« July 2008 | Main | September 2008 »
August 31, 2008
Best of the Jewish Blogosphere #180
Veronica Lake says: “Can I get Haveil Havalim
in the slammer?”
Gila of My Shrapnel has done a fine job of hosting this week's Haveil Havalim #180 "Please Support me in the Alyn Ride " Edition.
We'd like to thank Gila for including Seraphic Secret's The Terrorist is Still Dead in this edition.
Our next Vice President, Sarah Palin.
She has utterly transformed the dynamics of the race. And the Dems are, rightfully, terrified for Governor Palin is unabashedly Christian Conservative, opposed to murdering babies in the womb, smart, articulate, a mom, wife, hunter, a true pioneering spirit.
And unlike Obama, she has executive experience. Governor Palin has actually accomplished a few important things in her political life.
And, as reported by Carl in Jerusalem, Governor Palin is rock-solid in her support for Israel.
Obama: he's a Junior Senator from Illinois—dead people in Chicago still vote for the Democrats—who's been running for President almost his entire term. A junior Senator with no important or transforming legislation to his credit.
We're talking about a man who belonged to a separatist, racist, Jew-hating, Hamas-supporting Church for over 20 years.
We're talking about a man who cannot be trusted when it comes to Israel.
We're talking about a man who has had, for many years, a personal and political relationship with American terrorist, William Ayres.
So what's BO done in his life?
I'm thinking...
Still thinking...
Oh wait, BO was an, ahem, community organizer—in the 60's they were called Socialist—who got nothing done.
And Biden, well, he's just another long-winded political hack who has the third most liberal voting record in the Senate.
BO's voting record is the most liberal. So much for BO's claims of bi-partisanship.
Let's go to the videotape, and you'll see why Obama's handlers are shaking in their boots.
And though our friend Wolf Howling left this link in our comments section, please, please, please head on over to his fine site where you will be enlightened and amused by his multi-media, virtuosos post: Palin in Comparison.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 06:58 AM | Comments (29)
August 29, 2008
Always Sorry
You know that dopey movie Love Story,where the Ali McGraw, nostrils flaring, says to Ryan O'Neal: “Love means never having to say you're sorry.”
This just might be the dumbest thing I ever heard in my life.
Truth is, I'm always apologizing to Karen. Eagerly apologizing.
“I'm sorry I'm watching The Seven Samurai for the third time this week.”
“I'm sorry I left the kitchen counter top all greasy.”
“I'm sorry that I totally embarrass you with my public pronouncements of endless love.”
Being sincerely sorry indicates healthy guilt, conscience and empathy.
Being in love means you're always ready to say you're sorry.
Which leads me to Project Forgiveness.
Karen and I have decided to accept advertising that is in line with our values. Project Forgiveness is our newest advertiser brought to us by Stephen Leavitt of WebAds, the guiding force behind the Nefesh B'Nefesh International Jewish Bloggers Conference.
Project Forgiveness is a lovely notion for this cyber age. It doesn't cost a dime and they aren't trying to sell you anything.
Just apologize, that's all they want.
Gloria Grahame apologizes to Glenn Ford, The Big Heat, 1953.
Perfect for yours truly who has so much apologizing to do it's an incandescent need at my very core.
The National Jewish Outreach Program is running this program before Yom Kippur. They want to collect a humongous number of apologies and post them on their website. The I've already spent time on the site and I'm impressed by the wide variety of apologies. Really, it makes you stop and think. Here's how to participate: 1. Send in your “sorry” e-mail to project forgiveness. 2. Upload a video to youtube and send in the link. 3. Or snail mail to: Project Forgiveness They accept postcards, emails, powerpoints, art, music, video, anything and everything. I'm sorry if this comes across as a shameless plug, but Seraphic Secret believes in the marriage of the free market and personal passion. Click here http://jump2.webadsisrael.com/?seraphic.NJOPForgive to go to Project Forgiveness.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 08:15 AM
| Comments (10)
A few more photos from our Ateret Cohanim tour of the Old City of Jerusalem. And yup, more colorful doorways. If you have any desire to listen to yours truly talk about, um, yours truly—endlessly and tediously in horrifying Brooklynese—just click here. Last night, Karen listened to the broadcast and said: “Robert, that was an excellent therapy session for you.”
