit it.

Daughter uses toilet- toilet is clogged.

Plunger has mysteriously disappeared.

Daughter attempts to fish out toilet items. Oh the joy of being 3.5 when nothing is really gross.

Miscellaneous items go along with all of this. Dad is losing his hair as we speak.

Excuse me, while I go cry or laugh or scream or whatever it is I do.

Recycling a Few More Old Posts

I have been engaged in a little bit of spring cleaning here. As I have sorted and sifted through I have decided to share some of the old posts again.

A Couple of Jokes
Liveblogging Dinner With The Shmata Queen Part II
Sir, I Need A Condom
Some of my Cars
Jack Versus The Hacker
He Stole My Lunch

Zoo Tiger Eats Man

If I go to China I think that I'll skip the zoo.

BEIJING (Reuters) - A tiger devoured a mentally ill man who entered the animal’s zoo cage in northeast China, local media reported on Friday.

Zhang Yachun disappeared from his home in Harbin, the capital of Heilongjiang province, on March 24 and five days later police told his parents he had been eaten by a tiger in a nearby zoo, the China news service reported, citing a Harbin newspaper.

“Only two legs and his skull were left,” the report said.

Zhang’s grieving parents said their 37-year-old son suffered mental illness and “especially loved tigers”.

China has a poor record of keeping people away from dangerous zoo and circus animals.

In February, a circus lion ripped a 10-year-old boy’s arm off after grabbing him through the bars of its cage.

Last year, 16 government officials were sacked after a boy was eaten alive at a crocodile enclosure in southern China. And a zoo tiger attacked a 6-year-old girl waiting to have her picture taken with the animal, biting her head and killing her.

Sunday Night Keyword Search

How you found me:

You have no respect for me
It makes me angry
what does it feel like to die
I am not weak
And I am not running
because our love will never die
do u have to have sex once a year to be legally married
why do boys have a penis?
message in 70 music
do we have to use food to train animals
what is life without a few regrets
frum sex
frum spanking
how to tease your husband
swallow me carefully
the meaning behind garden gnomes
why i have sex thoughts of someone?
what would be jesus diet
win a woman's heart with a message
do you have to be naked oral sex?
do men have emotions?
what position did umpire nestor chylak occupy during game 7 of the 1960 world series
can i look anonymous
if i am not for myself will my love be for someone else
it is not the failure but the fear of failure

Does Anyone Still Say Hubba- Hubba?

hubba-hubba (HUB-uh HUB-uh) interjection

Used to express approval, enthusiasm, or excitement. Also, akin to wolf whistle. [Of unknown origin.]

Well, does anyone?

A Fine Sunday Night

It is just myself, a cold beer and The Lakers tonight. A mighty pleasant way to spend an evening.

Recent Posts & A Look Back

It has been a busy time here so for those of you who have taken a break or been unable to follow along here is roundup of recent posts:

Death By Blogging
R.I.P. Charlton Heston
Saturday Night Thoughts
Friday Music Continued
Friday's Music Morning
You Can't Fight Naked
How Long Do You Wait While on Hold
Sex takes 3 to 13 minutes, study says
Not Quite Goodbye- And Some other Thoughts

And now here are some posts from yesteryear that might be worth a second look:

Name Five Movies That You Can't Stand
Jack And The Missionary
Jack And The Missionary Again
I Am Puzzled By Some Things
Why I Quit Blogging
My Wanderings
Taking Stock of Life- A General Accounting
Is Your Life What You Expected It To Be?

Death By Blogging

The Old Grey Lady has an article about how hard it is to make a living by blogging. Some of the comments make me wonder. I very much enjoy blogging and I suspect that if I found a way to make it my livelihood I would, but not at the expense of my health. No job is worth that.

"SAN FRANCISCO — They work long hours, often to exhaustion. Many are paid by the piece — not garments, but blog posts. This is the digital-era sweatshop. You may know it by a different name: home.

A growing work force of home-office laborers and entrepreneurs, armed with computers and smartphones and wired to the hilt, are toiling under great physical and emotional stress created by the around-the-clock Internet economy that demands a constant stream of news and comment.

