New Year's linkfest

1. Thank goodness Hanukkah is over. Seven pounds of latkes?

2. Princess Caroline speaks a lot like Uncle Ted. Another version.

3. If even half of this is true, that's one great father who's one tough mutha.

4. Carjack-ee to carjacker: "I'm gonna blow your balls off!" (Warning: turn down sound before clicking; video starts right away.) (via HotAir)

5. Pillage Idiot ranked 10th most politically influential blog (conservative) in Maryland? Hmmm. "Influential" would not be in the first 50 words I'd use to describe Pillage Idiot.

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The gift season

Now that we're past Black Friday, death toll approximately one, it's time to focus on gifts for Christmas, Hanukkah, Kwanzaa, or whatever holiday the wiccans are currently planning for.

Dave Barry has his annual gift guide, which I find rather disappointing this year. Judge for yourself.

It's hard to believe Dave Barry left this off his list: Talking TP.

Even NBC mentioned it on the Today Show, along with a few other novelty gifts. You can see the video here.

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Shanah tovah

A very happy and sweet new year to my Jewish readers.

And to my non-Jewish readers, I want to thank you for your support during the past year.

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Visitor of the day -- 9/18

I know what an "Obama shofar sound" is. It's the sh'varim, the three broken wailing notes that, with the right inflection, sound exactly like someone complaining that it's mean to suggest that he's laughably unqualified to be president.

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Up in Canada

I spent Wednesday through Sunday in Toronto hunting grizzly bears in front of Union Station. I bagged two, which is OK in Toronto as long as you put their various parts in the correct recycling bins. And I want to bring you up to date on the happenings occurring in our northern neighbor.

First, this morning, a few miles north of our hotel, there was a major series of explosions at a propane plant, causing quite a spectacle. You can get a few details here. Watch out for those outdoor grills you guys have on your decks. If you'd like to see some photos, check out this post at photojunkie.ca.

Second, you remember the incident on a Greyhound bus in Canada, when one passenger beheaded another? Well, here's an article in the Globe and Mail, in which an intrepid reporter risks life, limb, and neck to ride a similar bus and interview the passengers. Quotation of the day:

Bus etiquette is sorted out nightly on a semi-feudal basis among seatmates. One point of contention, without fail, is a reclined chair that interferes with someone else's legroom. Mr. Lehmann and Ms. Dickey moved up front after another passenger confronted them about their reclining habits. That's where you will find them now, her head resting on his shoulder, both asleep.

“You're not really supposed to change seats,” comments Oli Hall, 20, a British backpacker. “And you're definitely not supposed to stab people, decapitate them, then dance around with it.”

Third, a black bear invaded a basement apartment in a town in British Columbia. Fortunately, Brian Fortune, the resident of the apartment, was not present for the invasion. However, I'm sorry (pronounced "SAWR-ee," as the Canadians do) to report that this story is a metaphor for modern-day Canada. Mr. Fortune is apparently a liberal. How do I know that? Here's how: "Mr. Fortune said he sympathized with the animal. 'It's unfortunate that the bears are resorting to that, coming into our area,' he said. 'Although we did infringe on their area first.'" Also, the RCMP had to step in to resolve the impasse. Consider how that one turned out:

"Because of the aggressive behaviour displayed by the bear by entering a house, a shot was taken from the Coquitlam RCMP," Constable Leung said.

The shot struck the bear in the shoulder but failed to immobilize it. The animal climbed up a nearby tree, where it remained until conservation officer Peter Busink arrived 15 minutes later.

Mr. Busink fired a tranquilizer dart that soon sent the bear tumbling to the ground. But as RCMP officers approached, they realized the animal was not completely subdued. Coquitlam RCMP then used a shotgun to kill the bear.

So let's review the bidding. The RCMP shoots the bear -- and barely stuns it. The bear stays in a tree mocking the RCMP, shouting obscenities at passers-by, and whistling at the women until the animal control officers shoots it -- with a sedative. The RCMP then steps forward to finish the task that the animal control officer started. Sheesh, is that embarrassing, or what?

Oh, and it reminds me of the famous Woody Allen nightclub routine about shooting a moose.

Finally, on a more serious note, I've always found it hard to prepare mentally for Rosh Hashanah. I have some trouble with the theology, and the fact that it was Tisha B'Av today didn't help. But in Toronto, whenever the subway doors close, there's a chime that slowly plays the 5-3-1 of the major scale (out of tune, but never mind). Those notes are the same notes that begin the aleynu prayer in the tune used on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur. So at every stop on every trip I took on the subway, I was singing or thinking about the Rosh Hashanah aleynu. Maybe I'll return to Toronto just before the holidays.

