Monday, June 23, 2008
Hulu Updated with Cork Soakers!
I was showing Hulu to my brother Doug and nephew Howie when they were visiting this past weekend, and found that NBC had finally added the Cork Soaker sketch. To understand what I'm talking about, see my original post here and scroll to the bottom for the update.
Friday, June 20, 2008
The Bagel Theory
My cousin Rob in Dallas sent this to me. Although it is making it's way around the internet, I thought it important to track down the original author - Jessica Levine Kupferberg - and have provided some bio info at the end as well as a link to the original post. I have certainly done my share of "bageling" and hope you enjoy the story!
The Beginning of Bageling
It all started when my friend Doodie Miller-- who wears a kippah -- was back in college and suffering through a tedious lecture. As the professor droned on, a previously-unknown young woman leaned over and whispered in his ear: "This class is as boring as my Zayde's seder."
You see, the woman knew that she did not "look" Jewish, nor did she wear any identifying signs like a Star of David. So foregoing the awkward declaration, "I'm Jewish," the girl devised a more nuanced -- and frankly, cuter -- way of heralding her heritage.
This incident launched a hypothesis which would henceforth be known as the Bagel Theory.
The Bagel Theory stands for the principle that we Jews, regardless of how observant or affiliated we are, have a powerful need to connect with one another. To that end, we find ways to "bagel" each other -- basically, to "out" ourselves to fellow Jews.
There are two ways to bagel. The brave or simply unimaginative will tell you straight out that they are Jewish (a plain bagel). But the more creative will concoct subtler and even sublime ways to let you know that they, too, are in the know. (These bagels are often the best; like their doughy counterparts, cultural bagels are more flavorful when there is more to chew on.)
Bageled at Boggle
I suspect that Jews have been bageling even before real bagels were invented. And while my husband and I may not have invented bageling, we do seem to have a steady diet of bagel encounters.
An early bagel favorite occurred when my kippah-wearing husband and I were dating, and we spent a Saturday evening at a funky coffee house with friends. We engaged in a few boisterous rounds of Boggle, the game where you must quickly make words out of jumbled lettered cubes. Observing our fun, a couple of college students at a nearby table asked if they could play too. After we rattled the tray and furiously scribbled our words, it was time to read our lists aloud. One of the students, who sported a rasta hat and goatee, proudly listed the word "yad." Unsuspecting, we inquired, "What's a yad?" He said with a smirk, "You know, that pointer you read the Torah with." Yes, we were bageled at Boggle.
On our honeymoon in Rome, we were standing at the top of the Spanish steps next to a middle-aged couple holding a map. The husband piped up in an obvious voice, "I wonder where the synagogue is." My husband and I exchanged a knowing look at this classic Roman bagel and proceeded to strike up a conversation with this lovely couple from Chicago. After we took them to the synagogue, they asked to join us at the kosher pizza shop. As we savored the cheeseless arugula and shaved beef pizza -- to this day the best pizza I have ever had -- this non-religious couple marveled at traveling kosher and declared they would do so in the future. A satisfying bagel to be sure.
Holy Bagel
In the years since, our bagel encounters have become precious souvenirs, yiddishe knick-knacks from our family adventures in smaller Jewish communities. Like the time the little boy at the Coffee Bean in Pasadena, California, walked up to my husband, pulled out a mezuzah from around his neck, smiled and ran away. (A non-verbal bagel!) Or our day trip to the pier in San Clemente, California when an impish girl in cornrows and bikini scampered over to say "Good Shabbos."
We have been bageled waiting at airline ticket counters, in elevators, at the supermarket checkout. And I myself have been known to bagel when the situation calls for it, like the time I asked the chassid seated a few rows up on an airplane if I could borrow a siddur.
On a recent trip abroad, however, we did not get bageled even once. That was in Israel where, thankfully, there is just no need.
Ultimately, why do we feel this need to bagel? Does it stem from our shared patriarchs, our pedigree of discrimination and isolation, a common love of latkes or just the human predisposition to be cliquey? I maintain it is something more. Our sages say that all Jews were originally one interconnected soul which stood in unison at Mount Sinai to receive the Torah. Now scattered across the Earth, as we encounter each other's Jewish souls, we recognize and reconnect with a piece of our divine selves. The bagel may have a hole, but we bagel in a quest to feel whole.
So the next time a sweaty stranger at the gym says to you, "I haven't been this thirsty since Yom Kippur," smile. You've just been bageled -- adding another link in the Jewish circle of connection.
Jessica Levine Kupferberg was born and raised in Los Angeles. She has a BA in English from UCLA and a law degree from the USC. A recovering lawyer, she is now a full-time wife and mother and a founder of SCY High, the Southern California Yeshiva High School, located in La Jolla, California, where she resides with her husband and children.