Of course, the bloggers can work elsewhere, and they profess a love of the nonstop action and perhaps the chance to create a global media outlet without a major up-front investment. At the same time, some are starting to wonder if something has gone very wrong. In the last few months, two among their ranks have died suddenly.

Two weeks ago in North Lauderdale, Fla., funeral services were held for Russell Shaw, a prolific blogger on technology subjects who died at 60 of a heart attack. In December, another tech blogger, Marc Orchant, died at 50 of a massive coronary. A third, Om Malik, 41, survived a heart attack in December.

Other bloggers complain of weight loss or gain, sleep disorders, exhaustion and other maladies born of the nonstop strain of producing for a news and information cycle that is as always-on as the Internet.

To be sure, there is no official diagnosis of death by blogging, and the premature demise of two people obviously does not qualify as an epidemic. There is also no certainty that the stress of the work contributed to their deaths. But friends and family of the deceased, and fellow information workers, say those deaths have them thinking about the dangers of their work style.

The pressure even gets to those who work for themselves — and are being well-compensated for it.

“I haven’t died yet,” said Michael Arrington, the founder and co-editor of TechCrunch, a popular technology blog. The site has brought in millions in advertising revenue, but there has been a hefty cost. Mr. Arrington says he has gained 30 pounds in the last three years, developed a severe sleeping disorder and turned his home into an office for him and four employees. “At some point, I’ll have a nervous breakdown and be admitted to the hospital, or something else will happen.”

“This is not sustainable,” he said."

R.I.P. Charlton Heston

I was just asked if Charlton Heston was still alive. And now we know. One of his most famous lines can be found here. Someone has put together a Planet of the Apes - MUSICAL on YouTube. It was kind of fun.

For those of you who are interested in a more serious story you can check out CNN's obit or just read the excerpt below.

"LOS ANGELES, California (CNN) -- Actor Charlton Heston died at Beverly Hills home at the age of 84 Saturday, his family said.

Heston, known for portrayals of larger than life figure including Moses and Ben Hur, was suffering the late stages of Alzheimer's Disease.
....

The Internet Movie Database listed 126 movies and television production credits for Heston, starting in 1941. He rose to fame in the 1950s with starring movie roles including Ben Hur, for which he won an Oscar. He played Moses in the Ten Commandments."

Haveil Havalim #161 - Pidgeon Break

Friends the Best of the Jewish Israeli Blogosphere is now live at Haveil Havalim #161 - Pidgeon Break.

Go check it out, you'll be glad you did. As always I respectfully request your assistance in promoting it by placing a link on your blog.

Saturday Night Thoughts

In the early days of my blogging career I spent a lot of time writing posts that were nothing more than free expression. I'd sit down at the 'puter and just write about whatever came to mind. It feels like I have been doing that less and less so I thought that tonight would be a welcome return to my blogging roots.

Every month I have a visitor that comes here and reads the same few posts over and over.

I Had a Dream
The Story of Two Souls

I don't know whether this person is male or female, although I tend to think that it is a woman. To the best of my knowledge they have never commented here or communicated in any way with me. Being a curious person I wonder what their story is and why they keep coming back.

Do they identify with the writing? Does it make them smile or is it painful? I can't help but wonder.

Dateline August 1992. Location Ojai, California. I am working as a counselor at a family camp. One warm summer night I spend hours talking to a couple of single parents about life. They are 35 and 39 and I am 23. Over a bottle of wine we share stories and thoughts about life.

Some of the conversation goes over my head. I have never been married and haven't any interest in doing so any time soon. They compare notes about their marriages and talk about what they should have done. Both mention men that they wish they would have married and laugh about ones that they intentionally did not.

To me it is mildly amusing. Youthful arrogance makes me shake my head and wonder how they could have been so foolish. At this point in time I am naive enough to believe that if you marry the right person life is hunky dory and you see nothing but blue skies.

Almost sixteen years later I am a different person. Three full tables of friends and family from my own wedding are gone. Thirty lives are over. Without exaggeration I can say that I have been to at least a dozen funerals. They included friends, my contemporaries, as well as the parents of friends.

I watched as a half dozen or so marriages ended. A few years after the divorce one of the ex-husbands committed suicide. I sat with his ex-wife on several occasions and listened as she wondered if she was the reason that he killed himself.

