Sophia sings “Hanukkah.” (a real trouper because she still has a cold and is hoarse)
Neil sings “Santa Claus is Coming to Town.” (with no excuse for my voice)
On Blogebrity:Â Random Acts of Reality (Tom Reynold’s blog)
Page 159 of 187
On Blogebrity: Does Anyone Care About Neil Kramer?
For a writer to be parodied and mocked is one of the greatest honors. Or is it? Although it’s not much of a parody if I’ve already said most of these things about myself.
This is a post from Douchebrity, an actual new site:
God, I’m So Fucking Brilliant
I was so excited when the folks from Douchebrity asked me to write for them this morning. I thought to myself:
“Now here’s a great opportunity to try and pump my stats and link back to myself constantly”
You see, I spend ALL day refreshing my statcounter. As a matter of fact, my imaginary Ex-Wife that I made up so people wouldn’t think I was a complete loser, has tried to pry my swollen fingers away from the F5 button, to no avail. I can even find it in dark. Cause I like to turn off the lights and look at hot blogging chicks and pretend they might actually be interested in me.
The other day, while my mom was making me noodle koogle, I thought to myself:
“Thank god my female readers don’t look into my archives or else they’d find out the truth about my appearance. Then they’d laugh at me when I try to talk sexy with them in the comment section. Or when I ask to be nominated for the World’s Sexiest Blogger. Or stop cyber-sexing me on AIM. And who are we kidding, that’s the only action I get.”
But that’s what it takes to be a problogger. Technorati’s my real bitch…links, links, links. Say it slowly with me now (hold on while I get out my astroglide) OH YEAH LINKS, OH OH OH PLEASE MORE LINNNNNNKS.
Holy Kishkas, that was good.
by NCramer | No Comments | tags: Penis Envy
Today on Blogebrity: Personal Blog-a-rama: Kris’ Best of 2005, The Carnival of the Mundane
Sophia and I had an argument today and I was going to blog about it — when it occurred to me that I never read anyone blogging about arguing with a lover/companion/spouse.
I read blogs about dating.
I read blogs about couples in love.
I read blogs about couples that hate each other after they split up.
But somewhere in between there, there must be a lot of arguments going on about something. Maybe domestic arguments are one of those topics you don’t talk about — sort of like not talking about money. Sex is fine to talk about. I think it is easier for a wife to blog about oral sex with her husband than to write about the the fight she had with him after he forgot her dress at the cleaners.
This was a big year for celebrity breakups — Nick and Jessica, Brad and Jennifer, etc. I know that because I was reading this in some US Magazine I swiped from my doctor’s office. Like couples in blogs, these couples never seem to fight either. The magazine writers always base their breakups on something concrete and logical. One celebrity wanted a baby, the other didn’t. One was always too busy filming some pirate epic half a world away. Someone had an affair. Someone was caught with a hooker. And so on.
But no one actually has a fight — or talks about it.
Today, Sophia and I had a argument. It wasn’t a particularly big one. Or an impressive one. We’ve had those in the past. Today, I’m mostly interested in my reluctance to write about it. Will other bloggers think less of me if I reveal that I actually have arguments with my separated wife?
Sophia and I have both been feeling cranky because of the flu. My mother, who just happens to be visiting from New York, has been taking care of us like we are kids again. (Note: Both Sophia and I are only children used to a lot of attention).
"Mom, can you bring me some tea?" called Sophia from the bedroom, where she has barricaded herself in her bed with a week’s worth of figure-skating programs on her TIVO. "Mom!"
I’m in my office, lying on my couch, my laptop on my lap, my tissues for my running nose at my side. It’s actually started to bug me that my mother is splitting her care between Sophia and me.
I crawled into the bedroom, mostly to show Sophia that I was sicker than she was.
"My mother is making some soup for me. Can she finish before you start asking her for some tea?"
"Tea only takes a minute."
"I’m sorry, but I’m the sick one now."
"What are you talking about? I’ve been sick three more days than you already."
"Exactly, your time is up. Now I’m the sick one."
"You don’t look very sick."
"Don’t you hear me coughing?"
"Well, you were able to blog before. How sick can you be?"
"What, are you insinuating that I’m faking being sick?"
"All I know is that I have 102 temperature and you don’t have any."
"I’m hot! I’m very hot. Those digital thermometers never work with me."
"You’re not just playing it up for you mother?"
