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The 4 Questions From the Randy’s Discount Herring in Wine-Like Sauce Label
1. On all other nights, we need not dip even once, but on this night why not dip everything in Randy’s Kosher-For-Passover Discount Extra Salty Wine-Like Sauce®?
2. On all other nights, we eat chametz or matzah, tonight, why not matzah -- accompanied, of course by Randy’s Kosher-For-Passover Discount Herring in Wine-Like Sauce®?
3. On all other nights, we eat any kind of vegetable and on this night, why not maror (which we make tolerable by mixing in plenty of Randy’s Kosher-For-Passover Discount Maror Helper in Wine-Like Sauce®)?
4. On all other nights, we eat sitting upright. On this night, why do we eat reclining? And why not? Everybody’s feelin’ Randy! This Pesach, tell Ma and your bubbe to get plenty of extra. The whole Meshpucha’s coming over!
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The Maggid of the Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaardvark Civil Liberties Union
We were slaves once in the land of Egypt, but G-d brought us forth from there with an outstretched arm and a mighty hand. Now we ourselves have become the enslavers. We have exploited the undocumented slackers, infringed the liberties of atheists and wife-swappers, and failed to Mirandize the neighbor’s enemy combatant pets. To free ourselves of the cycle of enslaver and enslaved, we are commanded to regard ourselves as being in Mitzrayim, just as our ancestors were, and to flee the inclination to oppression, just as our ancestors did, right after they stole all the silverware.
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Pincus Ming Mandelbaum’s Dayenu
If they had charged for the first bag, but allowed the second bag to fly free,
--dayenu!
If they had made parents traveling with small screaming children to sit in the way back behind a screen,
--dayenu!
If they had arrested and prosecuted the selfish morons who tried to stuff over-sized duffle bags in the limited overhead bin space,
--dayenu!
If we hadn‘t sat on the tarmac for 2 hours,
--dayenu!
If the person who kept jamming his knees in the back of my seat had developed a full-body rash,
--dayenu!
If they had found the slob who failed to grasp the meaning of the pictogram on the toilet in the lavatory of the paper towels in a circle with a diagonal red line through it, and pushed him out of the plane,
--dayenu!
If the sound on the headset had worked,
--dayenu!
If I hadn’t gotten on the wrong flight and ended up 3,000 miles away from my intended destination,
--dayenu!
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The 10 Plagues of Recent Memory From: “The Whimsical Reconstructionist Haggadah -- Suggested Readings”
(dip your pinky finger in your wine cup and sprinkle a little wine on your plate and a little in your neighbor’s lap with the recitation of each plague.)
1. People who say “as far as” instead of “as far as that is concerned,” as in: “As far as matzah, I could go egg or plain.”
2. “Gimme back that filet-o-fish/ Gimme that fish”
3. Public radio fund-raisers
4. Texting while driving
5. Cattle disease (C’mon, gotta have cattle disease!)
6. Never-ending winter (global warming notwithstanding)
7. Spam (all kinds)
8. Spoiled kitties, who are never full -- no matter what
9. potholes
10. Death of the cell phone battery
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Surgeon General’s Warning:
The Surgeon General Has determined that hiding the afikoman between the cushions on the couch could attract lint, cat hair, and other substances not suitable for human ingestion, although, it could also result in the discovery of small change or old Hanukah gelt.
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A Closing Prayer From the BBC
The Seder now ends in accordance with Halachic Law, provided there is no conflict with the rules of the Geneva Convention,
Complete in key details, but omitting celebrations of colonialist aggression
As far as the Children of Israel, aspirations of Zion should be maintained within internationally-recognized borders
With joyful song -- spruced up with Sabar Wolof, the Dance Drumming of Senegal,
Let those of us in the politically-aware Diaspora proclaim:
NEXT YEAR IN THE PARTS OF JERUSALEM NOT INFLAMING THE PASSIONS OF THE UNITED NATIONS HUMAN RIGHTS COMMISSION -- SUCH AS THE CROWNE PLAZA.
Happy Pesach from HIYLH
Showing posts with label Earth Population Salinger. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Earth Population Salinger. Show all posts
Friday, March 26, 2010
Thursday, February 18, 2010
Garbage in, Garbage out...Garbage Back In
Dear Madam or Sir or Whatever:
Your ninth violation this month of this City's household trash/recycling ordinances warrants this citation. You have ignored our earlier Memo -- clear, concise, written in simple language, and using mostly English words of one syllable. Therefore, PLEASE BE ON NOTICE: YOU ARE HEREBY PLACED ON PROBATION pending your future performance. Your infractions are detailed below:
Violation of Neighborhood Standards for Displayed Labels --Bottles
The Neighborhood's Standards for publicly displayed labels in all recycling bins are found at Appendix A of the Department's Summary of Residential Trash Guidelines (the smaller, phone book-sized one). Only labels of a certain caliber may be face up in the bin while curbside.
You have repeatedly flouted this Rule by displaying the following brands on bottles placed ostentatiously into the bin: "Mandelbaum's Family-Size Seltzer," "Pappy Yokum's Home-Style Moonshine De-LUX," "Williamsburg Slivovitz," and "Randy's Discount Herring in Wine-like Sauce."
Following your last citation for these violations, the Department recorded several instances where you had attempted to glue counterfeit champagne labels (you misspelled it, by the way, there is no "y" in "champagne") onto your recycling glass -- only to have them peel off in the snow, revealing your pedestrian proclivities. The Department is saddened by this pathetic behavior, and we urge you to seek professional help.
We recognize that certain of our citizens are savoir faire-ally challenged, yet we are also constrained to remind you that your coarse and vulgar tastes reflect poorly on the village as a whole, driving down property values and fomenting an atmosphere in which loutish behavior flourishes and spreads like mold. Certain handicaps are provided for persons in your category, and you are encouraged to review the diagram of easy-to-follow instructions for turning disfavored brands face down on trash day. (See Appendix B).
By way of example only, the Department notes that in the same 30-day period when you were foisting discount herring jars and jumbo seltzer bottles on society-at-large, your immediate neighbors to your left and to your right submitted the following: Dom Pérignon '98, imported Pellegrino (glass only), Martini & Rossi, Appellation Chablis Premier Cru Controlée Chateau Très Sophistiqué ('95), Remy Martin’s venerable Louis XIII “Black Pearl” cognanc, and 8 year-old Laphroaig, single malt.
While your past performance demonstrates beyond cavil that you could not be expected to attain such standards in our lifetime, it is, nonetheless, a supposed truism that, given enough typewriters and monkeys and a sufficient span of time (say, an eternity), a great novel could one day emerge. What we're saying (in a style perhaps unfamiliar to subscribers of Sloth Smackdown Monthly) is this: So long as you insist upon acquiring your bitters at the Marché Rapide de Dogpatch, we would at least encourage you to be discreet when disposal time rolls around.
Violation of Neighborhood Standards for Displayed Reading Materials
As you are, doubtless, aware, numerous Supreme Court rulings from the Burger Court (1969-1986), guarantee your right to read whatever trash you like in the privacy of your own home. As long as it stays there, it is none of our business. The moment you commingle it outside with the rest of your trash, however, it falls within our jurisdiction. See United States v. Oswald, 783 F.2d 663, 666 (6th Cir.1986); California v. Greenwood, 486 U.S. 35 (1988) (no reasonable expectation of privacy in garbage deposited on the curtilage). The materials you choose to discard on a regular basis causes us to pray vigorously for the welfare of your children, but we are not, after all, the Department of Social Services.
A cursory glance at even a tiny sample of the printed matter you flaunt so shamelessly on pick-up day leads us to conclude that your view of the world is warped by that class of periodicals most commonly associated with schlock supermarket checkout counters and racetracks. You may assume that others in the vicinity share your seemingly religious devotion to the breathless comings and goings of Brittney, Angelina, Brad et al., the lurid exploits of underworld dons and donnettes of New Jersey and Moscow, and the accomplishments of dogs who have been trained to do simple math, open the refrigerator, and flush the toilet. But you assume wrong.
We fear that our earlier admonitions to you in this regard have gone unheeded due principally to your innate inability to recognize them as having been framed in the imperative. So let us put it to you plain: The Department will no longer tolerate the crap you spread out like a billboard every Monday night betraying what passes in your world for "values" and making transparent the venue for your sorry upbringing (id est, a barn).
In other words: Stop! Just stop putting this drek outside on the curb! If you ignore this directive, our engineers are under strict orders to retaliate in kind, that is to say, to shovel it all back in the tool shed from whence it came and where you maintain the rest of your bizarro collection.
For the record, we are well aware of your lame effort to stave off the instant citation this morning by stocking your paper bin with back issues of the Utne Reader, The New Yorker, and Commentary. Did you think that our highly-trained professionals would not deduce in a flash that that you could not possibly have reversed a lifetime of self-imposed illiteracy overnight and acquired an insatiable appetite for culture and foreign policy? Did you really suppose that we would not spot the labels on these journals sporting the name and address of the person who lives next door?
What kind of a miscreant stoops so low as to steal his neighbor's garbage in a futile attempt to impress the Department of Sanitation? We've said it before, but in your case it cannot be gainsaid: We were, and remain, singularly unimpressed.
Appendix C sets forth the standards for acceptable disposal of printed matter in this community. Please find someone who knows how to read (all of the words on the page), and have them explain it to you.
Violation of Neighborhood Standards for Disposal of Yard Waste
We don't know where the sludge comes from that you dump outside each week, presumably when you have tired from your "science experiments." Frankly, we don't want to know. But we do know this: It is not yard waste -- not even close. Not only will we not pick it up, should it ever reappear in the specially-marked barrel (provided to you free-of-charge by the taxpayers, among whom, we presume you do not count yourself), we will arrest you, pursuant to our temporary status as deputy sheriffs, conveyed upon us by a special act of the Legislature promulgated in response to you and you alone.
Miscellaneous Violation
Finally, please restrain your cat. Virtually all of the uses he has been observed to have made of the City's trash barrels and recycling bins -- not only the ones in front of your residence, but also, more particularly, your neighbor's -- are prohibited. Should you have any doubt about this, your attention is directed to Appendix D.
You shall remain on probation until the Department is satisfied that you have addressed each of the issues set forth herein.
HEREOF FAIL NOT, FOR YOU SHALL ANSWER YOUR FAILURE TO ABIDE BY THIS ORDER UNDER THE PAINS AND PENALTIES OF LAW.
The Commisioner of Sanitation
Your ninth violation this month of this City's household trash/recycling ordinances warrants this citation. You have ignored our earlier Memo -- clear, concise, written in simple language, and using mostly English words of one syllable. Therefore, PLEASE BE ON NOTICE: YOU ARE HEREBY PLACED ON PROBATION pending your future performance. Your infractions are detailed below:
Violation of Neighborhood Standards for Displayed Labels --Bottles
The Neighborhood's Standards for publicly displayed labels in all recycling bins are found at Appendix A of the Department's Summary of Residential Trash Guidelines (the smaller, phone book-sized one). Only labels of a certain caliber may be face up in the bin while curbside.
You have repeatedly flouted this Rule by displaying the following brands on bottles placed ostentatiously into the bin: "Mandelbaum's Family-Size Seltzer," "Pappy Yokum's Home-Style Moonshine De-LUX," "Williamsburg Slivovitz," and "Randy's Discount Herring in Wine-like Sauce."
Following your last citation for these violations, the Department recorded several instances where you had attempted to glue counterfeit champagne labels (you misspelled it, by the way, there is no "y" in "champagne") onto your recycling glass -- only to have them peel off in the snow, revealing your pedestrian proclivities. The Department is saddened by this pathetic behavior, and we urge you to seek professional help.
We recognize that certain of our citizens are savoir faire-ally challenged, yet we are also constrained to remind you that your coarse and vulgar tastes reflect poorly on the village as a whole, driving down property values and fomenting an atmosphere in which loutish behavior flourishes and spreads like mold. Certain handicaps are provided for persons in your category, and you are encouraged to review the diagram of easy-to-follow instructions for turning disfavored brands face down on trash day. (See Appendix B).
By way of example only, the Department notes that in the same 30-day period when you were foisting discount herring jars and jumbo seltzer bottles on society-at-large, your immediate neighbors to your left and to your right submitted the following: Dom Pérignon '98, imported Pellegrino (glass only), Martini & Rossi, Appellation Chablis Premier Cru Controlée Chateau Très Sophistiqué ('95), Remy Martin’s venerable Louis XIII “Black Pearl” cognanc, and 8 year-old Laphroaig, single malt.
While your past performance demonstrates beyond cavil that you could not be expected to attain such standards in our lifetime, it is, nonetheless, a supposed truism that, given enough typewriters and monkeys and a sufficient span of time (say, an eternity), a great novel could one day emerge. What we're saying (in a style perhaps unfamiliar to subscribers of Sloth Smackdown Monthly) is this: So long as you insist upon acquiring your bitters at the Marché Rapide de Dogpatch, we would at least encourage you to be discreet when disposal time rolls around.
