Citizen of the Month

the writing and photography of Neil Kramer

Category: Jewish (Page 3 of 8)

Back to the Shtetl!

April 25, 2008 / / 48 Comments

In the last issue of Los Angeles’ Jewish Journal, there was a full-page advertisement from the McCain campaign. The ad consisted of a letter written from a woman in New Jersey who said she was once a Democrat, but was now going to vote for McCain. She insisted that she wasn’t a right-wing nut. In fact, she specifically said she was liberal in social matters such as abortion and gay rights. No, her big issue was Israel. And some think that the Republicans are a better “friend” to Israel than the Democrats. I don’t know if I agree, or understand what this “friendship” really means, but there is this impression out there.

I’m not an Israeli. I don’t let one issue become the reason I vote for a candidate. But Israel is a big thing for most Jews. Is it surprising? Or wrong? Are we upset when the Irish care about Ireland? Or Chicago residents root for the Cubs? Passover just ended. The whole story of this ancient holiday, one that Jesus himself celebrated, is about Moses leading the chosen people into the Holy Land.

Do backers of Israel have too much of a say in American policy? Perhaps. Or is Israel in the best interest of America? The Arabs may have the oil, but when you get stuck at a seder, you’ll be glad you’re drinking the Israeli stuff rather than our own Manishevitz. And did you know that Natalie Portman was born in Israel? Enough said.

The Chosen People. I sometimes get the weirdest anti-Semitic emails about the phrase “chosen people,” as if Jews believe God gave them special freebies, like bigger penises on Jewish men. While this is true for some of us, I can’t vouch for every Jewish man. Maybe next week, I’ll write a post about “the chosen people” and have some of you goyim tell me what you think the phrase really means.

I’d like to also hear more of your feelings about our policies with Israel. Is America too biased towards Israel? Who do you think we should be biased to? Syria? Don’t be afraid to speak your mind. I already know which of you are anti-Semitic. Seriously, I’m open to different views. I have a few blogging friends who live in Europe who are very upset about the conditions of Palestinians in Gaza, and pretty much blame Israel. I understand the humanistic need to fight for those without a voice — the underdog. It is part of the liberal tradition. It is also why Republicans have made inroads with the Jewish community. Because many have forgotten that Israel is an underdog also.

I don’t think I met a Republican until I was twenty years old. A Republican in New York? A Jewish Republican? But politics make strange bedfellows. Soon, it was the religious right that was supporting Israel, while liberals like ex-President Jimmy Carter were sharing tea with Hamas leadership.

I consider myself fairly liberal. I care for the underdog. I just happen to see Israel as an underdog, despite its military power. Look on the map.

There’s a lot of guilt to go around in the Middle East. Israel can suck, too. Their policies have caused chaos in Gaza. But then again, I don’t live there. It is very hard to be sympathetic to those wanting to kill you.

I once read this very bizarre article (written by a French intellectual, of course) which theorized that Israel was bad for the Jewish people. This writer was proud of the older generation of Jews — the ones who thrived in Europe and added so much to European intellectual life — the Spinozas and Einsteins of the world. Now, Jews lost some of their moral high ground by having Israel. They became like everyone else. He seemed disappointed in these new Jews, because these Jews weren’t as alienated and miserable as they used to be. What should liberals do with Jews who aren’t victims — the prototypical victim?

I think the extreme right and the extreme left end up meeting in the same place concerning Jews and Israel: they don’t really feel comfortable with them being normal people. It’s as if they take “the chosen people” more seriously than Jews themselves. They need to be “chosen” for something, whether they want to or not.

How many other countries get the scrutiny that Israel gets? Or is as demonized by liberal Europeans, despite violence going on all over the world? Or is berated for land that was given them, and then won after the other side repeatedly attacked them? Or has given back most of the land and repeatedly made compromises? That actually respects the religion of their enemies?

Still, it would be nice to go back in time, to a more carefree era — back before half of the Jewish population was wiped out by the Nazis — back to the shtetls of Russia. Imagine if we could just move all the Jews back to Russia! I can give up blogging and return to my life as a grumpy milkman with three daughters, waiting to become a rich man. Wouldn’t that be a miracle of miracles?!

