Frummies and Bears, why must you torment me so?

The Falcons are a good team. No one denies this. And yet once again, there were the Bears, with an opportunity to pull out a quality win. And there was Sulkypants, throwing the ball to the other team. Seriously, we could have just kept the Sex Cannon, and had a whole lot more fun, and more draft picks, and more of the sexy.

We've had years of ridiculous luck - 2003, when we had an actual streak of overtime victories via interceptions returned for TD's comes to mind. This is not that kind of year. Urlacher's out, Mike Brown is long gone, and some guy named Roach is playing in the middle. And where's Matt Forte? Can someone let him know that the season started? Because it's going to be a race to see who kills him first - Bears fans, or fantasy football players. Someone tried to convince me this year that Forte should have been drafted first overall, ahead of Adrian Peterson, or Peyton Manning, or Drew Brees. That person is now immersed in alcohol as he comes up with a way to tell his wife that they lost their life savings betting on a Bears running back. So good luck with that, buddy.

Have I ever told you why I hate frum Jews? Not all of them - there are at least 4 that I quite enjoy. But the rest are a big pain in my butt, and often capable of performing ridiculous acts of chillul Hashem - that would be besmirching G-d's name, and embarrassing the Jews, for those non-Ivrit speakers. 2 quick stories, all of which have happened in the last week:

1) We're looking to buy a house, because I want to have a lawn so I can yell at kids on my block who walk on my lawn, and I can say to them "hey! Get off my lawn! And go get a haircut, hippies!" Seriously, there are hippies everywhere in Pittsburgh.

Anyhoo, we found this house in a great location. Unfortunately, it's a complete dump, with wallpaper peeling off the walls, unfinished basement, a kitchen that looks like it was imported from the nearest crack house, and really, really ugly paint jobs in every bedroom. It's owned by a frum family with 5 kids and another on the way, and they have used that house, I mean in every way. But it's got potential, and a great back yard, and again, the location is fantastic.

So we go to make an offer. And we're working with an agent because, despite my experience as a real estate attorney, I don't actually know anything about buying a house. We give them a call to let them know to expect our offer, and they want to sit down with us first. We go to the house, and they proceed to try to talk us out of using an agent. "What do you need an agent for?" the husband says. Which, fine, I understand they don't want to add to the cost of the transaction, and I appreciate that.

But then, he says "which shul do you go to? Oh, I know so-and-so there, we're very close! Why don't we just work this out, the two of us?" See, because I was wearing a kippah, so obviously I don't need any sort of real process. In fact, why don't we just knock back some Slivovitz after kiddush, and we can bang it out before Mincha? Who needs an appraiser, or an inspection? Not us, because we're all Jews here, right?

False. We offered 40,000 under asking price, because when you're trying to sell your house for twice what you bought it for less than 5 years after you bought it, and it's blatantly clear you didn't put any money into it, then you don't get the courtesy of a real offer. Ass.

2) Every year, Maccabi Tel Aviv plays an exhibition basketball game at Madison Square Garden against the Knicks, as a fundraiser for Migdal Ohr, an Israeli orphanage. And it's great, and lots of Jews go, and Maccabi always loses.

Evidently this year, though, the coach wasn't ok with losing. In fact, he had some issues with the way the refs were calling the game, and they T'd him up, and ejected him. Usually, coaches in that situation will, you know, be ejected.

But not Pini, no sirreebob. He decides this doesn't really apply to him. He's not going anywhere. Security, the refs - no one can convince him. Finally, Rabbi Grossman, head of the orphanage, comes down out of the stands. Great! The rabbi will be the voice of reason.

Not quite. And maybe I should be more upset with Gershon than I should with the rabbi, because let's be honest, Gershon was a lot more embarrassing to the Jews than the rabbi was. But to me, the rabbi's actions were prime examples of what some rabbis do when confronted with non-Jewish rules: they try to explain why Jews aren't subject to those rules. Whether it's tax laws, or child abuse, or keeping Shabbos instead of rioting about a parking lot, or assaulting women in pants, or making women sit in the back of the bus (if they're allowed on the bus at all), or exploiting illegal immigrants to overcharge for kosher meat, there has been a really awkward and embarrassing string of rabbinic activity in the last year or so.

Maybe it wasn't fair to preface this by saying how much I hate frum Jews. Instead, I'll say that I really hate the disturbing absence of holiness in our religious leadership, and fear for the future of religious Judaism.

Oh, and that Pini Gershon is a douchebag.

Jeff Reed you're my hero!

I have to admit, I was worried.

Living in Pittsburgh, I am awash in Steeler fanaticism. Everyone, from checkout ladies to Catholic priests, wears a Steelers shirt the Friday before games. And they are not afraid to shout out at random cars "LET'S GO stilLERS!!" which is unnerving if you're trying not to run people over. So forgive me if I was a bit worried about the Bears having to play what I assumed to be an unstoppable juggernaut. After all, the Steelers came back and beat the Titans the week before, right? And the Titans are really good, right? Add to that all those Sulkypants interceptions against the Packers, and Urlacher's absence, and you've got what looked to be a recipe for disaster.

