Salad Days

Back when I was at university...all right, sorry, back when I was in college, I became (thanks to a roommate of a friend) a big fan of Spy Magazine. (Warning: Scroll-down NSFW.) What a great publication! I must have started reading it in about 1995, and bought every issue from about a year after that. I still have them, years after I got rid of most of my other magazines. Then, in early 1998, it stopped appearing. I remember seeing the last issue, with JFK Jr. on the cover, on the stands for quite a while, as if they were waiting for the next issue, which never came. Much later, I was IMing with Mugger, of the New York Press, and thought to ask him about it. He told me that they'd stopped publishing and why- something to do with the magazine market being in a slump around then. (Interestingly, I think it's his review, for the New York Sun most likely, of a posthumous biography of John-John that I tucked into that last issue.)

Anyway, last week I saw a note in the paper that a new book, "Spy: The Funny Years", had been published, and the authors were speaking about it, unfortunately on a Friday night. Earlier this week, I was in Barnes & Noble and chanced across it- a nice big coffee-table book, 'tis being the season for coffee-table books. "The Funny Years", apparently, are 1986-1991, after which the founding editors, authors of the book, sold the magazine and, soon after, left it. There's even a spread inside the back cover showing the covers of every single issue of Spy, and there's a break at one point with an arrow indicating as "The Funny Years" all the issues before the break.

Turns out the magazine had folded and restarted just around the time I started reading it, and the subsequent issues and even many preceding (according to the authors, who, of course, are very likely biased) were nowhere near the quality of what came before. And here I thought it was among the funniest stuff I've seen! There's worlds to be discovered out there, not that I'm too interested in "The Funny Years."

The local Barnes & Noble, by the way, has finally lined up their flags the way I wanted them to, nice and symmetrical. (And no, I didn't tell them.) Good for them.

And I have my paper poppies, but no lapel to wear them in. A moment for our vets, God bless them.

Biased, Or Just Plain Ig'nint?

Well, that was certainly expected, if not desired. So this morning, CBS radio merrily informs me that the last time Congress changed hands was in 1994, "In an anti-incumbent surge just like this one."

Well, if they're talking about incumbents in Congress, that's just wrong. The big anger against those had peaked a few years earlier, and to no effect, as I wrote a few days back. And if they mean Clinton, that's plain ridiculous. Clinton was quite popular, coasted to reelection, and would remain so popular through all the scandals that would follow that he would've been reelected yet again if he had been allowed to.

Why did the Republicans win in '94? Simple: They had a clear-cut, popular, conservative agenda (which they delivered on) all mapped out. The Democrats, in 2006, have no such thing.

And, in fact, that's one silver lining for me. With no agenda, hopefully they'll be able to do little to no damage in two years. (And, of course, George W. Bush is thankfully still president.)

Note that I, ever the optimist, said two years. One good thing I've kept in mind ever since 1994 is how that election disproved any idea (believed somewhat before then by all) that any party "owns" Congress. (Republicans, alas, seemed to forget this in only twelve years, while Democrats, in power much longer, also seem to be unable to absorb it.) So how's that for another silver lining? Maybe the equally agenda-less Republicans will see how they have to wise up now. I doubt it- politicos are politicos-but one can always hope. (JPod makes a related point here.)

So silver linings there are, all well and good. (One particularly delicious one is the loss of Chafee, who probably would've switched anyway. As Mark Steyn pointed out here in his usual felicitous manner, "If only 100 citizens from a population of 300 million get to be senators, Lincoln Chafee should not be among them.") However, all those silver linings have a very dark cloud indeed: This isn't 1994, or 2000. As I wrote below, we have enemies who want to kill us (and quite a few others), and they watch the news- and they know what happened, even if the Democrats stop with the infantile behavior. So you'll forgive me if, among all the smiles and linings, I show a bit of gloom now and then. We will see what happens. Happier post next time, I hope!

Election Day

So after yesterday's post, I open today's paper to discover that there's a special screening, with Q&A from all the leads, at Lincoln Center tonight. I went online to see if tickets were for sale. Oh, yes: for ninety bucks. Fuggedaboudit. I'll just buy an already overpriced ticket at the theater. And the DVD, 'cause that's who I am. I wonder if, like there was the complete concert on the last Guest movie, there'll be the complete movie on this disc. I doubt it, for a number of reasons. (Like, if you could make an actual Oscar-winning film, you would. Although I hear people are already talking about O'Hara.) I do note that in each movie, the characters seem to be successively higher on the "fame" ladder. Probably doesn't mean anything, but it's a thought.

Eh. Too tired anyway. I'd like to go to Stern tonight, hear this speech on Kohen genetics, maybe ask some embarrassing questions about Jewish genetics in general, but...so tired. Maybe it's my eye, my zero-free-time schedule, I dunno.

Voted today! With brother Sam right behind, and Pat right ahead! Of course, all the local offices were uncontested. The Queens County Republicans are always inviting me to their dinners, but they never seem to actually, y'know, run any candidates. Well, less levers for me to pull. Still never pulled one for a Democrat.

"For Your Consideration"

I knew it was coming out, and, of course, am planning on seeing it, but just seeing the poster for the new Christopher Guest movie on a construction site fence this morning was enough to bring a smile to my face.

Want to join me? Leave a comment.

Remember, Remember...

...the Fifth of November...

Well, not for the famous reason: This is an American blog. But Happy Half-Birthday wishes to a former (?) reader of this blog, belated birthday wishes to my brother, estimated birthday wishes (I don't know the exact date, tsk, tsk) to one of my brothers-in-law (come to think, the other's birthday is around this time as well), and slightly-premature wishes to someone who probably doesn't even know this blog exists.