"And why would you say that?"
"Because you don’t like her taking care of me."
"That’s ridiculous. I think YOU’RE the one who’s upset because she’s making me soup before she gives you tea?"
"That’s asinine."
"Is it?"
"She makes everything for you before me."
"She’s my mother. She’s supposed to. And it’s not true! If anything she spends more time on you than me!"
The phone rings. It is Sophia’s mother, who lives in Los Angeles, but doesn’t have a car and can’t really get here. They talk in Russian for a minute, then Sophia hangs up.
"Who was that?" I asked.
"My mother. She wanted to know how I’m doing."
"Did she ask about me?"
"Yes."
"No, she didn’t."
"Of course she did."
"I took that one course in Russian. I didn’t hear anything that sounded like "Neil is fine" or "Neil is sick.""
"No, but she did mention, "When is Neil going to get a new job already?"
"Oh, she did, did she…?!! Well, there’s certainly a big difference between your mother and my mother here."
"I’m not too sure. I think your mother wants you to find a job already too."
"I’m looking. I’m looking."
"Oh, yeah, like writing for that Blogebrity is a real JOB?!"
Then the argument really took off, until we both started coughing and sneezing, and went back into our separate rooms to go to sleep.
Today on Blogebrity: Lynn Sees Heaven (Lynn’s site, Sprigs)
(AP Photo/Julie Jacobson)
A few years back, I was visiting New York when there was a big earthquake in Los Angeles. Everyone in New York was saying how lucky I was to not be in LA, but I actually felt depressed. There was finally a big Los Angeles communal event that everyone was invited too — and I missed out. This feeling of missing out on a big event is not unusual. I know someone who was out of New York during 9/11 — and has been pissed about this for years. While most New Yorkers can tell you exactly what they were doing that day, my friend has the embarrassing distinction of being in a hotel room in Denver. Does it really matter that he was watching the event on a TV in a Denver hotel rather than his Brooklyn apartment? Apparently, it does. He can’t tell others the story about "being there."
Things have only intensified with the growth of blogging. As I was making my rounds of blog-reading today, I noticed that every New York blogger was weighing in with his opinion or experience with the big NYC transit strike. As is usual now, traditional media has turned to bloggers for "eyewitness accounts" of events such as the transit strike, and have used blog posts in their newspapers. In fact, I recently reviewed a book for Blogebrity titled, 2005: Blogged (edited by Tim Worstall), which is a collection of blog posts commenting on the big news events of the year.
I’m jealous of all you New York bloggers who got mentioned in today’s news media because of your blogging about your experience walking from West 76th Street to West 67th Street. A blogger knows that he only has one chance to strike gold. Newspapers and TV shows have a deadline to make, and they can’t wait for procrastinating bloggers to perfect their "I was there" post on some news event. No, it is the blogger that gets there first that gets the media mention. An ambitious blogger needs to wake up 5AM every morning, and be ready and willing to write a post on any big event that occurs in their city. You also need to write it fast, especially if you want to be the first one on Technorati with the story.
My big problem is that I’m lazy. I don’t like to wake up early. I procrastinate. I want the fame and media attention, but I don’t want to work for it. So, I’ve taken a page from the traditional media in order to ensure that I will always be the first at bat with a hot story. I will use a technique perfected for decades by obituary writers. I will pre-write my important posts. Do you really think that that the NY Times didn’t have their Ronald Reagan obituary ready for publication years before the president actually passed away?
Despite my flu, today has been a very productive blogging day. I’ve written about the next big earthquake in Los Angeles and how it brought me closer to my wacky neighbors. I wrote a very amusing post about my 2006 New Year’s night out. And 2007. And 2008. You are going to be amazed at what I saw at the amazing Opening Ceremonies at the Torino Olympics, and how proud I was to see that one free Iraqi bobsledder enter the stadium. I especially enjoyed my post about waiting in line all night to be the first to see Daniel Craig as the new James Bond. All of them are now ready in my draft mode.
Clever, huh? Can you guess who is going to be first one listed in Technorati when the next LA earthquake hits? Luckily, my mother is here, so I’ve been preparing her to be my plan B in case of any emergency during an earthquake, such as the power going out or my apartment building collapsing around me. I will quickly call my mother in New York via cellphone and get her to publish the post for me.