Violation of Neighborhood Standards for Displayed Reading Materials
As you are, doubtless, aware, numerous Supreme Court rulings from the Burger Court (1969-1986), guarantee your right to read whatever trash you like in the privacy of your own home. As long as it stays there, it is none of our business. The moment you commingle it outside with the rest of your trash, however, it falls within our jurisdiction. See United States v. Oswald, 783 F.2d 663, 666 (6th Cir.1986); California v. Greenwood, 486 U.S. 35 (1988) (no reasonable expectation of privacy in garbage deposited on the curtilage). The materials you choose to discard on a regular basis causes us to pray vigorously for the welfare of your children, but we are not, after all, the Department of Social Services.
A cursory glance at even a tiny sample of the printed matter you flaunt so shamelessly on pick-up day leads us to conclude that your view of the world is warped by that class of periodicals most commonly associated with schlock supermarket checkout counters and racetracks. You may assume that others in the vicinity share your seemingly religious devotion to the breathless comings and goings of Brittney, Angelina, Brad et al., the lurid exploits of underworld dons and donnettes of New Jersey and Moscow, and the accomplishments of dogs who have been trained to do simple math, open the refrigerator, and flush the toilet. But you assume wrong.
We fear that our earlier admonitions to you in this regard have gone unheeded due principally to your innate inability to recognize them as having been framed in the imperative. So let us put it to you plain: The Department will no longer tolerate the crap you spread out like a billboard every Monday night betraying what passes in your world for "values" and making transparent the venue for your sorry upbringing (id est, a barn).
In other words: Stop! Just stop putting this drek outside on the curb! If you ignore this directive, our engineers are under strict orders to retaliate in kind, that is to say, to shovel it all back in the tool shed from whence it came and where you maintain the rest of your bizarro collection.
For the record, we are well aware of your lame effort to stave off the instant citation this morning by stocking your paper bin with back issues of the Utne Reader, The New Yorker, and Commentary. Did you think that our highly-trained professionals would not deduce in a flash that that you could not possibly have reversed a lifetime of self-imposed illiteracy overnight and acquired an insatiable appetite for culture and foreign policy? Did you really suppose that we would not spot the labels on these journals sporting the name and address of the person who lives next door?
What kind of a miscreant stoops so low as to steal his neighbor's garbage in a futile attempt to impress the Department of Sanitation? We've said it before, but in your case it cannot be gainsaid: We were, and remain, singularly unimpressed.
Appendix C sets forth the standards for acceptable disposal of printed matter in this community. Please find someone who knows how to read (all of the words on the page), and have them explain it to you.
Violation of Neighborhood Standards for Disposal of Yard Waste
We don't know where the sludge comes from that you dump outside each week, presumably when you have tired from your "science experiments." Frankly, we don't want to know. But we do know this: It is not yard waste -- not even close. Not only will we not pick it up, should it ever reappear in the specially-marked barrel (provided to you free-of-charge by the taxpayers, among whom, we presume you do not count yourself), we will arrest you, pursuant to our temporary status as deputy sheriffs, conveyed upon us by a special act of the Legislature promulgated in response to you and you alone.
Miscellaneous Violation
Finally, please restrain your cat. Virtually all of the uses he has been observed to have made of the City's trash barrels and recycling bins -- not only the ones in front of your residence, but also, more particularly, your neighbor's -- are prohibited. Should you have any doubt about this, your attention is directed to Appendix D.
You shall remain on probation until the Department is satisfied that you have addressed each of the issues set forth herein.
HEREOF FAIL NOT, FOR YOU SHALL ANSWER YOUR FAILURE TO ABIDE BY THIS ORDER UNDER THE PAINS AND PENALTIES OF LAW.
The Commisioner of Sanitation
Sunday, January 24, 2010
COMMON RECURRING DREAMS AND THEIR MEANINGS
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*
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1. Teeth Fall Out While on Stage Playing Chess Nude Against The New England Patriots Cheerleaders
This dream is sometimes referred to as the "Opening Gambit" dream, because in certain versions, the cheerleaders open with the famous Albin Countergambit, where (3. dxe5 d4) in exchange for the gambit pawn. Black has a central wedge at d4 and gets some chances for an attack. Often White will try to return the pawn at an appropriate moment in order to gain a positional advantage. In the most common version, the cheerleaders have White begin the fight for the center by staking a claim to the d5 square from the wing, in approved hypermodern style. Thus, the appearance of the cheerleaders is a clear reference to the so-called "English Opening."
2. Dreamer, Holding a Cocked Pistol, Receives a Telegram from Mr. Leacock While Viewing a Private Performance of the Pussycat Dolls Singing "What's New Pussycat?" Dressed as "Pussy Galore" from the Bond Film "Goldfinger"
This is a subconscious illusion of literary grandeur. "Mr. Leacock" is clearly a reference to Stephen Leacock, a late 19th Century and early 20th Century Canadian humorist who is said to have been more famous than Canada itself in his day. He influenced the likes of Ring Lardner and Groucho Marx. The appearances of "Pussy" and "Pussycat" represent the volume called "Nonsense Drolleries" by Edward Lear, whose short piece, "The Owl & The Pussy-Cat," must have been familiar to Leacock.
3. President Barack Obama Misses His Connecting Flight, and Air Force One Leaves Without Him, So He Walks Across Lake Michigan to Keep His Appointment with 12 Advisers, Including Paul Volker, for an Important Meeting at the Peter Peterson Institute for International Economics.
Obama used to live in Chicago, so it's not surprising that Lake Michigan would show up. This is an anxiety dream about the abysmal state of service on most major American airlines. The dream's message is that for trips of 500 miles or fewer, it is probably better to drive, but a one-way rental should be considered.
4. Deceased Relatives Come Over for Dinner and Complain About the Choice of Beverages
This is another anxiety dream. It usually means that the household liquor cabinet is looking a tad threadbare.
5, 30,000 U.S. Troops Deploy to Afghanistan. Despite The Troops' Heroic Efforts, The Taliban Get Their Hands on a Nuclear Weapon Triggering a World-Wide Conflict. In the Midst of the Chaos, the Library Delivers a Reminder of Overdue Books.
Again, an anxiety dream whose meaning is fairly obvious. In "night terror" versions, the notice is actually a threat of suspension of borrowing privileges.
6, Dreamer Has a Conversation With a Talking Donkey and a Dead Fish Who Vow to "Avenge" the Results of the Massachusetts Special Senate Election.
Yet another anxiety dream. This time about the failure to pay attention to the "sell-by" dates of perishable supermarket items.
7. Dreamer, Naked in the Subway, Waits for a "D" Train That Never Comes.
This dream is about the MBTA train schedule.
8. Dreamer Goes back in Time and Meets the Chinese Classical Poet, Pincus "Ming" Mandelbaum
This is a dream about the importance of peanuts to the economy of the ante-bellum South. It's usually harmless and can be staved off with a glass of warm milk.
9. Dreamer Travels to Outer Space With a Spirit Guide and Views All the Planets in the Solar System (Except Pluto) Aligned and is Then Shown All the Ages of Human Civilization, and Is Then Given All the Answers to the Great Cosmic Questions, and is Filled With a Sense of Indescribable Well-Being and Serenity.
This is a variation of the MBTA train schedule dream.
*
*
1. Teeth Fall Out While on Stage Playing Chess Nude Against The New England Patriots Cheerleaders
This dream is sometimes referred to as the "Opening Gambit" dream, because in certain versions, the cheerleaders open with the famous Albin Countergambit, where (3. dxe5 d4) in exchange for the gambit pawn. Black has a central wedge at d4 and gets some chances for an attack. Often White will try to return the pawn at an appropriate moment in order to gain a positional advantage. In the most common version, the cheerleaders have White begin the fight for the center by staking a claim to the d5 square from the wing, in approved hypermodern style. Thus, the appearance of the cheerleaders is a clear reference to the so-called "English Opening."
2. Dreamer, Holding a Cocked Pistol, Receives a Telegram from Mr. Leacock While Viewing a Private Performance of the Pussycat Dolls Singing "What's New Pussycat?" Dressed as "Pussy Galore" from the Bond Film "Goldfinger"
This is a subconscious illusion of literary grandeur. "Mr. Leacock" is clearly a reference to Stephen Leacock, a late 19th Century and early 20th Century Canadian humorist who is said to have been more famous than Canada itself in his day. He influenced the likes of Ring Lardner and Groucho Marx. The appearances of "Pussy" and "Pussycat" represent the volume called "Nonsense Drolleries" by Edward Lear, whose short piece, "The Owl & The Pussy-Cat," must have been familiar to Leacock.
3. President Barack Obama Misses His Connecting Flight, and Air Force One Leaves Without Him, So He Walks Across Lake Michigan to Keep His Appointment with 12 Advisers, Including Paul Volker, for an Important Meeting at the Peter Peterson Institute for International Economics.
Obama used to live in Chicago, so it's not surprising that Lake Michigan would show up. This is an anxiety dream about the abysmal state of service on most major American airlines. The dream's message is that for trips of 500 miles or fewer, it is probably better to drive, but a one-way rental should be considered.
4. Deceased Relatives Come Over for Dinner and Complain About the Choice of Beverages
This is another anxiety dream. It usually means that the household liquor cabinet is looking a tad threadbare.
5, 30,000 U.S. Troops Deploy to Afghanistan. Despite The Troops' Heroic Efforts, The Taliban Get Their Hands on a Nuclear Weapon Triggering a World-Wide Conflict. In the Midst of the Chaos, the Library Delivers a Reminder of Overdue Books.
Again, an anxiety dream whose meaning is fairly obvious. In "night terror" versions, the notice is actually a threat of suspension of borrowing privileges.
6, Dreamer Has a Conversation With a Talking Donkey and a Dead Fish Who Vow to "Avenge" the Results of the Massachusetts Special Senate Election.
Yet another anxiety dream. This time about the failure to pay attention to the "sell-by" dates of perishable supermarket items.
7. Dreamer, Naked in the Subway, Waits for a "D" Train That Never Comes.
This dream is about the MBTA train schedule.
8. Dreamer Goes back in Time and Meets the Chinese Classical Poet, Pincus "Ming" Mandelbaum
This is a dream about the importance of peanuts to the economy of the ante-bellum South. It's usually harmless and can be staved off with a glass of warm milk.
9. Dreamer Travels to Outer Space With a Spirit Guide and Views All the Planets in the Solar System (Except Pluto) Aligned and is Then Shown All the Ages of Human Civilization, and Is Then Given All the Answers to the Great Cosmic Questions, and is Filled With a Sense of Indescribable Well-Being and Serenity.
This is a variation of the MBTA train schedule dream.
Thursday, December 10, 2009
Messages from My Readers
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[
[
Having published several small articles in this venue, I have come face-to-face with no small degree of reader reaction. The City has prevented me from disposing of these communications, so I am recycling them here, as I do not know what else to do with them.
___________________________________________
(1) Dear Mr. Salinger:
This firm represents the interests of the owners of Sponge Bob Square Pants. While we generally busy ourselves with affairs of State and cartooning, and would not, under ordinary circumstances, waste time on your idiotic pontifications, a number of our younger consumers were confused and distraught by your bogus obituary for our copyrighted character. Thus, we were forced to act. A mere glance at your scribblings convinced us, not only that you lack sound judgment, but, also, that you are, likely, judgment-proof.
Based on your alleged background, we assume you know how these things work, so we will cut to the chase: One more utterance out of you about Sponge Bob or any of the other residents of Bikini Bottom and the party's over. Cease and desist forthwith or else we will.
Yours Truly,
Eugene Krabs, Esq.
______________________________________________
(2) Dear Mr. Poucette:
Congratulations on surviving the exhausting round of interviews. After careful consideration, we are pleased to offer you a contract of employment as CEO at our firm with a starting annual salary of $185,000, plus a full benefits package outlined in the attached Schedule 1.
To signify your acceptance of this offer, you must return a signed copy of this letter within ten (10) days of the date hereof.
We look forward to a mutually productive and prosperous future and hope to hear from you soon.
Regards,
Abe P. Banderlootey
Hummina Hummina, Inc.
_______________________________________________
(3) Dear Mr. Salinger:
I read your thing about hyphenated names and was not amused. Nor was anybody in my family, which has passed down our cherished chicken recipe for 9 generations. Nine! We're not going to call that recipe anything else, your small-mindedness notwithstanding.
Next time, pick on somebody your own size (mentally, that is).
Yours,
Lucille Doodey-Crapperhouse
_______________________________________________
(4) Dear Mr. Salinger:
Somebody who used to be my friend showed me the article you "wrote" about ancient Chinese poets. I couldn't find a reference to a single one of those people on Wikipedia, or Google, or Bing, or Yahoo and would venture to say that you made the whole thing up (although the poem about water chestnuts sounded vaguely familiar). Plus it was moronic. People should charge you to read your asinine musings.
Pay up!
Best,
Pincus "Ming" Mandelbaum XXXIV
_______________________________________________
(5) Dear Mr. Poucette:
Several days ago, we sent you a formal offer of employment and have yet to hear back from you. As time is of the essence, please return a signed copy of the offer letter immediately so that we may keep the position open for you.
We look forward to your response and trust that your interest has not abated.
Regards,
Abe P. Banderlootey
Hummina Hummina, Inc.