But I forgot something.

On Rosh Hashannah I pray. I pray HARD. Because if you only go to shul once a week, and spending most of those hours mentally undressing lady parishioners, you have to use the High Holy Days to build up some credit. And I took a bunch of crap from my in-laws about the impending blowout, so I was feeling especially uneasy about hearing how the Bears blew it for the next three years, until the two teams play again. So I used my time with the Lord to pray for a victory.

Here's how the conversation went:

Me: Oh Lord, Ruler of the Universe, great, mighty, and possessing fantastic mystical superpowers, please hear my prayer.

G-d: Yep, you've got the G-Man on the telephono.

Me: King of kings, verily I seek your beneficence.

G-d: Righto. What can I do you for, brosephus?

Me: Please guide the Chicago Bears to victory this very day against the Pittsburgh Steelers.

G-d: Dude, it's totally Rosh Hashish. You sure you want to use your lifeline on this? Because I gotta tell ya, you skate on thin ice as it is. You may need that favor for, oh, I don't know, that time in May when you lose your wallet at the Pirates game.

Me: I didn't lose my wallet at the Pirates game.

G-d: Man, you're talking to the Master of Disaster! Literally! You think I give a hoohaa about your idea of time? I'm talking NEXT May. The future, mano e mano. I totally blew your mind just now, didn't I?

Me: Truly I am in awe.

G-d: Bet your ass. So, what's the dilly-yo?

Me: I'm still going to have to pray for the Bears to whup the Steelers this afternoon.

G-d: Ya, I'm gonna say...nay. Sorry, bra.

Me: Come on! Just do me this one solid and I'll be all about the praising and the supplications this year.

G-d: You do realize I can tell when you're lying, right? Look, I'm not saying the Bears will lose, I'm just saying it won't be a blowout.

Me: I don't care. I just want Child to understand the glory of rooting for the Bears.

G-d: Right. I don't think you have to worry about that one being a football fan.

Me: What's that?

G-d: Uh, nothing. Forget it. So, one Bears victory, coming right up. Ooh, that reminds me about something I owe Jeff Reed...

Me: Oh, and can you throw in a Packers loss? A loss at home to the Bengals would be hilarious!

G-d: No problem, I fucking hate that team. Fat bastards, the lot of them. Plus, did you know that Aaron Rogers has a two inch penis? True story.

So there you have it. G-d loves the Fancypants, and hates Jeff Reed. Which is good enough for me. Oh, and

OK, fine: Jay Cutler, aka Crybaby Sulkypants, also played an instrumental role by taking what the defense gave him, and throwing 2 touchdown passes. Kudos, sir.

Why is everyone trying to kill my Judaism?

Jews are under attack from all sides, at all times. Whether it's Nazi zombies, or zombie Nazis, or Hugo Chavez and his Venezuelan Anti-Semite Tumblers, or the Inquisition -



there's always someone out to get us Chosen folk.

Recently, though, there have been slings and arrows from unlikely places, namely: Amazon.com, and the rabbi at my synagogue.

Amazon, a glorious Eden of cheap books and the most random crap available for purchase outside a flea market, has come out with Kindle 2: The Forest Strikes Back.
The whole "library in a tablet" thing is fantastic, six days a week. But on the holy Sabbath, when I'm trying to avoid having an Important Conversation with Wife, or trying to be distant to Child so he'll learn to constantly strive for my approval and therefore go on to become wildly rich and successful, I need to read books. And since G-d Himself banned electricity ("Thou shalt not flip the light switch." "Lord, what's a light switch?" "Silence, heretics! Go get Me some more veal!") I can't be reading some computer thingy on Saturdays.

"But what about the trees, and the environment? We need to love Mother Earth!" Ordinarily, yes. But Reading Is Fundamental, or do you hate literacy as much as you hate G-d?

So Purim is coming up. It's a very spiritual holiday, filled with laughter and joy and binge drinking. It's like Halloween and fraternity rush week all rolled into a tidy vomit-filled package. I have the additional pleasure of speaking fantastically inappropriate truths while I'm drunk.

"Wait wait wait. You are SO in a relationship. He just happens to be marrying your suitemate in the summer. But you've got plenty of time before then."

And that's the one I can remember. Imagine the hilarity of the zingers I've forgotten!

Well the rabbi at my shul wants to take that all away. He's very much against all drinking on Purim, not just the excess. This, despite the Talmudic obligation, and the plethora of other sages who say that even if you don't get drunk, you should have a little, you know, just to ease the pain.

