Thursday, June 12, 2008
How Do You Say "Kosher" in Swahili?
I tend to discuss things that piss me off but the truth is that many things make me happy. Mom having dinner for me when I get home. My girlfriend wearing those form-fitting black jeans I so enjoy. Attending a screening of the Battlestar Galactica season finale two days before it airs on TV followed by a Q&A with the cast and creator of the show. Then there are opportunities I find to make an awkward situation even more awkward, either by accident or on purpose, such as loudly inviting Starbuck to come sit next to me, with no success, at the aforementioned screening, leading to maniacal stare-downs from rabid fan boys around me, as well as my own girlfriend.
But truly, a smile can come from the most inane things that have no significance in the grand scheme of things, but dagnabbit, they're great while they last. Such as the moment I have the privilege to read the following:
Regarding the kashrut of giraffe, remember that the method of slaughter is as critical as whether or not the beast has a cleft foot. So, in order for a giraffe to be kosher, it must be slaughtered under rabbinical supervision in a humane manner, which is essentially a quick slash with a sharp knife to the carotid artery. Therefore, a giraffe killed by a big game hunter with a high powered rifle is not kosher. Now, while this is largely irrelevant concerning giraffes, it IS germane to the kosher-ness of venison. Deer, like cows and giraffes, have cleft feet; but again, a deer shot by a hunter is not kosher. However, your observant venison lovers (and it is a tasty meat) can get farm raised and kosher-slaughtered venison here in the US at a select few high end kosher butchers in places like NY, Chicago and LA. Thought you'd wanna know. By golly I sure did wanna know because when I tag along on a safari with a local synagogue and our jeep breaks down in the middle of the Serengeti, I want to be able to know that myself, as well as my Jewish friends, will be safe to take down a giraffe or two and sap from it every bit of nutrition needed in our desperate hour of need. Brown and white polka-dotted shmear anyone?
No longer shall African beasts be passed over for shrubbery due to rabbinical decrees. I urge the Jewish community to not stop at the giraffe but to look to other animals of the wild. Why stop at the giraffe when the rhino, the meerkat and the warthog remain? Ok scratch the last one.
I don't know about any of you, but when I watch the opening sequence of the Lion King, I don't see a portrayal of beautiful exotic animals. I see a buffet.
3:59 PM
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Tuesday, June 03, 2008
Road Doesn't Rule
As the big move approaches ever so slightly, I've come to recognize yet another advantage to heading off to the Big Apple: I will not have to drive anymore. That means no gas, no car insurance, no traffic, no accidents, no parking tickets and no dealing with extra large bags of douche on the road with me. My job entails a large amount of driving around the "Southland" (Fritz Coleman on Channel 4 gets to say it, why not me?) everyday and as a result...I hate driving now. Last month I drove 595 miles for work alone. That's 5 trips to the gas station in the month of May. To add to that are the embarrassingly large number of accidents and parking tickets to my name and yada yada yada my paycheck means nothing now.
Even though I am eager to give up my car keys, driving around LA does prove to be amusing at times. You drive by commercial shoots, mock tourists in those ridiculous pick-up turned tour trucks, driving on Sunset or Hollywood Blvds. has its appeal at times, but you always run into the prick or twelve along the commute. Usually these characters are fended off with a honk, a finger or a cut off (I'm not proud of this) or you just zen it out and let it happen. However, one such asshat surpassed the levels of douchebaggery known to the streets of LA. On my way to work going north on San Vicente one afternoon, I in the left lane approximately 3 feet behind a BMW convertible in front of me, innocent, as it were, then should dick weasel attempt to swerve in front of me from the middle lane, not once, not twice, but thrice, each time rejected not only by my insistent horn but by the laws of physics that prohibits two objects from occupying the same space at one time, lest they fuse into one object. I, not being at my most mature and composed self, passed the culprit and released from my right hand an appendage, third from the left, third from the right. I am the first to admit that this is not the appropriate way to approach such a situation, but it cannot be helped now. In any case, the same ass mongrel swerves behind me into the left turn lane and we end up next to each other at a red light. We make eye contact. He rolls down his window. I roll down mine. A stench of jackassity fills the air. He speaks first, in all of his over-gelled, Honda Civic, caucasian glory:
"What's your problem??"
"You tried to cut me off three times. There wasn't any room for you to go in front of me."
"BULLSHIT!" And he sped off.
I don't know if his abrupt departure indicated a conceit in fault or just an exercise in cowardice and further jerkocity. I was angry at first but then I laughed at the whole thing. The guy was a standard issue asshole, often found on this planet, frequently in LA. Nothing could be helped then to laugh and move on.
My mood was rejuvenated moments later when I ended up next to a van in traffic on Sunset which read: "Accent Plumbing: Where a flush always beats a full house." An ingenious (or twisted depending on how you look at it) ad man works over at Accent Plumbing, if you ask me. I expect a complimentary pipe cleaning, or whatever it is plumbers do, for that free plug on this prestigious site, Accent Plumbing.
Despite the amusement and convenience provided by having a vehicle, I look forward to leaving that part of my lifestyle behind, at least for a little while. One would think I would be more reluctant to leave my beloved Mustang, in all of its Windveil Blue glory, behind, despite our differences. But truth be told, I'm ready to leave Starbuck behind. I think the time apart will do us some good. And lord knows, the conjugal visits will be amazing.
3:13 AM
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