Of course, this dream could become a reality, as one blogger points out. In an interesting article in today’s BlogHer, Dana J. Tuszke writes “Quo Vadis, Israel?,” in which the blogger paves a way for peace in the Middle East by following H. Peter Nennhaus’s cool plan:

Nennhaus proposes that purchase of the land called the Kaliningrad Oblast from Russia, would encourage Russian immigrants to return to Russia by means of financial enticements, and the transfer of the Israelis to the Baltic, would prevent anyone from questioning the legitimacy of this new Israeli homeland.

What do you think? Could Israel relocate its entire nation? Could peace finally be achieved?

This is perfect for me, since I’ve already married a Russian and know how to drink vodka! Das Vadanya, Comrade Jews!

Neilochka Loves Matzoh Brei

April 20, 2008 / / 23 Comments

I have been honest with you that things are bumpy with Sophia. I’m sure there are many single women out there waiting for the post where I finally write — “I’ve been booted out,” because that means it is now your opportunity to sent me that bra in the mail and win me over for yourself. But, I’m going to warn you. I’m not that easy. I will never date any woman who doesn’t pass a certain test. I’m not talking about judging you on your tits or ass. I’m not even talking about intelligence.

No, I’m talking about your ability to make matzoh brei.

What is matzoh brei?

To better explain matzoh brei, let’s go directly to the passage in Exodus where it is explained in the Bible:

One day, Moses was leading the Israelites out of Egypt, and was helping out the “cooking crew” by carrying some matzoh. His brother Aaron was carrying a big jug of scrambled eggs. These items were going to be served for breakfast, right after morning prayers. As they were walking, Moses got distracted by a young Israelite maiden.

“Holy burning bushes,” he said to himself. “Her breasts are a round and soft as Egyptian melons!”

Just then, he tripped on his staff and dropped all the matzoh in Aaron’s jug of scrambled eggs.

The Israelites, a stiff-necked people, started grumbling.

“What did you bring us into the desert for. Moses, to starve us? You ruined breakfast, Moses! Who wants to eat that crap? First the gefilte fish, and now eggs with matzoh inside? You’re killing us, Moses! How are we supposed to keep on walking in this hot desert without some nourishment? And what kind of God sends us to this crappy piece of land surrounding by people who hate us… and not even any oil on the land? Why not Paris or Toronto? Better to be slaves in Egypt. At least they made good shish-kabobs and we got to dance like Egyptians.”

Moses was distraught. Not only were his people angry, but his wife, Zepporah, saw him checking out the maiden’s cleavage, and she was NOT happy.

“God, help me!” cried Moses. “What can I do to appease these Israelites, who just keep on complaining about the food we’re serving? What do they expect — a four star restaurant in the desert.”

“Moses. These are Israelites. They love to complain. Listen to me. Lift up that tablet lying there at your foot. I will show you what to do.”

A bolt of lightening hit the tablet.

Moses read what was engraved.

“A recipe for matzoh brei?” asked Moses.

“Take my word for it, Moses.” said God. “Tell the Israelites that even Rachael Ray eats the stuff, so they’ll think it is more special that the goyim like it, too.”

“Thank you, God. You have saved your chosen people again.”

“That’s what I’m here for… sometimes.”

“Just one more thing. Zipporah is really pissed at me for checking out that fair maiden’s tits.”

“Those were excellent, weren’t they? How can anyone ever doubt my existence when a hot woman like that exists in the world?”

“Here. Here. But I think Zipporah is so mad at me, I might not get any… good-lovin’ tonight. Can you help me with that?”

“God is One. And all Powerful. Just not that powerful. You’re screwed Moses. Good luck. And from now on, include a bitter herb at the Passover seder to remember that bitter night you spent alone with the camels outside the tent.”