Another friend told me how her brother and his ex-wife never really stopped loving each other, they just couldn't figure out how to make it work. She said that she had dreams that one day they would find their way back to each other.

Yesterday I listened to another friend tell me how unfair it was that she couldn't get pregnant and how she was beginning to resent her husband.

I look back on the time that has passed and can't believe how much has happened. In short it hasn't been any more than life. The stories and things that have happened are not unusual. I tend to think that I have been exposed to more death than many. I know six people that have had brain tumors and died from complications resulting from them. I wish that I didn't. Sometimes I feel like the Angel of Death.

Happy thoughts, aren't they.

I have been trying to play ball about four times a week. It used to be easy. I never thought twice about playing, but lately it has been tougher. I noticed that towards the end of the week my knees had begun to ache and that walking stairs was painful.

And of course the ache in my knees was matched by a sore back and sore feet. So I finally broke down and purchased a new pair of high tops. I haven't had a chance to play in them yet but I can feel the difference already. The support in my old shoes is shot, but not this pair.

Already I know that they are going to give me a little something extra and I need it. My game is predicated upon being able to outwork and out muscle the other guys. I am not as talented as a bunch of them, but with a little effort I can compensate. The hard part is that the pounding is catching up to me.

I am not ready to give in. Defeat is not something that I accept. So we'll start with the shoes and see if that helps. In addition I have started a new lifting program. We'll see if I can't put some more muscle on and make these little boys pay.

Time moves too quickly. I am not ready to admit that age is catching up to me. Can't I get a few more years. I know, I just know that the answer is out there. A couple of changes, a few adjustments and I can extend my playing career.

In the meantime I think that I am going to investigate getting back into swimming. I swam competitively throughout high school and part of college.

Oops, my daughter is calling. If you'll excuse me I am off to beat up the monster in the closet.

The Shmata Queen Sings With Her Sisters

I Am Not Sure How This Helps Me But...

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Woman Stuffs Snake Down Pants

How could I not cover this.

"It might sound like the punchline to a bad joke, but we're not joking.

Workers at Preuss Pets in Lansing say a woman stole a snake, and how she did it-- well, it's one for the books.

"We've got some great pictures," says longtime employee Jayzun Boget. "It shows her taking the snake out, shoving it down her pants-- it's been the source of endless jokes here."

The video is a little difficult to see, but shop owner Rick Preuss say it's clear she's reaching into the cage and stuffing the snake down her pants. He says the woman had been in the store for some time, staking out the cage.

"In some ways, I wish it were this really big snake going down her pants [so you could see it better]. Instead what you see is a quick view from the camera" of the snake pattern, he says."

Ohio Based Airline Bankrupt

I'll try not to make a crack about broken things from Ohio, but this story is begging for it. I wrote about Skybus and their $10 airplane ticket over here. At the time I remember thinking that if they could survive for a couple of years they just might make it.

Apparently they did not. You can see the full announcement here or just read the following:

"Skybus struggled to overcome the combination of rising jet fuel costs and a slowing economic environment. These two issues proved to be insurmountable for a new carrier.

We deeply regret the impact this decision will have on our employees and their families, customers, vendors, suppliers, airport officials and others in the cities in which we have operated. Our financial condition is such that our Board of Directors felt it had no choice but to cease operations."

Buckwheat Has Been Shot- A Look Back

Friday Music Continued

I received several emails asking for me to continue the list of music from this morning. So Per your request I am pleased to provide some additional tunes for your review and consumption.

This next song was sort of a personal anthem for me for a while

After the Fire- Roger Daltrey

I loved this line:
"After the fire the fire still burns
The heart grows older but never ever learns
The memories smoulder and the soul always yearns
After the fire the fire still burns."

Beat's So Lonely- Charlie Sexton (This song just reminds me of high school. Not amazing, but it holds a few memories.)

I Beg Your Pardon-Kon Kan ( Every time I hear this I expect to find myself watching a John Hughes movie.)

Letter To me- Brad Paisley ( I appreciate the idea of writing a letter to the 17 year-old I used to be. I like most of his music.)

