Latkes Roasting On An Open Fire

It's time again for the annual Christmas vs. Hanukkah Debate. I can't tell you how many of my Gentile friends think we Jews threw together a December holiday just to compete with Christmas.

First of all, there is no competing with Christmas.

It's not as if you're ever going to find yourself standing on line at Wal Mart listening to an endless loop of "Dreidel, Dreidel, Dreidel" playing from the PA system. There are no menorah flags hanging from lamp posts, no Stars of David attached to car grills, and you'll never squeeze into a crowd to watch a Hanukkah parade go by. Not even in Miami.

It's not like I have a problem with Christmas. Every year I have a Pavlovian reaction to Starbucks' red holiday cups because that means it's the season for eggnog lattes. And I love to visit my non-Jewish friends' homes in December just to inhale the piney smell of a Douglas fir.

But let's face it, Christmas takes over from September through December. While we Heebs are hunting around in every Judaica store for the right size Hanukkah candles that don't have to be hammered into Grandma's menorah, the rest of the country is swathed in red and green.

And, no matter how much we hope and dream, it's unlikely we'll ever see latkes popping up on the menu at Appleby's nor will we ever get the chance to win big playing dreidel at an Indian casino.

Hail Mary (and Heather)

Mary Cheney, lesbian daughter of sharpshooter Vice President Dick Cheney, is pregnant. She and Heather Poe, her partner of 15 years, are expecting this spring. And wouldn't you know it, the Christian Right is all fatootzed about it. There hasn't been this much excitement about somebody named Mary having a baby without playing hide the salami in, I dunno, 2,000 years or so.

Carrie Gordon Earll, spokesperson for those geniuses at Focus on the Family said, “Mary Cheney’s pregnancy raises the question of what’s best for children. Just because it’s possible to conceive a child outside of the relationship of a married mother and father doesn’t mean it’s the best for the child.”

Okay, Carrie, here's the thing about gays and kids. A drunken one night stand between two homos will not result in someone getting knocked up. When we queers get pregnant it's because we really want to have a kid, and that lucky child will most likely be swaddled in the love of two people who've probably spent a lot of time planning for parenthood.

But hey, I guess if you're part of the Christian Right, what's love got to do, got to do with it?

From The "WTF Were You Thinking?" Files

Yo, OJ. Years ago you were one of the most amazing running backs in the history of football. Then you tried your hand at a little acting. From there you went to wifebeating and finally became a crazy-ass murderer. So what makes you think you can write? And that title - "If I Did It" - come on, dawg, we know you did it. You can do better than that.

How about "Okay, I Did It. I'd Rather Go to Prison Than Face Another Rejection on Match.com."

From dumb to dumber. A guy in Arkansas tried to steal a guitar from a music store by sticking it into his pants. The store owner noticed a suspicious bulge in the would-be robber's clothing and managed to retrieve the instrument before anyone had to listen to any badly played Woody Guthrie tunes.

Come Together. Right Now. Over Me.

John and Yoko had the right idea. Stay in bed for a week to call attention to the need for world peace. But Donna Sheehan and Paul Reffel have gone a step further; They've asked everyone in the world to have an orgasm (or more) on Winter Solstice (December 22nd).

Apparently after orgasm your mind is totally relaxed, and Sheehan and Reffel believe that if enough people think about world peace in a meditative state, positive change is possible.

Like we need an altruistic excuse.

Thanksgiving - The Secular Passover

My two favorite holidays are Passover and Thanksgiving. When you think about it, they're very similar. At Passover we Heebs celebrate our escape from years of slavery in Egypt. We give thanks for our freedom and our control over the entertainment industry.

Similarly, Thanksgiving is a time to reflect on all the good things in life and realize that, no matter what's going on, things could always be a lot worse. Kinehora.

What I love about each holiday is that they're both about sharing a meal with members of my chosen family. Now if I could only figure out a way to make pumpkin pie kosher for Passover.

Ring! Ring! Pick Up The Fertility Phone

When one of my eggs steps on to its ovarian launching pad in preparation for a journey into the unknown, I feel a little twinge in my abdomen that lets me know that even though my uterus and I parted ways years ago, those frisky ovaries are still taking target practice.