Wow! Lots of reasons to be happy, including a very nice Kollel Yom Rishon today. So let's have a little rant:

There's a popular sheet distributed called "MeOrot MeHaDaf Yomi," which is exactly what its title says it is. This week, they have a full page advertising a new book they have out about Shabbat. Here's a picture from the book they use in the advert, twice because my photography ain't so good:

Yeah, it's a family sitting around a Shabbos table in der Heim. Father, random dude (Oyrech?), son. Notice anyone missing? Oh, yeah, a mother. There is a vague humanoid shape in the shadows at the left (of course, since the candles are at that end of the table, that should be the most lit area) which, I think, we can safely assume is the woman of the house, the She who must Not Be Seen.

No, I don't think I'm being paranoid. This is, I'm afraid, par for the course in Charedi publications today. Chassidim especially have, shall we say, a somewhat odd view on the image of women, and it seems like even the velt has a right shoulder to look over. For example: A set of "Mitzvah Cards" recently was released, I think to tie in to the "Encyclopedia of the Taryag Mitzvoth" that is now being published. My rabbi happened to have the one for Sippur Yetziat Mitzrayim- in two versions. One showed a yeshivish father, in a hat (like anyone wears one at the seder, but we'll let that go) and beard (natch), merrily explaining the Haggadah to his son and daughter. The other had the same picture, except the hat had become a shtreimel, the beard and payot were longer, and the daughter...had been replaced with another boy. After all, who knows what znut the tayereh kinder might be driven to if they see a drawing of a little girl on a card.

And, of course, it's much worse. A little while back, one of those "Help a family in need" letters (I think this one was an insert) went around. (The actual narratives usually make me quite mad in and of themselves, but once again we can let that pass.) Very slick, color photos of the family in question. Except all the women's faces had been pixellated out. Even the babies, although how they know the gender is beyond me. (Something similar happened when they reprinted The Bamboo Cradle.) I kid you not. After all, who knows where it can all lead? Who knows where our society will be if we allow women who write for Charedi newspapers (and books, etc.) to use their first names instead of an initial? (Never mind that the same society is the very one that, perversely and yet logically, requires those women and not their spouses to work, among other mishegas, but yet again we'll let that go.)

Well, I guess I should be grateful that all this is is a pandering (for money?) to the lowest (and I do mean lowest) common denominator (I hope), and it's not, say, Iran or the Taliban. Problem is, as Europe is finding out, you start by pandering and pretty soon they want to take over. Look at the streets of Jerusalem.

Eh. Enough Charedi-bashing. The latest issue of Tradition only serves to remind me that we MO don't have much to brag about either. It's one of my "statement" subscriptions, but this issue has me wondering about even that. Too much ranting here- maybe another time. Or maybe I'll just stick to Sherlock Holmes next time. There's always plenty there!

Have a great week, all!

More so than the wind...

...the cold weather, the end of the Chagim, the beginning of Cheshvan and Tachanun, or the end of daylight time, it's when things get temporarily just a bit warmer is when you know winter is nigh (even if it's a few months from now). Said a woman on the elevator, "It feels like Monday morning every day." Replied I, "Yeah, especially when it is."

Forgive me if I don't believe anything on the news anymore. The latest breathless report has something to do with missing weapons in Iraq. Anyone get a sense of deja vu? Wasn't there a story just like this right before the elections two years ago? The New York Times was supposed to break it a day or so before the election, but their partner in the story, CBS, jumped the gun by a few days, enough time for the bloggers to prove there was absolutely no substance to the tale.

Anyway, I'm comforting myself with memories of 1990. Anyone remember that election? (Yeah, I'm either a geezer or someone who was into politics at way too young an age. Take your pick.) That was the year the Congressional incumbents, dogged by numerous scandals (the Capitol Post Office, bad checks, etc.) were finally going to get the boot. Even the MSM (there wasn't really much else) got into the act. As I remember, in wasn't treated as a partisan thing (although most of the culprits were, if only by default, Democrats, and I'm sure that fact was glossed over) but as an incumbency one. And, I believe, somewhere from ninety-eight to one hundred percent of incumbents were re-elected. Even Time was shocked enough to run a stunned headline afterwards.

So I'm using that as a hope that Republicans won't do so bad this year. Of course, it's not why I'd want them to win- I'd much more prefer the merits, and they, alas, have few. But the stakes are too high. The crazies in Iran, Iraq, and so on do watch the news.

Moving locally, the news is abuzz with New York City's attempts to ban trans-fats. "They're bad for you!" yell the mini-fascists of Centre Street. (I'm just waiting for "the children" to come up, if they haven't already.) "It'll cost us too much!" respond the restaurant owners, doubtless leftists themselves, and, as per my current main pet peeve, unable to think out of the box. Well, forgive me for being all 1776 here, but why is no one talking about FREEDOM? It's things like this that really get the libertarian in me bubbling to the surface. Next report: The city wants calories listed on menus. "Such-and-such a burger has over 2,000 calories!" the newsreader gasps. Again, pardon me for shouting, but WHO CARES? I don't think I eat many trans-fats, whatever they are, myself, but aren't we free human beings, Americans, and New Yorkers? To these social engineers, apparently not.

Speaking of which, news is that Al Gore has been hired to consult the British government about pixie dust, or fairies, or global warming, or something. Apparently it has the power to hurt the economy more than the Depression and both World Wars. (Our lives are safe, it seems.) The watermelon socialists are worried about the economy? Right. See "social control," above. Maybe I should be grateful that they have to pretend, at least, to care about the economy, but I choose not to.