Our house- Madness (Love the piano opening and the horns.)
One step beyond- Madness (I once shared a flight from Heathrow to Newark with them. Talk about drunk musicians- phew. But they were friendly and we shared a few laughs.

Jack And Diane- John Cougar (Since I seemed to be focused on school days here is another song from that time period.

Young Turks- Rod Stewart- (This goes hand in hand with Jack and Diane, at least it does for me.)

I Think I Love You- The Partridge Family (If you are old enough to have given or received this song on a tape, you should know that you're really old.

Fire and Rain- James Taylor (Some people will be disappointed that I went with the obvious choice, but sometimes obvious is best.)

The End- The Beatles ("And, in the end, the love you take/ Is equal to the love you make.")
Strawberry Fields Forever- The Beatles (Nothing is real and nothing to get hung about.)

Tangled Up In Blue- Bob Dylan

Try A Little Tenderness- Otis Redding
Hard To Handle- Otis Redding (The man just had it.)
Ain't no Mountain High Enough- Marvin Gaye & Tammi Terrell- (Words to live by.)

Fire- Bruce Springsteen (Passion, if you don't get it, you're missing out on so much.)

Possession-Sarah McLachlan (She has a beautiful voice.)
Angel-Sarah McLachlan
World On Fire-Sarah McLachlan
Hold On I'm Comin'- Sam and Dave (Great song that I associate with The Blues Brothers.)

Minnie The Moocher- Cab Calloway

As Times Goes By

Friday's Music Morning

Been far too busy this morning to post, so here is a quick rundown of music I have been listening to, including the lyrics of a few songs that have really stuck with me.

Remember When- Alan Jackson
Where Were You- Alan Jackson
You Don't Know Me- Ray Charles
Busted- Ray Charles
You Can Leave Your Hat On- Joe Cocker
Comfortably Numb- Roger Waters and Van Morrison
Shine On You Crazy Diamond- Pink Floyd
Californication-Red Hot Chili Peppers
Under The Bridge- Red Hot Chili Peppers
Always On My Mind- Willie Nelson

And the lyrics of one of my favorite Ray Charles songs:

Don't Change On Me

Girl, you're my sunshine
Take away the raindrops
Make it all worthwhile
Make all the pain stop

Just like a river
Keep love flowing
Don't let our world stop
Keep it going, oh Lord

Well, I love you just the way you are
Honey, don't change on me, yeah
Don't you change on me
I said, don't you change on me, no, no

Girl, you're my lucky star
Honey, don't change on me, yeah
Oh please, don't change on me
I keep begging, don't change on me, yeah

I used to wonder
Where would I find
Some kind of happiness
And peace of mind

I was living in darkness
But then you came
Bringing the sunlight
Easing my pain, God

Oh, I love you just the way you are
Now don't change on me, yeah
Oh please, don't change on me
Oh girl, don't you change on me

Oh girl, you're my lucky star
Don't change on me, oh yeah
Don't change on me
Don't change on me

If there's a heaven
Then this is my prayer
I wanna know you
If we should meet there

And then forever
We'll walk together
Nothing but sunshine
No more stormy weather

Well, I love you just the way you are
Honey, don't change on me
'Cause I love you, don't change on me
Oh baby, don't you change on me

Girl, you're my lucky star
Honey, don't change on me, yeah
Oh please, don't change on me
Oh baby, don't change on me

Listen to this, I love you just the way you are
Honey, don't change on me, yeah
Did you hear me, girl, don't change on me
Girl, don't you change on me

Girl, you're my lucky star
Honey, don't change on me
Oh baby, don't change on me
Yeah love, don't change on me

Do it, do it, do it, I love you just the way you are
Don't change on me, yeah
Oh baby, don't change on me
I said, don't you change, change, change

Girl, you're my lucky star
Honey, don't change on me, yeah
Oh please, don't change on me, oh oh

You Can't Fight Naked

I have never let my schooling interfere with my education.
Mark Twain

Initially this post started out with a comment about how a Jew and an Irishman engage in steam room diplomacy. But I didn't like the flow so I turned off the jets and decided to scroll it back into something that didn't sound like the start of some silly joke.

Because if I had to attach labels I'd have to say that it was two Americans discussing politics and life in America, not to mention a few words about the advantages of the blogosphere.