A simple matzoh brei recipe from The Complete Passover Cookbook by Frances R. Avrutick:

INGREDIENTS:

* 4 matzohs
* 4 eggs
* 1/2 cup milk
* Salt to taste
* White pepper to taste
* 3 Tablespoons butter

For variation, try adding some chopped fresh chives.

PREPARATION:
Break the matzohs into small pieces and soak them in the water in a large bowl until soft but not soggy. Drain well.

In a separate large bowl, beat the eggs with the milk, salt, and pepper. Add the matzohs. Blend together.

Melt the butter in a large skillet over medium heat; add the egg mixture. Cook over medium heat. As the eggs begin to thicken and brown, stir from the bottom with a wide spatula or pancake turner, keeping the matzoh in large scrambled pieces. If you prefer, cook the egg-matzoh mixture as a large omelet, browning on both sides. Turn out onto warm serving dish.

Yield: 4 servings

Disney Israel Presents “The Girl Who Didn’t Believe in Passover”

April 18, 2008 / / 7 Comments

Once upon a time, there was a pretty Israeli girl named Ariel. She lived in Tel Aviv. All she wanted to do was go to the beach with her friends and have fun, listening to music and checking out the cute, slacker boys.

“You can’t go to the beach on Saturday,” said her mother during dinner one night. “It’s Passover. We’re going to have a seder.”

“Do I have to?” complained Ariel. “The weather is going to be perfect on Saturday.”

“It’s Passover!” replied her mother. “We celebrate our freedom from Egypt. Think of all the good food we get to eat!”

“I’m on a diet, Mom. And seriously, do you really believe that old story? That Moses forced the Pharaoh into “letting his people go” from slavery? How could a bunch of scrappy kvetchers ever compete against the mighty Egyptians?

“It was God who guided them.”

“Right. And then you expect me to believe that with Pharaoh’s army in pursuit of the Israelites, the Red Sea opened up JUST FOR the Israelites, to let them pass through under the sea.”

“You know, you’ve very cynical for a young girl, Ariel!”

That night, Ariel had a wild dream about what happened under the Red Sea so many years ago. And during this dream, she finally learned the true meaning of Passover:

Still need a cool progressive-oriented Haggadah for your seder? Download a cool self-made one by Velveteen Rabbi (Rachel Barenblat).

Name Your Sandwich at Neilochka’s Virtual Kosher Deli

March 31, 2008 / / 104 Comments

harry-met-sally.jpg
Blonde shiksa enjoying a “Neilochka”

Earlier today, I received a comment on my last post suggesting that it might be easier to earn immortality by having my own sandwich at a Jewish deli rather than creating a drink named a Neilochka.  Not a bad idea.  After all, half of you didn’t even know that a lemonade/iced tea was called an Arnold Palmer.  Clearly, my readers are lushes who only know the names of drinks with vodka or tequila inside.

I love the sandwich idea.  It totally fits my “branding.”  I love sandwiches.  I’m Jewish.   And there is something very sexy about a woman eating MY sandwich.

But I’m all about community.  In the spirit of the Great Interview Experiment, I believe that Everyone is a Somebody.  That’s why, today I am opening Neilochka’s Virtual Kosher Deli.   Think of it as a Subway extreme.  The options are unlimited.  You create your own sandwich — the meat, cheese, or vegetables, the condiments, and the type of bread — and then name it after yourself.

My sandwich, the Neilochka, is fairly simple, which reflects my personality.  Corned beef, sauerkraut, spicy wasabi mustard, on rye bread.  No cheese or vegetables.  Enjoy it for lunch.

sandwich.jpg

What is your sandwich?   Write it in the comments.

Jewish Jokes My Mother Emailed Today

March 25, 2008 / / 20 Comments

I get this question all the time:  How can you let your mother read your blog every day, filled as it is with orgies and naked women?  The answer:  my mother has a good sense of humor, well at least in an old-fashioned Catskills-Jewish sort of way.  Today I’d like to share with you today’s email from my mother, chock full of corny but heart-felt ethnic humor.

My Mother’s Jewish Joke #1 —

Written across the wall of the cave were the following symbols:

hebrew2.jpg

It was considered a unique find and the writings were said to be at least three thousand years old!