As long as we're in Europe, Gerhard Schroder has decided to grace us with his memoirs. Apparently Bush's mentions of God and religion offended him, the poor delicate flower. And, of course, he'd like us to know that he (unlike the barbarians across the Atlantic) believes in the separation of church and state. Well, he was the chancellor of a country that collects your tax dollars and gives them to the church of your choice. Bush is president of a country that forbids, to the extreme and ridiculous degree, anything that even vaguely resembles that. But Schroder's the good guy here, huh?

Well, I had a great weekend, with my old buddy Michael staying over, a Carlebach minyan, and more. Good times. I thought I'd share a story I told him as part of the discussion we had about a shiur we attended:

I stopped by the Judaica store down the block from the office last week to check out the latest. There was a whole rack of new gedolim biographies for kids, lavishly illustrated but a bit light on content. By their appearance, they seemed to have been produced in the Israeli Charedi world and, perhaps, translated for the American market.

Anyway, one of them was of R' Yonasan Eibeschitz. I flipped through it to see if there was any mention of R' Emden, but no such luck, not that I expected it. Anyway, no big deal. Like I said, it was mostly fluff, standard gadol stuff. ("Great man, wrote seforim.")

About half the book, in fact, was dedicated to a single story about R' Yonasan as a kid, which ends with an anti-Semite being dragged off to the police. The picture illustrating that scene is also the one chosen for the cover. And the funniest thing? The police station (northern Europe, early 1700's) bears the insignia of the Israeli police. Oh, the Charedim may like to pretend that they're not influenced by Zionism (of course, the usage here proves they're not actually Zionists), but they are. They are. It's like the Yiddish professor we rented a place from last year complaining that Israeli Charedi Yiddish isn't pure, as they say, for example, "Mishtara" instead of "Politzei." (He was pretty happy to meet my parents.) Now, if only they'd realize what they owe to the Zionism that is influencing them...well, maybe in time.

'Nuff for now. Later, all!

Halcyon, below, wonders about dress pictures. Well, here are not one, but two lovely dresses (not to mention their wearers).
And here's another. OK, so there was a photographer to pose for, not me, but still lovely.

Speaking of Halcyon, no offense to her, but the latest addition to my stamp collection is a Beauty and the Beast issue. Now, I can understand, say, a Cinderella issue, or even Lady and the Tramp- those came out years ago, and certainly at least some are real (American) classics. But a 1990's film? It smacks too much of commercialism, "vault" notwithstanding.

Hmm. Wanted to mention Schroder, but after the last paragraph, I'll steer clear. Another time, in a more political post. Ta for now!

Mazal Tov!

A picture is worth a thousand words. So here are 3,000:

Rabbi Rakeffet, Mesader Kiddushin.

My Dad, doing what's becoming second nature for him, although the Rabbinate threw him for a loop at first. Well, it's what they do best. (That's the back of David Bat's head, by the way.)

This picture is the best. So classic.

Well, with the captions, that's a bit over 3,000. But why not? Mazal tov all around, especially to the new couple! And a special thanks to everyone who made it possible.

Yeah, I've got some more topical stuff, including some political memories from waaaay back, but it can all wait. Enjoy the pix.

Greetings from Israel!

Well, almost three weeks in, I'm really starting to enjoy. My little eye problem turned out to be much more than that, and I ended up spending more than a week (total) in a hospital here in Jerusalem. But hey, it's not like I had a million things planned.

The eye is on its way to getting all the way better- a few drops, a few checkups- and I'm squeezing in what I can in the oh-so-little time I have left. Went to the Israel Museum today; the walk home, as always, was much tougher than the one there, due to the extra weight of all the books I picked up. (And on the way there, I inadvertently took what is literally the scenic route. Lovely- got some pictures, but not sure how good they are.) Saw the scrolls (again)- even took a tour- the newly moved model, and just a bit more, namely, the terrific exhibit on bread. (God bless whoever invented the concept of an exhibition catalog. I didn't even get to the main building, but got a catalog of an exhibit I missed, plus the bread one. Seriously, if you're here, go see the bread.) Oh, if I had the time, I'd go back. But I think I'll just get more books.

The wedding is tomorrow! And I'm expected to speak, or MC, or something. I will try to report back with all the news, photos, and more. For now, here's the now-famous shot, via Arutz-7, of Nechama and Michael at the Kotel during the recent war:

As Jelly, obm, says in Analyze This (and in a similar context), "Nice, huh?"

Shana Tova!

Here's hoping everyone has a blessed 5767.

Next time I blog will probably be from Israel (I'm bringing my camera cable) or newly returned to the well-nigh inescapable fleshpots. Till then, all the best!

"Reality-based"

That's how the kooky Left likes to describe itself. Well, have a look at this exchange posted on The Corner. After three comments refering to Whitewater, when that is not at all a topic, and digging up what Broder had to say back then (these people have serious talking points- I've witnessed it in action), and with one of those questioners (the second, in his first line) clearly suffering from some sort of persecution complex, Broder has this beaut of a line:

I would judge that president [Bush] harshly, as the majority of the voters in this country and in many other parts of the world has done.

"The majority of voters?" The last time there was an actual election involving Bush- the last time we got to see what "the majority of voters" actually feel- was in 2004, after anti-war sentiment had really been kicked up, and he won a "majority of voters."

So Broder's questioners are living in 1999; he himself (nice though the rest of his words are) seems to have some form of amnesia post-2004. "Reality-based" indeed.