______________________________________________
(6) Dear Mr. Salinger:
Like yourself, I'm a busy professional, so I'll be brief. Yesterday, one of my patients (I'll refer to him as Mr. X, as that is, in fact, his name) became hysterical in my treatment room and began ranting that someone had broken into his office and stolen his dream diary. I assured him that he was hallucinating, until he showed me your little story about a dream diary.
I don't know where you got this material, sir, but it does in fact represent the innermost subconscious repressions of my patient who has for years been dreaming about being stuck in the subway waiting for a train that never comes. Recently, he made a breakthrough by dreaming about being stuck on a grounded plane, only to have the plane return to the terminal due to a lack of fuel.
I am going to hazard a guess that you are familiar with a little doctrine known as the doctor-patient privilege. It is inviolate, and yet you violated it. Here's my proposal: No formal charges will be lodged, and my patient and I will look the other way if you return his book -- no questions asked. It goes without saying that you have crossed a line (several, inf fact) and caused incalculable harm to his psyche, but I shall say it, anyway while imploring and beseeching you never to do this again.
Ever.
Very truly yours,
Saul Feinberg, MBBS, M.D., PhD.
_____________________________________________
(7) Dear Fellow Citizen:
The White House receives millions of letters and tweets every year from people all over the world. Obviously, the President cannot respond to each one individually, but has asked me to extend his appreciation for your [letter/postcard/e-mail/text/blog post] about [his Nobel Peace Prize/Speech in Cairo/Speech in Beijing/Speech in Copenhagen/Speech in Oslo/Speech in Ghana/Nobel Peace Prize].
Please be assured that your communication has been given the attention it deserves.
With Every Good Wish,
The White House Press Office.
(P.S.: Wow, 4 whole "Followers" for your Blog; that's impressive.)
(Still, a kid on YouTube picking his nose gets 31 million hits in a week. But don't be discouraged. Maybe if you add some animation like, oh, I don't know, a dog peeing on the rug, you might garner more [and, dare I say, a higher caliber of] readers. Just a thought.)
WHPO.
____________________________________________
(8) Dear A**ho*le:
I tried that Mother-f*****g product you endorsed -- Down-Boy Rx. Guess what? It worked. Now I can't f***, or h**p, or scht***, or even master**** anymore. My wife left me. My girlfriend left me. I lost my job. Even my dog treats me like I'm a wuss.
I'm sure you think I'm going to threaten to kill you, but that would be far too good for the likes of you. I'm sending you a case of Down-Boy Rx.
Start drinking it tonight, you creep. I hate you and I'll see you in Hell. You can't miss me. I'll be the one without the ****-on.
Name Withheld by Request.
_______________________________________________
(9) Dear Mr. Poucette:
The deadline for returning, signed, our offer of employment expires tomorrow. We hope that you have not overlooked this important date and will act immediately.
Please do not hesitate to call should you have any questions.
Yours, truly,
Abe P. Banderlootey
Hummina Hummina, Inc.
_______________________________________________
(10) My Dear Sir:
I loved (absolutely) loved your piece about my address to the U.N. You captured me exactly!
LOL!
I am going to Friend you presently!
If you have some additional information about Jack Ruby (nee Rubenstein), please forward it to our consular office immediately. (If the office is closed, please forward the info to former Minnesota Governor, Jesse Ventura).
Inshallah, we will get to the bottom of this conspiracy.
Salaam,
His Excellency,
Moammar Kadaffi
______________________________________________
(11) Dear Mr. Poucette:
We regret that you have not returned the signed offer of employment from our company, and, therefore, have concluded that you have rejected the offer. We have extended the offer to the runner-up candidate.
With every good wish for your future endeavors, I remain,
Yours, truly,
Abe P. Banderlootey
Hummina Hummina, Inc.
_______________________________________________
(12) Dear Mr. Salinger:
Your silly little blog post about a telephone bill, while amusing, was hardly a substitute for genuine payment. As you know, we are a real telephone company; we provide real service, and we send out real bills. Yours is overdue by 3 months.
Your past-due balance is $597.33. Ordinarily, we are loathe to make such threats when we know so many people are struggling in these dire economic times. In your case, however, it gives us distinct pleasure to announce that if your bill is not paid in full by December 18, your phone and Internet service (indeed, your lifeline to the entire outside world as we now know it) will be disconnected.
Restoration charges and late fees will apply.
Sincerely,
XXX Telephone Company
(What exactly IS the deal with all those calls to Bangkok?)
_______________________________________________
(13) Dear Mr. Poucette:
We were mortified to learn that our several recent letters offering you employment were mis-delivered to your next-door-neighbor, a Mr. Salinger, who, apparently, was too lazy and selfish to walk the 18 feet from his front door to yours to hand them to you. In the interim, the job has been offered to another candidate (who has now accepted), as the time within which you were required to respond has elapsed.
While our corporate counsel researches what, if any, charges may be filed against Mr. Salinger for, among other things, tampering with the U.S. Mail, we recommend that you retain your own attorney to determine what civil claims might be brought.
We shall keep your resume on file, and will not hesitate to contact you should another opportunity arise. Meanwhile, you might consider erecting a very tall fence on the line between your property and Mr. Salinger's, and also enlarging the number on your mailbox.
Yours, truly,
Abe P. Banderlootey
Hummina Hummina, Inc.
____________________________________________________
(14) Dear Mr. Salinger:
I should like to remind you that we are a 501(c)(3) tax-exempt charitable organization. In fact, we are the only airline of which we are aware that is so designated, due largely to the fact that fully 75% of our planes' seats are filled, not with paying customers, but, rather, volunteers who dispense their benevolent services throughout the land to our nation's neediest.
Of course, we were flattered when you sent us your posting about an airline itinerary. We were elated when you told us that every click on the advertising accompanying your Blog would result in a revenue stream directly to our organization. So advised, we encouraged every member of our staff to get out the word to every one listed in their sizable directories.
Imagine our shock and disappointment when the good people at Google informed us that, in fact, every click on these ads generates revenue for you and not for us. We've heard of some lowdown dirty tricks before, but this is the lowest and dirtiest about which we've ever heard.
Though you ought to be ashamed, we have no doubt that such a word is not in your puny lexicon. Therefore, we can only console ourselves with the knowledge that your name and your memory have been erased from our mailing list. It is our fervent hope that you will reciprocate.
Sincerely,
Chastity Lindbergh
Air Head Airlines
"We Hope to Make it Off the Ground Today"
__________________________________________________
(15) Dear Whoever You Are:
We, the undersigned, have taken up a collection to pay for a DNA test. Please take it at your nearest clinic at your earliest convenience. We want to prove that we are not genetically related to you in any way, shape, or form.
And we want you to post the results immediately.
Our names are too numerous to mention, so just refer to us collectively as "the undersigned."
Regards,
The Undersigned.
_____________________________________________________________
(16) Dear Seth:
You are likely to hear and see some loud construction activity on our shared property line over the next several weeks. On the advice of counsel, I am building a very tall fence so that I never have to look at you or your house again.
I'd tell you in person, but I'm no longer talking to you.
Please keep off my lawn,
R. Poucette
_____________________________________________
Well, that's it for now.
Keep those cards and letters coming.
And remember, every time you click on those ads, a portion of the revenue generated goes directly to Air Head Airlines!
[
[
Having published several small articles in this venue, I have come face-to-face with no small degree of reader reaction. The City has prevented me from disposing of these communications, so I am recycling them here, as I do not know what else to do with them.
___________________________________________
(1) Dear Mr. Salinger:
This firm represents the interests of the owners of Sponge Bob Square Pants. While we generally busy ourselves with affairs of State and cartooning, and would not, under ordinary circumstances, waste time on your idiotic pontifications, a number of our younger consumers were confused and distraught by your bogus obituary for our copyrighted character. Thus, we were forced to act. A mere glance at your scribblings convinced us, not only that you lack sound judgment, but, also, that you are, likely, judgment-proof.
Based on your alleged background, we assume you know how these things work, so we will cut to the chase: One more utterance out of you about Sponge Bob or any of the other residents of Bikini Bottom and the party's over. Cease and desist forthwith or else we will.
Yours Truly,
Eugene Krabs, Esq.
______________________________________________
(2) Dear Mr. Poucette:
Congratulations on surviving the exhausting round of interviews. After careful consideration, we are pleased to offer you a contract of employment as CEO at our firm with a starting annual salary of $185,000, plus a full benefits package outlined in the attached Schedule 1.
To signify your acceptance of this offer, you must return a signed copy of this letter within ten (10) days of the date hereof.
We look forward to a mutually productive and prosperous future and hope to hear from you soon.
Regards,
Abe P. Banderlootey
Hummina Hummina, Inc.
_______________________________________________
(3) Dear Mr. Salinger:
I read your thing about hyphenated names and was not amused. Nor was anybody in my family, which has passed down our cherished chicken recipe for 9 generations. Nine! We're not going to call that recipe anything else, your small-mindedness notwithstanding.
Next time, pick on somebody your own size (mentally, that is).
Yours,
Lucille Doodey-Crapperhouse
_______________________________________________
(4) Dear Mr. Salinger:
Somebody who used to be my friend showed me the article you "wrote" about ancient Chinese poets. I couldn't find a reference to a single one of those people on Wikipedia, or Google, or Bing, or Yahoo and would venture to say that you made the whole thing up (although the poem about water chestnuts sounded vaguely familiar). Plus it was moronic. People should charge you to read your asinine musings.
Pay up!
Best,
Pincus "Ming" Mandelbaum XXXIV
_______________________________________________
(5) Dear Mr. Poucette:
Several days ago, we sent you a formal offer of employment and have yet to hear back from you. As time is of the essence, please return a signed copy of the offer letter immediately so that we may keep the position open for you.
We look forward to your response and trust that your interest has not abated.
Regards,
Abe P. Banderlootey
Hummina Hummina, Inc.
______________________________________________
(6) Dear Mr. Salinger:
Like yourself, I'm a busy professional, so I'll be brief. Yesterday, one of my patients (I'll refer to him as Mr. X, as that is, in fact, his name) became hysterical in my treatment room and began ranting that someone had broken into his office and stolen his dream diary. I assured him that he was hallucinating, until he showed me your little story about a dream diary.
I don't know where you got this material, sir, but it does in fact represent the innermost subconscious repressions of my patient who has for years been dreaming about being stuck in the subway waiting for a train that never comes. Recently, he made a breakthrough by dreaming about being stuck on a grounded plane, only to have the plane return to the terminal due to a lack of fuel.
I am going to hazard a guess that you are familiar with a little doctrine known as the doctor-patient privilege. It is inviolate, and yet you violated it. Here's my proposal: No formal charges will be lodged, and my patient and I will look the other way if you return his book -- no questions asked. It goes without saying that you have crossed a line (several, inf fact) and caused incalculable harm to his psyche, but I shall say it, anyway while imploring and beseeching you never to do this again.
Ever.
Very truly yours,
Saul Feinberg, MBBS, M.D., PhD.
_____________________________________________
(7) Dear Fellow Citizen:
The White House receives millions of letters and tweets every year from people all over the world. Obviously, the President cannot respond to each one individually, but has asked me to extend his appreciation for your [letter/postcard/e-mail/text/blog post] about [his Nobel Peace Prize/Speech in Cairo/Speech in Beijing/Speech in Copenhagen/Speech in Oslo/Speech in Ghana/Nobel Peace Prize].
Please be assured that your communication has been given the attention it deserves.
With Every Good Wish,
The White House Press Office.
(P.S.: Wow, 4 whole "Followers" for your Blog; that's impressive.)
(Still, a kid on YouTube picking his nose gets 31 million hits in a week. But don't be discouraged. Maybe if you add some animation like, oh, I don't know, a dog peeing on the rug, you might garner more [and, dare I say, a higher caliber of] readers. Just a thought.)
WHPO.
____________________________________________
(8) Dear A**ho*le:
I tried that Mother-f*****g product you endorsed -- Down-Boy Rx. Guess what? It worked. Now I can't f***, or h**p, or scht***, or even master**** anymore. My wife left me. My girlfriend left me. I lost my job. Even my dog treats me like I'm a wuss.
I'm sure you think I'm going to threaten to kill you, but that would be far too good for the likes of you. I'm sending you a case of Down-Boy Rx.
Start drinking it tonight, you creep. I hate you and I'll see you in Hell. You can't miss me. I'll be the one without the ****-on.
Name Withheld by Request.
_______________________________________________
(9) Dear Mr. Poucette:
The deadline for returning, signed, our offer of employment expires tomorrow. We hope that you have not overlooked this important date and will act immediately.
Please do not hesitate to call should you have any questions.
Yours, truly,
Abe P. Banderlootey
Hummina Hummina, Inc.
_______________________________________________
(10) My Dear Sir:
I loved (absolutely) loved your piece about my address to the U.N. You captured me exactly!
LOL!
I am going to Friend you presently!
If you have some additional information about Jack Ruby (nee Rubenstein), please forward it to our consular office immediately. (If the office is closed, please forward the info to former Minnesota Governor, Jesse Ventura).
Inshallah, we will get to the bottom of this conspiracy.