It is safe to say that our politics don't always fall in line with each other. We have our differences and we have our similarities. I don't mind disagreeing with people. It is good to challenge your beliefs. I'd like to say that I never fall into the trap of thinking that my way is the only way, but sometimes that is really how it goes.

Get your facts first, and then you can distort them as much as you please.
Mark Twain

We probably sat in the steam room for a solid 15-20 minutes. During that time I learned about how he began blogging and exchanged a few thoughts about the blogosphere and what it can do. Certainly his corner of cyberspace far exceeds my own, at least based upon the number of readers. So from a purely selfish point of view I was curious to hear what he had to say. I still blog for myself, but I'd be lying if I said that I didn't want to dramatically increase my traffic.

I thoroughly disapprove of duels. If a man should challenge me, I would take him kindly and forgivingly by the hand and lead him to a quiet place and kill him.
Mark Twain

Eventually the heat got to be too much and it was time to go shower. As we walked out I mentioned that steam room diplomacy might be the way to go. Get two parties into the steam room and let them work out their differences. As Mike said, You Can't Fight Naked.

Seriously, with that kind of heat you don't have time to sit their and posture. You're either going to get down to brass tacks or pass out from heat exhaustion. It seems to me that there is merit in forcing our diplomats into expediting the process. It might not fit into the current protocol, but I am not convinced that protocol is helping all that much. The old saw about thinking outside the box comes to mind.

Don't part with your illusions. When they are gone you may still exist, but you have ceased to live.
Mark Twain

On a more serious note I am disappointed to say that this is another election in which I am not happy with any of the candidates. I won't not vote. I am going to give up that right, but I won't sit quietly on the sidelines.

It is shameful and disappointing to look at the current group of politicians and feel like everyone of them is trying to say what we want to hear. If you voice opinions that are considered hard right or hard left you are unelectable. And so everyone comes to the center because that is a politicians safety zone.

I have been through some terrible things in my life, some of which actually happened.
Mark Twain

I have to imagine, I have to believe that some of our representatives are working for us because they want to help. I have to think that someone out there went into it for altruistic reasons. Because honestly the thought that every politician is a lying scumbag who is in it for power, prestige and money is too depressing.

I grew up hearing that anyone could become president. Part of me still believes that and part of me says that this has become a myth, a fable. If you don't have money and access to the machine you can't get there. If you're not a Washington insider than you are an outsider looking in.

But maybe the dream that was America still lives. Regardless of how I feel about our candidates we can still say that a woman and a minority have a legitimate shot at being elected president. So perhaps in spite of all of the challenges we face there is a silver lining.

What do you think?

How Long Do You Wait While on Hold

I pose the question, how long are you willing to wait on hold? A minute, five minutes, an hour? How long is it acceptable to be placed on hold? Let me know what you think.

Sex takes 3 to 13 minutes, study says

If you have to describe sex by discussing how long it takes there is something wrong with you, or should I say that your relationship is in trouble.

Ok, I know that this is not the point of the article but it ties into a post from early March called A Sexually Incompatible Marriage which discussed how some marriages are being impacted by differing ideas on what a good sex life should entail.

Anyway, here is a snippet of information from the article about the study.

NEW YORK (AP) -- Maybe men had it right all along: It doesn't take long to satisfy a woman in bed.

A survey of sex therapists concluded the optimal amount of time for sexual intercourse was 3 to 13 minutes. The findings, to be published in the May issue of the Journal of Sexual Medicine, strike at the notion that endurance is the key to a great sex life.

If that sounds like good news to you, don't cheer too loudly. The time does not count foreplay, and the therapists did rate sexual intercourse that lasts from 1 to 2 minutes as "too short."

Researcher Eric Corty said he hoped to ease the minds of those who believe "more of something good is better, and if you really want to satisfy your partner, you should last forever."

The questions were not gender-specific, said Corty. But he said prior research has shown men and women want foreplay and sexual intercourse to last longer.

Dr. Irwin Goldstein, editor of the Journal of Sexual Medicine, cited a four-week study of 1,500 couples in 2005 that found the median time for sexual intercourse was 7.3 minutes. (Women in the study were armed with stopwatches.)