שׂוֹשׂ אָשִׂישׂ

Sooooo...Parsippany. I wrote it up as an essay for school once, but that was long ago. Probably buried somewhere in my stack of 3.5's. I barely aware of the existence of NCSY (or at least what it really was) until deep into my senior year of high school. (OK, I'll stop that.) I only went to a few events from that point, but I was hooked, and worked in it throughout college and beyond.

My first Shabbaton as an adult came soon after I started college, around Labor Day I think. Shabbos before Rosh Hashana, camp in Pennsylvania. And...the bus we were on was too full. So most of us advisors got off, and fourteen of us decided to take our chances with cabs.

You can guess where this is going. We got really, really lost. About fifteen (or thirty, but fifteen sounds better) minutes before sunset, we pulled over at some gas station in the wilds (to us provincial New Yorkers) of New Jersey, opened a phone book, and looked under "Synagogues." The one we found, as it happened, was a member of the OU, NCSY's parent, and full of the best people. I can't speak for the others, but that Shabbat in Parsippany, NJ, was one of the best of my life.

Anyway, one congregant had yahrtzeit that week, but didn't want to do the haftorah, and asked me to do it. Since that Shabbat in 1993, I've tried (succeeded, I think) in layning that haftorah- the one in the title of this post- every year.

Anyway, as you can tell my that title, I've been inspired by Z to write some Hebrew. And what a great opportunity we have with this haftorah! What words! (Courtesy of Mechon Mamre; still workin' out the bugs.)

.כֶּחָתָן יְכַהֵן פְּאֵר, וְכַכַּלָּה תַּעְדֶּה כֵלֶיהָ

.לְמַעַן צִיּוֹן לֹא אֶחֱשֶׁה, וּלְמַעַן יְרוּשָׁלִַם לֹא אֶשְׁקוֹט

.כִּי-יִבְעַל בָּחוּר בְּתוּלָה, יִבְעָלוּךְ בָּנָיִךְ; וּמְשׂוֹשׂ חָתָן עַל-כַּלָּה, יָשִׂישׂ עָלַיִךְ אֱלֹהָיִךְ

.עַל-חוֹמֹתַיִךְ יְרוּשָׁלִַם, הִפְקַדְתִּי שֹׁמְרִים--כָּל-הַיּוֹם וְכָל-הַלַּיְלָה תָּמִיד, לֹא יֶחֱשׁוּ

You may notice that I've specifically chosen the verses dealing with marriage and Jerusalem. Waaaaayyyylllll, there's a durn good reason for that. My dear sister Nechama, now of Jerusalem, is gettin' hitched!!!! Mazal tovs all around! My planned trip to Israel for the Chagim is accordingly extended by a week, and I couldn't be more excited. (Well, apart for the inevitable line I'm getting all around. Maybe I should warn people that I'm keeping count.)

I hope to stop by later in the week, or at least before I go, for Good New Year wishes to all. And, of course, I hope to have Israelblogging and more. Later! And once again, Mazal Tov and laaaaaave to Nechama and Michael!

N.B.: I hear on the news today that it's the twentieth anniversary of the Mets clinching in '86. Twenty years...that was my first baseball game. I didn't get to tear off a piece of the field, though. Now, if only the Amazin's would hurry up and clinch this one- maybe win 100? Maybe?

Premature Treppenwitz...

...seems almost to be a contradiction in terms, but I happen to experience it every now and then. I come up with the perfect line (well, I think so), but don't use it. More often than not, it's because the person who needs to hear it is a humorless leftist (which is usually a redundancy).

Just the other day, for example, I passed by the fashion show tent in Bryant Park, and there were a bunch of anti-fur protestors. "Not wear fur?" I felt like asking. "But what else should we do with the pelts once we're done eating the yummy animals?" Nope. You don't try humor on those types. (One of whom might well be reading this, so I apologize in advance, T.)

More seriously, on Sunday, I passed by Ground Zero on my way to pump some money into the local economy, as they say. The President and First Lady were due to arrive later in the day, and the loons were already out in force. There were a bunch of anti-war (or whatever) protestors with black balloons (huh?) and wearing black, with Arabic lettering (of course) on their shirts. Fools: They'd be the first to be beheaded if they had their way.

But then there was a real loon, ranting and raving in front of a huge banner held by some hangers-on. I caught a bit of it: How the Bush family (!) is responsible for all this country's ills, and how it all started in 1776, when they were on the British side. (Not true, as it happens.) I really wanted to tell him "You know, this really isn't the place for a comedy routine," but he really wouldn't have gotten it.

Later that day, I was re-watching the indispensable 9/11. Something occurred to me that had never really hit home before: The towers are burning and collapsing, and throughout it all, off-duty and even retired firemen are returning to the firehouse, suiting up, and heading down. There's just no words for that sort of thing...those sorts of people.

I have, incidentally, no sympathy at all with the various watchgroups that protested the (re)airing of that movie. Having grown up without a TV, I tend to have little sympathy with them at all, as they seem not to realize that no one is forcing anyone to even own a TV, let alone turn it on. But to pick a fight specifically with this movie is just stupid.

I have even less sympathy, of course, with the Democrats who are howling over The Path to 9/11. Sure, people have a right to protest. But when government (in the form of Congressional Democrats, or even ex-Presidents) does it, it's really crossing a line. Of course, there's a fundamental difference between private and public action that liberals tend to have a hard time grasping in most contexts. But there's a creeping...dare I say fascism, and join Jonah Goldberg, whose not-yet released book seems to hit them a bit close to the mark? Perhaps it's simply a matter of projection of themselves onto others, the same way that it was the Clinton Administration which was involved in writing TV scripts, or how this leftist in Mexico is refusing to abide by election results, or the way that Mahmoud Ahmadinejad demands a debate without "censorship." (A nice continuum there.) Kol HaPosel, B'Mumo Posel- it's always the thing you do that you use to criticize others.