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Lolmichelle

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Kitniot and Godzilla

Passover is approaching, and just as winter turns to spring, the birds return from the south, and the sounds of baseball fill the air, I inevitably get a lot of visitors searching for the term "kitniot."

I'm pleased to report that if you search for the term "kitniot" on Google, the very first article you will reach is my three-year old post called "The four stages of kitniot." Now, I'm not going to claim that this post is the best thing I've ever written, but for some reason it's the one that's drawn the most over-the-top compliments, namely "approaching genius," "damn near perfect," and a "landmark." I still blush.

I don't mention this to toot my own horn. If you check the sidebar to the right, you'll notice I tend to highlight disparaging comments about me. But I was thinking about what makes the "four stages" post work, and I've concluded it's this: First, kitniot are baffling and a little scary, and thus they're a good subject for humor. Second, the allusion to Kubler-Ross lends mock seriousness. Third, it's topped off by my friend Martin's hilarious letter, which I quoted in full in the post.

So, in honor of Martin, I'm going to translate the entire post, including his letter, into Japanese. Why Japanese? I don't know. Why not Japanese?

Click here.

Chag kasher v'sameach.

Bonus: An article in the NY Times today about the author of the "Kosher by Design" cookbook series, which now includes "Passover by Design." To overcome being "frum from birth," she's quizzed chefs about how to duplicate certain tastes, like Thai, which she's never experienced. All well and good, but when I eat kosher Thai, I want it made by someone who knows what the tref version tastes like. Quizzing chefs may or may not work.

Super-de-dooper bonus: "Worrying about the propriety of eating kosher cheeseburgers is no different than worrying about eating kitniyot on Pesah." (via Kitniyot Liberation Front)

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Holiday from ethics

Tonight, once again, we turn to the repellent Randy Cohen, the so-called "ethicist" who writes a column for the New York Times Sunday Magazine. In Sunday's column, a writer tells him (second item) that he, the writer, used to work in an insurance company, where the only Jewish employee was a friend of his. The Jewish employee invented Jewish holidays to take off. Was it ethical of the letter writer to remain silent, when he (unlike the employer) knew these were fake holidays?

Before I tell you the answer Cohen gives, let's consider this outside the context of Jewish holidays.

The situation is basically equivalent to a far more common situation: someone has a friend he knows is regularly faking illness when he calls in sick. Does the person have an obligation to tell the employer about this? Probably not, right? That's not his job. If he was directly asked about it, though, it's not his job to cover up for the friend, either. But probably, if he stays silent, without any actual participation, he won't incur ethical guilt. (The person might have some qualms about remaining friends with the crooked guy, but that's another matter.)

This is roughly what Cohen advises. Cohen's short answer about the Jewish holidays is this: Remaining silent "was an acceptable choice. Your coming forward was permitted but not required; you had no obligation to police the vacation requests of your co-workers (or to steer your friend to the path of righteousness)."

Fair enough, but as usual Cohen just can't shut up when he gives the short answer.

The first qualification of his answer, which I think is a joke (though with him it's hard to tell): "Of course, had you been asked directly if Kasha Varnishka was an authentic Jewish festival, you would have had to reply: yes, it commemorates the glorious victory of the Maccabees over a recalcitrant side dish." Ha, ha.

Next, Cohen states what should be obvious: "This is not to justify your friend’s actions. He lied to his boss and burdened his co-workers, who presumably filled in for him while he was out cavorting."

Also good, but he still can't shut up.

What bugs me is that Cohen adds:

So says my head . . . but my heart says mazel tov! This imaginative scheme imposed a tax on ignorance, penalizing an employer for lacking even a cursory grasp of a world religion's holidays. Such a plan could encourage all of us in our diverse, immigrant nation to learn more about our neighbors, or reward them with extra vacation time if we cling to our provincialism. Diwali — real or imaginary?

A tax on ignorance? That's like saying that an employee's theft is a tax on the employer for having inadequate security. Who gives that employee the right to impose a "tax"? Or, to put it more bluntly, who gives the right to that employee to claim that his fraud has some public benefit? Randy Cohen, that's who.

We don't know from Cohen's column whether the Jewish employee was an observant Jew who observed the real holidays but also added a few of his own, or whether he was someone who just took advantage of the fact that Jewish holidays exist. That information would have added a little color to this story. But it's really not that important.