It's difficult for both older men and young men to make sexual intercourse last much longer, said Marianne Brandon, a clinical psychologist and director of Wellminds Wellbodies in Annapolis, Maryland.

I want to comment on one more line "It's difficult for both older men and young men to make sexual intercourse last much longer"

Is it just me or is that line exceptionally vague. Older men and younger men have trouble making things last longer. So at what age do we men hit the sweet spot? How old or how young do you need to be to fall in the difficulty category. Inquiring minds want to know.

This Happens In LA Malls All The Time

Go see SuperRaizy's Napkin video.

Not Quite Goodbye- And Some other Thoughts

Less than two weeks ago I wrote a post called Death Comes For Us All- When Do you Start Saying Goodbye. It is about my grandparents. I am down to two. Now that might sound strange to some of you but until a short while ago I had a full set. Don't get me wrong, I love the two that I have now, but I still haven't gotten used to not having the others around.

And to be really honest I think about my paternal grandfather daily. I always knew that he played a big role in my life, but it wasn't until he died that I realized just how much I had leaned upon him. Forgive me for being bitter, but just as I was really beginning to learn he was taken from me.
More on this later.

Sunday morning I received a call from my grandfather letting me know that the paramedics had taken my grandmother to the emergency room. "Jack, I need you now. Go to the hospital and see that my girl is taken care of."

I told him not to worry and he said "I don't. With your parents out of town you are the head of the family, you'll do the right thing."

It felt a little goofy hearing that, but he takes it seriously and so did I. As a kid I couldn't wait to become a grown up and now that I am, well I miss being a kid. My kids always laugh when they hear older people refer to me as a kid, it is beyond their comprehension...for now.

Off I went to the hospital. Grandma has a heart condition and is just short of 94. You never know what can happen. I was optimistic because there is not much use in being anything else. When I got there I was pleased to hear her complain about being hungry. If you feel that badly you're probably ok.

They kept her there for about two days. Ran some tests and decided that there was no reason to keep her there any longer. Enter the eldest grandson, moi. Off to the hospital I went to get grandma so that I could take her home.

As we waited for some paperwork we talked about my kids and what is happening in my life. She told me "Jack, I don't think that I am long for this world. My time is coming." It wasn't said with any drama, just in a matter of fact voice. I told her that I wasn't convinced that she was going anywhere soon and she laughed. "Men always think they have the answers."

I stared at her and remembered the dark haired lady who had more energy than a dozen people. Until she was 80 something she carried the laundry up and down two flights of stairs and didn't think twice about it. For a moment I got a bit choked up. She is right, she is closer to the end than the beginning, but I am not ready.

When I look at her and my grandfather I see a team. Truthfully I think that she has always been the real source of strength. She has always been this incredibly happy, optimistic woman. She always kept him up. I suppose that part of what concerns me is that if she goes first I am not sure how long we'll get to keep grandpa around. It will devastate him.

This afternoon I got another glimpse of how deep their love and affection runs. When I brought her home from the hospital he was sleeping in a chair. Just as soon as he saw her he smiled and ran to the door. That is not an exaggeration, he ran.

For a moment I felt like I was intruding. She said hi and he kissed her. He KISSED her. In the awkward silence I made a crack about it and he smiled at me and made a crack about how "this beautiful lady helped ensure that I came to be."

I won't buy grief. I am not asking for the malach hamavet to come looking for anyone. That reminds me of when my other grandfather told me that he had a special surprise for him. I can still see him telling me that when the Angel of Death came for him he'd pop him in the mouth with a quick right, kick him in the balls and then throw his feathery ass out the window. As a kid that was pretty funny.

For some reason this reminds me of a conversation I once had. Here are a couple of quotes from that conversation:

I live alone and apart.

I didn't ask for an apology. It is what it is. I can only be who I am. The path I walk is one of my own choosing.

I think that I need to Google that. I like the way that it sounds, but it sounds really familiar. I'd hate to find out that I accidentally plagiarized it

My life is one of perpetual motion, one transition to another. It is probably not any different than anyone else, but sometimes it sure feels like it. Watching my grandparents makes me exceptionally aware of so many things. Some are very good and some are not so good.