Click here to read the original post on Aish.com
The Beginning of Bageling
It all started when my friend Doodie Miller-- who wears a kippah -- was back in college and suffering through a tedious lecture. As the professor droned on, a previously-unknown young woman leaned over and whispered in his ear: "This class is as boring as my Zayde's seder."
You see, the woman knew that she did not "look" Jewish, nor did she wear any identifying signs like a Star of David. So foregoing the awkward declaration, "I'm Jewish," the girl devised a more nuanced -- and frankly, cuter -- way of heralding her heritage.
This incident launched a hypothesis which would henceforth be known as the Bagel Theory.
The Bagel Theory stands for the principle that we Jews, regardless of how observant or affiliated we are, have a powerful need to connect with one another. To that end, we find ways to "bagel" each other -- basically, to "out" ourselves to fellow Jews.
There are two ways to bagel. The brave or simply unimaginative will tell you straight out that they are Jewish (a plain bagel). But the more creative will concoct subtler and even sublime ways to let you know that they, too, are in the know. (These bagels are often the best; like their doughy counterparts, cultural bagels are more flavorful when there is more to chew on.)
Bageled at Boggle
I suspect that Jews have been bageling even before real bagels were invented. And while my husband and I may not have invented bageling, we do seem to have a steady diet of bagel encounters.
An early bagel favorite occurred when my kippah-wearing husband and I were dating, and we spent a Saturday evening at a funky coffee house with friends. We engaged in a few boisterous rounds of Boggle, the game where you must quickly make words out of jumbled lettered cubes. Observing our fun, a couple of college students at a nearby table asked if they could play too. After we rattled the tray and furiously scribbled our words, it was time to read our lists aloud. One of the students, who sported a rasta hat and goatee, proudly listed the word "yad." Unsuspecting, we inquired, "What's a yad?" He said with a smirk, "You know, that pointer you read the Torah with." Yes, we were bageled at Boggle.
On our honeymoon in Rome, we were standing at the top of the Spanish steps next to a middle-aged couple holding a map. The husband piped up in an obvious voice, "I wonder where the synagogue is." My husband and I exchanged a knowing look at this classic Roman bagel and proceeded to strike up a conversation with this lovely couple from Chicago. After we took them to the synagogue, they asked to join us at the kosher pizza shop. As we savored the cheeseless arugula and shaved beef pizza -- to this day the best pizza I have ever had -- this non-religious couple marveled at traveling kosher and declared they would do so in the future. A satisfying bagel to be sure.
Holy Bagel
In the years since, our bagel encounters have become precious souvenirs, yiddishe knick-knacks from our family adventures in smaller Jewish communities. Like the time the little boy at the Coffee Bean in Pasadena, California, walked up to my husband, pulled out a mezuzah from around his neck, smiled and ran away. (A non-verbal bagel!) Or our day trip to the pier in San Clemente, California when an impish girl in cornrows and bikini scampered over to say "Good Shabbos."
We have been bageled waiting at airline ticket counters, in elevators, at the supermarket checkout. And I myself have been known to bagel when the situation calls for it, like the time I asked the chassid seated a few rows up on an airplane if I could borrow a siddur.
On a recent trip abroad, however, we did not get bageled even once. That was in Israel where, thankfully, there is just no need.
Ultimately, why do we feel this need to bagel? Does it stem from our shared patriarchs, our pedigree of discrimination and isolation, a common love of latkes or just the human predisposition to be cliquey? I maintain it is something more. Our sages say that all Jews were originally one interconnected soul which stood in unison at Mount Sinai to receive the Torah. Now scattered across the Earth, as we encounter each other's Jewish souls, we recognize and reconnect with a piece of our divine selves. The bagel may have a hole, but we bagel in a quest to feel whole.
So the next time a sweaty stranger at the gym says to you, "I haven't been this thirsty since Yom Kippur," smile. You've just been bageled -- adding another link in the Jewish circle of connection.
Jessica Levine Kupferberg was born and raised in Los Angeles. She has a BA in English from UCLA and a law degree from the USC. A recovering lawyer, she is now a full-time wife and mother and a founder of SCY High, the Southern California Yeshiva High School, located in La Jolla, California, where she resides with her husband and children.
Click here to read the original post on Aish.com
Thursday, June 12, 2008
Film Review
Once I see the movie, I'm not sure which I will remember as being funnier - "You Don't Mess With the Zohan" itself, or the opening line of A.O. Scott's review in the N.Y. Times (06/06/08):
"Let me blunt: "You Don't Mess With the Zohan" is the finest post-Zionist action-hairdressing sex comedy I have ever seen."
"Let me blunt: "You Don't Mess With the Zohan" is the finest post-Zionist action-hairdressing sex comedy I have ever seen."