The piece of stone was removed, brought to the museum, and archaeologists from around the world came to study the ancient symbols. They held a huge meeting after months of conferences to discuss the meaning of the markings.

The President of the society pointed to first drawing and said: “This is a woman. We can see these people held women in high esteem. You can also tell they were intelligent, as the next symbol is a donkey, so they were smart enough to have animals help them till the soil. The next drawing is a shovel, which means they had tools to help them.”

hebrew2.jpg

Even further proof of their high intelligence is the fish which means that if a famine hit the earth and food didn’t grow, they seek food from the sea. The last symbol appears to be the Star of David which means they were evidently Hebrews.

The audience applauded enthusiastically.

hebrew2.jpg

Then an old Jewish man named Shlomo stood up in the back of the room and said, “Idiots, Hebrew is read from right to left…… It says: “Holy Mackerel, Dig The Ass On That Chick!”

My Mother’s Jewish Joke #2  

(note to the shiksas — horseradish is what you put on the gefilte fish at Passover)

While few of the traditional seder foods trace their origins as far back as matzoh, it should be noted that the lowly horseradish root also crossed the Red Sea with the fleeing Israelites.

As impoverished slaves, they had access to few vegetables and the hard and woody horseradish was a household staple.

While most of the fleeing Israelites carried with them horseradish, there is a story told of one family where, while gathering up their few belongings, discovered that they had no horseradish left in their house. The wife sent her husband into the field to dig up a large horseradish root, but in the darkness and confusion, he unearthed a large ginger root by mistake. 

The story continues that after forty years of wandering in the desert, the Israelites finally entered the promised  land. But it was another year before the family with the ginger arrived to settle among the rest of the Israelites.

When asked where they had been, the matriarch of the family, now grown old, shrugged and answered, “My husband insisted on taking an alternate root.”

Thanks, Mom!

Sucking Candy

January 23, 2008 / / 73 Comments

candy3.jpg 

I already told this story on Twitter, but I don’t think anyone believed me, so I’ll tell it again.

Sophia’s mother asked me to pick up two things from her supermarket:  mayonnaise and these sugar-free Werther’s candies that she likes to have while watching TV.  I drove over and stopped at the supermarket near her home.  I was unfamiliar with the layout of the store and I was in a rush.  I had an appointment later that day.  I approached a supermarket employee who was stocking boxes.  He was a young, friendly-faced, college-aged kid.

“Where can I find mayonnaise?” I asked him.

“Aisle four!  I’ll show you.”  he replied, in that cheerful California “have a nice day” supermarket voice that you would never hear in New York. 

He guided me over to the condiment section, where I found my “Best Foods” Mayonnaise.  (side note:  In New York, it is Hellman’s Mayonnaise.  In California, it is Best Foods Mayonnaise.  In New York, it is Arnold’s Bread.  In California, it is Orowheat.  In New York, it is Edy’s Ice Cream.  In California, it is Dreyer’s ice cream.  I have this personal conspiracy theory that the names were changed for the West Coast so they seem less “Jewish.” — but that’s another post)

After grabbing the mayonnaise, I thanked the stock boy.

“One more thing,” I asked.  “Do you know where I can find “sucking candies?”

He giggled nervously.  We were alone in the condiment aisle.

“What do you mean?”  He asked.

“Sucking candies!”

“Uh… the candies are in front by the register.”

“No, I don’t mean like the M&Ms.  I mean the candies you suck on.  The… HARD candies.”

He turned red faced.  At the same time, he seemed VERY intrigued.  I’m not exactly sure what was going on, but it seemed as if I had hit upon some new “code” that has replaced the hitting of feet in the bathroom stall.   He looked up and smiled, shyly.

“I’ll find it myself.”  I quickly said, stumbling over a shopping cart as I went searching for the hard candies.

A few minutes later, I was in line, ready to check out with my mayonnaise and sucking candies.  I saw the stock boy looking my way.  I held up the package of Werthers that I bought, hoping that he got the message.  He GOT the message alright, but I’m not sure WHAT that message was.  He waved good-bye to me, a wisp of hopefulness in his eyes.