Well, let's speak of better things. This time of year waaaaay back in 1989, I was already running into trouble at my new high school, well on the path to a turbulent few years. My parents, sensible people that they are, decided that suspension from school (shiur) on a Sunday was a fine excuse for doing something much better, namely, taking in the "New York is Book Country" street fair in Manhattan. What a wonderful time! (Actually, I'm probably conflating the number of times we went.)

As was usual, Isaac Asimov himself was at the Doubleday booth, signing books. He'd just published Prelude to Foundation (actually in paperback, but the Lamms decided we'd better get the hardcover, seeing as we'd want him to sign it and all), and although I was never such a huge fan, I figured I'd better get it, meet him, and get his autograph. After all, it was Isaac Asimov!(Come to think, I've had more brushes with Great Men than you'd think. Not sure if I shook his hand, though. And, of course, we didn't know that he wouldn't be with us for much longer.)

I walked up to him. "What's your name?" he asked, flipping open the book. "Ummm...Nathan," I answered. When you have two names, you're never sure which one to give.

"Took you a second, eh?" he smiled, signing, "To Nathan, Isaac Asimov" on the cover page. (I'm looking at that volume right now.)

"Schreib nukh a bissel!" ("Write a little more!") my mother called to him in Yiddish, which, of course, he understood.

"I've been writing all day!" he answered, mock-complaining.

"But you're a writer!" she answered. Like I said, always sensible.

"Ah- but I use a typewriter!" he answered.

What a man. Did you know he was credited as a consultant on the first Star Trek movie? (I knew I had to work in Trek, my main love, on its fortieth anniversary.)

It was later I started reading some of his work, such as the Black Widowers. I remember I bought the posthumous sequel to Prelude, but never got into it. I never really got the whole series, although I read some of the Robot stuff. But his non-fiction...wow. I first read some of his science guides, which my brother has, but later got his Shakespeare and Bible guides. Great stuff.

Anyway, why do I bring him up? Because it's September 14th (or was when I started typing this). On the morning of this day, in 1814, Francis Scott Key witnessed the events that would inspire what would later become the National Anthem. And Asimov wrote a wonderful piece on the anthem (along with what looks like a cute story), which I encourage you to read- you can find it here, and all over the Internet.

I first read that piece as part of a full-page ad by Reader's Digest in the New York Times. I still have it tucked away in a drawer. What strikes me in particular are some interesting turns of phrase by Asimov. From the very end:

I hope you will look at the national anthem with new eyes. Listen to it, the
next time you have a chance, with new ears.

And don't let them ever take it away.

Now, I'm not sure what he means, exactly, by the last line. I do know one thing: The black-shirted anti-Americans at Ground Zero wouldn't approve.

Even better, from the beginning:

In 1812, the United States went to war with Great Britain, primarily over
freedom of the seas. We were in the right.

"We were in the right." Let's not fool ourselves: Asimov was an unreconstructed leftist. But he loved this country with a passion. I'd like to hear- just once- the likes of a Harry Reid or a Nancy Pelosi use language as simple as that. Don't get me wrong- there are liberals in this country- real loons- who sometimes surprise me with their actions and words. I look at some differently after, say, I see them on a USO tour in Afghanistan. But their kind, and those feelings, are more and more rare. I'd like to think it's not just projection of my wishes that thinks that Asimov (braver than I?) would have gone up to that ranting loon at Ground Zero and delivered my premature Treppenwitz for me.

Anyway, that's enough for now. Have a good weekend, all- perhaps I'll be able to write up a bit about the Parsippany story over the weekend- and, of course, go off on who knows how many tangents. Till then!

"Infrequent"? Moi?

A few weeks back, the OU emailed to tell me they'd be printing my latest missive to Jewish Action. To be perfectly truthful, I'd written it so much earlier I'd forgotten all about it. Ahhh, quarterly publications... But they printed it, and all thanks to them.

I'm flattered that Gil Student has seen fit to compliment the letter in a post devoted to it. Thanks, Gil! And in all honesty, I was going to post the next few items even before your remark about the infrequency of my blogging spurred me on further:

First, as regards yesterday's post, Schumer gets it, a bit. A very little bit. But not so bad, for a Democrat. Of course, he doesn't really make sense, but he's Schumer. (Go back to The Corner and see the other posts on this, though.)

Two comments caught my eye in the paper today:

First, there was a piece about how the WTC Memorial Foundation is appealing for donations through advertising. Now, I've seen these ads. I think they're disgusting, in and of themselves, not to mention the fact that the proposed "memorial" is simply disgraceful: Two holes in the ground. One can only hope that, like the tower, it will improve over time. Perhaps a big donation will get the ball rolling. For a fleeting moment this morning (well, OK, longer than that), my mind was full of one outrageous idea for a monument after another, most of them, inspired by Arne Darvin, quite offensive to our Mohammedan brethren. But you know what? We've proven that we can get it right; let's just apply moving and heroic on a larger scale.

Then there was a photo of some of the members of the polygamist cult whose leader was arrested the other day. They were said to be in "traditional dress" or some such. Well, the women were: They were in what looked like 19th Century or Amish-style dresses. The boys, on the other hand (poor kids, they'll probably be thrown out as soon as they hit their teens) were in plaid shirts and jeans.

Say what you want about the crazy stuff Chassidic men make their women wear (yeah, I know, they really like it, yada yada), at least they, the men, wear stuff that's just as crazy if not more. But this sect...and even more so, the Muslims: London is full of Muslim men and their women. The latter (sometimes clearly converts, God help us) are in the full get-up. The former? You only know they're Arabs from their color. Sometimes we Jews get it right.