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 07:16 AM
| Comments (24)
I had to get up at 5am in order to daven, eat some breakfast, and guzzle a pot of coffee, thus making myself somewhat coherent. Yours truly cannot listen to the interview. I hate the sound of my own voice, and my thick Brooklyn accent make me ca-ringe. But please, be my guest, knock yourself out.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 12:53 PM
| Comments (12)
Karen and I were led on a tour the old City of Jerusalem by the amazing and articulate Daniel Luria of Ateret Cohanim. If you've never taken an Ateret Cohanim tour, well, you have missed one of the the most important experiences in all Israel. Just the day before, Daniel Luria led Governor Mike Huckabee on the same tour. Our cousins Shani and her husband Assemblyman Dov Hikind arranged and accompanied Mike Huckabee on his tour of Old Jerusalem and S'derot. Shani and Dov were kind enough to arrange for our tour. A few random photos from the Old City.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:14 AM
| Comments (13)
You can listen live through www.israelnationalradio.com. Or you can get some much needed sleep. You better believe that I'll be slurping coffee during the entire conversation. Afterwards there are a few hours when the broadcast cannot be accessed but then you can go to the site and click Judean Eve where you will see hours 1 and 2, downloadable. Seraphic Secret is hour 2. The interview will be up for a week or till Judean Eve tapes a new show. After that she archives it on her own site www.amhanetzach.com- podcasts. We'll be talking about the First International Jewish Bloggers Conference hosted by Nefesh B'Nefesh and powered by WebAds. Judean Eve and I will also discuss Hollywood and its entrenched arch liberalism. I'll plug away at my award winning novel The Hebrew Kid and the Apache Maiden. And don't be surprised if I get all weepy and mushy talking about How I Married Karen. Hmm, maybe I'll even blather on about my love of silent films. Oh, and in honor of the tightly-scripted, zombie-like Democratic National Convention—David Axelrod dare not let Michelle O speak her own words—let's hear from the great Bob Hope on Democrats. Hat Tip: Seraphic Friend, Dr. Maurice Sonnenworth.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 02:17 PM
| Comments (12)
Israel has just released another 200 terrorist prisoners as a “goodwill gesture" to Holocaust denier Mahmoud Abbas. Again. Because all the confidence building measures in the past have worked out so well. The results of this cowardly policy are clear: close to two-hundred Jews have been murdered by terrorists released from Israeli prisons. This figure does not include those Jews who have been grievously wounded and disfigured. This case is even more odious as Olmert released two Arab Muslim terrorists who have blood—a lot of Jewish blood—on their hands. Well, after releasing child murderer Samir Kuntar, why not? As Joshua Pundit writes: Is Gilad Schalit's return from cruel captivity in Gaza part of this deal? Of course not. As always with the Arabs, Israel makes suicidal concessions and the world press labels Israel intransient. The Arabs maintain maximalist positions, and Israel just keeps surrendering blood, treasury and land in the vain hope that the Arabs will eventually give up their genocidal dreams. But why should they? The Israeli left has turned Israeli into the battered wife. No matter how badly she is beaten, it's always her fault. Ironic position for leftists to take, huh? But on the left, compassion rarely extends to Jews and never to Israel. Olmert, Livni and Barak have turned appeasement and surrender into a finely tuned dhimmitude. The Israeli government and their leftist enablers have become the new Judenrat, self-righteous kapos who determinedly keep sacrificing Jewish lives to the chimera of peace. There will only be peace when the Arabs have been defeated, utterly and completely. As America defeated Japan and Germany during World War II. For a detailed analysis of the prisoner release read this paper. Here's what needs to be done: 1. Israel must institute the death penalty as punishment for terrorism. Arab Muslim terrorists aspire to be new Eichmanns. Israel should reward them with that Nazi's well deserved fate. Hat Tip: Soccer Dad.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 12:04 PM
| Comments (5)
