Huts, Bears and election fatigue

I know, I'm sorry. I meant to post, but then I had this thing, and then my alarm was broken, and I got my foot caught in a bucket, and, well, anyway here I am.

This being the Jewish holiday season there just hasn't been all that much time to get my act together and write something, what with holidays coming every other day, and family flocking in and out. Rosh Hashannah - bam, the Balloon Man and his maiden fair. Succos comes, and the whole Fancy Pants Crew arrives, short one brother and one fiance and one dog. We really missed the dog (and of course the fiance and the brother. What are we, savages?).

Everyone has "their" holiday. Jesus has Christmas, seemingly everyone on my block has Halloween, Brother A shares Thanksgiving with the mighty Chocktaw tribe. Every Jewish mother has Passover, and if you want to share that's fine, just know that by taking their one week of glory you're breaking their heart, and the hearts of every mother who's ever slaved over a hot stove for the brisket you love so much. No, it's fine, take Passover. Here, here's my pancreas, do you want that too? How about my corneas, I hear they're worth lots of money in the black market.

Sorry, it's just that you can't channel a Jewish mother and stop after one guilt joke. You have to keep going until it's a whole thing.

Anyhoo, I've come to realize that Succos is my holiday. My family comes to stay with Wife Child and me, and every year I go out and I build a temporary structure with tarp and poles and bamboo mats. This year I had to get all new material, because for some reason I left my stuff in Boston, in Krazy's basement. Now he has two succahs. Surprise!

Let me say, for the record, that my succah this year was magnificent. The royal blue tarp set off the "holiday" lights perfectly, and the decorations purchased by the Old Rambling Man and the Mac Lady were beautifully done up. The weather held up, and our dining was phenomenal, if I do say so myself.

You may wonder, then, why I have provided no pictures of this glorious structure. That is an excellent question, reader. Give yourself a pat on the back! Round of applause for the astute reader! Huzzah! For s/he's a jolly good fellow, and all that!

Right. So the succah was blown over by a gigantic wolf looking for some piggies.

For all I know that could actually be the story, because I went out on Friday afternoon to set the table for the holy Sabbath, and lo and behold, the succah had fallen over. Tipped right over the table that Wife hates so much because it's huge and ugly. Yanked the nails right out of the 2X6's used as a base. Crushed all the pretty decorations. Sullied the royal blue tarp, which it turns out were actually quite effective sails. Next year we're entering the design into the America's Cup race.

So for next year I'll be taking suggestions on how to build my succah. And if you suggest a Kit, well then you can kiss my ass. I am a man: I have crafted the wheel, and invented fire. I can grow a mustache over the course of seven years. I can open jars with my bare hands.



So I'll use a kit for my next succah. Just as soon as I get my bikini line waxed.

Some of you may wonder why I didn't have anything rageful and hilarious to say about last week's Bears game, and Lovie Smith's squib kick decision. And I have to say, I was a little disappointed in myself for not taking the time. But then today happened, and now I feel like they're useful bookends on this season.

First, Neckbeard is playing way above his pay grade. WAY. What's with all the throwing? And the catching? And the yardage? Maybe it's secretly the Sex Cannon back there, but he's had a lobotomy, which since he's such an idiot in the first place it's actually made him a smarter player, and that's why whoever is under center is so good. Because otherwise, honestly, I have no idea what's going on.

Then there's the defense, the one that gave up the game-winning drive in Atlanta, and 41 points to the Vikings. Atlanta makes sense - three of our top four corners are injured (and yet somehow not Mike Brown, but it is still early in the season), and that's going to put a dent in anyone's Cover 2 defense. But 41 points to the Vikings? another 100+ yard game for Adrian Peterson the Greater? Not going to win many games like that, guys.

Finally, this is the second straight game that Kali Hester has gotten hurt on a return. He is our one reliable offensive threat, and yet Lovie keeps putting him in situations where he gets injured. How about larger pads? Or a gun, Last Boy Scout-style?



Either way, get him some blockers, man.

On a less funny note, I decided not to finish either of the books I was reading these past couple of weeks. Liberal Fascism and The Bulldozer and the Big Tent are so ridiculously biased and focused on right-left that they were equally insufferable. And that's sad, because I like Todd Gitlin. I think he's got great insight into modern media. But when it comes to politics he's just another Republican-hating liberal. Which is fine, I don't like them so much either, but I guess I'm just sick of all the election insanity. I mean, did you see the last debate? Obama is playing from so far ahead it will be a KKK miraKle if he loses. He knows it. McCain knows it. Hell, by this point I'm sure even Sarah Palin has figured it out, although her flow chart's probably written in crayon (sorry, forgot she's a lady. "Written in lipstick." Better?).

The whole debate was McCain trying with his wiggly eyebrows and awful, exaggerated facial expressions to get a rise out of Obama, and it didn't work at all. And do you know why? Because Obama is in the lead, and he's also not a whacked-out former POW who loses his temper at the drop of a hat.

Until, I don't know, there's some book that explains the current stock market train wreck in small words that I can understand, I'm not reading any books on politics. I'm going to read more books like Samedi the Deafness, with weird crazy plots with unreliable narrators who admit to being chronic liars. Fantastic and confusing. I have no idea if I "got it."

Happy 5769. Haha! That's funny, because 57 is a funny number. Because of Heinz, and ketchup, right? Ketchup! Hilarious.