Salaam,
His Excellency,
Moammar Kadaffi
______________________________________________
(11) Dear Mr. Poucette:
We regret that you have not returned the signed offer of employment from our company, and, therefore, have concluded that you have rejected the offer. We have extended the offer to the runner-up candidate.
With every good wish for your future endeavors, I remain,
Yours, truly,
Abe P. Banderlootey
Hummina Hummina, Inc.
_______________________________________________
(12) Dear Mr. Salinger:
Your silly little blog post about a telephone bill, while amusing, was hardly a substitute for genuine payment. As you know, we are a real telephone company; we provide real service, and we send out real bills. Yours is overdue by 3 months.
Your past-due balance is $597.33. Ordinarily, we are loathe to make such threats when we know so many people are struggling in these dire economic times. In your case, however, it gives us distinct pleasure to announce that if your bill is not paid in full by December 18, your phone and Internet service (indeed, your lifeline to the entire outside world as we now know it) will be disconnected.
Restoration charges and late fees will apply.
Sincerely,
XXX Telephone Company
(What exactly IS the deal with all those calls to Bangkok?)
_______________________________________________
(13) Dear Mr. Poucette:
We were mortified to learn that our several recent letters offering you employment were mis-delivered to your next-door-neighbor, a Mr. Salinger, who, apparently, was too lazy and selfish to walk the 18 feet from his front door to yours to hand them to you. In the interim, the job has been offered to another candidate (who has now accepted), as the time within which you were required to respond has elapsed.
While our corporate counsel researches what, if any, charges may be filed against Mr. Salinger for, among other things, tampering with the U.S. Mail, we recommend that you retain your own attorney to determine what civil claims might be brought.
We shall keep your resume on file, and will not hesitate to contact you should another opportunity arise. Meanwhile, you might consider erecting a very tall fence on the line between your property and Mr. Salinger's, and also enlarging the number on your mailbox.
Yours, truly,
Abe P. Banderlootey
Hummina Hummina, Inc.
____________________________________________________
(14) Dear Mr. Salinger:
I should like to remind you that we are a 501(c)(3) tax-exempt charitable organization. In fact, we are the only airline of which we are aware that is so designated, due largely to the fact that fully 75% of our planes' seats are filled, not with paying customers, but, rather, volunteers who dispense their benevolent services throughout the land to our nation's neediest.
Of course, we were flattered when you sent us your posting about an airline itinerary. We were elated when you told us that every click on the advertising accompanying your Blog would result in a revenue stream directly to our organization. So advised, we encouraged every member of our staff to get out the word to every one listed in their sizable directories.
Imagine our shock and disappointment when the good people at Google informed us that, in fact, every click on these ads generates revenue for you and not for us. We've heard of some lowdown dirty tricks before, but this is the lowest and dirtiest about which we've ever heard.
Though you ought to be ashamed, we have no doubt that such a word is not in your puny lexicon. Therefore, we can only console ourselves with the knowledge that your name and your memory have been erased from our mailing list. It is our fervent hope that you will reciprocate.
Sincerely,
Chastity Lindbergh
Air Head Airlines
"We Hope to Make it Off the Ground Today"
__________________________________________________
(15) Dear Whoever You Are:
We, the undersigned, have taken up a collection to pay for a DNA test. Please take it at your nearest clinic at your earliest convenience. We want to prove that we are not genetically related to you in any way, shape, or form.
And we want you to post the results immediately.
Our names are too numerous to mention, so just refer to us collectively as "the undersigned."
Regards,
The Undersigned.
_____________________________________________________________
(16) Dear Seth:
You are likely to hear and see some loud construction activity on our shared property line over the next several weeks. On the advice of counsel, I am building a very tall fence so that I never have to look at you or your house again.
I'd tell you in person, but I'm no longer talking to you.
Please keep off my lawn,
R. Poucette
_____________________________________________
Well, that's it for now.
Keep those cards and letters coming.
And remember, every time you click on those ads, a portion of the revenue generated goes directly to Air Head Airlines!
Wednesday, December 9, 2009
The Cell Phone Chronicles
}
}
}
Part 1
Protagonist: Hello? Who is this?
Deuteragonist: Who is this?
Protagonist: What? You called me. I don't answer "private caller" calls.
Deuteragonist: Then why did you answer?
Protagonist: Oh. Is that you, General Franks?
Deuteragonist: It's me, ..ener...l ...anks.
Protagonist: Ernie Banks?
Deuteragonist: It's ...ee, .......al ....nks
Protagonist: What did you say?
Deuteragonist: Can you hear me now? Hello? Hello?
Protagonist: Yes, I hear you! Is that you Tommy? General Tommy Franks?
Deuteragonist: Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?
Protagonist: I said I hear you! Can't you hear me?
Deuteragonist: Hello?
Protagonist: God damn it! I'm trying to decide whether to take the country to war! Who the hell is this? Can't you call me from a land line?
Deuteragonist: Helloooooooooooooooooooo? Hellooooo? Hellooo? I guess he hung up, Mr. Ambassador.
Protagonist: I didn't hang up you fools! You can't hear me, that's all!
Chorus: Eternal Clouds, let us appear; let us arise from the ..oaring depths of ... ..... let us fly towards the ..ofty mountains, spread our damp ... over their forest-laden .... ..... .... which the ... with its ...ttering beams.
Protagonist: What the hell? Even the Greek Chorus is on a crappy cell phone?
Chorus: Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?
Protagonist: Oh for God's sake! Your service provider sucks!
Chorus: Hello? Are you still there? Hello? We think he hung up.
Protagonist: I didn't hang up! I'm right here! Can't you hear me? Hello? Hello? Hello?
Chorus: Damn it! Our fingers were on the mute button!
Protagonist: I'm hanging up.
Chorus:: Hang up. We'll call you back. We'll call you back.
Protagonist: Hello? Ok. I'm hanging up.
Chorus: What?
Part Deux
Protagonist: Wait did you call me just now?
Chorus: No, you called us.
Protagonist: Hey, this is really good sound quality.
Chorus: We know, it's like you're in the next room.
Protagonist: No I'm not.
Chorus: No you're not in the next room. It's like you're in the next room.
Protagonist: Where are you?
Chorus: In the next room.
Part The Third
Protagonist: Did you just call me?
Deuteragonist: No. You called me.
Protagonist: But I just pressed "send" and I automatically reached you.
Deuteragonist: Well I called you before but you couldn't hear me.
Protagonist: No I could hear you; you couldn't hear me.
Deuteragonist: Well, now I hear you fine. What do you want?
Protagonist: I've got a huge decision to make. History hangs in the balance. I'm trying to decide whether to take the country to wa...
Deuteragonist: Hold on! Hold on! I've got another call coming in. I'm going to put you on hold. Don't go away.
Protagonist: No! No! Don't put me on hold! I have to decide now! I need to know whether there are weapons of mass...YOUR BALANCE IS LOW. PLEASE REFILL YOUR BALANCE NOW. Hello? Hello? I was in the middle of a godamned sentence and you just cut in like that!?
Chorus: History hangs in the balance. Should we go to war, or should we not? Is the crisis now cold, or is it still hot?
Protagonist: Wait! You were listening in on my conversation just now?
Chorus: You were shouting.
Part Kwatro
Chorus: Hello? Who is this?
Protagonist: You called me!
Chorus: Well what do you want?
Protagonist: What do you mean? You called me.
Chorus: We did?
Protagonist: Listen, I'm waiting for some intelligence from the front. It will be the deciding factor. It will mean either war or peace. Are you with me on this?
Chorus: Hold on. Our battery is about to die. We'll have to call you back.
Five-Oh
Protagonist: Are you there?
Deuteragonist: Who is this?
Protagonist: What do you mean, "Who is this?" I was just talking to you.
Deuteragonist: Prove it. What was I wearing?
Protagonist: Hello! I called you. I didn't film you. How do I know what you were wearing?
Deuteragonist: Well, what do you want?
Protagonist: I need to know if there are weapons of mass destruction, and I need to know now.
Deuteragonist: Well, there's definitely some yellow cake, and the evidence is pretty conclusive for...shun. But the consensus here is that ....irm the ...al decisi... I repeat; it is cricitcal that we...irm the ...shun.
Chorus: Hey can we borrow your phone? Our battery died.
Protagonist: What!? No! You can't borrow my phone! I'm in the middle of something! I can't hear both of you and at the same time!
Chorus: Who are you talking to?
Protagonist: Will you SHUT UP!? This is critical!
Deuteragonist: What's that? Shut up?
Protagonist: No not you!
Chorus: Hold on. We're moving to a better reception area.
Sextet
Protagonist: I'm not going to plunge the nation into war without irrefutable proof.
Deuteragonist: I'd say we have .... of ...oof. What does everybody else think?
Chorus: We want to say something.
Deuteragonist: What? What did they say?
Protagonist: I can't... Hold on. He can't hear you.
Chorus: Put us on speaker.
Protagonist: Ok. We're all on speaker. Can you hear us?
Chorus: Yes, perfectly.
Protagonist: No! Not you! Can you hear us, general? Are you there, ambassador? We need to know!
Deuteragonist: Need to know what?
Protagonist: “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Do I dare. Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
Deuteragonist: What the hell are you talking about?
Protagonist: Stop shouting. You're getting hoarse.
Chorus: A horse! a horse! our kingdom for a horse!
Deuteragonist: I know this is a bore, but...
Protagonist: You want us to go to war?
Chorus: Let's go to war!
LEADER OF CHORUS OF WOMEN: And yet you dare to make war upon me, wretch, when you might have me for your most faithful friend and ally.
Chorus: What? You're breaking up.
Party of the Seventh Part
LYSISTRATA: All the long time the war has lasted, we have endured in modest silence all you men did; you never allowed us to open our lips. We were far from satisfied, for we knew how things were going; often in our homes we would hear you discussing, upside down and inside out, some important turn of affairs. Then with sad hearts, but smiling lips, we would ask you: Well, in today's Assembly did they vote peace?-But, "Mind your own business!" the husband would growl, "Hold your tongue, please!" And we would say no more.
Deuteragonist: What did she say? I didn't get that.
Protagonist: Chorus, what did she say?
Chorus: We don't know. We weren't really paying attention. We were multi-tasking.
Protagonist: War is Hades!
Chorus: You can say that again!
Deuteragonist: Say what again? I didn't get that. Hello? Hello? Did you hang up?
Epilogue
Chorus: The old leader is gone. He was a warmonger. All hail the new leader, a true Hero. Oh new leader, our Hero! You give us hope. You are a man of peace. Here is a prize to prove it.
Deuteragonist: Hero, aren't you going to claim your prize?
Chorus: The Hero is sending us a Text!
Deuteragonist: Thank the gods! What does the Text say?
Chorus: It says: "Will pick up prize of peace rite after starting new war."
Protagonist: Can you hear me now?
}
}
Part 1
Protagonist: Hello? Who is this?
Deuteragonist: Who is this?
Protagonist: What? You called me. I don't answer "private caller" calls.
Deuteragonist: Then why did you answer?
Protagonist: Oh. Is that you, General Franks?
Deuteragonist: It's me, ..ener...l ...anks.
Protagonist: Ernie Banks?
Deuteragonist: It's ...ee, .......al ....nks
Protagonist: What did you say?
Deuteragonist: Can you hear me now? Hello? Hello?
Protagonist: Yes, I hear you! Is that you Tommy? General Tommy Franks?
Deuteragonist: Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?
Protagonist: I said I hear you! Can't you hear me?
Deuteragonist: Hello?
Protagonist: God damn it! I'm trying to decide whether to take the country to war! Who the hell is this? Can't you call me from a land line?
Deuteragonist: Helloooooooooooooooooooo? Hellooooo? Hellooo? I guess he hung up, Mr. Ambassador.
Protagonist: I didn't hang up you fools! You can't hear me, that's all!
Chorus: Eternal Clouds, let us appear; let us arise from the ..oaring depths of ... ..... let us fly towards the ..ofty mountains, spread our damp ... over their forest-laden .... ..... .... which the ... with its ...ttering beams.
Protagonist: What the hell? Even the Greek Chorus is on a crappy cell phone?
Chorus: Hello? Hello? Hello? Hello?
Protagonist: Oh for God's sake! Your service provider sucks!
Chorus: Hello? Are you still there? Hello? We think he hung up.
Protagonist: I didn't hang up! I'm right here! Can't you hear me? Hello? Hello? Hello?
Chorus: Damn it! Our fingers were on the mute button!
Protagonist: I'm hanging up.
Chorus:: Hang up. We'll call you back. We'll call you back.
Protagonist: Hello? Ok. I'm hanging up.
Chorus: What?
Part Deux
Protagonist: Wait did you call me just now?
Chorus: No, you called us.
Protagonist: Hey, this is really good sound quality.
Chorus: We know, it's like you're in the next room.
Protagonist: No I'm not.
Chorus: No you're not in the next room. It's like you're in the next room.
Protagonist: Where are you?
Chorus: In the next room.
Part The Third
Protagonist: Did you just call me?
Deuteragonist: No. You called me.
Protagonist: But I just pressed "send" and I automatically reached you.
Deuteragonist: Well I called you before but you couldn't hear me.
Protagonist: No I could hear you; you couldn't hear me.