Haveil Havalim #179 is up and live, hosted by Yehuda. This edition is shorter than normal. There were technical problems with the submission form. But Yehuda managed to put together a nice list of bloggers who covered the First International Jewish Bloggers Convention Hosted by Nefesh B'Nefesh and powered by WebAds. Thanks to Yehuda for including Seraphic Secret's Moroccan Amen in this illuminating round-up. For those of you who missed the conference or just want to relive the experience again: * You can watch a replay of the live webcast here. Karen and I are finally back in LA, sill assimilating the entire wonderful experience. Thanks so much to the entire Nefesh B'Nefesh organization for all their hard work and attention to detail. We are immensely grateful to the ever patient Stephen Leavitt of WebAds for inviting Seraphic Secret to the convention. It's impossible to imagine all the hard work that goes into organizing such an event. Shame on all those in the blogosphere who selfishly complain and whine about, well, nothingness. I despise ingratitude.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 02:56 AM
| Comments (0)
Shabbos in the Judean town of Efrat, Israel is a deeply moving experience. As the sun falls it gently folds itself into the surrounding hills and valleys. The same Judean hills where Jews have lived, worked and fought since Biblical times. The unearthly light makes a final golden splash. I look around for the SFX (special effects) crew, but no I am face to face with the hand of HaShem. With my brother-in-law, I walk to shul. We are just two, and then a few men approach from another street, several more from another. Suddenly we are dozens converging into one road and approaching shul. It's like that breathtaking scene in producer David O. Selznick's Duel in the Sun, 1946, where director King Vidor exquisitely choreographs over a hundred horseman, at first single and double units riding from all directions, into a seething mass, all galloping steadfastly towards one destination. In every window I see Shabbos candles, hundreds, no thousands, glittering white, yellow, blue and red. It's an awe inspiring sight for the flames gutter in various rhythms creating a mystical dance of light welcoming Shabbos. I count seven Glocks and two M16's. There is, undoubtedly, more firepower in shul, but these men are not vain, wild west gunslingers. Most sidearms are concealed under shirt tails, or, as in the case of my brother-in-law David—who dresses for Shabbos like he's still back in Monsey—his Glock 17 is hiding under his nicely tailored suit jacket. It is comforting to daven in a room with armed and well-trained citizen soldiers. We know from experience that in Israel, it is armed citizens who are the first line of defense against the Arab-Muslim terrorists who have been killing Jews since time immemorial. One of the most irrational and shameful political positions taken by Liberal American Jews is the demand for the abolition of the right to bear arms. If Jews in Europe owned guns there would be several million dead Nazis and their collaborators—and far fewer dead Jews. Out of the corner of my eye I spot Larry, not his real name. We're both from Bensonhurst, Brooklyn, a tough neighborhood even by Brooklyn standards. We attended Brooklyn Talmudic Academy together, a tough Yeshiva even by San Quentin standards. We have been friends forever. Larry's parents are Holocaust survivors and as Larry often tells me, his father obsessed over the fact that so many Jews were unprepared, mentally and physically, to fight the Nazis. “He's written thousands of pages about this,” Larry confides. Thus, it is only fitting and somewhat ironic that several years ago, here in an Efrat supermarket, Larry bravely confronted an Arab Muslim homicide bomber and deleted this piece of human garbage. After shul, Larry and I embrace. We study each others' faces. Yes, we are older, middle-aged, we have children and grandchildren, but we are still our impish and dopey childhood selves. “Nobody lives in the old neighborhood anymore,” Larry says. “Yup, they're all gone.” Jeremy, Hollywood handsome, but utterly unaware of his good looks, is exhausted, but now he's with his friends, boys and girls, making plans to meet later in the warm embrace of David and Elana's home. These are all good religious kids, rock solid in their Zionist ideals. This is the next generation who will sweep away, by sheer force of numbers and conviction, the appeasers, the cowards, the multi-culturalists, and the EU financed Peace Now traitors. Already, over 80% of the officers in the IDF are observant Jews. They will not allow the chimera of a decadent, defeatist post-Zionist mind-set to advance in the land of Israel. Again, Larry and I go over the killing of the terrorist. Details are all important in counter-terrorism. “The Glock is a good weapon when every millisecond counts,” says Larry. There's no safety, which can take precious time away from shooting. You can keep a round in the chamber, then just draw and fire.” Larry totes his Glock in a Fobus speed holster. “What kind of rounds did you use?” “I keep hollow points in the Glock, but my spare magazine has full metal jackets. The day I killed the terrorist, I put him down with the hollow