"Mom, it’s easy. Log in. Yes, now go into WordPress, just like I showed you. W-O-R-D-P-R-E-S-S. Under Manage. Under Drafts. Blog… Mom… Blog, not Blodge. Do you see where there is a post titled "The Big One." No, not in the comments. No, I’m not yelling. That’s just a loud aftershock. Yes, in Posts. Under Manage. Mom, are you listening? Mom, my apartment building is on fire and my upstairs neighbor just fell through the ceiling. Please pay attention as I try to walk you through this. I want to be first on Technorati with my personal account of the earthquake!"
Maybe I should ask my Uncle Milton to be Plan B instead of my mother.
Welcome to the Love Connection, where old-fashioned romance meets modern technology. And here’s your host, Mr. "2 and 2" himself, Chuck Woolery!
Chuck: "Welcome to Love Connection. On our last show we met Sophia Lansky and she was about to tell us about her date. Her three choices of bachelors were Ron, a successful podiatrist from Studio City, California — Dave, a Grammy-award winning composer from Beverly Hills — and Neil, an unemployed writer from Los Angeles. The audience chose Dave, by 65%, Ron came in second with 33%, Neil, oh well… So, Sophia, whom did you pick?"
Sophia: "I picked Neil."
The audience gasps and boos.
Chuck: "Let’s say hello to Neil."
No response from Neil.
Chuck: "Neil… Neil…"
Neil: (distracted) "I’m sorry, I was busy blogging in the back here."
Chuck: "Blogging?"
Neil: "Oh, right. You were cancelled ten years ago. You don’t yet know what blogging is. Well, it’s sort of an online journal where you write every day and then other bloggers…
Chuck: (bored) "Uh, very interesting, but let’s hear about the date. Sophia?
Sophia: "Neil came to my door. He was carrying some flowers."
Chuck: "How nice."
Sophia: "That looked like they cost him $3.99 at Ralphs."
Chuck: "Neil… Neil… Neil…
The audience boos Neil.
Chuck: But, Sophia, what did you think of Neil looks-wise?"
Sophia: "He was wearing this weird orange flannel shirt and I thought he looked gay."
Chuck: "Gay? Neil, what’s going on with you?"
Neil: "I’m not gay."
Chuck: "If you say so. What did you think of Sophia?"
Neil: "I thought she was hot. You see… not gay."
Sophia: "Listen to this, Chuck. The very first thing Neil says to me is, "You smell.""
Chuck: "You smell? Neil, are you insane? You didn’t really say that, did you?"
Neil: "I was nervous. I meant to say, "You smell nice" because of her perfume."
Chuck: "Neil, had you ever gone on a date before? This sounds like a disaster. Tell us more."
Sophia: "So, Neil drives me to this Peruvian restaurant that he’s raving about. But when we get there, it’s in this filthy, disgusting mini-mall."
Neil: "But they have great food!"
Sophia: "Well, we never found out, because Neil never bothered to find out that the restaurant was closed on Monday."
Chuck: "Neil, were you brought up by wolves?"
The audience starts throwing their voting devices at Neil.
Neil: "I did find us another restaurant."
Sophia: "Yes, he did. After we drove around Hollywood for a half hour."
Chuck: "How did things go when you reached the new restaurant?"
Sophia: "It actually got better. The conversation was nice and we had a lot chemistry."
Chuck: "Ooh, so tell me, Neil, was there any… romance?"
Neil: "Absolutely, Chuck. On the way home, there was a long light on Wilshire Blvd. and I leaned over and gave Sophia a passionate kiss. It was amazing."
Chuck: "How was the kiss for you, Sophia?"
Sophia: "Eh. First – we almost had an accident, because he took his foot of the brake. And, it actually was a little weird. Like he didn’t really know what to do. But I guess the first kiss wasn’t nearly as bad as the first time we had…"
Neil: "Uh, excuse me, Chuck, this is getting a little too personal. As the writer here, I’m ending things here much earlier than scheduled…"
Sophia: "Hey, that’s exactly what happened in bed the first time we… and the second… and the third…"
Sophia is in her bedroom with a 102 temperature. I came here yesterday to help out. Now I’m in the living room, feeling hot, coughing, and dizzy.
So, of course, the first thing I do is blog about it.
I don’t know if Sophia got me sick or it was because I walked around in that kilt underwear all day.