Deuteragonist: Well, now I hear you fine. What do you want?
Protagonist: I've got a huge decision to make. History hangs in the balance. I'm trying to decide whether to take the country to wa...
Deuteragonist: Hold on! Hold on! I've got another call coming in. I'm going to put you on hold. Don't go away.
Protagonist: No! No! Don't put me on hold! I have to decide now! I need to know whether there are weapons of mass...YOUR BALANCE IS LOW. PLEASE REFILL YOUR BALANCE NOW. Hello? Hello? I was in the middle of a godamned sentence and you just cut in like that!?
Chorus: History hangs in the balance. Should we go to war, or should we not? Is the crisis now cold, or is it still hot?
Protagonist: Wait! You were listening in on my conversation just now?
Chorus: You were shouting.
Part Kwatro
Chorus: Hello? Who is this?
Protagonist: You called me!
Chorus: Well what do you want?
Protagonist: What do you mean? You called me.
Chorus: We did?
Protagonist: Listen, I'm waiting for some intelligence from the front. It will be the deciding factor. It will mean either war or peace. Are you with me on this?
Chorus: Hold on. Our battery is about to die. We'll have to call you back.
Five-Oh
Protagonist: Are you there?
Deuteragonist: Who is this?
Protagonist: What do you mean, "Who is this?" I was just talking to you.
Deuteragonist: Prove it. What was I wearing?
Protagonist: Hello! I called you. I didn't film you. How do I know what you were wearing?
Deuteragonist: Well, what do you want?
Protagonist: I need to know if there are weapons of mass destruction, and I need to know now.
Deuteragonist: Well, there's definitely some yellow cake, and the evidence is pretty conclusive for...shun. But the consensus here is that ....irm the ...al decisi... I repeat; it is cricitcal that we...irm the ...shun.
Chorus: Hey can we borrow your phone? Our battery died.
Protagonist: What!? No! You can't borrow my phone! I'm in the middle of something! I can't hear both of you and at the same time!
Chorus: Who are you talking to?
Protagonist: Will you SHUT UP!? This is critical!
Deuteragonist: What's that? Shut up?
Protagonist: No not you!
Chorus: Hold on. We're moving to a better reception area.
Sextet
Protagonist: I'm not going to plunge the nation into war without irrefutable proof.
Deuteragonist: I'd say we have .... of ...oof. What does everybody else think?
Chorus: We want to say something.
Deuteragonist: What? What did they say?
Protagonist: I can't... Hold on. He can't hear you.
Chorus: Put us on speaker.
Protagonist: Ok. We're all on speaker. Can you hear us?
Chorus: Yes, perfectly.
Protagonist: No! Not you! Can you hear us, general? Are you there, ambassador? We need to know!
Deuteragonist: Need to know what?
Protagonist: “Do I dare?” and, “Do I dare?”
Do I dare. Disturb the universe?
In a minute there is time
For decisions and revisions which a minute will reverse.
Deuteragonist: What the hell are you talking about?
Protagonist: Stop shouting. You're getting hoarse.
Chorus: A horse! a horse! our kingdom for a horse!
Deuteragonist: I know this is a bore, but...
Protagonist: You want us to go to war?
Chorus: Let's go to war!
LEADER OF CHORUS OF WOMEN: And yet you dare to make war upon me, wretch, when you might have me for your most faithful friend and ally.
Chorus: What? You're breaking up.
Party of the Seventh Part
LYSISTRATA: All the long time the war has lasted, we have endured in modest silence all you men did; you never allowed us to open our lips. We were far from satisfied, for we knew how things were going; often in our homes we would hear you discussing, upside down and inside out, some important turn of affairs. Then with sad hearts, but smiling lips, we would ask you: Well, in today's Assembly did they vote peace?-But, "Mind your own business!" the husband would growl, "Hold your tongue, please!" And we would say no more.
Deuteragonist: What did she say? I didn't get that.
Protagonist: Chorus, what did she say?
Chorus: We don't know. We weren't really paying attention. We were multi-tasking.
Protagonist: War is Hades!
Chorus: You can say that again!
Deuteragonist: Say what again? I didn't get that. Hello? Hello? Did you hang up?
Epilogue
Chorus: The old leader is gone. He was a warmonger. All hail the new leader, a true Hero. Oh new leader, our Hero! You give us hope. You are a man of peace. Here is a prize to prove it.
Deuteragonist: Hero, aren't you going to claim your prize?
Chorus: The Hero is sending us a Text!
Deuteragonist: Thank the gods! What does the Text say?
Chorus: It says: "Will pick up prize of peace rite after starting new war."
Protagonist: Can you hear me now?
Wednesday, November 25, 2009
CURRICULUM VITAE
Objective: To be restored to rightful place among high and mighty in the global community of potentates.
Education
ROYAL KING'S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED AND RICH BOYS
Dean's List (nominated [by mother]) 1,2,3,4
National Humor Society: 1,3,4
Red Rover: 1, (co-vice captain), 3
Milk Carton Marshal: 3
Hall Monitor: 2,4
Eraser Cleaner-Assistant: 2,3,4
KING'S FAMILY MEMBERS SECONDARY SCHOOL
Chess [equipment manager] 2,4
Newspaper (hawker) 1,2,3,4
Student Government (interrupter of speeches while wearing beret at jaunty angle and screaming in reverent yet wistful tones of Che Guevara, Castro (Fidel, not Raoul!), Noam Chomsky, Hugo Chavez, Lenin, Lenny Bruce, and Abba): 4
International Friendship and Sleeping Late Society: 3,4
Poetry Slam: 4 (Honorable Mention: "Most Incomprehensible Rant")
Leadership Council (on standby) 1,2,3,4
Stand Up: 2
Cafeteria: 3
Soccer: 2
Voted: "Most likely to realize pitfalls of truancy and sloth"
ON-LINE UNIVERSITY OF THE EAST
Laude
King's Prize for Study of Coos, Coups, and Coops. Thesis: "How Some Chickens Suffocate the 'Boss' Chickens to Overthrow the Counter-Revolutionary Power Structure, Escape from Their Cages, and Live Among the Pigeons -- a Machiavellian Interpretation."
Cafeteria: 4
ON-LINE UNIVERSITY OF THE EAST -- POST GRADUATE
Coursework.
Master's (All but thesis and 397 course hours).
Thesis: TBD -- "To be Determined" (actual name of thesis).
PRACTICAL EXPERIENCE
Appointed deputy to the undersecretary for intergovernmental affairs. (re-appointed 5 consecutive terms [except year 3 -- recovering from shingles])
Appointed Assistant to Secretary General for External and Internal Government Affairs. (3 consecutive years)
Appointed Secretary General of the Particular Assembly
Appointed Clerk of the General Assembly
Assumed Control of the Government amidst the chaos of the "Pool Coup" (a/k/a the "Chicken Revolt" of Aught Four).
Ruled with an Iron Fist but a human face while taking the nation to Hell in a Hand Basket. Allowed dozens of political prisoners to write postcards to Amnesty International, provided they reimbursed the government for postage.
Elected as "Observer" to the United Nations Human Rights Council by the other despots on the Council.
Exalted as "Dear Leader" by the Great Pool Hall of the People for unilaterally canceling the diplomatic mission's NYC parking tickets.
Deposed in the Bourgeois Revolt of Aught Eight (a/k/a: the "Pigeon Revolt").
INTERNATIONAL COURT OF JUSTICE, THE HAGUE
Exonerated!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (on all but 19 of the most serious charges of human rights violations). On appeal.
PUBLICATIONS
"How Some Chickens Suffocate the 'Boss' Chickens to Overthrow the Counter-Revolutionary Power Structure, Escape from Their Cages, and Live Among the Pigeons," Roadside Stand Review, Spring, Vol. 4
AWARDS
Spider Solitaire -- Top 9 scorer under nom de guerre of "Guerre."
OTHER SKILLS
WebPro -- Intermediate level
Texting (very fast while driving)
REFERENCES
Upon request to the United Nations Human Rights Council
FAVORITE SONG
"Dancing Queen"
Education
ROYAL KING'S SCHOOL FOR GIFTED AND RICH BOYS
Dean's List (nominated [by mother]) 1,2,3,4
National Humor Society: 1,3,4
Red Rover: 1, (co-vice captain), 3
Milk Carton Marshal: 3
Hall Monitor: 2,4
Eraser Cleaner-Assistant: 2,3,4
KING'S FAMILY MEMBERS SECONDARY SCHOOL
Chess [equipment manager] 2,4
Newspaper (hawker) 1,2,3,4
Student Government (interrupter of speeches while wearing beret at jaunty angle and screaming in reverent yet wistful tones of Che Guevara, Castro (Fidel, not Raoul!), Noam Chomsky, Hugo Chavez, Lenin, Lenny Bruce, and Abba): 4
International Friendship and Sleeping Late Society: 3,4
Poetry Slam: 4 (Honorable Mention: "Most Incomprehensible Rant")
Leadership Council (on standby) 1,2,3,4
Stand Up: 2
Cafeteria: 3
Soccer: 2
Voted: "Most likely to realize pitfalls of truancy and sloth"
ON-LINE UNIVERSITY OF THE EAST
Laude
King's Prize for Study of Coos, Coups, and Coops. Thesis: "How Some Chickens Suffocate the 'Boss' Chickens to Overthrow the Counter-Revolutionary Power Structure, Escape from Their Cages, and Live Among the Pigeons -- a Machiavellian Interpretation."
Cafeteria: 4
ON-LINE UNIVERSITY OF THE EAST -- POST GRADUATE
Coursework.
Master's (All but thesis and 397 course hours).
Thesis: TBD -- "To be Determined" (actual name of thesis).
PRACTICAL EXPERIENCE
Appointed deputy to the undersecretary for intergovernmental affairs. (re-appointed 5 consecutive terms [except year 3 -- recovering from shingles])
Appointed Assistant to Secretary General for External and Internal Government Affairs. (3 consecutive years)
Appointed Secretary General of the Particular Assembly
Appointed Clerk of the General Assembly
Assumed Control of the Government amidst the chaos of the "Pool Coup" (a/k/a the "Chicken Revolt" of Aught Four).
Ruled with an Iron Fist but a human face while taking the nation to Hell in a Hand Basket. Allowed dozens of political prisoners to write postcards to Amnesty International, provided they reimbursed the government for postage.
Elected as "Observer" to the United Nations Human Rights Council by the other despots on the Council.
Exalted as "Dear Leader" by the Great Pool Hall of the People for unilaterally canceling the diplomatic mission's NYC parking tickets.
Deposed in the Bourgeois Revolt of Aught Eight (a/k/a: the "Pigeon Revolt").
INTERNATIONAL COURT OF JUSTICE, THE HAGUE
Exonerated!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! (on all but 19 of the most serious charges of human rights violations). On appeal.
PUBLICATIONS
"How Some Chickens Suffocate the 'Boss' Chickens to Overthrow the Counter-Revolutionary Power Structure, Escape from Their Cages, and Live Among the Pigeons," Roadside Stand Review, Spring, Vol. 4
AWARDS
Spider Solitaire -- Top 9 scorer under nom de guerre of "Guerre."
OTHER SKILLS
WebPro -- Intermediate level
Texting (very fast while driving)
REFERENCES
Upon request to the United Nations Human Rights Council
FAVORITE SONG
"Dancing Queen"
Thursday, October 29, 2009
On Second Thought, It's Whether You Win
UNITED STATES DISTRICT COURT
SOUTHERN DISTRICT OF NEW YORK
NEW YORK YANKEES
Plaintiff,
v.
PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES
Defendant
09 Civ. 8809
HON. CASEY ATTHEBAT
HON. SULTAN OFSWAT
HON. CY YOUNG,
District Judges
APPEARANCES
GIRARDI AND STEINBRENNER,
Attorneys for Plaintiff,
MICHAEL MANUEL
Attorney for Defendant,
(Case called)
THE COURT: (Atthebat, J.)
This matter comes before this specially-convened 3-judge panel of this Court on the Emergency Motion of Plaintiff, New York Yankees (the "Yankees"), who are in the bottom of the 5th inning of game 1 of the World Series at Yankee Stadium against the defendant, Philadelphia Phillies (the "Phillies"). The Yankees, invoking a rarely-used provision of 28 U.S.C. 4-6-3 (the "Re-Play Act"), have challenged a call on the field by Umpire Dana DeMuth resulting in a highly-contested two-outs. Play in the game has been suspended pending a ruling by this Court.
The facts pertinent to this dispute are as follows: After a leadoff single by Hideki Matsui for the Yankees, Robinson Cano hit a sinking liner to the Phillies' Jimmy Rollins at short(stop). The parties have stipulated that Rollins caught the ball in the web of his glove just before it reached the dirt for out No. 1. The parties also agree that Rollins then stepped on second base and made the throw to Ryan Howard at first. Thus begins the case and controversy.
The Yankees allege that the throw pulled Howard off first base. Consequently, the Yankees argue that the call on the field should be reversed; that Cano should be safe at first, and that there should now be only one out.