Religion of Peace

Well, it seems like quite a few people are outraged by the granting of a visa to former president Khatami. Being a Normal-American, I'm pretty upset myself, especially by this idea that he has something to contribute to a discussion of cultures getting along- and in honor of September 11th, no less! Nor do I see Andrew Stuttaford's point here: It's not like he's currently in office, and, even if he was, I don't see what could be accomplished talking to these lunatics.

What really put the icing on, though, was this piece from Arutz-7:

When the chief rabbi began speaking at the closing ceremony, held on Tuesday,
the Iranian delegation, led by former Iranian President Mohammad Khatami,
stormed out of the hall.

Yeah, Khatami has a lot to contribute.

Note also this, from the same piece:

In his remarks, Rabbi Metzger expressed his disappointment that he could not
talk with some religious leaders because he was Jewish.

Which leaders would that be? The Buddhists, maybe? The Hindus? The Jains? Oh, I was around when Political Correctness got started (and am proud to say I published an article against it in my school newspaper back then), and now it's killing us. Witness this story out of California, merely one of quite a few we've seen recently: Dude's name is "Omeed Aziz Popal." Irish? Italian? African-American? Well, the San Francisco Chronicle won't be the one to tell you. The do mention, almost in passing- thank God for small favors- that he wound up trying to kill people in front of the local Jewish Community Center, but the PC that's killing us by a thousand cuts, and sometimes more, won't let them put two and two together. Hopefully someone- we all- will before it's too late.

Oh, one more thing: Palestinian journalists ask for protection from the PA. (Here, via here.) The kicker?

They also denounced the recent kidnapping of two Fox News journalists in Gaza
City and said those who carried out the abduction acted against the interests of
the Palestinians.

Hmmm. And if it was in their interests, it'd be OK?

"My Very Eager Mother Just Served Us Noodles."

Just wanted to get that in first.

"Dear God! What brave men I must lose this day!"

...bayamim ha-hem, bazeman ha-zeh. (In those days, in these times.)

I took a trip into Brooklyn today. It's really some borough, which I don't see enough, and, thanks to getting off the train a stop early, I got to see more of it than I had expected; to wit, the Gowanus Canal district, location of a thrilling Sherlock Holmes story (sorta).

Anyway, after a nice walk, I got to where I was going, namely, the Old Stone House:

Doesn't look like much, does it? And yet, on August 27, 1776, 230 years ago this month, in the course of the Battle of Long Island, 256 Maryland soldiers* died while attempting to take and hold this farmhouse, which the British had turned into an artillery position. (Sound familiar?) Their sacrifice was what prompted the observing George Washington to murmur the remark that is the title of this post. (If you want to get the full impact of it, watch the movie version of 1776, and see how the actor playing Thomson reads it.)

*Hence the state flag on the left; on the right is this one. Thankfully, they are now hung correctly. I'm sorry that enlarging doesn't seem to work today.

The museum is small, but gives a very full presentation. Of course, I went mostly for the actual experience of what is rightly called "hallowed ground." The actual anniversary will see a recreation of the battle, which I might well attend.

Earlier in the morning, I had had my doubts about going at all. After all, I awoke to this news, which, of course, got worse as the day progressed, and my mood was turned. However, the night before, I had read not only this piece, but this one as well. The latter ends with this trenchant observation:

The disconnect between those who serve and those of us who are beneficiaries of
their service has always felt great to me, but never greater than at that
moment...I went to my car and drove to work with no ambition for the day other
than to be worthy.

There's so little I can really do to express gratitude and to help. I hope, today, through men who died over two centuries ago, I can appreciate, if only slightly better, the sacrifices of their heirs of today, both in the US and in Israel, who continue to fight- and die- for all of us.

Here, by the way, is a picture that, as Dr. Watson would say, has "long lain in my portfolio":

Those are two Yeoman Warders ("Beefeaters") inside the Tower of London. My parents and I, in our trip to London for a family celebration last month, happened to be visiting the Tower on July 7, the one-year anniversary of the bombings in that city. The Warders are preparing to ring one of the ancient bells at noon, when the UK observed two minutes of silence.

All in all, a very good (but very brief) trip. Good to see family especially, and I also got to touch on a few sites I'd long wanted to see- the Cabinet War Rooms and its new Churchill Museum, the National Gallery and National Portrait Gallery, the Sherlock Holmes Museum, and more.

Getting back to today, before leaving Brooklyn, I also stopped at the Transit Museum:

Yes, that's the entrance- it's a converted subway station, which is very cute, and useful. Highly recommended. I'd gone to see their exhibit on Robert Moses and the Triborough Bridge, but at the start of the tour was a fascinating look at the building of the subway. My goodness, what work went into it. And lives, too: I was particularly struck by the account of ten workers killed while digging the tunnel at 190th and St. Nicholas Avenue- a station I've used. Two were named, the other eight were Italians, names unknown (!). In a way somewhat related to what I've written above, it makes you appreciate even more the fact that on a Sunday, I could get from Queens, through Manhattan, to two stops in Brooklyn, and back again, so quickly.

The day concluded with a wonderful first birthday party for my darling niece Aurelia. Here she is with her proud parents. I think she's just anxious to get to that cake, made to perfection by her mother. (I know I was.)