I’m beginning to feel pretty miserable. How miserable, you might ask? If some female blogger would IM me right now, offering to take off their top for me on the videocam, I would refuse, because I just don’t have the energy to watch.
Luckily, my mother is coming to town tomorrow. What an exciting vacation she’s going to have — taking care of two sick people!
This is the first time my mother is visiting me here since my father passed away a couple of months ago. So, the visit is a little sad. But it’s also an opportunity to bond with my mother in a way I haven’t done since I was a kid. Let’s see if I can still beat her in Scrabble.
Do you think it would be weird to go see a movie about two gay cowboys with your mother?
Since I’m pretty much rambling right now, can I act Jewish again and say I feel a little guilty for not keeping up with some of your blogs. I’ve been doing that gig at Blogebrity and it’s actually harder than I thought to write two posts a day.
I think the medication I took is settling in, so this is where I really go all crazy.
A few days ago, Communicatrix had this very moving thought (her blog may look a little funny today because of the Typepad problems):
So…why am I here? And what the hell should I do with my life, or what’s left of it?
The truth is, while over the years I’ve become a passable copywriter, a decent actress, a fairly good designer and made money at all of them, nothing** has proved as rewarding as writing this stupid blog.
I’m sure that holds true for many of us. I actually thought of going through all my comments and sending each and every one of you a Christmas, uh, Holiday email, but then I’d look like a total wimp, and not the snarky trend-setter that I aim to be.
OK, excuse me while I pass out.
For my first HNT (Half-Nekkid Thursday) photo, I decided to wear what is the hottest new rage in menswear, Scottish-wear. I had so much fun modeling this for a fashion-designer friend of mine, Aiden Donnachaidh, that I just had to show you the results.
Those Scots are brilliant!
Forget John Stewart, Sarah Silverman, Krukoff, Spielberg, Citizen of the Month, and all those other trendy Jews.
The Scots are up next!
Enjoy my photo! I’m a little shy doing this, so be gentle with the comments.
(thanks JJ)
Today on Blogebrity: The Religious Hate Dave (let the non-Jews get a little tsuris for once, sorry Dave at Blogography)
After receiving numerous angry emails from fellow Jews, I feel a little bit like Philip Roth after writing about Jews masturbating in "Goodbye Columbus." So, like a Supreme Court nominee, I feel it is important to clarify myself after writing my last post.
1) I’m not really tired of other Jews. I love Jews. Sophia is Jewish. My mother is Jewish. Brooke, my long-time fantasy woman is Jewish, although she has yet to date a Jewish man. Time will tell.
2) I think Akaky had it right when he commented:
"Take advantage of your new ethnic hipness before the focus shifts to Armenians or Eskimoes or dyslexic Dravidian dwarves and being Jewish becomes so yesterday’s news."
Sophia, who loved the post, still said, "Neil, you are the schmendrik. Better to be trendy and loved than hated, chased by Cossacks or Muslim fanatics."
3) I actually think it is good that Walmart has its employees say "Happy Holidays" to its customers. I don’t really want anyone saying "Merry Christmas" to me. But if they do, I won’t drop dead on the spot. But does it hurt you Christians so much to say, "Happy Holidays?" We appreciate it. Believe me, saying "Happy Holidays" isn’t the reason that Christmas has become such an overly commercialized, irreligious farce of a holiday. Blame the retailers like Macy’s and the Gap and FAO Schwartz, all owned by…. uh, let’s move on…
4) Recently I was quoted on this site. It pretty much says what I believe:
Frankly, I think one of the things that makes our country so great is that the majority religion has tried so hard to make minorities feel comfortable. Where else have Jews and others been made to feel as equals and as comfortable with Christian holidays? Certainly not in many European countries where you are considered Jewish first, then a citizen of that country.
New York is not the rest of the country. I think it would be nice to bring back some of the religiosity to Christmas in big cities, so it isn’t such a consumerized holiday. Thank you, Christians, for being so good to the rest of us. You can now celebrate Christmas a little more openly.
However, things are different in smaller cities and towns around the country. Those places have a habit of mixing up religion and public policy. It is places like those where I don’t think it appropriate for the public sector to promote religion symbolism and ideology.
I think it is perfectly fine to have your friends and co-workers wish you a "Merry Christmas." What’s the big deal? But a "public" store like Walmart isn’t really the place for religious exclusiveness. And is Christmas in such trouble that it needs Walmart to save it?