Monday, June 02, 2008
When The Chips Are Down . . .
The guy who invented the Pringles potato chip canning system has died. He was cremated. Some of his ashes have been buried in a Pringles can. Don't believe me? Check it out here.
Crocs a Crock? A Mild Rant
Joining millions of other fans around the world, I own two pairs of Crocs and my children each own Crocs as well. For those of you living in a cave, Crocs are essentially rubber/plastic beach footwear available in a wide variety of fiesta-inspired colors. They are anti-microbial, open and airy, easily cared for, and started out with one style a few years ago. They now come in dozens of styles and colors for multiple purposes and also sport "jibbitz" - little iconographic stubs that you can insert into the holes in the tops of Crocs to personalize yours (I keep calling them "giblets").
I usually don't like trendy things for the reason alone that they are trendy, yet I do admire functional items at a reasonable price. Consequently I am a big fan of Crocs, but my respect came down a notch yesterday. A company-owned Crocs store opened in my neighborhood and we went to check it out. Very trendy location, trendy store design, trendy music playing - all of which I can forgive them for. Of course the bins with the jibbitz were swarmed by children like bees to a hive. What I found absolutely annoying was that not a single item in the store had a price on it.
We had come for one specific item for which we happened to know the price, but the lack of pricing on other items dissuaded our efforts to shop for additional purchases. When we asked the fellow at the register why nothing was priced, he said it was intended to have customers initiate a dialog with store employees by asking how much things were.
Who's brilliant marketing strategy was this? I can understand if you have lots of staff roaming the store to answer such questions. Instead, however, there were only the people at the registers who were constantly being interrupted by customers asking about pricing. Not only was this counter-productive in terms of "establishing a dialog," but it took 2-3 times as long to pay for our purchase as the guy who was checking us out always had to think about his respnse to price inquiries, and we felt like he was guessing half the time. "How much are these strapless pump Crocs?" "Uhhh, fifty-five, ninety-five?"
What is even more interesting, is that when Crocs are sold in other retail stores, the MSRP is pre-printed on the Crocs-affixed tags. This means that the company actually had to make up special tags just for the company stores that omit the price.
Guys. Stick with the original image of beach-bums around the world adorning their feet with your product. I don't mind if you expand the original line either, and whoever thought up jibbitz should get a prize. But don't get so full of yourself in the retail environment.
I usually don't like trendy things for the reason alone that they are trendy, yet I do admire functional items at a reasonable price. Consequently I am a big fan of Crocs, but my respect came down a notch yesterday. A company-owned Crocs store opened in my neighborhood and we went to check it out. Very trendy location, trendy store design, trendy music playing - all of which I can forgive them for. Of course the bins with the jibbitz were swarmed by children like bees to a hive. What I found absolutely annoying was that not a single item in the store had a price on it.
We had come for one specific item for which we happened to know the price, but the lack of pricing on other items dissuaded our efforts to shop for additional purchases. When we asked the fellow at the register why nothing was priced, he said it was intended to have customers initiate a dialog with store employees by asking how much things were.
Who's brilliant marketing strategy was this? I can understand if you have lots of staff roaming the store to answer such questions. Instead, however, there were only the people at the registers who were constantly being interrupted by customers asking about pricing. Not only was this counter-productive in terms of "establishing a dialog," but it took 2-3 times as long to pay for our purchase as the guy who was checking us out always had to think about his respnse to price inquiries, and we felt like he was guessing half the time. "How much are these strapless pump Crocs?" "Uhhh, fifty-five, ninety-five?"
What is even more interesting, is that when Crocs are sold in other retail stores, the MSRP is pre-printed on the Crocs-affixed tags. This means that the company actually had to make up special tags just for the company stores that omit the price.
Guys. Stick with the original image of beach-bums around the world adorning their feet with your product. I don't mind if you expand the original line either, and whoever thought up jibbitz should get a prize. But don't get so full of yourself in the retail environment.
Weekend Bushisms
Came back to the office to find these two delightful new George W. Bushisms from Saturday and Sunday. Enjoy!
"It's clearly a budget. It's got a lot of numbers in it."
"I always jest to people, the Oval Office is the kind of place where people stand outside, they're getting ready to come in and tell me what for, and they walk in and get overwhelmed by the atmosphere. And they say 'Man, you're looking pretty.' "
Only 232 days left!!!
"It's clearly a budget. It's got a lot of numbers in it."
--As quoted by Reuters; May 5, 2000
"I always jest to people, the Oval Office is the kind of place where people stand outside, they're getting ready to come in and tell me what for, and they walk in and get overwhelmed by the atmosphere. And they say 'Man, you're looking pretty.' "
--Washington, D.C.; November 4, 2004
Only 232 days left!!!
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