But if your body doesn't send you subtle messages that it's time to procreate, now your cellphone can.

DoCoMo, Japan's largest cellphone manufacturer, recently debuted the FOMA D702iF mobile phone designed to keep us girls appraised of what's going on with our female plumbing. Shaped like a packet of birth control pills, and available in several attractive pastel colors, the new phone offers members of the fairer sex these fabulous feminine features:

* A "biorhythm memo" that will alert you three days before ovulation
* A database for storing recipes
* A fake ringtone to thwart off advances from unwanted suitors

I'm guessing they're working on the pregnancy test for next year's model.

Stay The Course

A man in Rudolstadt, Germany so diligently followed the directions of his car's on board navigation system that he drove on to a building site, up a flight of stairs and smack into a toilet hut, which must be the German equivalent of an outhaus.

The system commanded "Turn right now!" and this guy did exactly as he was told, even though there was no road to turn on to.

This story strikes me as a metaphor for the decisions The Almighty Decider has made about Iraq. When the automated on board navigation system that seems to be running this country said, "Stay the course" that's what W's lemmings did. In fact, for the past six years they've been following the commands of some mysterious automated voice, and running into more than a few toilet huts, creating a nasty stench in the process.

Today we hear that our fearless leader will no longer use the phrase "Stay the course" when talking about the situation in Iraq. Apparently things aren't looking so good over there, and staying the course might not be the best idea.

"Turn left now!"

P.S. Your Cat Is Gay

The Christian Right can't seem to leave us poor homos alone. Now it seems there's a big brouhaha about an exhibit at the Oslo Museum of Natural History called "Against Nature" that depicts (gasp!) homosexual behavior in the animal kingdom. One photo shows two giant erect whale penises rubbing together, while another exposes two male giraffes doing the horizontal, or I guess vertical in this case, hula.

In another part of the exhibit, two stuffed female swans are shown sitting on a nest of eggs. One is reading a copy of "Off Our Backs."

And, of course, this is all part of a plan spelled out in section 130-A of the voluminous Gay Agenda that explains how to recruit children on school field trips into the Gay Lifestyle. Those kooky conservatives are accusing exhibit organizer, Geir Soeli, of displaying pornography, and one of the angry pastors said that the museum directors should burn in hell.

Soeli retorted with, "Sexual urge is strong in all animals. It's a part of life; it's fun to have sex." In fact, he added, homosexual behavior has been observed in over 1,500 animal species.

And, just like your dog makes a conscious choice to chase your neighbor's cat, every queer animal in each one of those 1,500 species has made a conscious choice to indulge in a life of homosexual iniquity.

Mrs. Kravitz is My Homegirl

Why is it so damn hard for people to pick up after their dogs? It's getting to the point where I almost wish each dog's excrement had its own unique identifyer so I could match the poop to the pup and then chew out the owner.

I do have one prime suspect, however. There's a woman on my block who marches up and down the street every morning with a cup of coffee, a cigarette, and her low rider Corgie follows behind her leaving his bidness wherever and whenever he feels the urge, which often ends up being my front lawn. Does she carry poop bags? Nope. That would mean giving up either the smoke or the caffeine. She knows I know, but she doesn't give a crap, so to speak.

And I don't buy that theory that animal defecation is better than Miracle Grow. Hell, if that were the case, I'd invite a few pandas over just to try to have a shot at the local garden club award. Pandas can poop as often as 40 times a day - go ahead, look it up.

Rack-and-Pinion Steering Could Save Your Life

If you're considering breast implants, think big. You could save your life, not to mention a few bucks on car insurance. A Bulgarian woman with size 40DD breast implants managed to avoid serious injury (and possibly death) when her car was involved in a head-on collision.

Apparently, when the steering wheel crushed her on impact, her enormous silicone bazooms protected her vital organs and ribcage - just like an airbag. Unfortunately, both breasts exploded (ouch), which means her career as an exotic race car driver will have to be put on hold for a few weeks.

I'm Becoming a Corporate Speak Geek

So I'm writing a case study for a high-tech company and I just finished interviewing the VP of Field Delivery.