When I got back home, I logged onto Twitter.

“Does anyone use the term “sucking candies?”

I was surprised that nobody had ever used the term before.  My entire family calls them “sucking candies.”  “Good and Plenty” is candy.  A Hershey’s Bar is  chocolate.  A Werther’s is “sucking candy.”  Where did this term come from and why was I the only one using it?

Last night, Ninja Poodles sent me a message.  She noticed this on Margalit‘s Twitter. 

candy2.jpg

Yeah!  I’m not alone.

Since both Margalit and I are Jewish, I wonder if “sucking candy” is a Jewish term that was changed for the West Coast.

Jokes in Yiddish

January 14, 2008 / / 15 Comments

Humor is very important. I’d rather hear good jokes than see a naked woman in my bedroom. Of course, if the naked woman was the one telling the jokes, I wouldn’t complain. Especially if she was also carrying a corned beef sandwich.

You see, that was sort of a joke. Not a good one, but then again, you didn’t pay to come to this blog.

Sophia likes to laugh. That’s one of things that keeps us together. Tonight, we watched Bruno and Carrie Ann’s Dance Wars. The song and dance routines were so bad, that we were laughing it up. The show was like a bad high school production, and you couldn’t even blame the writer’s strike. Thankfully, it put us in a happy mood. Who said TV couldn’t couldn’t have a positive effect on personal relationships?

Since I’m on the subject of humor — how many of you have heard a guy tell a real joke in Yiddish? Probably not many of you. I don’t know Yiddish, but I imagine every joke to be much funnier in that language.

Here is a guy telling some jokes in Yiddish. I’d like to imagine that I would be like him if I was born during his generation. Eh, I probably would be too shy. It is much easier writing a blog.

(Mom, if you want to watch this, remember to turn the sound ON)

The Ghost of Christmas Concerts Future

December 7, 2007 / / 26 Comments

santa2.jpg 

Two days ago, I was feeling very Grinch-like. 

“Why am I hosting this stupid holiday online concert?” I asked myself as I shuffled along Wilshire Boulevard, spitting on the floor.  “I don’t even like Christmas.  I don’t even celebrate the holiday.” 

I walked by a make-shift Christmas tree lot, set-up in the parking lot of a Chinese restaurant.  There was fake snow on the floor and tinny Christmas music was playing on a lonely speaker on the ground.  

“Bah, Humbug!” I said.  “I’m going to cancel the damn concert.  I don’t care about holidays and I don’t give a s**t about other bloggers anyway.  All they care about is advertising and links and NaBloPoMo and Facebook.  And their so-called “Holiday cheer” is fakery!  After the holiday, they just go back to stabbing each other in the back.”

That night, I started writing a blog post explaining why I was canceling the contest, and basically insulting every blogger I’ve ever met as a narcissistic loser or nutcase. 

“Why I should even write this blog for free when they all should be paying me $100 dollar a day each for the honor to read one of my posts.   Let Dooce entertain the masses.  I’m better than that!”

All the anxiety must have made me very sleepy, because I fell asleep on the couch before I had a chance to press “Publish.”

I was awaken suddenly by the presence of a shadowy figure.

“Sophia?”  I asked.  “Is that you?”

“No, Neil.  It is your father.”

It was the ghost of my late father.

“Dad?  What do you want?”

“What is this bulls**t about you cancelling the concert this year?”

“Eh, what’s it all for?  Hanukkah is already half over.  And we’re Jewish.  We don’t even celebrate Christmas.”

“But don’t you remember how much I loved Christmas?”

My father reminded me about how he dressed-up like Santa every year in the hospital he worked at.

“Well, you’re a more caring man than I am.  I’m selfish.  I ask you, “What’s in it for ME?”

My father’s ghost started to fade.

“Dad, where are you going?”

“Neilochka, my son, your heart has turned to stone.  I’m unable to change your ways.  Now the BIG GUN will come for you.”