Obviously, the Phillies urge this Court to uphold the umpire's call and cite Rule 47-A-15 of the Rules of Major League Baseball 114th ed. (the "Rules"), which Rule provides, in pertinent part:
When a call on the field is close and nobody saw nothin' to say it aint so, then it stands and nothin' and nobody can change it, not nohow.
(emphasis added).
This matter is governed by the doctrine of mootness. Whether the throw pulled Howard off first base is irrelevant, because Rollins alertly noticed that Matsui was still straying off first base after the throw to first. Howard then tagged Matsui, resulting in a double-play call. At that point, all the umps gathered and spent a minute discussing the play. They re-emerged and reiterated the double-play call. Yankees manager Joe Girardi came out to protest the call. The umpires refused to reconsider their ruling, whereupon the Yankees filed this emergency motion.
The Yankees, while citing no authority, ask this Court to take judicial notice of the fact that there has been a host of mistaken umpiring calls in this postseason. While that is so, that's how the game is played. One cannot expect to get a hit by arguing with the umpire; you've got to swing the bat. Indeed, in this most ancient of past-times, it cannot be gainsaid that "It don't mean a thing if it Aint Got that Swing." (See, Ellington, Duke, Ellington Swings! Blue Note Records, 1950).
We are not unsympathetic to the Yankees' position. Yet, while this is a Court of equity, we are nonetheless, required to abide by the rule of stare decisis. Indeed, we are mindful of the instruction in Indians v. Red Sox, 453 U.S. 27 (1952) (Frankfurter, J.): ("When there is no precedent upon which a court of first impression may rely, it should make it up."). This is still good law and we are in no position to disturb it.
The ruling on the field stands. Matsui is out and so is Cano. The Yankees are advised to focus on the fundamentals and forget about attempting to win on a technicality -- while that may be loved in a court of law, it is loathed in the court of public opinion, to wit: the diamond.
SO ORDERED.
Play Ball.
Ofswat, J. Concurring.
Young, J. Dissenting:
Respectfully, I can't help but think that my learned friends need to have their eyes checked. I watched the replay again and again. Howard was clearly pulled of the bag to make the catch, and the play was dead by the time he tagged Matsui. In a case neatly on point, the First Circuit held that when the Umpires are "futzing around trying to get their act together, a baseman has no lawful right to take advantage of the ensuing chaos to tag out an unsuspecting base-runner. In such a situation, the play is dead, the tag is a nullity, and the parties must be returned to the status quo ante. Moreover, a tag nunc pro tunc is disfavored and courts are admonished to allow it only in extreme circumstances when preservation of the public order is at stake." Boston Braves v. Brooklyn Dodgers, 78 F. 2d. 397 (1st Cir. 1949). See, also, In Re Pee Wee Reese, 762 F. Supp. 47 (E.D. Pa. 1953).
In the case at bar, there was nothing approaching an imminent threat to the public order. Indeed, the Yankees submitted the Affidavit of one Theo Epstein, an honorary guest in the V.I.P. Box, who has averred: "There was a nice, mellow buzz about the joint." Under these circumstances, in my estimation, the Court has overreached.
The way I see it, Cano was safe and there should only be one out. But I was out-voted by my learned brothers who, notwithstanding their obvious allegiance to the National League, refused to recuse themselves for this dispute.
That's life.
And baseball.
SOUTHERN DISTRICT OF NEW YORK
NEW YORK YANKEES
Plaintiff,
v.
PHILADELPHIA PHILLIES
Defendant
09 Civ. 8809
HON. CASEY ATTHEBAT
HON. SULTAN OFSWAT
HON. CY YOUNG,
District Judges
APPEARANCES
GIRARDI AND STEINBRENNER,
Attorneys for Plaintiff,
MICHAEL MANUEL
Attorney for Defendant,
(Case called)
THE COURT: (Atthebat, J.)
This matter comes before this specially-convened 3-judge panel of this Court on the Emergency Motion of Plaintiff, New York Yankees (the "Yankees"), who are in the bottom of the 5th inning of game 1 of the World Series at Yankee Stadium against the defendant, Philadelphia Phillies (the "Phillies"). The Yankees, invoking a rarely-used provision of 28 U.S.C. 4-6-3 (the "Re-Play Act"), have challenged a call on the field by Umpire Dana DeMuth resulting in a highly-contested two-outs. Play in the game has been suspended pending a ruling by this Court.
The facts pertinent to this dispute are as follows: After a leadoff single by Hideki Matsui for the Yankees, Robinson Cano hit a sinking liner to the Phillies' Jimmy Rollins at short(stop). The parties have stipulated that Rollins caught the ball in the web of his glove just before it reached the dirt for out No. 1. The parties also agree that Rollins then stepped on second base and made the throw to Ryan Howard at first. Thus begins the case and controversy.
The Yankees allege that the throw pulled Howard off first base. Consequently, the Yankees argue that the call on the field should be reversed; that Cano should be safe at first, and that there should now be only one out.
Obviously, the Phillies urge this Court to uphold the umpire's call and cite Rule 47-A-15 of the Rules of Major League Baseball 114th ed. (the "Rules"), which Rule provides, in pertinent part:
When a call on the field is close and nobody saw nothin' to say it aint so, then it stands and nothin' and nobody can change it, not nohow.
(emphasis added).
This matter is governed by the doctrine of mootness. Whether the throw pulled Howard off first base is irrelevant, because Rollins alertly noticed that Matsui was still straying off first base after the throw to first. Howard then tagged Matsui, resulting in a double-play call. At that point, all the umps gathered and spent a minute discussing the play. They re-emerged and reiterated the double-play call. Yankees manager Joe Girardi came out to protest the call. The umpires refused to reconsider their ruling, whereupon the Yankees filed this emergency motion.
The Yankees, while citing no authority, ask this Court to take judicial notice of the fact that there has been a host of mistaken umpiring calls in this postseason. While that is so, that's how the game is played. One cannot expect to get a hit by arguing with the umpire; you've got to swing the bat. Indeed, in this most ancient of past-times, it cannot be gainsaid that "It don't mean a thing if it Aint Got that Swing." (See, Ellington, Duke, Ellington Swings! Blue Note Records, 1950).
We are not unsympathetic to the Yankees' position. Yet, while this is a Court of equity, we are nonetheless, required to abide by the rule of stare decisis. Indeed, we are mindful of the instruction in Indians v. Red Sox, 453 U.S. 27 (1952) (Frankfurter, J.): ("When there is no precedent upon which a court of first impression may rely, it should make it up."). This is still good law and we are in no position to disturb it.
The ruling on the field stands. Matsui is out and so is Cano. The Yankees are advised to focus on the fundamentals and forget about attempting to win on a technicality -- while that may be loved in a court of law, it is loathed in the court of public opinion, to wit: the diamond.
SO ORDERED.
Play Ball.
Ofswat, J. Concurring.
Young, J. Dissenting:
Respectfully, I can't help but think that my learned friends need to have their eyes checked. I watched the replay again and again. Howard was clearly pulled of the bag to make the catch, and the play was dead by the time he tagged Matsui. In a case neatly on point, the First Circuit held that when the Umpires are "futzing around trying to get their act together, a baseman has no lawful right to take advantage of the ensuing chaos to tag out an unsuspecting base-runner. In such a situation, the play is dead, the tag is a nullity, and the parties must be returned to the status quo ante. Moreover, a tag nunc pro tunc is disfavored and courts are admonished to allow it only in extreme circumstances when preservation of the public order is at stake." Boston Braves v. Brooklyn Dodgers, 78 F. 2d. 397 (1st Cir. 1949). See, also, In Re Pee Wee Reese, 762 F. Supp. 47 (E.D. Pa. 1953).
In the case at bar, there was nothing approaching an imminent threat to the public order. Indeed, the Yankees submitted the Affidavit of one Theo Epstein, an honorary guest in the V.I.P. Box, who has averred: "There was a nice, mellow buzz about the joint." Under these circumstances, in my estimation, the Court has overreached.
The way I see it, Cano was safe and there should only be one out. But I was out-voted by my learned brothers who, notwithstanding their obvious allegiance to the National League, refused to recuse themselves for this dispute.
That's life.
And baseball.
Monday, October 5, 2009
Can I Get a Little Crossword Help?
DOWN
[3] Yiddish for “nuts” -- 11 letters
[5] What Lear became in the end -- 4 letters
[7] Where Mo got kicked by Curly – 4 letters
[9] Plural of punch line of Almond Joy advertising slogan: “Sometimes you feel like “a…” _______ -- 4 letters
[11] General McAuliffe’s wacky response to Rommel during WWII campaign in North Africa – 4 letters
[13] What the New York Times isn’t about most of the movies it reviews except for the ones with yellow subtitles that are really hard to read about 70% of the time – 4 letters.
[15] A 3-hour course that will teach you all you will need to know about how to pass the Bar and practice law, because it covers everything from soup to _______ -- 4 letters.
[17] A 3-hour course that will teach you all you will need to know about how to pass the Bar and practice law, because it covers all the ________ and bolts -- 4 letters.
[19] A tasty treat for breakfast – or for any other meal at any time of day, or the middle of the night, or for eating on elevators, or while sitting through a green light with a huge line of traffic behind you, created when dough is added to these – 4 letters.
[21] What we would have to eat if we were squirrels and we couldn’t get into Le Cirque – 4 letters.
[23] What isn’t on the menu at Le Cirque – 4 letters.
[25] What hysterical stand-up comics always complain about airlines giving away too little of in knee-slapping routines – 4 letters.
[27] Tony Soprano’s lieutenant , Paulie Wal___ [hint: it’s not “marts”] – 4 letters.
[29] Déclassé Retailer who offers “Always low prices,” Wal-_____ -- 4 letters.
ACROSS
[2] The ablative plural of a medieval Latin word which can be translated as "the state of being able to achieve honours" mentioned by Shakespeare’s Costard – 26 letters.
[3] Yiddish for “nuts” -- 11 letters
[5] What Lear became in the end -- 4 letters
[7] Where Mo got kicked by Curly – 4 letters
[9] Plural of punch line of Almond Joy advertising slogan: “Sometimes you feel like “a…” _______ -- 4 letters
[11] General McAuliffe’s wacky response to Rommel during WWII campaign in North Africa – 4 letters
[13] What the New York Times isn’t about most of the movies it reviews except for the ones with yellow subtitles that are really hard to read about 70% of the time – 4 letters.
[15] A 3-hour course that will teach you all you will need to know about how to pass the Bar and practice law, because it covers everything from soup to _______ -- 4 letters.
[17] A 3-hour course that will teach you all you will need to know about how to pass the Bar and practice law, because it covers all the ________ and bolts -- 4 letters.
[19] A tasty treat for breakfast – or for any other meal at any time of day, or the middle of the night, or for eating on elevators, or while sitting through a green light with a huge line of traffic behind you, created when dough is added to these – 4 letters.
[21] What we would have to eat if we were squirrels and we couldn’t get into Le Cirque – 4 letters.
[23] What isn’t on the menu at Le Cirque – 4 letters.
[25] What hysterical stand-up comics always complain about airlines giving away too little of in knee-slapping routines – 4 letters.
[27] Tony Soprano’s lieutenant , Paulie Wal___ [hint: it’s not “marts”] – 4 letters.
[29] Déclassé Retailer who offers “Always low prices,” Wal-_____ -- 4 letters.
ACROSS
[2] The ablative plural of a medieval Latin word which can be translated as "the state of being able to achieve honours" mentioned by Shakespeare’s Costard – 26 letters.
Tuesday, September 1, 2009
Not With a Bang, But a Whimper
I was minding my own business at the pathetic little outdoor cafe table hard by the drycleaner, judging the passersby quietly to myself (negatively) when an odd-looking sort walked up to me with a latte and a clipboard. I feared him instinctively as a do-gooder with a petition (see earlier post on fear).
"May I have a word with you?" he asked politely in hushed tones.
"No," I answered politely in hushed tones.
Ignoring me skillfully, he sat opposite me and got right to the point.
"I sense that I can confide in you, unlike the others" he said, looking around nervously.
"You're wrong. You can't trust me," I said politely in hushed tones.
"You should know that I am from Mars," he said.
"Oh, really?" I replied. "Which exit?"
"Only a select few have been chosen to receive this message," he said.
"What's the minimum donation?" I asked hoping to skip the mishegos and get the pain over with.
He leaned over the table and looked right through me, sort of the way courtroom clerks do. "The date has been chosen," he whispered.
"Ok," I whispered back. "I hope that you and whatshername are very happy together. Where are you registered -- Bed and Bath?"
"March 26, 2012 in your calendar," he said.
"Aren't you going to drink that latte?" I asked. "Maybe it's getting cold." He didn't respond. "Ok, I'll take the bait. What's March 26, 2012?"
"That's the date the earth will begin anew," he said.
"Oh, I see," I said. You mean that's when the world ends?"
"Begins anew," he repeated.
"Ok, great. Begins anew. I'll be sure to put a reminder on my laptop. Of course, it will crash long before then, but whatever. Why are you telling me, anyway? What am I supposed to do about it?"
"You will be contacted with more information," he said. "You have been selected."
"Hey, are you from Publisher's Clearinghouse?" I asked. "What gives with the clipboard?"
"When you are contacted, you will know," he said standing up and looking vacantly into the distance.