points. Don't want to use full metal jackets in a crowded supermarket, they'll go right through and kill an innocent bystander.” “The Efrat supermarket was crowded?” “Very. Look, the terrorist was here,” Larry demonstrates using his body and mine, “and behind him were several women and children.” “How close were you to the the terrorist?” “About fourteen feet.” I shiver. Most gunfights, contrary to popular mythology, take place within seven feet. Fourteen feet can seem like a yawning chasm when the adrenalin is pumping, innocent bystanders are all around, and a determined terrorist has his finger on the detonator. “The full metal slugs would have gone right through him and there's no telling...” Larry's voice trails off. My childhood buddy is a sweet man, a devoted husband, father, and grandfather. There is no bravado in Larry. He's fine with killing the terrorist, but it does not define who he is. Me, I'd write and produce a self-glorifying movie, play hero on talk shows, try and cash in. It's time to go home. It's time for leave taking. There is an entire culture and religion bent on eradicating Israel and Jews. We are so few; we are so vulnerable. But there are, Baruch HaShem, many Larry's. Larry and I hug. I say: “You're my hero.” Larry chuckles.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 08:12 PM
| Comments (21)
Snap Fingers—You're So Dead! Snick! Someone has snapped a picture of me. I scan the room. ID the Jewparazzi, snap my fingers and point. One of my trusty thugs oozes forward, all crackling menace, grabs the camera, rips out the negative, and then smashes the camera underfoot. Gotta control my image. Gotta keep my face from getting fa-mil-iar to 'da authorities. There's too many lookin' to make me swim with the fishes. That's exactly what happened at the Nefesh B'Nefesh First International Jewish Bloggers Conference—which is way too much to type; henceforth known as NBNFIJBC. Actually, that's a scene from The Godfather, 1972, one of the bestest movies—evuh. And the scene was played by the great Richard Conte as mob leader Don Emilio Barzini. Okay, so I didn't sic my goomba on a fellow blogger, but oh man, that scene just played out in my so-called brain with startling reality when someone—hellooo Yehuda!—snapped my picture. Which is a problem for yours truly. I have this tendency to view movies as a bit more real than, um, reality. Karen, Baruch HaShem, keeps me rooted to the earth. Without Karen I'd spin off into the stratosphere, just another lost soul. There is an architecture to my love and devotion to Karen and it is endless; words and emotions that go on and on, like infinite strings of numbers to the depths of the universe. There's been a certain amount of carefully orchestrated controversy swirling round the NBNFIJBC. Backstory: A notorious apologist for Muslim terror whispered to Haaretz—duh—that the conference was made up of right wing religious nuts. Some Haaretz hack—redundancy, I know—published an article, half of which were lies and the other half not true. To gauge the radical leftist slant of the article, get this: the Haaretz author ID'd Treppenwitz as a resident of “Efrat, in the West Bank.” However, the Haaretz piece nowhere mentions the cities where other bloggers reside. Subtext: Treppenwitz is an evil settler, therefore nothing he says can be trusted. A not so clever blood libel. Haaretz writer will say: I stand by my piece. Or: I'll let my readers decide. The playbook of intellectual collapse and dishonesty. There is no such thing as journalistic objectivity. A writer/journalist/whatever stakes out specific ideological territory as soon as he chooses his subject matter. All the rest are details to support the writer's political world-view. The Haaretz piece does not qualify as journalism. It's a disgrace, a wretched hack job written by a tool of the Israeli left, apologists for Arab terror. The writer should be fired so he can gain employment with Hamas or the PA, pumping out anti-Jewish propaganda, his true calling. As the panelists take their seats at the podium—okay, it's a folding table—the bloggers in the audience crane their necks to finally view the men and women who have been, for so many of us, pixallated words, thoughts and feelings. It's a subtle, Hitchcockian moment of suspense as we in the audience try and fit the physical to the imagined blogger friend. I see Carl of the excellent Israel Matzav for the very first time. A lump rises in my throat for years ago, when our son Ariel Chaim ZT'L was first diagnosed with a brain tumor, Carl was one of the the first people with whom we were in touch. His e-mails were filled with solid advice and genuine compassion. Karen and I have always thought of Carl as a cherished friend. And now here he sits, just a few feet away, and for a frozen moment I don't really care about blogging, I just want to go over and give this fine man a hug. Later, I do approach Carl, reach out to shake his hand. But I'm so taken with emotion that I don't even introduce myself. Startled, Carl looks up at the strange fanboy pumping his hand, worried that maybe he's just met a true and scary stalker. But then he sees my Seraphic Secret sticker and returns my enthusiastic greeting. Memo to Self: 1. Must remember to be more verbal with human beings. 2. This is not, I repeat not, a silent film.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 08:28 PM