What a great party. My sister and brother-in-law came too, which was great: I don't see them nearly enough. Too many other pictures to choose from to post them here- but I must send them to my other sister! My birthday was last week, and while I got great cards and gifts from all my siblings and parents, I must post a picture of what she sent me, for its sheer originality:

Front and center are the gummi candies she knows I like so much. (It goes without saying that a Charlie Brown card was included.) As for the rest, well, my Bar Mitzvah parsha (which it doesn't look like I'll be layning this year, sniff) contains the famous pasuk about the sheva minim. So, straight from Israel, she sends me (clockwise from left) crackers flavored with, among other things, olive oil, pomegranate juice, five-grain cakes, figs and dates, and grape candies. So cool, huh? Thanks, Nechama! I hope to see you real soon!

Hmm, not much more to report. It's always sad when someone dies, even at 86 after a full and successful life, but I cracked a smile when I heard about Esther Snyder today:

Walter: "And, yes, we'll be near the..."

Donnie: "In-N-Out Burger."

Walter: "We'll have some burgers...some beers...some laughs..."

That's the best I can wish to you all. And so some email, and so to bed.

The Challenge of Creation

This post by Stanley Kurtz, particularly the line about how depression "can even lead to philosophical introspection- or religious epiphany" got me thinking about The Lonely Man of Faith, which I am currently reading through for the first time, thanks to an impulse buy of a new paperback edition. I do not mean to say, of course, that the Rav was clinically depressed, as he himself makes clear in the opening pages. As it happens, Kurtz's point is that such technical details don't really matter in the over-medicated world we live in. In any event, it's a bit comforting to yours truly, who still gets the occasional nudge from some friends to solve all my problems (not depression, of course) with a nice little pill. Not that I'm doing anything as creative as writing a book of philosophy, of course.

This particular edition is good for one big reason- it starts with a fine introduction by Dr. Shatz that really opens the work up. (For another introduction, see this cute story.) (On the other hand, the typesetting of the Hebrew phrases is awful. One day I must go through my other edition and correct this one.) If I was half the intellectual I sometimes pretend to be, I'd write a thoughtful blog entry about all the places I find myself taking issue with the Rav (generally on side points), and on the far more, and more substantive, places where I find myself in awe of his sublime writing and ideas. But that, believe it or not, is not the point of this entry, even though the title could easily apply to the Rav's work as well.

This entry, of course, is about R' Natan Slifkin's new book, or rather, the launch event I attended last night at the Young Israel of Kew Gardens Hills. (I'm pretty proud it was in my neighborhood.) As I left, I found myself whistling the "Ascot Gavotte" from My Fair Lady- you know, "Everyone who should be here is here..." Indeed, the place was packed, and among the crowd was a veritable who's who. I got to see lots of people who, well, I just enjoy meeting. And as Dr. Shatz was there (among other YU people such as Drs. David Berger and Shalom Carmy, R' Blau, and R' Feldman), I thanked him for the new edition, stressing what a help his introduction was.

But on to the main topic: As he was signing books, I reminded R' Slifkin that I had gone to the zoo with him last year, and then surprised him by asking him to sign not the new book (which I got as well), but the original, "The Science of Torah." "What's this?!" he exclaimed, "Put it in the genizah!" Instead of signing with his standard "Hope you enjoy the book," he wrote "Hope you enjoyed this fossil!" He's really a great guy.

So before getting to the speeches, who else was there? Well, Steven I. Weiss, who it's always good to see, and a bunch of people from the neighborhood, including Steve Brizel, who I met live for the first time. (He referred me to the post here, and I've commented.) I had best leave the rest anonymous, eh? True to my code as a vexillologist, I inquired as to the odd flag flying up front from the rabbi, and got a solid (if perplexing, to both of us) answer. That's always nice. Side note: With all the triangles in Young Israels, I sometimes wonder about Masonic plots.

I must say, R' Tzvi Hersh Weinreb spoke remarkably well. He began by speaking about the current war in Israel (I do hope I will have my own modest bit to say about it soon), and then, masterfully, linked to the topic of the evening by using the verse in Zechariah about the fasts becoming holidays- "VeHaEmet VeHaShalom Ehavu." He spoke about the importance of truth, and peace, and finished by discussing the point of view that God wants us to study the universe- a Lammian (not me, and yet my view as well) view, I should point out.

Gil Student then spoke very well about ignoring bans. He focused on halacha, and who is entitled to decide bans and the like. I have to raise some points and objections here, though: First, I'd like to point out that just as there may be opinions as whether or not to ban a book, so too there are (or should be) opinions that books are not to be banned, period. (Henry Jones, Sr.: "It tells me that goose-stepping morons like yourself should try reading books instead of burning them.") After all, when all is said and done, what happens if, following your "Gadol knows right, so long as I get to choose the gadol" hashkafa, you can't find one to choose? (OK, I'm an Apikores. But I won't surrender my God-given mind.)

More importantly, there was a lot of apologetics last night, as well as within the book itself. "This book is not meant for certain people" and the like. Now, I understand that part of this may have been meant to stave off further bans, as if that would help and as if they would hurt any more. But it strikes me more as groveling. (Chip Diller: "Thank you sir, may I have another!") More importantly: Charedim seem to have no problem dismissing any point of view that isn't their own, openly saying that everyone should be like them (if they don't simply ignore everyone else). Why can't the Modern Orthodox do the same? Why do we look over our right shoulders instead of saying, plainly, that intellectual openness is the one true path in Judaism, and ultra-Orthodoxy is illegitimate?

Eh, I'm shouting down the wind here. And detracting from the main point, which is that the gathering was quite good, and the book, from what I've read so far, is remarkable too. R' Slifkin, God bless him, sees the folly in Gosse as well as in Intelligent Design, and shows said follies in a lucid way. He spoke as well, of course, getting (through a humorous tone) right down to the main issues involving the book. He answered (or dodged, as appropriate) a few questions, and signed some more. I recommended the Darwin exhibit at the Museum of Natural History to him, and headed home.