"Yes, well it's much better that way," I said. "If I'm contacted and I don't even know it, the whole thing's kind of a waste. That would suck ever so much."
"Only the selected will be brought out," he said, looking straight ahead.
"If you're talking about the Rapture, I'm pretty sure I don't qualify," I said.
"You have been selected," he repeated. Then he vanished. I didn't see where he went. I wasn't sure how he disappeared, but he did.
In a few moments a young man wearing an apron and an obligatory lip piercing stepped out of the cafe, walked up to my table, and pointed in the direction of the trajectory that the Martian had presumably taken. Because of the apron, I took him for the barista, but I suppose he could just as easily have been a guy with a big hole in his pants trying to make it through the day.
"That guy said you'd pay for his latte," he said holding out a cupped hand.
I should have trusted my instinct about fearing clipboards.
"May I have a word with you?" he asked politely in hushed tones.
"No," I answered politely in hushed tones.
Ignoring me skillfully, he sat opposite me and got right to the point.
"I sense that I can confide in you, unlike the others" he said, looking around nervously.
"You're wrong. You can't trust me," I said politely in hushed tones.
"You should know that I am from Mars," he said.
"Oh, really?" I replied. "Which exit?"
"Only a select few have been chosen to receive this message," he said.
"What's the minimum donation?" I asked hoping to skip the mishegos and get the pain over with.
He leaned over the table and looked right through me, sort of the way courtroom clerks do. "The date has been chosen," he whispered.
"Ok," I whispered back. "I hope that you and whatshername are very happy together. Where are you registered -- Bed and Bath?"
"March 26, 2012 in your calendar," he said.
"Aren't you going to drink that latte?" I asked. "Maybe it's getting cold." He didn't respond. "Ok, I'll take the bait. What's March 26, 2012?"
"That's the date the earth will begin anew," he said.
"Oh, I see," I said. You mean that's when the world ends?"
"Begins anew," he repeated.
"Ok, great. Begins anew. I'll be sure to put a reminder on my laptop. Of course, it will crash long before then, but whatever. Why are you telling me, anyway? What am I supposed to do about it?"
"You will be contacted with more information," he said. "You have been selected."
"Hey, are you from Publisher's Clearinghouse?" I asked. "What gives with the clipboard?"
"When you are contacted, you will know," he said standing up and looking vacantly into the distance.
"Yes, well it's much better that way," I said. "If I'm contacted and I don't even know it, the whole thing's kind of a waste. That would suck ever so much."
"Only the selected will be brought out," he said, looking straight ahead.
"If you're talking about the Rapture, I'm pretty sure I don't qualify," I said.
"You have been selected," he repeated. Then he vanished. I didn't see where he went. I wasn't sure how he disappeared, but he did.
In a few moments a young man wearing an apron and an obligatory lip piercing stepped out of the cafe, walked up to my table, and pointed in the direction of the trajectory that the Martian had presumably taken. Because of the apron, I took him for the barista, but I suppose he could just as easily have been a guy with a big hole in his pants trying to make it through the day.
"That guy said you'd pay for his latte," he said holding out a cupped hand.
I should have trusted my instinct about fearing clipboards.
Sunday, August 30, 2009
The Soundtrack of My Life (Aisle 3)
Like most normal people, I pay very close attention to the supermarket soundtrack. The decision to purchase Swiss chard, Belgian Endive, or Massachusetts sweet corn could hang in the balance and depend beyond all description on whether the store sound system streams the subliminal tones of Smokey Robinson, the Pointer Sisters, or Carole King, to name just three of the chanteuses widely exploited in an effort to increase market share among people who delude themselves into believing that their income is so disposable that they can actually afford unfrozen vegetables.
For the longest time, I patronized only Stop 'N Shop because they played my favorite song several times throughout the shopping day cycle: "That's the Way, Uh-Huh, Uh-Huh, I Like It!" Truth be told, I would manufacture any excuse to go to the supermarket just to hum along loudly to the soundtrack. If ever I found myself wallowing in self-pity or sliding into a troublesome torpor, I could always be pulled back from the brink of despair by the realization that, surely, I was out of something -- dental floss (fine, unwaxed), pears, the tiny silver balls that eight year olds like to see on birthday cakes -- to the effect that soon I found myself sauntering down the garbage bag aisle belting out the music of my life.
But one day while I was struggling mightily to choose between Swifter Wet and Swifter Dry and weighing the relative pros and cons of each, one of those life-changing moments changed my life. The afternoon had started with such promise. As I stood there memorizing the products' potential health hazards (particularly for women who are nursing or pregnant or who may become pregnant), sure enough, the strains of the transplendant melody wafted from the ceiling tiles and I was transported to a Wonderland where everyone dropped whatever they were doing to sing and stomp their left foot along in unison:
Oh, that's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.
That's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.
That's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.
That's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.
I grabbed a mop and started to dance a tango, and as I screamed at the top of my lungs "that's the way, that's the way!" some malfunction in the soundtrack caused the lyrics to repeat incessantly:
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
In my naivete, I thought that there was a store D.J. who sat in a back room next to where they sold the lottery tickets who would quickly be on top of the problem and restore order in a manner befitting the magnificence of the composition, but instead, the skipping continued:
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
until mercilessly interrupted by the intercom:
Price check on Belgian endive a register 4!
Price check, Register 4!
Had that been the catastrophe ended there, I could have completed my Swifter transaction content and retired for the day, but instead the madness would not relent:
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
I dropped the mop and ran screaming into the parking lot with the massacre of the masterpiece still burning a hole in my ears. Did I retreat to my bed? No. The only cure was to wipe that tune right out of my head. I headed straight to Star Market where the strains of "Midnight at the Oasis" soon put me in mind of buying toothpaste lickety-split. The thought of gel v. non-gel was soon edged out by the soothing message of the inexplicable:
Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed
Shadows paintin' our faces
Traces of romance in our heads
"That really speaks to me," I thought. "Send your camel to bed." Then and there I decided on one mint gel and one paste for good measure. "I wonder what they're playin' down by Sudbury Farms way, thought I, and I hightailed it over to the store on the other side of town, virtually none of whose produce (despite its name) comes from an actual farm, just in time to click my heels to the magic of:
Time keeps on slippin, slippin, slippin
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin, slippin, slippin
Into the future
"Wow!" I thought to myself. I'm not getting any younger. Time keeps on slippin' into the future, indeed! That's so true! It doesn't slip into the past or even the present; it slips into the future! Who knows what the future will bring? I sure don't." Right then and there, I decided upon some blue cupcake holders which could come in handy someday -- you know -- "into the future."
"I guess I should try out the Purity Supreme," I thought. "You never know what musical pearls of wisdom will spur on my personal effort to yank us out of recession. "We shall see. We shall see," I murmured, as my car kept slippin, slippin', slippin' into the turn lane.
Why, no sooner had I set foot into the solidly middle-of-the- road market when I was transfixed by the musical sermon of:
(Under the boardwalk) out of the sun
(Under the boardwalk) we'll be havin' some fun
(Under the boardwalk) people walking above
(Under the boardwalk) we'll be falling in love
Under the board-walk (board-walk!)
It was the emphasis on the last "board-walk!" that really struck a chord. I had an urge to buy a plug-in plastic thingy that discharged a chemical reminiscent of a scented candle (potpourri!!), so I did.
"The perfect way to round out this perfect day" I decided, was to end up at the oh-so politically correct Whole Foods where the musical tastes ran to the decidedly progressive. No doubt, the subliminal sirens would guide me to just the right gluten-free cracker, making this world and my disgestive system better simultaneously. Outside where the shopping carts were piled up thoughtfully in the handicap spaces by SUV drivers whose vehicles sported "War is Not the Answer" bumper stickers, all was chaos, but inside, the universe spoke to me:
That Bloody Red Baron was in a fix
He'd tried everything, but he'd run out of tricks
Snoopy fired once and he fired twice
And that Bloody Red Baron went spinning out of sight
Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty or more
The Bloody Red Baron was rollin' out the score
Eighty men died tryin' to end that spree
Of the Bloody Red Baron of Germany
Well, ten, twenty ....
I quickly bought a lufa sponge and a carob bar, and as I did so, I realized: "If music be the food of love, play on!"
For the longest time, I patronized only Stop 'N Shop because they played my favorite song several times throughout the shopping day cycle: "That's the Way, Uh-Huh, Uh-Huh, I Like It!" Truth be told, I would manufacture any excuse to go to the supermarket just to hum along loudly to the soundtrack. If ever I found myself wallowing in self-pity or sliding into a troublesome torpor, I could always be pulled back from the brink of despair by the realization that, surely, I was out of something -- dental floss (fine, unwaxed), pears, the tiny silver balls that eight year olds like to see on birthday cakes -- to the effect that soon I found myself sauntering down the garbage bag aisle belting out the music of my life.
But one day while I was struggling mightily to choose between Swifter Wet and Swifter Dry and weighing the relative pros and cons of each, one of those life-changing moments changed my life. The afternoon had started with such promise. As I stood there memorizing the products' potential health hazards (particularly for women who are nursing or pregnant or who may become pregnant), sure enough, the strains of the transplendant melody wafted from the ceiling tiles and I was transported to a Wonderland where everyone dropped whatever they were doing to sing and stomp their left foot along in unison:
Oh, that's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.
That's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.
That's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.
That's the way, uh-huh uh-huh,
I like it, uh-huh, uh-huh.
I grabbed a mop and started to dance a tango, and as I screamed at the top of my lungs "that's the way, that's the way!" some malfunction in the soundtrack caused the lyrics to repeat incessantly:
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
In my naivete, I thought that there was a store D.J. who sat in a back room next to where they sold the lottery tickets who would quickly be on top of the problem and restore order in a manner befitting the magnificence of the composition, but instead, the skipping continued:
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
until mercilessly interrupted by the intercom:
Price check on Belgian endive a register 4!
Price check, Register 4!
Had that been the catastrophe ended there, I could have completed my Swifter transaction content and retired for the day, but instead the madness would not relent:
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
uh-huh, uh-huh
I dropped the mop and ran screaming into the parking lot with the massacre of the masterpiece still burning a hole in my ears. Did I retreat to my bed? No. The only cure was to wipe that tune right out of my head. I headed straight to Star Market where the strains of "Midnight at the Oasis" soon put me in mind of buying toothpaste lickety-split. The thought of gel v. non-gel was soon edged out by the soothing message of the inexplicable:
Midnight at the oasis
Send your camel to bed
Shadows paintin' our faces
Traces of romance in our heads
"That really speaks to me," I thought. "Send your camel to bed." Then and there I decided on one mint gel and one paste for good measure. "I wonder what they're playin' down by Sudbury Farms way, thought I, and I hightailed it over to the store on the other side of town, virtually none of whose produce (despite its name) comes from an actual farm, just in time to click my heels to the magic of:
Time keeps on slippin, slippin, slippin
Into the future
Time keeps on slippin, slippin, slippin
Into the future
"Wow!" I thought to myself. I'm not getting any younger. Time keeps on slippin' into the future, indeed! That's so true! It doesn't slip into the past or even the present; it slips into the future! Who knows what the future will bring? I sure don't." Right then and there, I decided upon some blue cupcake holders which could come in handy someday -- you know -- "into the future."
"I guess I should try out the Purity Supreme," I thought. "You never know what musical pearls of wisdom will spur on my personal effort to yank us out of recession. "We shall see. We shall see," I murmured, as my car kept slippin, slippin', slippin' into the turn lane.
Why, no sooner had I set foot into the solidly middle-of-the- road market when I was transfixed by the musical sermon of:
(Under the boardwalk) out of the sun
(Under the boardwalk) we'll be havin' some fun
(Under the boardwalk) people walking above
(Under the boardwalk) we'll be falling in love
Under the board-walk (board-walk!)
It was the emphasis on the last "board-walk!" that really struck a chord. I had an urge to buy a plug-in plastic thingy that discharged a chemical reminiscent of a scented candle (potpourri!!), so I did.
"The perfect way to round out this perfect day" I decided, was to end up at the oh-so politically correct Whole Foods where the musical tastes ran to the decidedly progressive. No doubt, the subliminal sirens would guide me to just the right gluten-free cracker, making this world and my disgestive system better simultaneously. Outside where the shopping carts were piled up thoughtfully in the handicap spaces by SUV drivers whose vehicles sported "War is Not the Answer" bumper stickers, all was chaos, but inside, the universe spoke to me:
That Bloody Red Baron was in a fix
He'd tried everything, but he'd run out of tricks
Snoopy fired once and he fired twice
And that Bloody Red Baron went spinning out of sight
Ten, twenty, thirty, forty, fifty or more
The Bloody Red Baron was rollin' out the score
Eighty men died tryin' to end that spree
Of the Bloody Red Baron of Germany
Well, ten, twenty ....
I quickly bought a lufa sponge and a carob bar, and as I did so, I realized: "If music be the food of love, play on!"
Friday, August 21, 2009
Calling All Nigerian Princes
From: justaguy456hooboy@hotmail.com
Sent: August 20, 2009 @ 12:53 p.m. (12 hours ago)
Subject: EXTREMELY URGENT NOTIFICATION!
