Merry Pesoch, Ya Filthy Animals. And a Happy Rosh Hashanah

Happy Passover, Jews and Jewesses! And to our Christian friends, happy Good Friday! Enjoy your meats! Muslims, happy Friday. Buddhists, I hope you re content and on the eightfold path to enlightenment if that is what is best for you. Shintoists, just try not to piss off any badger spirits or anything.

The little book every person gets at the Passover sedar is called a haggadah. ("Huh-gáh-duh.") This year, prolific author (and prolific Hebrew) Jonathan Safran Foer released his own version with updated translations and explanations and bits and pieces, called–easily enough–The New American Haggadah.

Frankly, for a book that includes a section on how to explain Passover traditions to "the simple son," the book seems unnecessarily long. And pricey, but that's a bit of a negative stereotype rearing it's head.

Except it's really accurate. About a week ago a woman refused to buy such a book in our store because the online price was cheaper. Yes, but it's cheaper to compensate for shipping. And you won't get it for a week. Buy the one shipped here and transport is done and paid for by the list price. NOPE WE DON'T WANT TO THINK ABOUT THAT NO SIR.

A few days later I personally met a gentleman who asked for the "New American Haga-duh." Like a young mensch's stuttering, puttering, 1940s exclamation at the site of a pretty lady, right before he turns into a wolf in a Zoot suit and his eyes bugged out of his skull: "Haga-uh haga-duh haga-duh!"

Considering my family has the most gutter-trash dialects of both Italian and Yiddish, I was still puzzling as to whether he simply had an off-pronunciation or wasn't Jewish by birth, when he answered the question for me by asking–unprompted and without any visible cue or remote cause to imply such a possibility–if by any chance the large and hardbound book happened to be on sale.

Bravo, fellow Israelites. You have successfully managed once again to portray us as Venetian merchants even more negatively than Al Pacino. Thanks loads.

"Bitches love a floppy hat!"
"That they certainly do, my friend. That they do."

Teen Fiction Is the Stock Art of Literature, Except When It's the Stock Art of Stock Art

I came across two books today. The first when I was asked if it was available in paperback. A little girl handed it too me. The second book came just three minutes later, off a cart of brand new books that had yet to see a shelf.

The first: "You Have Seven Messages" by Stewart Lewis. Here's the GoodReads page.

The second: "These Girls" by Sarah Pekkanen. (Its GoodReads page.)

One by a man with two first names, the other by a woman with a surname that makes one wonder why she didn't just pick up a nom de plume. And in her defense, "These Girls" is listed as adult fiction, but I would surmise in the same way that Baz Luhrmann's 1996 Leo DiCaprio vehicle Romeo + Juliet was an adult movie made for adults and not for teenagers but for really adult adults.

But maybe I could be forgiven for thinking they are the same book.



No, these aren't the same book at all.

Not in the slightest. Nope. Uh-uh.


However, yeah, the back covers both credit GettyImages after cover designers and photographer.

Apparently, in book publishing, this is nothing new.

Oddly, it's the teen fiction on the left that I feel has the better design, with sharper focus and more saturated color.

Plus, with the higher contrast, the girl doesn't look like she has a big square crease in her ass. No teenage girl wants to empathize with a flat-butted protagonist. Although it shows the woman's foot, and we all know that pretty women hate their feet.

Dino Lincoln Will Emancipate Your Face Off

Sometimes I love my work. At least insofar as whatever seeded this notion in my brain case.

Jewish Holidays: Explained!

"So, yes, basically, our existence is God's version of Jackass.
Or Fear Factor. It depends if Joe Rogan is busy or not. But he never is."

Since I can't find the explanation I was sure I had already written on this very topic–despite prodigious searching I should say–I can only surmise that my burgeoning, bourbon-fueled artistic insanity is clouding my judgement. Thus, I present:

A Layman's/Gentile's Guide to Jewish Holidays

Passover - This is the one where we celebrate that time we were enslaved, and then God performed miracles to get us out of slavery, then killed all those people who were coming after us and it was through divine intervention that we didn't die. The happy ending is that we were kind of ungrateful and then wandered a desert for 40 years before God helped us kill and rout everyone who had moved into our house since we were originally enslaved.

Chanukah - The one celebrating that time some people we threw out of living in our old place came back and tried to kick us out, and we narrowly fended them off, but they trashed our temple and it was only through divine intervention that we didn't die, and then God let our lamps go long.

Purim - That one time we miraculously caught the guy trying to kill/enslave us beforehand, and didn't die.

Yom Kipur - High Holy Days, where we atone for all the past year's sins, and thank God that we haven't died before doing so.

Rosh Hashana - New Year's Day, where we finish Yom Kipur, read the last page in the torah, and then rewind it back to the beginning and reread page one, thankful to God we have lived another year but solemn in our understanding that we could die at any moment.

Sukot - Jewish Arbor Day. We celebrate a bountiful harvest and remember years past when instead of plenty, we starved to death en masse, and thank God that we ourselves haven't died.

Bar-/Bat-Mitzvah - Batman's 13^th Birthday, where Jewish children become legal adults and, traditionally, were expected to leave home, get a job, and start a family, because we didn't really expect to live all that long. Traditional gift is money, because we really need to to get out and make more little Jews in case the rest of us die suddenly, which, again, is to be expected, really.


Basically, we're just celebrating no one successfully exterminated our culture. Every time.

Look, we get a lot that a lot. Lot of genocide. You can pretty much trace our migratory patterns by it.