| Comments (10)
FADE IN: My friend Treppenwitz AKA David Bogner, his lovely and lively wife Zehava, Karen and I are starving. We don't have time for dinner because we have to get to Jerusalem to attend the First International Jewish Blogger's Conference hosted by Nefesh B'Nefesh and powered by Webads. We are already running late when we discover that the Tunnel Road is closed due to an accident. David says: “We're going through one of the Cousin's villages.” Cousins. That's what we call the Arabs. The Arab village is spread out over several hundred acres and sparsely populated, save for a cluster of dazzling white luxury villas built on the high ground. Such multi-story villas almost always belong to terrorists high-up in the food chain of whatever murderous faction they belong to. Terror pays—very nicely. And U.S. tax dollars help support and prop up these killers, as does current Israeli government policy. Almost an hour late for the conference, we pretty much miss the food. David runs to join a panel while Karen and I manage to find seats in the filled to capacity room. SMASH CUT: After the conference, faint with hunger, David and Zehava take us to Sima's, on Agrippas Street in Machane Yehuda. David, with the voice of a true believer, informs us that Sima's has the best spring chicken in Israel. David is very serious about this restaurant. Apparently there is a competitor down the street and there are those who say that place has the best spring chicken in Israel. David says it's a bit of a religious war between the two factions. Me, I'll eat wood chips I'm so hungry. Before we eat, I mount the stairs to wash my hands. There is a Moroccan mother—her Hebrew accent is distinctively Moroccan—with a brood of children near the washing station. Mom's eyes are painted in blue eye-shadow and her glue-on lashes are a bit on the goopy side. She wears spray-on jeans and a scoop neck blouse that leaves little to the imagination. Leopard print high-heels round out Mom's wardrobe. Her hair is doing that scary Amy Winehouse thing. Not exactly a refined Coco Chanel look. Anyway, Mom is getting her kids to wash their hands with soap and water. Every once in a while she gives one of the frisky pre-teens a light swat, saying “Maher, maher!” Hurry, hurry. I wait patiently for the kids to clear away so I can ritually wash my hands before eating bread. But then Mom sees me, and she firmly orders her children to step back. “Clear away, clear away, the gentleman needs to wash.” The kids, hands dripping with soap, all step back a few paces and looked at me with round, moist eyes. Mom motions for me to step forward. In Hebrew I say: “No problem, let your children finish cleaning their hands.” “No, no, yours is more important, please, sir.” Mom uses the formal Hebrew word, “Adoni.” I wash and Mom carefully tears off a paper towel and reverently hands it to me. I say the b'racha, the blessing. And Mom answers “Amen, amen, v'amen.” Mom makes eye contact with me and gives me the sweetest most lovely smile I have ever seen since, well, since Shirley Temple dazzled American audiences in the depths of the depression. I exchange a long look with Mom. I can't thank her because between the time you wash and say the b'racha, and the time when you eat the bread, one is not allowed to speak. To show my gratitude, I give a formal little bow of the head. I feel like Mr. Darcy in Pride and Prejudice. Mom bows her head too. Bows her head lower than mine. And in that moment I no longer see the bright blue eye shadow, the false eyelashes, the saber-like nails lacquered red as a Chinese vase. I no longer see the unfortunate hair and heels. I feel ashamed of my previous harsh judgment for now I see a truer picture. I gaze upon a fine Jewish woman who loves Torah and Judaism. I see a worthy descendant of the four biblical matriarchs, Sarah, Rivkah, Rachel and Leah. And a few minutes later, I eat the best meal of my life. FADE TO BLACK
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 10:47 PM
| Comments (18)
