Dec 23

Traffic

Chuck Norris only gets stuck in traffic during rush hour.

Dec 17

Cookies

Chuck Norris once made cookies that were so good that other people commented upon them while eating them. Some people even had two.

Aug 09

[video]

Jul 29

The City of Stone

Disclaimer: It is not easy for me to be serious. That said, the occasion called for it. In all likelihood this post will be removed in the next 48 hours. Have an easy fast.

For the past couple of years, I have had the unique opportunity to take in Eicha while sitting on the promenade in Yemin Moshe. The promenade is a stone throws south-west of Jerusalem’s Old City and sitting on the floor, made of Jerusalem stone still warm from the afternoon sun, you can see the walls of the Old City, lit up and glowing in the dark, throwing off a tangibly vibrant aura into the air.

I explain this because I have rarely found myself able to connect to Tisha Ba’av. Clearly, the destruction of both of the Temples were landmark milestones in our nation’s history; defining moments which dictated how eons of generations would lead their lives. But it is difficult for me to not feel somewhat disconnected from the whole thing. And inevitability, the pent-up frustrations starts to bubble up as I am reminded once again that we are a nation which lives in the past but fails to see the present.

But this time I realized something else. With the words of the Eicha chanted behind me, I found myself staring at the city walls. At the pools of shadows casted by the ancient imperfections. At the archaic ramparts which once held warriors and now play host to tourists. At the trimmed grass growing around what was once the city’s moat. And it began to dawn on me that this was, and still is, the heart of the nation. But it remains flawed. It is the heart of stone; a foundation, a material witness to what we once were and what we still are. But like a true heart, it has no purpose without the lifeblood to pump.

At this point, I departed a bit from the traditional sense of Tisha Ba’av. The lifeblood I was looking for is not the Temple. The Temple was also an extension of the stones. What was important was the People. Not the priests, not the farmers, not the porters. The existence of the entire nation as a whole, as a living, breathing, cohesive and united entity.

And that’s what I decided this Tisha Ba’av meant for me. Living in Israel and traveling between Tel Aviv and Jerusalem every day, I get the chance to see Israelis from every walk of life. And I remain amazed by what we have created here. Within the desert, we have built a shining mirage, a testament to our tenacity, our devotion and our ingenuity. We have formed a democracy which is the envy of the Arab nations. We are global leaders in the technology which forms the nucleus of the world’s development. From humble and troubled roots, facing persecution with hunched shoulders and self-deprecating attitudes, we have grown into giants.

But still, we remain fragmented, torn by our inability to make the slightest effort to engage each other. And thus, we deny ourselves the ability to rise higher. We have built ourselves a city from stone but cannot open the gates.

As Eicha says:

“He hath hedged me about, that I cannot get out: he hath made my chain heavy. Also when I cry and shout, he shutteth out my prayer. He hath inclosed my ways with hewn stone, he hath made my paths crooked.”

And so, tonight I came out with my own personal revelation. Our strength as a nation lies in our flexibility, our ingenuity and our history. But as strong as we each are, pulling in opposite directions will bring us nowhere. We lack a common direction, a direction which no compass can determine but which can only be discovered by truly engaging our fellow man.

And pared against the mighty power of a nation prepared to return to their city, the stone prison which holds us captive will tremble and fall.

Jul 22

Kilts or leather pants are fine. Lipstick? Not so much.

Groups.

Now stop before you get excited, you bubble-gum cracking, MTV on an IV and braces-weilding 14 year-old. I am not talking about Facebook. Nor will I unless I am forced to by a herd of Dutch midgets dancing traditionally while hurling machetes at me. I am talking about social constructs which rise like skyscrapers through this disgrace we call humanity.

Any number of elements can unite a writhing mass of people into a group. Those middle-age guys who don Pink Floyd shirts are a group. So are older guys from Pink Floyd who make out with middle-age guys named Don without shirts(albeit a much smaller group).

I would like to begin with a much larger group. The word “disaster” is thrown around all too much lately. Swine Flu. Al Qaeda. Norway.

What I speak of is an endemic of global proportions. While I am proud to dub myself a commuter, an urban warrior of sorts, I am exposed to this group on the bus nearly every day.

Without further adieu, I present to your their profile:

Hairdo: Hair slicked back with a can of Pam

Odor: Decomposing Desperation by Calvin Klein

Intelligence: Lower than asparagus in sour cream

Seat: ALWAYS RIGHT NEXT TO ME

No name exists for them so I am forced to create one. Bus Inhibiting Traumatizing Contemptible Has-beens. (Eytan and the Acronym for the win). What annoys me the most, more than an upside-down hung roll of toilet paper or a dead MP3 battery on the beginning of a roadtrip, is their tendency to blather on the phone as they ride, turning my busride into a hellish journey during which I can only contemplate shoving their heads into meat grinders as I cackle hellishly and eat Rice Krispie Treats (I just love those things).

I bring this up not because I need people to rant to. I bring this up because social groups are created by the mere existence of similar people. Their existence in no way justifies them wasting the oxegyn on my planet, nor does it make them legitimate. And so, I say to you oh Bastard of the Blog, oh Imbecile of the Internet (aka Jon), the fact that the term metrosexual exists doesn’t validate it (view his post here, if you feel like retching violently). You can dress nicely without spending a full trimester in stores. Your skin will survive without ladies’ handcream (we still have the same leather couches my grandmother owned - I guarantee the cows did not use Neutrogena). And if David Hasselhoff can wear a clip-on tie, so can you.

As for chart of the day, I give you you a chart delineating the word “middle”. As in…I am in the middle of bashing Jon and will not finish in the near future.