For all I know the guy I just spoke to moves farmland around because after the first 10 minutes of the interview, I felt like I was waist deep in cow pies. I heard all about best practices and business elements that define world-class performance levels. I learned that this company is striving to be the best in their market-space, and looking to impove their metrics in customer satisfaction.

And their website is even better. These guys provide ECM and BCM solutions to help manage mission critical content. They also deliver processes to better manage highly scalable enterprise content and process management platforms using the full spectrum of connectivity by automating and streamlining critical tasks.

Right.

It's not that I don't know what they're saying, I just wish that I could write for them using easily understood language that doesn't make everything sound like a conversation between Captain Kirk and Bill Gates.

L'Shana Tova

I just wanted to wish all my Heeb brothers and sisters a very sweet and happy New Year.

I always go into a very thinky state during The Ten Days of Awe (the period between Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur). It's the time of year when I reflect on my strengths and weaknesses, look at my accomplishments and mistakes, and try to figure out how to make the new year a better year for me and all the people I love.

So, if you're being a thinky Heeb like I am, L'Shana Tova Tika Tevu. If not, at least it's football season.

Snacks On A Plane

Can I just say how annoying it is that airlines don't feel the need to offer us even the tiniest bag of pretzels anymore? And half of what I might want to bring on board as a nosh is now considered bomb making material. No water (that's just plain fucked up), no matzo ball soup, no tapioca pudding, no peanut butter, and no borscht.

Okay, I probably wouldn't want to bring borscht.

So now I'm packing a bunch of snacks that will be horribly dehydrating, and I'll have to chase the flight attendants all over the plane just to get enough water to fill an eye dropper. And, even though it'll feel like I'm flying on Air Sahara, I won't even consider drinking that sludge that comes through the lavatory sink. I think they recycle that from you-know-where.

This is one of the few times I wish I were retaining water.

Talk The Talk Or Walk The Plank

Avast, me salty dogs! In less than a fortnight you, too, can participate in International Talk Like a Pirate Day.

Every year on September 19th crazy people from all over the world spend the day talking, and even dressing, like pirates. And I do mean all over the world. The official website offers pirate expressions in Swedish, German and Chinese. Since I'm about to go on vacation, I didn't want the three of you who read this blog to miss such an important event.

Visit the website and you'll learn how to Captain Hook-up using pirate pick-up lines. My personal favorite is "Yo, Ho! (Ho.)" I guess the second "ho" is implied.

So now I'm wondering what a Jewish pirate, you know, someone like Long John Silverstein, would sound like.

"Arrrrgh! Welcome aboard the Jolly Kvetcher, me heebies. We're expecting a rough crossing, so if your timbers tend to shiver, bring a little sweatah."

The Hissing of Summer Yawns

I know I ranted about that moronic movie "Snakes on a Plane" last month, but the more I read about it, the less I understand the appeal. What's up with all these gross-out movies? I've never had the need to watch a bunch of idiotic teens violate the classic "Don't Go Into the Basement" rule, only to find themselves made into sashimi by a maniac in a hockey mask wielding a set of Ginsu knives.

In "Snakes on a Plane" several characters are offed in grisly detail. Let's see, some are impaled, others lose their heads (literally), and way too many become snack food for the slithery stow-aways. And audiences are, um, eating it up.

Pass the Dramamine.

Personally, I'd rather be forced to watch hours of film strips from my 6th grade science class while stuck on a flight that's endlessly circling O'Hare during a thunderstorm.

Fly the Surly Skies

Okay, this whole new airport security mishegoss is making me very shpilkesy. First of all, I never, ever check luggage. Even when traveling to Europe for two weeks, I pack everything I need in a small roll aboard suitcase and a backpack. Granted, I don't usually take floor-length gownless evening straps or patent leather hip boots when I go abroad (those items are saved for road trips). I figure if I'm running around busy airports or schlepping through Venice on foot with bags in tow searching for my hotel, I don't think a 16-piece set of matching Louis Vuitton luggage, including a steamer trunk, is all that practical.