By which I mean you literally can do just that:

Israel from Eastern Europe (Holocaust)
Eastern Europe from Russia (Pogroms)
Russia from Western Europe (Spanish Inquisition)
Western Europe from Holy Land (Muslims)
Holy Land from Desert Slavery (Egyptians)
Desert Slavery from Holy Land (Also Egyptians)
Holy Land from Desert Slavery (Babylonians actually let us go)
Desert Slavery from Holy Land (Babylonians were kind of dicks at first)
… (Repeat several times. Reason: Palestinians/Philistines/other not-Jews)

Before that, it's pretty much just God trying to kill us then sending a couple of us to live somewhere else. Lot, Noah, Abraham, Adam & Eve.

We're just really, really glad we're not dead yet.

Moving Supplies | What Do You Need to Furnish Your New Apartment?

Remember: It's not "dumpster diving"
if it wasn't technically in the dumpster.

Let's consider this an advanced class.

If you're anything like me, your parents have been buying you "presents" for years encouraging you to get the hell out of their living space. Stainless steel cookware, Chef Tony Miracle Blades, your own spice racks. Alright, your parents are probably nothing like mine. But I've got the basics down, so let's talk about making your new place swank instead of a crash pad.


Artwork

First off, you're going to want some pop art for your hallway and possibly living room. Prints are preferable, but movie posters are acceptable if more than 20 years old, vintage, and/or signed. Everything must be framed. This is not up for discussion.

Large photography may also adorn the living room itself. Try to avoid architectural landmarks, especially within your own city. This is the yuppie equivalent of going to see a band wearing that band's t-shirt. Don't be that guy.

Linens

You want to be classy, but not ludicrously baller. Spring for much higher thread count in your cotton sheets than you would otherwise. Your skin, and preferably someone else's, will thank you for it. Jersey sheets should be worn like gym clothes: not when you're expecting company.

Likewise, stay away from the red satin sheets. Black works just fine, and can be played off as a joke. Plus, they're really, really cool in the summertime, which will save you on A/C. An any-occasion alternative can also be found in bamboo bedding. Bamboo fiber is sweat-wicking, cool to the touch, and highly breathable. You may find yourself needing a blanket in the middle of the night.

Furniture

Bed: Full size or larger goes without saying.

Couch/Chairs: Sets will be tightly packed, bean bags are unacceptable unless they are Sumo sized. Cheap alternative: Ikea. Cheaper alternative: scope out your new neighbors. Odds are somebody has a chair or two that doesn't fit in their new pad. Snatch it off the street before the weather or hipsters take it and you just leveled up your living space.

Kitchen

You're already going to have a stove, sink, fridge, and microwave. Improve upon this with a toaster over for class, individual pizza stones for healthier snack foods, and as stated above, a quality set of knives with a solid cutting board. Throw in a sizable wok and at least two glasses of each of the following:

Red wine
White wine
Champagne flutes
Highball
Tumbler

Miscellany

Lastly, always remember to remove sex toys, drug paraphernalia, embarrassing photos, and any other incriminating evidence from your parents' home in the move. It'll be a lot less embarrassing for Cliff the rough-and-tumble, seen-it-all laborer to find a box of bongs, black dildos, and pictures of your ex than your mom cleaning out your closet.

Just label that box "Tax Forms" or something.

Of Age and Olfactory Awareness

Old people smell like baby powder. It weirds me out. Am I going to smell like baby powder when I'm a geriatric? I don't think it's a natural side effect of aging, I have to believe it's a fragrance that's added willingly, like deodorant or perfume/cologne.

Perhaps it's just a sensibility from a now bygone age. Baby powder is a "clean" smell, like Ivory Spring or Dove. Maybe this is just what "good and clean" smelled like in 1978 and these folks have decided to stick with it. The fact remains, though, that I've come to associate it with the grungy-but-antiseptic lifestyle of my grandparents and, in fact, most people who were over the age of 65 when I was under the age of 12. This has resulted in a Pavlovian response whereby whenever I smell baby powder, I anticipate the elderly, decrepit, senile, and a slow, withering death. Lovely, really.

Of course, if this is the case, that implies that when my generation is in our 80s, we're all going to smell like AXE body spray.

Equally choking, but, hey, as long as it doesn't remind young people of adult diapers, I'm pretty okay with this.

The Better Mousetrap

"You can't imagine…
the things I've seen."

My cat's become a veritable mouser. He caught one that fell out of our hallway closet a few weeks ago, but this past week he caught and killed three more in just two days. (Alright, one suffocated in the tuperwear my mom eventually trapped it in and I'm pretty sure one drowned in his one blood, but still, all dead as direct result of feline aggression. That's like two counts murder-1 and a man-2.)

We started thinking about laying out traps. They haven't evolved much, but if you pay extra you can get one of those non-lethal little cages or sticky-pads. As cliched as it is even today, the adage seems to be true, you really can't create a better mousetrap.

That seems like bullshit. Surely, someone can create something more efficient or more effective without compromising the simplicity of the tool. The guillotine and short-drop gallows were both improvements over remarkably similar devices. Why not the mousetrap?

Probably because I keep a cat. It's self-cleaning, can literally sniff out mice wherever in the house they may be, hunts them, adapts to the situation–truly, a thinking tool–and is near 100% effective. Hell, if you don't clean out this trap fast enough, it even disposes of the carcass itself half the time.

Still, I don't have to feed those little wooden spring traps. Or clean their poo.