So as I approach another fork in the road I need to consider which path to take. Life is too short. If I could live to be a thousand I'd still feel like I have a million things that I want to do and not enough time to try them all.

Shakespeare was right, Life is a tale told by an idiot, full of sound and fury, signifying nothing. Somebody do me a favor and check that quote, I am too tired to Google, which probably indicates that I should take my lazy butt to bed.

Night all.

Tuesday Night Tunes

I'm Shipping Up To Boston - Dropkick Murphys
Love without end, amen- George Strait
Face To Face-Siouxsie and The Banshees
Helter Skelter-Paul McCartney
In the End- Linkin Park
What I've Done- Linkin Park
Somewhere I Belong- Linkin Park
It's Been Awhile- Staind
Fire on Babylon- Sinead O'Connor
Molly Malone- The Dubliners
The One- Elton John
Chariots of Fire- Vangelis

Updated: I stumbled onto a host of songs that remind me of fraternity life. Saturday night at the house you'd find the dance floor packed full of people. Usually there were so many people in there it was hard to really move. That was a good thing for a guy like me who loved music, understood rhythm but couldn't get his body to prove he had much. Confession, I can two step and am not bad at slow dancing.

Anyhoo, here are a few of those songs.

The Power- Snap
Give Up the Funk- Parliament
Atomic Dog- George Clinton
Push It - Salt 'n Pepa
Pour Some Sugar on Me- Def Leppard
Faith- George Michael
Every Rose Has Its Thorn- Poison
Close My Eyes Forever-Lita Ford & Ozzy Osbourne

What Happens To Waffle Thieves

Crossposted at The Muqata.

Why Did The Alligator Cross The Road

Why did the alligator cross the road? Cops don't know, but authorities collared the nine footer Tuesday morning after a half-hour standoff that slowed traffic to a crawl on U.S. 441.

The gator was spotted about 7:15 a.m. at U.S. 441 and Bailey Road. The reptile was seen by construction workers, who called 911, bringing the Broward Sheriff's Office to the scene.

''This is the Broward's Sheriff's Office,'' a deputy said into a bullhorn. ``Get back into the canal!''

The alligator defied orders.

The deputy continued: ``Move back! Move back!''

The alligator didn't exactly obey, although it did eventually meander about 100 feet or so. It migrated from the pavement of U.S. 441 to the sidewalk along the busy road. Traffic was reduced to one lane as the alligator stood its ground.

Am I the only one who is disturbed by the idea of a deputy using a bullhorn to try and scare the gator back into the canal.

"Listen Wally, this is Deputy Barney Fife, a duly declared lawman of the Broward County Sheriff's department. If you fail to heed my order I am going to have to take you in..."

Sounds to me like the deputy should be working with Mr. Ranger at Jellystone.

Jameel Broke The Story

Want to know why The Muqata is one of my favorite blogs? It is because of Jameel's incredible connections. Today he revealed the story behind the story. Check this out:

Knesset Resolution Passed: Waffle Week Starts Today!

The Angry Morning- Festivus

I must have been about six or so when my father asked if I woke up on the wrong side of the bed. At that age I didn't know jack about euphemisms and yelled "NO" back at him. He of course gave me the famous glare and I backed down. You didn't yell at dad.

A few minutes later he explained to me that it was an expression that referred to your emotional state. For those who take me literally I am sure that he didn't use the term emotional state he wouldn't do that to me just as he wouldn't punish me by forcing me to live in cleveland or Baltimore.

Someone else I know parrots her mother by saying that people are in a mood. In fact she'd probably say that I am in a mood right now. I hate that freaking expression. It makes it sound like we're stuck inside a bubble and I sure as hell am not the freaking bubble boy. I am not floating around waiting, no begging for some poor sap to prick the bubble and set me free.

No today I woke up breathing fire and spitting blood. I don't know why. I don't remember what I dreamt about. I didn't go to bed angry. I just woke up ready to do battle. Maybe it is because I slept with my sword, I don't know.

I had intended to come up with some goofy post about Festivus. And then I came across two websites about the holiday and ended up more pissed off. And I can't tell you exactly why they aggravated me, other than they commercialized a beautiful day.

But there is still one thing that makes sense to me. I need to engage in the airing of grievances and feats of strength.