My Dear Very Good and Most Honorable Friend:
Having had no reply to my recent entreaty I am writing to you again with the hope that you will see your way clear to responding to this most urgent of requests. I beg you to forgive this intrusion, but I feel I had nowhere else to turn.
You see, I am a fairly regular naïve fellow with a bank account (one that has funds in it) and a social security number and several credit cards. It has been almost 13 months now since I have been approached in any way by a person posing as the son of a Nigerian Prince offering to share one half of his family’s $N 14,000,000 frozen fortune by asking me to provide all of my personal information (that I don’t even tell any one else) and to act as a domestic conduit for the deposit of a bogus cashier's check to my own bank for the ultimate purpose of siphoning away all of my assets and ruining my life.
I am reaching out to you because I feel I can trust you, even though we’ve never met, and this message is clearly spam generated randomly to you and hundreds of thousands of fake Nigerian Princes just like you by an untraceable computer (probably located in Belarus).
Please, I beseech you, contact me immediately and tell me where to send the account numbers and passwords. Can I count on you? Will you please be the fine fellow who scams me today?
Don’t delay, my dear friend, and G-d bless you.
shs
Sent: August 20, 2009 @ 12:53 p.m. (12 hours ago)
Subject: EXTREMELY URGENT NOTIFICATION!
My Dear Very Good and Most Honorable Friend:
Having had no reply to my recent entreaty I am writing to you again with the hope that you will see your way clear to responding to this most urgent of requests. I beg you to forgive this intrusion, but I feel I had nowhere else to turn.
You see, I am a fairly regular naïve fellow with a bank account (one that has funds in it) and a social security number and several credit cards. It has been almost 13 months now since I have been approached in any way by a person posing as the son of a Nigerian Prince offering to share one half of his family’s $N 14,000,000 frozen fortune by asking me to provide all of my personal information (that I don’t even tell any one else) and to act as a domestic conduit for the deposit of a bogus cashier's check to my own bank for the ultimate purpose of siphoning away all of my assets and ruining my life.
I am reaching out to you because I feel I can trust you, even though we’ve never met, and this message is clearly spam generated randomly to you and hundreds of thousands of fake Nigerian Princes just like you by an untraceable computer (probably located in Belarus).
Please, I beseech you, contact me immediately and tell me where to send the account numbers and passwords. Can I count on you? Will you please be the fine fellow who scams me today?
Don’t delay, my dear friend, and G-d bless you.
shs
Sunday, August 16, 2009
The Reform Temple President's Announcement
Rabbi Eric: Before we have our closing prayer and song we will have a few words from the Temple President, Sol (the "Zim") Zimmowitz. Sol?
Zimmowitz: Thank you, Rabbi. Shabbat Shalom, everyone. I'd like to acknowledge the Haddasah auxilliary of the Temple Sisterhood for the lovely floral arrangement on the Bimah. Due to some previous episodes and questions that have arisen among a few of the members, I have been asked to remind the Congregation that the Sisterhood disclaims all warranties and liability for any allergic reactions or emotional stress arising from the choice of flowers.
This Tuesday evening at 8:00 p.m., we will have another guest speaker in our continuing series of "Adhering to Jewish Principles in a Post-Religious World." This week's speaker is Morty Weinberg, owner of "Pets are People, Too on Second Street," whose topic is entitled: "How to Kasher your Pet's Feeding Area and Provide Them with Healthy, Kosher Meals." Coffee and hamentashen will be served after the discussion. Please limit two hamentashen to a customer.
The Temple choir is now auditioning for a falsetto, two baritones and a base. Contrary to popular opinion, the ability to read Hebrew and musical notes is not required. However, according to our choir director, Rosie Rosenberg, the ability to carry a tune is highly desirable.
Tomorrow following our morning minyan service at 8:00 a.m. and Torah study at 9:00 a.m., we hope you will join us for the Bar Mitzvah of Christian Prescott Greenberg, III and the Bat Mizvah of An Yang Soo Chi Rosenblatt. Christian has written a commentary on his haftarah entiled: "Was God Just Too Mean to the Egyptians?," and An Yang has also written a commentary entitled "What if Ishmael Were the Chosen One? --Think About It." It's sure to be a fascinating and spiritual morning followed by a joint reception at the Crowne Plaza. The ushers will hand out printed directions as you leave tonight.
The Temple Brotherhood is still collecting used legal pads for the under-privileged in Haiti and collection baskets will be available all week long in the main foyer. Please give generously.
If you are interested in being one of our shofar blowers for the High Holy Days, please remember the shofar-blowing class this Wednesday night in the Sassoon Rec room in the basement. Shofars will be provided, but if you have one of your own, please feel bring it with you. No experience necessary!
As for the High Holy Days, please remember to return your ticket request form -- the teal one mailed to all members last week. If you need babysitting services, please return the double-sided chartreuse form by the 16th, and we're sorry, but red-lining the standard temple Release language and substituting it with your own will not be allowed. If you are bringing non-member children to services, you will need to return the gold form. If you are bringing non-member adults with you, you will need to return the magenta form. The director of our day school, Sandy Berlin, has asked me to remind you that, pursuant to the executive committee vote last week, 26-year olds will not count as children, and tickets will have to be purchased for them.
And while we're on the subject of the High Holy Days, let me remind everyone that our good neighbors at the St. Simon's Episcopal Rainbow Church are urging all of our members to consider that parking on their lawn is not in keeping with the inter-faith spirit of our shared parking lot. If you must drive on Yom Kippur, please be courteous.
A special "thank you" to all who participated in our "World's Largest Challah Bake-off" this past Sunday. A great time was had by all and we raised over $10,000 for the Sheldon W. Cohen Junior Alyiah Trip to Israel, Petra, and the Pyramids next March.
Finally, there is a white Lexus with New Jersey plates in the parking lot whose lights have been on throughout the entire evening, and ...I'm sorry, what's that Syd?... Oh, yes, there are several white Lexi with Jersey plates in the parking lot. That's true. This is the one with a yellow triangle in the rear window that says "Backseat Bubbe on Board."
Well, that about wraps it up. Please join us for the scrumptious Oneg in the Greene Function Room catered by Harriett on the Village Green immediately following our closing Kiddush and Ha'motzi. Thank you for your attention.
Shabbat Shalom.
Zimmowitz: Thank you, Rabbi. Shabbat Shalom, everyone. I'd like to acknowledge the Haddasah auxilliary of the Temple Sisterhood for the lovely floral arrangement on the Bimah. Due to some previous episodes and questions that have arisen among a few of the members, I have been asked to remind the Congregation that the Sisterhood disclaims all warranties and liability for any allergic reactions or emotional stress arising from the choice of flowers.
This Tuesday evening at 8:00 p.m., we will have another guest speaker in our continuing series of "Adhering to Jewish Principles in a Post-Religious World." This week's speaker is Morty Weinberg, owner of "Pets are People, Too on Second Street," whose topic is entitled: "How to Kasher your Pet's Feeding Area and Provide Them with Healthy, Kosher Meals." Coffee and hamentashen will be served after the discussion. Please limit two hamentashen to a customer.
The Temple choir is now auditioning for a falsetto, two baritones and a base. Contrary to popular opinion, the ability to read Hebrew and musical notes is not required. However, according to our choir director, Rosie Rosenberg, the ability to carry a tune is highly desirable.
Tomorrow following our morning minyan service at 8:00 a.m. and Torah study at 9:00 a.m., we hope you will join us for the Bar Mitzvah of Christian Prescott Greenberg, III and the Bat Mizvah of An Yang Soo Chi Rosenblatt. Christian has written a commentary on his haftarah entiled: "Was God Just Too Mean to the Egyptians?," and An Yang has also written a commentary entitled "What if Ishmael Were the Chosen One? --Think About It." It's sure to be a fascinating and spiritual morning followed by a joint reception at the Crowne Plaza. The ushers will hand out printed directions as you leave tonight.
The Temple Brotherhood is still collecting used legal pads for the under-privileged in Haiti and collection baskets will be available all week long in the main foyer. Please give generously.
If you are interested in being one of our shofar blowers for the High Holy Days, please remember the shofar-blowing class this Wednesday night in the Sassoon Rec room in the basement. Shofars will be provided, but if you have one of your own, please feel bring it with you. No experience necessary!
As for the High Holy Days, please remember to return your ticket request form -- the teal one mailed to all members last week. If you need babysitting services, please return the double-sided chartreuse form by the 16th, and we're sorry, but red-lining the standard temple Release language and substituting it with your own will not be allowed. If you are bringing non-member children to services, you will need to return the gold form. If you are bringing non-member adults with you, you will need to return the magenta form. The director of our day school, Sandy Berlin, has asked me to remind you that, pursuant to the executive committee vote last week, 26-year olds will not count as children, and tickets will have to be purchased for them.
And while we're on the subject of the High Holy Days, let me remind everyone that our good neighbors at the St. Simon's Episcopal Rainbow Church are urging all of our members to consider that parking on their lawn is not in keeping with the inter-faith spirit of our shared parking lot. If you must drive on Yom Kippur, please be courteous.
A special "thank you" to all who participated in our "World's Largest Challah Bake-off" this past Sunday. A great time was had by all and we raised over $10,000 for the Sheldon W. Cohen Junior Alyiah Trip to Israel, Petra, and the Pyramids next March.
Finally, there is a white Lexus with New Jersey plates in the parking lot whose lights have been on throughout the entire evening, and ...I'm sorry, what's that Syd?... Oh, yes, there are several white Lexi with Jersey plates in the parking lot. That's true. This is the one with a yellow triangle in the rear window that says "Backseat Bubbe on Board."
Well, that about wraps it up. Please join us for the scrumptious Oneg in the Greene Function Room catered by Harriett on the Village Green immediately following our closing Kiddush and Ha'motzi. Thank you for your attention.
Shabbat Shalom.
Thursday, August 13, 2009
A Few Interesting Cultural Facts Culled From Wikipedia
The famous American jazz trumpeter, Miles Davis, was actually born in Sweden, and for the first eight years of his life, he was known as "Kilometers," until his parents moved back to Harlem and changed his name because he was getting into fights at school. Were it not for this accident of geography, some of the most popular records issued by Columbia might have had such names as: "Kilometers Ahead," "Kilometerstones," "1958 Kilometers," and, of course "Kilometers Smiles."
As of August 12, 2009, the Earth's population is estimated by the United States Census Bureau to be 6.777 billion (none of whom follow this blog). Despite the astronomically large number of inhabitants on the Earth, if everyone stood very close to each other (after bathing thoroughly first), the entire population of the planet could fit inside the New York City subway system (except for the guy who says: "We apologize for the delay.").
Marketing studies demonstrate consistently that Americans feel intellectually inferior to the British. Accordingly, sales reports confirm that Americans will purchase anything advertised on television provided that the voiceover has a fake British accent. The same holds true for televised amateur hour: No matter how ridiculous and ignorant the judge’s opinion, it will be widely accepted by an American audience provided it is rendered in British-accented English.
Maimonides was the fist person to say "Oy vey," (in 1359 C.E.) after having a dream that Leonard Nemoy would one day play his “voice” in an animated program about his life. (“I was holding out for William Shatner,” he wrote in an obscure footnote in tractate Pesahim from the Mishnah Torah.)
Approximately 3,000 miles separate China's western region from its east coast, yet it has only one time zone, known as "Happy Fun Time."
Mary Cassat, the great American painter, was noted for painting portraits of intimate bonds between mothers and children. Yet, she is reported to have confided in her friend, the impressionist, Edgar Degas, “I hate my kids.”
Massachusetts is home to the oldest pothole in the United States, Ye Olde Newton Centre Car-Wrecker, first appearing in 1722, and lovingly ignored by 23 successive mayoral administrations.
As of August 12, 2009, the Earth's population is estimated by the United States Census Bureau to be 6.777 billion (none of whom follow this blog). Despite the astronomically large number of inhabitants on the Earth, if everyone stood very close to each other (after bathing thoroughly first), the entire population of the planet could fit inside the New York City subway system (except for the guy who says: "We apologize for the delay.").
Marketing studies demonstrate consistently that Americans feel intellectually inferior to the British. Accordingly, sales reports confirm that Americans will purchase anything advertised on television provided that the voiceover has a fake British accent. The same holds true for televised amateur hour: No matter how ridiculous and ignorant the judge’s opinion, it will be widely accepted by an American audience provided it is rendered in British-accented English.
Maimonides was the fist person to say "Oy vey," (in 1359 C.E.) after having a dream that Leonard Nemoy would one day play his “voice” in an animated program about his life. (“I was holding out for William Shatner,” he wrote in an obscure footnote in tractate Pesahim from the Mishnah Torah.)
Approximately 3,000 miles separate China's western region from its east coast, yet it has only one time zone, known as "Happy Fun Time."
Mary Cassat, the great American painter, was noted for painting portraits of intimate bonds between mothers and children. Yet, she is reported to have confided in her friend, the impressionist, Edgar Degas, “I hate my kids.”
Massachusetts is home to the oldest pothole in the United States, Ye Olde Newton Centre Car-Wrecker, first appearing in 1722, and lovingly ignored by 23 successive mayoral administrations.
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