But no, not at my shul. This is the pull quote from the e-mail bulletin: "Please remember that ________ is alcohol-free on Purim and is always smoke-free. That includes inside the building and anywhere on the grounds. Anyone found violating that policy will be escorted out of the building and off the grounds by the security staff."

First of all, there is no "security staff." There's the rabbi, and the assistant rabbi, and some larger high school kids. Second, alcohol-free?? So all the kiddush wine, and the kiddush club whiskey and vodka stash, that's all being poured out on the street, Elliot Ness-style, right before Purim? I think not. Let's not be reactionary here. Just step away from the bottles, and go read about kinky Esther and her feminine wiles.

Let's leave Egypt, so we can scrape our ovens with our toothbrushes!

I know this will be 2 Jewy posts in a row, but since it's the week of Passover, I think I'm entitled. I have an appropriately bizarre interview with Wife that has to be posted, but first it must be polished to a high sheen, then typed by my helper monkey. Don't think you're going to earn your dinner just by throwing feces and grinning, Rainbow!

Downstairs, as I write this, Wife's mother is banging her head against the Great Wall of Passover. Desperately she tries to clean her kitchen, scrubbing and soaking and boiling and swiffererering. I'm sure some rabbis will commend her, and I'm positive it'll go in her mitzvah checklist, kept by Herbert, the Accountant Angel (sure, you mock him, but Heaven has been in the black for three thousand years. Beat that, Purgatory! Your balance sheets are a mess! Hahahahahahaha!).

But in the end, through all the cleaning and removing by hand the dill from her famous chicken soup, is her Passover any more fulfilling, any more enjoyable? Sure, she wins the OCD category in her local Hadassah chapter's annual awards. And there is indeed a trophy. But, as Mother of the Fancy Pants likes to say, "G-d is sitting up there laughing His omnipotent ass off." I understand the laws, the requirement of eradicating leavened materials from the home. And she does a super job, as do most mothers - because let's face it, there are few men with the patience or inclination to scrub an oven grill until it shines. Who do you think came up with all the loopholes? But why does this holiday turn everyone into Lady MacBeth (and no, I won't quote the line for you. If you don't know what it is, go back to high school, or learn to read. Neanderthal.)?

So, in honor of my mother-in-law, I hereby suggest the following. If

1) you are the principal preparer of the Passover home;

2) you are hosting at least one seder;

3) you are preparing more than 4 recipes that are over 40 years old, one of which requires you to reach into a boiling pot of broth and squeeze out the fresh dill that has been soaking therein for the past 6 hours; and

4) you have a cleaning lady, but you don't really trust her work, so you do the entire house yourself anyway,

you don't have to celebrate any other holiday all year. No fasting, no shaking the fruits and veggies, no sitting in the hut. Because if you're going to blow one holiday out of all proportion, it should cover the rest of the year.

Have a lovely 8 days of constipation and leftovers, my glorious 5 readers.

Now I'll have even more to confess

Today the Vatican announced that they had come up with some more sins.

I don't know what they mean by "genetic manipulations," or whether "drug use" includes alcohol and smoking, but I had some other suggestions for sinful behavior that might draw some more attention to what is already a supercool, ultrahip religion:

- Insulting the Pope's hat. I'm sure the big guy is sick of having to wear it, and even more annoyed with people calling him "Penis Head" behind his back. Come on, that's not just me, is it?

- Dwarf tossing. Simply to make it more exciting. Adding the extra rush of offending the Lord might really make it take off as a sport.

- Not tipping. Wife insisted I include this, having worked in the service industry and suffered from terrible tipping practices. "It's 20%, or you may as well throw your drink in your waiter's face, because that's what you're doing anyway."

- Double parking. All you New Yorkers are going to hell.

- Witchcraft. I know it's already a sin, but it's a popular one, and Catholics can renew their ongoing feud with the Wiccans. For we Jews, it's always fun watching the Church persecute some other undeserving group. Two religions, both flamboyant and edgy, with heavy emphasis on cloaks and dog collars? This will be so exciting we could sell tickets.

- Marital sex. And yet procreation is still a prominent commandment. Try and unpack that, believers.

- Metaphorical cannibalism. "Blood and body of Christ?" That's wine and crackers, people. It's a wussy copout, and real cannibalism is a new daring way to win back the youths who are always looking for the Xtreme!

- Loud music. Just because you're reaching out to the kids with one hand doesn't mean you shouldn't smack them down with the other. Remember, you're the Catholic Church.

- Going to Mass in jeans. It's just rude. Jesus would so not appreciate it.

- Long hair on men. Admittedly Jesus looks a little too hippy-ish in hundreds of old paintings, but no one is confusing him with some 12-year-old with nicer curls than Salma Hayek. Especially not any priests. Cut them some slack, would ya?

- Wimples. You're married to the Lord, you're not dead. Show off that holy hot bod. Who doesn't love sexy nuns?