The next event, in Teaneck tonight, would be a bit much for me, I think. Go if you can! Maybe I'll catch him at Stern at the end of the summer. A big yasher koach to R' Slifkin (and to Gil!), and wishes for all future success to them.

Please God, I shall have something substantive to say on Israel soon. Until then!

"I will do such things- what they are yet, I know not; but they shall be the terrors of the earth!"

It's all in the delivery, as I've noted below. So too the line above. To be perfectly honest, while I studied King Lear in my senior year of high school (with Mr. Schoenberg, OBM) and have seen it here and there, I don't think I ever really knew that the line above was from there. I have seen it in various contexts, however, like here, and I guess I knew it was Shakespeare. (And not in the "don't know a source of a quote, just say Shakespeare" way.)

On the face, it seems pretty fierce: "Oh, what I'm gonna do to you is so bad, I haven't even thought of what it is yet!" But today, I saw the Boomerang Theatre production in Central Park. I've always liked these outdoor Shakespeare productions: In fact, later in the day, I passed the location of the famous "Shakespeare in the Parking Lot" productions, which I hope are still around, if only for the name. (Update: Yup. Yay!) Sue me, but the idea that Shakespeare is always produced, and in such settings, stirs some deeper parts of my nature.

This production happened to be quite good. And the line of the title of this post was delivered in a way I'd never have thought: Imagine Lear, played here by an older, white bearded actor. They added an interesting touch: Lear has changed from the suit he wore at the beginning of the play to a plaid shirt and chinos while carousing with his men. It was still early on in the play, but I got the thought, as soon as I saw him, of "Damn. He gets thrown out while dressed down like that."

Now he's being thrown out by his daughters, crushed, insisting (against all evidence) that he will "not weep." And he delivers the line: "I will do such things..." And he pauses, and, voice faltering, finally says, "what they are yet, I know not..."

And it's over for him. Oh, he can finish, "but they shall be the terrors of the earth!" And that might even restore a bit of his dignity or authority. But it doesn't really matter. We've seen that he has no power, no idea what to do. Perhaps he never did. And he will have none until he dies.

Whew. Makes you think. As I said, a good production, a good location, a good crowd, a great cast and direction. And what lines!

This is the excellent foppery of the world, that, when we are sick in fortune,
often the surfeit of our own behaviour, we make guilty of our disasters the sun,
the moon, and the stars; as if we were villains by necessity, fools by heavenly
compulsion, knaves, thieves, and treachers by spherical predominance, drunkards,
liars, and adulterers by an enforced obedience of planetary influence; and all
that we are evil in, by a divine thrusting on: an admirable evasion of
whoremaster man, to lay his goatish disposition to the charge of a star!

And then there's something Cecil Adams wrote:

My epiphany happened during my freshman year in college, when I took an
introductory lit class with one of the great teachers, a fellow named Bergen
Evans. One day Evans was lecturing on King Lear. After some buildup about the
sense of despair in this play, he read the famous lines: "As flies to wanton
boys, are we to the gods; they kill us for their sport." The last few words were
said with a sort of quiet hiss. I suppose you had to be there. All I know is, I
didn't question Shakespeare's genius after that.

Not quite the way it was delivered here- more as a shout to the heavens- but I said it along with the actor this time. What truths.

Jam-packed Sunday, as it happens. I got a haircut (saved unimaginable amounts of time and money), and went straight off to the Museum of Natural History, to see their Darwin exhibit. Very well done, and lots to report on that (or based on that), but it'll have to wait for a more decent hour. Then off to Lear, and you've seen about that.

Oh- there've been some good flag-related pieces in the Times lately. Here's one about my dream job, and here's one from today. Regarding the latter, I have to say I approve- especially considering that we know what the alternative is. (Hint: It wears headscarves.)

Anyway, I hope to have more about evolution later. Until then, have a great week, homes!

Happy Flag Day!

Only a few minutes left to Flag Day (and the US Army's birthday), so I'd better blog about it. Sotheby's today auctioned four Revolutionary War flags; you can read about it here. They were kind enough to extend an invitation to the pre-auction luncheon to NAVA members, so that's where I was this afternoon.

It was a sight to see. I've never been to an auction before, and this one was pretty impressive. The unit that was the original possessor of one flag has been re-established, and there were re-enactors there in full costume.

I took this photo without a flash, before seeing that everyone else was using one and turning mine on. The Dragoons wore horse tails on their helmets, which reminded me of the Rohirrim. (Perhaps Tolkien meant it to be the other way around.)

Also there was the great-great descendant of the British officer who had captured the flags and brought them back to England; they've been in the family since. I think I even heard him mentioning that he was wearing his ancestor's cufflinks. He posed with the unit of re-enactors in front of the flag, which was quite nice. (A bit fuzzy, sorry.) The auction was packed, standing room only. The individual unit flag, the earliest surviving example of a thirteen-stripe US flag, sold for 11 million dollars. The three regiment flags from Virginia sold together for four and a half million. They both went to the same bidder (on the telephone), who, after fees and taxes and all, will pay about 18 million dollars. I do hope they'll be on public display somewhere.

I made sure to thank the auctioneer, who had extended the invitation, and picked up a free catalog. In the cab back to work, I took in the magnificent buildings on Sutton Place. What lovely houses. (Sotheby's, a more- very- modern building, is nothing to sneeze at either.) All in all, a good way to celebrate Flag Day.