But now we have to pack gels and liquids in our checked luggage, so my no checking, no hassle travel plans have gone the way of free in-flight meals and extra leg room. And I know it's not all about me, and making my life easier. Trust me, I'd much rather lose my checked luggage on a flight to China and be stranded with just a toothbrush, a clean pair of underwear, and a lame Chinese phrasebook than be blown to bits in midair.

So now I'm thinking, what's next? My fear is that eventually we'll all have to fly barefoot, dressed in nothing but those drafty paper outfits saved for humiliating experiences like a trip to the OB-GYN. And that's gonna suck when I visit family in Buffalo during December.

Shop Till You, Um...Er...

I absolutely abhor shopping. It always reminds me of my mother dragging me to some farkarte department store to shop for school clothes as well as the requisite itchy, uncomfortable outfit to wear to shul during the High Holy Days. I guess I didn't get that recessive gene that allows most women to hear cute shoes calling from afar. About once a year I'll drag myself to the mall if I need something that requires trying on, but if I must shop at all, I prefer doing it online.

Apparently, Danish clothing company, Shaiware understands that it takes a lot more than cute shoes and Euro Trash chic to lure reluctant shoppers like me to their website. They're utilizing the ultimate marketing tool - porn. If you visit the Shaiwear website, you'll find much more than a few bored looking models standing around in trendy outfits. Instead, you can watch them take off each other's clothing, and then perform a well choreographed horizontal hula. (WARNING: Not for the faint of heart or the easily offended.)

Oh yeah, and don't forget to check out the clothes.

Let My People Show

So today we find out from the NBC affiliate in the San Francisco Bay area that there's a guy in El Dorado Hills, CA who saw the image of Jesus on a cooked shrimp tail. Jesus seems to be popping up all over the place.

In the mountains of southern Mexico, locals claim to have seen an image of Jesus on a rock. He's also appeared on a piece of sheet metal at a hardware store, on a fish bone in Oklahoma, on a some guy's plaster wall inside a shower, and two sisters saw his image on wall in the kitchen of their childhood home while they were in the midst of renovations.

So how come we Heebs never see images of Moses on a matzo ball or Abraham on a bagel? And what about Sarah, Leah and Rachael? Shouldn't we see at least one of them on a piece of halvah or in a bowl of stewed prunes?

And I thought we were the Chosen People.

Silent But Deadly

I just bought a Prius. It's the coolest car and has all kinds of George Jetson gadgets that I still don't know how to use. One of the things that fascinates me is the electric motor. Every time I stop the car, and sometimes when I'm moving, it switches from gas to electric mode and goes eerily silent. I can't hear myself driving, and that's really, really weird. It's sort of like I'm running errands under water.

In fact, I'm so stealthy that pedestrians don't hear me either.

So I was thinking that maybe the Prius should come with some sort of warning accessory that's not as rude as a car horn. I don't want to scare the crap out of someone when I'm in stealth mode, but I don't want to flatten them either. I'm considering a few options for my early warning system. There's always the pleasant, bucolic clang of a cow bell, or I could play "Bohemian Rhapsody" on the kazoo, or maybe turn the bass waaaay up on the sound system and blast a little Tupac. Or Carl Kasell.

A Little Schmaltz

The moon must be singing Barry Manilow tunes to my ovaries again because I've been feeling kinda schmaltzy lately. But I went into full-blown PMS mush when I read a quotation from an interview in Oprah magazine where Oprah and her best pal Gayle defend their close friendship and insist that they're not gay.

To be honest, I don't give even the tiniest bissel dreck whether Oprah is straight, gay or having a hot polyamorous relationship with a herd of goats. But when she describes the way she feels about her closest friend, I gotta admit I got more than a little verklempt.

"I understand why people think we're gay. There isn't a definition in our culture for this kind of bond between women. So I get why people have to label it - how can you be this close without it being sexual? How else can you explain a level of intimacy where someone always loves you, always respects you, admires you? Wants the best for you in every single situation of your life. Lifts you up. Supports you. Always! That's an incredibly rare thing even between the closest of friends."

Oy, that Oprah's like buttah. Talk amongst yourselves.