Mitzvah at High Altitude “We’re having a Sheva B’rachos at seat 24, come on over, okay?” I’m on the Nefesh B’Nefesh flight to Israel and one of the NBN staff members have just invited me and my friend, the great blogger Treppenwitz to help celebrate the sheva b’rachos for a young married couple. Soul by soul, or one soul at a time, that’s the translation of Nefesh B’Nefesh. And oh my, what an appropriate title. For even here at 30,000 feet NBN make sure to take care of all the needs of the new Olim, immigrants to Israel. Treppenwitz and I grab our siddurim, make our way down the aisle, and with scores of others, help celebrate. I am always moved at a sheva b’rachos, but here, in the crowded aisle, as children, like frisky puppies, climb over their parent’s laps and adjoining seats, as cameras flash, catching the chosson and kallah luminous with joy, and as the familiar tunes wash over me, I feel a nugget, like a walnut, trapped in my throat for here is the Jewish people at their very best, a faithful community supporting one another in the performance of the eternal mitzvos . Welcome Home I step into the sunlight, I step onto the land of Israel. I blink at the waiting crowd, hundreds of men, women and children. There are banners welcoming the new Olim. There are unarmed soldiers lined up like an honor guard. all waving Israeli flags. A man grabs my hand, “Welcome home,” and he hugs me. I stammer that I’m not an Oleh, I’m a blogger here to write about the experience, but the kind and generous man just smiles patiently and says, “You are a Jew, welcome home.” I have no clever comeback. My seemingly inexhaustible supply of snappy dialog has abruptly run dry. Over the years I have heard numerous stories about the difficulty of immigrating to Israel. Of course, there are the obvious obstacles: leaving home, getting a new job, being absorbed into a new culture. But always the true horror stories were about government bureaucracy: mountains of paperwork, surly bureaucrats, endless lines at an endless parade of government offices whose purpose was never quite clear. Too often, Olim felt like they were being put through some hellish obstacle course, an increasingly complicated maze designed for rats rather than lovers of Zion. Nefesh B’nefesh does away with faceless and hostile bureaucracy. NBN, it seems to yours truly, is the perfect conservative response to callous big government, an elegant reply to waste and inefficiency. Founded by Tony Gelbart and Rabbi Yehoshua Fass NBN is a deeply personal and powerful alternative to atrophied government, to programs that had global Aliyah steadily declining over the years. Everywhere I turn NBN representatives are calmly going out of their way to provide help, answering questions, resolving problems. Since 2002, NBN has revitalized western Aliyah—immigration to Israel—and brought over 15,000 Olim from the USA, Canada and the UK. NBN help remove financial, professional, logistical and social obstacles for new Olim. Dressed to Kill A few words about fashion and females in uniform. Somewhere in the state of Israel there is a tailor who is making out like a bandit. I mean this guy is a genius. No army in the world issues trousers that ride about three inches below the hips— But every single female soldier at the welcoming ceremony is wearing fatigues that are precisely cut and I’m telling you, I feel like I’m casting a film and my office is filled with gorgeous Israeli women soldiers looking to score a gig in a movie about, um, gorgeous Israeli soldier girls. Look, I work in Hollywood, I know the image business, I am intimately familiar with the hard work of glamor, and there’s one thing I can tell you about the female of the species: You can put her in a shmatte, but she is going to find away to make it work, she is going to make it fashionable, she is going to make herself, well, feminine and purty. And so, thousands of Israeli girl soldiers, with military precision, take their army issue trousers and have them altered—just so. Military analysis at it’s most superficial. Speeches? I’m thinking, oh my gosh, speeches, after an eleven-hour flight? NBN must be kidding. Refreshments are laid out on a dozen tables. Everywhere the NBN staff smoothly move about making sure that the children get something to eat, making certain that all the new Olim have rides to their new homes. In short, making sure that everything runs efficiently, that everyone feels welcome. I sit, exhausted, but strangely elated. NBN founders Tony Gelbart and Rabbi Fass both speak briefly about NBN’s mission. But they are not here to congratulate each other. Nope, they are here to applaud the new Olim. Their words are all about the hope, the ancient love of the land that binds all Jews. I turn to Treppenwitz and say: “This just sweeps away all that post-Zionist poison, doesn’t it?” Treppenwitz says: “If you’re not moved by what’s going on here, then you probably have no heartbeat.” I place my hand over my heart. It's pounding away like a Ginger Baker solo. This is Your Land Treppenwitz nudges me: “Bibi is on his way.” Secret Service agents are quietly fanning out in the terminal. Oh man, talk about central casting. These guys are tall, toned and chiseled. They are wearing those dopey short sleeved safari jacket—call Michael Kors, puh-lease!