5) I’m not into political correctness, but that doesn’t mean everyone should act like an asshole. Unlike whatever Bill O’Reilly feels, I’m all for going all out with trying to respect minorities. Christmas is not "under siege." Look outside your window. Christmas decorations were up five minutes after Thanksgiving. Talk about shoving it in people’s face. Sorry, but you’re the fucking majority and it’s up to you to be nice. When the world is taken over by the billions of Chinese — and it will happen — let’s hope they respect us Americans as the minority. (see Planet of the Apes for an example of what happens when the tables are turned). Isn’t the whole point of the Judeo-Christian ethos to do unto others…
6) Attacking political correctness has become so rampant that I firmly believe the MOST politically incorrect thing to do today is to defend it. I had a long email conversation with Anne about whether Sarah Silverman is funny. We both agree that she is. But she is a professional comedian with a clever wit. My fear is that every asshole will now think it is cool to tell slavery and Holocaust jokes at the dinner table and think they are the best thing since sliced challah. I have a fear that everyone will laugh, not wanting to appear unhip, and the one who says that it isn’t funny will appear like a stick-in-the-mud.
Sometimes, a little political correctness — when it doesn’t become the ruling party itself — can be good.
It’s weird that I use Bill O’Reilly and Sarah Silverman in the same sentence, but they are both talented entertainers making big money by saying outlandish things for people to blog about. But in the real world, it is nice for people to say "Happy Holidays" and wrong to make racist jokes.
Of course, as a high-paid blogger, I include myself as someone who can say whatever he wants without consequence.
7) And finally, I’d like to apologize publicly to big-time blogger Andrew Krukoff. I’m still not sure who you are, but congratulations on becoming a man.
Today on Blogebrity: How to Tell if Your Cowboy is Gay (about not only but also)
I’m so tired of other Jews. When did being Jewish become the "in" thing? Moronic Hollywood actors going to Kabbalah classes. Front page articles in New York magazine about Jews being smart (I dealt with that subject months before them and much better, I might add). Today I was reading Michelle’s funny NY blog and learned that she is going to be one of those talking heads on a VH1 special titled "So Jewtastic!" That’s great for her and I wish her all the best, but this show’s concept was already making me feel ill.
From the VH1 website:
From Dylan’s anthems to Spielberg’s blockbusters, it’s no secret that Jews have made huge contributions to pop culture. They’ve succeeded in spite of age-old stereotypes about Jews as brainy, neurotic, and well, anything but hip.
But that’s all changing. In an age when Madonna demands to be called "Esther," Demi celebrates Purim and seemingly everyone speaks a little Yiddish, it’s never been hipper to be a Jew. All Access Presents: So Jewtastic celebrates everything you knew – and lots of stuff you didn’t – about famous members of the Tribe.
The one-hour show will cover the trendy rise of Kabbalah, the new hip Jews in Hollywood, the marriage of Jews and hip hop, the connection between Jews and Heavy Metal and the domination of Jews in comedy. As a bonus, Jackie Mason schools the goyim on Yiddish terms that rock. OY GEVALT!
Thanks to a mensch-laden panel of pundits, yentas and a Rabbi or two, So Jewtastic will also circumcise the old ideas about Jewish mothers, ridiculous stereotypes and whether or not Jews know how to play sports (they do!) So put down that gefilte fish and pop open some Manischewitz, it’s time to get your Jew on…VH1 style.
Whoever wrote that has a lot to atone for next Yom Kippur.
As if this wasn’t enough, a few minutes later I’m reading about big-time blogger Andrew Krucoff and how he’s in Israel and he’s never had a bar mitzvah, and now he’s going to have one sponsored by the porno-loving shmata king, Dov Charney of American Apparel. Now, frankly, I didn’t know much about big-time blogger Andrew Krucoff until I wrote a post about big-time blogger Stephanie Klein. Bloggers-in-the-know told me that Andrew Krucoff was even bigger than Stephanie Klein. Now as much as everyone hated Stephanie Klein, at least she wrote some interesting posts. What the hell does this Krucoff do that makes him such a big-shot? Here’s his latest blog. As my mother might say, "Nu?" This guy must be some shmoozer.
I’m just sick of this whole Jews-are-trendy thing. It used to be that I would use a Yiddish phrase and only other Jews would get it. Now, the Korean owner of my local donut shop tells me her husband is a shmendrick. I’ve been so frustrated with my people lately, that I even thought of converting, but then Sophia told me that Larry David already did that in the last "Curb Your Enthusiasm" episode.