The Jewish employee's fraud is not entirely a private matter between him and his employer (and his God, for that matter, if he believes in one). The fraud, if it comes to light, exposes other Jews to unfair suspicion when they observe the holidays. In this case, we're told, the employee was the only Jew at the company, but if he had been caught, the employer would have had every reason to feel suspicious about requests from Jewish employees who were hired in the future.

Besides, if there were ever a way of planting the seeds of antisemitism in people who have no opinion about Jews one way or the other, I'd say this is a pretty good way to do it. Being a Jewish crook is bad enough; being a crook who uses his Jewishness to defraud is far worse.

Far be it from me to accuse someone of insufficient maturity, but I'm going to do it, anyway: Cohen's making light of this is pretty damn immature.

Previous: Martha's Vineyard morality, Aging boomers' endless introspection, Picking the right ethicist

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The secret of shofar blowing

I want to disclose the secret of shofar blowing. This is a topic that most of you will have no interest in, so I'm going to put it in an extended entry. Click below only if you care.


I'm actually serious about this, and I'm writing for any poor soul who's stuck blowing the shofar and is madly searching the internet for "the secret of shofar blowing" or some such thing. And I'm going to tell you the secret -- after an interlude. I'm going to tell you it, but I won't tell you the secret of blowing the shofar after the 26-hour Yom Kippur fast, because that's an even deeper secret. Ordinary humans simply can't do it. It's impossible.

Like many people able to blow the shofar, I'm a former musician. I should say I'm a former French horn player, because it turns out that a lot of shofar blowers are former horn players. Last year, when I was saying kaddish for my father, I was at the daily minyan all during Elul, when the shofar is blown in the morning, in the lead-up to Rosh Hashanah. I have to say that for me, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are very difficult. Judaism is not very big on theology. It's a religion of practice more than belief. (Yeah, I know that's an oversimplification. Don't bug me about it.) But every year on Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur, the theology is unavoidable, as hard as I try. B'rosh hashanah yikateivun, uv'yom tzom kippur yeichateimun. Some other time, I'll explain my theological problems, but for now, all I want to say is that when I was at the daily minyan last year, the daily blowing of the shofar put me more in a Rosh Hashanah frame of mind than ever before (and, for that matter, ever after, i.e., this year).

At the daily minyan, I volunteered that I knew how to blow the shofar. You need to understand that this is an orthodox shul, and I'm just some guy. It took me a couple of months to get to the point where I could actually lead davening, so whenever I showed I could do something -- like read Torah -- there was a little bit of surprise I could do it. Still, when the rabbi, who blows the shofar, and the congregant who usually blows the shofar in the rabbi's absence weren't there, I had my chance. And as I said, I can blow the shofar. In fact, in all modesty, I blow it pretty well. My technique is pretty good.

But one day, during that Elul, the rabbi spoke about blowing the shofar. He said that blowing the shofar isn't about technique; it's about kavvanah (intention or spirituality). He wasn't referring to me in particular. In fact, I'm not sure he was ever present when I blew the shofar. But what he said resonated with me; I felt that his point was valid and that it clearly applied to me. So I started begging off, unless no one else who could do the job was around, or unless our assistant rabbi handed me the shofar and I couldn't decline without being disrespectful to him.

But back to technique. There are many people who blow the shofar who have far better kavvanah than I have -- nearly everyone, as a matter of fact. But there's a wide range of technique. And on that count, I'm here to help you.

Here's my advice, as a former French horn player. Don't blow the shofar as if it were a French horn. I said "Don't" in case you missed it. A horn mouthpiece rests on the lower lip. That's unusual for a brass instrument -- on the lip. Technically, you can rest the shofar on your lip, and you can even get a sound that way. But don't do it. Getting a vibration in order to create the shofar sound requires moist tissue. And take my word for it: Your lip won't be most, even if you lick it. The best place for the shofar mouthpiece -- now, here's the secret -- is inside your lower lip, on the soft, moist tissue on the inner lining of your mouth. That tissue will vibrate, and you'll get a nice sound.

Here's the qualification on what I've just told you: Different shofars have different shaped mouthpieces, depending on the structure of the ram's horn and on the way it was cut. If the mouthpiece is too large around its circumference, you're going to have trouble on the inside of your mouth. But my advice works for most shofars. Give it a shot. I don't think you'll regret it.

Sadly, however, you still won't be able to get a sound at the end of Yom Kippur.

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Shanah tovah

A shanah tovah umetukah -- a happy and sweet new year -- to you. May it be better than this year.

To my non-Jewish philo-semitic friends, I want to tell you how much I appreciate your support.

See you on Sunday.

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