“The big gun?  What are you talking about?  Who are you talking about? Are you talking about God himself?”

The entire living room shook like the Northridge Earthquake.   Smoke filled the room and another ghost walked towards me.  He was an older man, short, and smoked a cigar.  He was dressed in a brown suit and had bushy eyebrows.

“Neilochka… Neilochka…” he spoke…

“Who are YOU?!   You’re not God?

“Of course I’m not God, you schmuck.  I’m Irving Berlin.”

“Irving Berlin?  You’re the big gun?”

“Irving Berlin.  Born Israel Isidore Baline.  A nice Jewish boy like you.  My father was a cantor who certified kosher meat.”

“So what?  What do YOU want from me?”

“I also had my doubts about Christmas when I was your age.  What do I know about Jesus?  But then I said to myself, “What do these goyishe shmendricks know about writing a good Christmas song?  It takes a Yiddishe mind to come up with “White Christmas.”  You let some white bread in a cardigan like Bing Crosby sing it.  He gets the credit, but you get the dames.”

“The dames?  You got the dames from writing a Christmas song?”

“Come, Neilochka, let me take you to my Christmas past.”

Irving Berlin took my hand and we flew out the window.  We flew from Redondo Beach to Hollywood… and then into the past.  The Hotel Roosevelt on Hollywood Boulevard dissolved from 2007 to the time of the Golden Age of Hollywood.   It looked pretty much the same, just more glamorous.  We found ourselves in a penthouse room.   In front of the two of us was a scene from the past –  a younger Irving Berlin in bed with four Hollwood starlets.  

“You see, Neilochka.  Shiksas just love Jewish men who can write a good Christmas song…”

My eyed widened in astonishment.

“You mean if I put on the Christmahanukwanzaakah concert this year with all these female bloggers around… I will…?”  I asked.

“First… let me show you what will happen if you DON’T put on the Christmahanukwanzaakah concert this year.”

I grabbed the composer’s hand and back we flew to Redondo Beach, into the future — to MY FUTURE.  Time blew away like the wind and we found ourselves  in my  living room, watching the future Neilochka.  It was Christmas eve 2007 and I was sitting by myself, the laptop in front of me… my pants down…

“My God, what am I… am I looking at online photos of Penelope Cruz and playing with myself?!”

“That’s what it looks like!”  said Irving Berlin.  “Ha Ha!  The best part is that in a second, Sophia is going to enter the house with friends she invited over for some coffee and cake, and everyone is going to be shocked, especially the couple’s young daughter.”

“This is horrible.  I can’t stand it.  Stop it!  Stop the future!”

“What about the concert…”

“OK, OK, I’ll have the Christmahanukwanzaakah concert.  Just take me from this future.  Take me away.”  I screamed, sobbing…

I grabbed the arm of the ghost’s jacket and we flew out the window and into the night sky.  I was still crying.

“I understand now.  Thank you!  Thank you for letting me see what could happen.  I am a changed man!  I’ll never badmouth the Christmahanukwanzaakah concert again.  It is my duty to host the concert.  I want to be that inspiration, like you.  I want to make people happy.  I want to please those female bloggers so much that I get four shiksas in my bed, just like you did!  Please, Mr. Berlin.  Show me the alternative future.  Show me my REAL Christmas eve this year after I host the Christmahanukwanzaakah concert.

Time swirled around us like a  tornado and we were suddenly back in my living room on Christmas Eve 2007.

“Here is your REAL future, Neilochka.”

I was sitting on the couch, still leering at photos of Penelope Cruz, playing with myself.  Sophia was about to open the front door, her friends behind her.

“WTF?!” I yelled. “It’s the exact same future as before!  What about the concert?  What happened to me shtupping MY four shiksas?!”

“The concert was great.  But you with four women?  What the hell do you want from me, you nudnik?  A miracle?   I’m only Irving Berlin, not God!” 