Fucking trendy Jews!
Listen, everyone knows that Chanukah sucks compared to Christmas. Why continue with the facade of Chanukah being cool because Adam Sandler wrote one fucking song about it? Why can’t I love Rudolph and Frosty and the Grinch — all of the traditional Christmas stuff. When Rudolph saves the day with his shiny nose — that’s the true meaning of Christmas.
After reading all about these trendy Jews, I felt starved for some Christmas spirit. Since I live in a fairly Jewish neighborhood, it wasn’t easy. I decided to go to the most Christian place I could think of in Los Angeles — Walmart. As I pulled into their enormous parking lot, images of Christmas lights and Christmas trees and Christmas fruitcakes danced in my head.
"Happy Holidays!" said the greeter, a middle-aged woman in a wheelchair.
"Happy Holidays?" I asked. "Don’t you mean "Merry Christmas?"
"Shhh. We’re not allowed to say that anymore. Only "Happy Holidays."
"That’s weird. I came here especially because I figured Walmart would be… real goyish…"
"Goyish… ha ha. I heard Seinfeld once say that in that episode with the puffy shirt. By the way, did you see "Curb Your Enthusiasm" last night. That Larry David… what a shmendrick. "
"Can I speak to a manager? I really want someone to say "Merry Christmas" to me."
"I’m sorry. We don’t want to insult any of our customers who may be of another faith. Like our Jewish friends."
"I’m Jewish."
"Welcome, Jewish friend. Welcome to Walmart. The Tony Hawk Chanukah dreidels are in aisle five, in between the Sarah Silverman menorah set and the "Story of the Maccabees," as read by Dame Jew-dy Densch."
"I don’t want any of that crap. I’m not here for Chanukah."
‘Well, Happy Holidays whatever your celebration."
"I’m here for Christmas."
"Shhh…"
"What’s the matter with mentioning Christmas?"
"I thought you were Jewish."
"I am Jewish!"
"Isn’t it cool to be Jewish?"
Oy! It used to be the blacks, then the gays, now the Jews…. enough! Enough of trendy! I want some of that homey Christmas stuff. Like in Norman Rockwell. Or on that Charlie Brown special"
"I hear you, young man."
I turned and saw a giant of a man. He had a white beard. His voice was deep, reminiscent of Burl Ives. He wore a Hawaiian shirt and an enormous crucifix around his neck.
"Let’s bring back Christ into Christmas," he bellowed. "Everyone come here! This young man has something important to say to us all!"
Shoppers — men, women, children — all gathered around me.
"It’s all very nice that you want to include everyone in your "Happy Holidays…" I said, my voice cracking, "…but if you really want to say "Merry Christmas," I don’t really see anything wrong with that."
"You hear that?!" shouted the crucifix guy. "He’s absolutely right. Why should we be afraid of celebrating Christmas? How did this happen? I say, they’ve been holding us back from saying "Merry Christmas." It’s the Jews. The Jews I tell ya! First they kill our Savior, then they spy on America for Israel, and now they want to steal away our holiday! Well, we won’t let them — will we?!"
"Uh… I didn’t exactly mean…" I stammered.
A pregnant customer stood on the "Customer Service" desk, waving wildly.
"Let’s march on Temple Beth Am!"
The mob grew excited with shouts of "Yeah," "Let’s do it!" and "Stop Those Shmendricks!"
The middle-aged Walmart greeter in the wheelchair stood up. It was like a miracle happening before our eyes.
"Let’s go tell the Jews what we think!" she screamed.
Everyone in Walmart started chanting.
"We love Jesus! We love Jesus! We love Jesus!"
Within minutes, the store was emptied of everyone except for myself, which wasn’t so bad, because I don’t really like crowded stores.
Was I worried about Temple Beth Am? Not really. Los Angeles crowds are notorious for giving up early, such as leaving Dodger games in the sixth inning. The temple was pretty far away, and with all the traffic, I’m sure they just ended up dispersing and going to Starbucks instead.
But I was disturbed, and frankly irritated, at the mob’s total devotion to Jesus.
Because if you think about it: What is Jesus — but another trendy Jew?!
(UPDATE — with a bit of a wimpy retraction.)
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