The 2007 Blogger Christmahanukwanzaakah Online Holiday Concert —

— is Monday, December 10th.  If you want to participate, send me an audio file or a link by Sunday, December 9th.  The songs I’ve already received are absolutely terrific, a great combination of fun and heartfelt!  If you are unable (or too wimpy) to sing, you can help “decorate” the set by sending me a Holiday photo of your family, your tree, your menorah, or something seasonal.   Or recite a poem.   Or make a video of you juggling snowballs.  If you are still having trouble recording your song, email me.

So far, we already have versions of Have Yourself a Very Merry Christmas, Sleigh Ride, and Silent Night.  You are welcome to do another version if you would like.  Remember to say what song you are working on in the comments so we won’t have too many duplicates.

Have fun making music!

How Many Jews Does it Take to Change a Lightbulb?

December 5, 2007 / / 19 Comments

hanukkah2.jpg

Happy Hanukkah!

I hate to get all Al Gore on you on a fun holiday like Hanukkah, but I love when traditions are reinterpreted. And what is Hanukah all about anyway? — energy!

bulb.jpg

The temple lights worked for eight days when there is was only enough for one, thanks to God’s Miracle. As Jews, we believe that we should be helping God with His miracles. Who knows if this global warming threat is as severe as some say? I don’t think anyone can argue that issues of energy and the environment are essential to our lives. Maybe Hanukkah can finally come out under Christmas’ shadow by being about a little bit more than dreidels and latkes:

via PJVoice:

Sometimes issues like global warming seem beyond our reach – but they are quite easy to address when a lot of us take the same steps together. Here is a painless step – one that can even save you money – to reduce our energy consumption. And cut back the greenhouse gas that we (indirectly) generate by using electricity, raising the issue of global warming.

JCPA (the Jewish Council for Public Affairs) and COEJL (the Coalition on the Environment and Jewish Life) have announced a program entitled “A Light Among the Nations — How Many Jews Does It Take to Change a Light Bulb?”

Here is the main step in the program: For Hanukkah, the Festival of Lights, purchase and install an energy efficient, cost effective compact fluorescent light (CFL) bulb.

If you could conserve energy and help stop global warming in one simple step, wouldn’t you want to act? CFLs use 75% less energy than incandescent light bulbs. This means less production of greenhouse gas emissions, air pollution, and toxic waste. COEJL calculates that if every U.S. household replaced one bulb with a CFL, it would have the same impact as removing one million cars from the road.

So take this one easy action — install at least one energy efficient, cost effective compact fluorescent light (CFL) bulb to reduce greenhouse gas emissions. For more information visit A Light Among Nations.

Of course, sometimes old-fashioned energy works better.  I certainly wouldn’t want my latkes cooked by solar power.

Jew Perfected

October 19, 2007 / / 46 Comments

 

Am I the only Jew NOT insulted by Ann Coulter’s statement that Christians are Jews “perfected?” 

C’mon, Jews, who wants to be perfect?  When I f**k up, at least I have an excuse — hey, I’m Jewish, I’m not perfect. 

“I’m sorry, Sophia, that I forget to buy you flowers for our anniversary.  But, remember — I’m Jewish.” 

“Oops, I didn’t expect to come so fast and roll over and go to sleep.  But then again, I am Jewish.  I’m not perfect. It’s a thelogical fact.  Too bad.”

“Yeah, I dented the car again  Oy Gevalt.  If only I was perfect and drove perfectly like my Christian friends.  On the positive side, as a member of the Tribe, I’m good at making money — unless you are a really stupid Jew like me — who spends way too much time wasting his energy blogging to entertain a bunch of married women who don’t even put out for him.  But then again, I am Jewish, so what do you expect?  I’m nuts!”

Maybe I should convert.  Eh, I would screw that one up too.  No offense, Catholics, but the bread-body wine-blood thing is a little weird to me.  And Protestants – well, you’re just boring.

My biggest problem is that most of you  ARE Christians.   You’re Jews perfected.   We all know why I’m in therapy.  But what the f**k is your excuse?

« Older posts Newer posts »

© 2024 Citizen of the Month

Theme by Anders Noren — Up ↑

Social media & sharing icons powered by UltimatelySocial