— with nice fat bulges under their armpits. Hey, just like in the movies, they cup their ears and whisper into their mikes. I’ll be it’s something like: “Hey, Yossie, did ya catch the cute soldier girl with the blond dreads?” I ask Treppenwitz if I can take a picture of the hard guys or whether that bit of fandom will get me shot. These guys actually look, oh, I dunno, like they can do some serious killing and then go out and have a pizza. Treppenwitz says: “Better not.” Hence, no pic of the guys with guns. Bibi Netanyahu enters. The crowd roars. Me: “He’s gonna be the next Prime Minister, right?” Bibi says: “You all come from great countries. The United States is a great country…” I’m nodding my head: Well sure, it’s the good ol’ U.S.A. Bibi continues: “Great Britain is a great country…” I’m like: Eh, not so great. Bibi adds: “Canada is a great country.” I roll my eyeballs: What-ever. Bibi goes in for the kill: “But this is your country!” The soldiers come forward, we all rise and sing the Israeli national anthem, The Hatikvah, The Hope. I never saw Babe Ruth hit a home run. Never heard the crowd roar as the ball sailed over the fence, never saw the faces of little kids as the mighty Bambino lumbered round the bases. But this is what it must have felt like. My heart is stampeding in my chest and my vision is blurred. This is my land and I am home. Look, you know me, I don’t normally kvell—well, unless I’m talking about silent film star Clara Bow—but the conference is going to be a once-in-a-lifetime experience, so drop in. You don't have to be a blogger to attend by webcam. Just click here and register. And if you’re lucky you might catch a glimpse of the legendary Karen. Yup, Karen has landed—on a separate flight. Don't even ask. You can view a webcam of the arrival and opening ceremonies here at the NBN website. More amazing NBN Bloggers: Esther of My Urban Kvetch
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 06:52 PM
| Comments (13)
FADE IN: INT. VIRGIN AMERICA PLANE - NIGHT “So what do you?” I'm on my L.A. to N.Y. flight and I've been pecking away at my computer working on a script. There's a young woman sitting next to me, and she's so obviously an actress I feel embarrassed labeling her so quickly. But hey, twenty-five years in Hollywood and you kinda recognize the profile. I go: “I'm a screenwriter.” “Yeah, what are your credits? Anything big?” This is the part I really hate. Everyone—from taxi drivers to your local plumber—feels they have a G-d given right to your credits. So I have this neat comeback: “You first.” A real conversation stopper. She fixes me with her baby blues and decides I'm a hostile screenwriter. I'm not, I just don't want to hear about her journey from Kansas to Hollywood and how haaaard it is breaking in and by the way, is there a part for her in my next film. Anyway, she jams in her i-Pod buds and grooves away. I finish the scene, decide it stinks, and delete it. Pop Ambien. FADE TO BLACK. INT. JFK TERMINAL 4 - DAY I'm wandering around looking for the Nefesh B'Nefesh table. A letter from the ever efficient and good natured Benzi Klugwalt assured me that Nefesh B'Nefesh will have a table set up and—get this—“you can't miss it,” he says. Benzi does not know yours truly. I can miss an elephant in a Beis Midrash. I flip open my phone, punch in some numbers and: ”Hullo...” Oh boy, he's still asleep. “Benzi, this is Robert Avrech.” Silence. Great, doesn't have a clue as to who I am. Maybe I'm not really invited on this gig. maybe the whole thing was a huge hoax. “Huh?” Benzi moans. “Robert Avrech, y'know Seraphic Secret, the blogger.” “Oh yes, yes.” “I hope I haven't called too early.” It's only 6:30 in the morning. “No, no,” he lies. And Benzi assures me that the Nefesh B'nefesh crew will be at terminal 4 soon, and I should just sit tight. DISSOLVE: INT. TERMINAL 4 - DAY — RANDOM RANT I am appalled at the way people dress to travel. 1. Excuse me men, but wife-beater t-shirts are really low-class. Especially when you have a paunch the size of Sicily. 2. Ladies, I beg of you, please don't display your midriff, not unless you're a size 0, y'know, a nice healthy anorexic. 3. And everybody: what's with the flip flops? Must I look at toes all day long. Besides, what happens if the plane—G-d forbid—crashes and you have to survive on some creepy lost island in the middle of the Pacific. Flip-flops are simply not sturdy footwear when fighting cannibals. DISSOLVE: INT. TERMINAL 4 - DAY Oh joy, a Nefesh B'nefesh official comes wheeling up with boxes all labeled, uh-huh- Nefesh B'Nefesh. Liz Bernstein and I talk, play Jewish Geography, and wouldn't you know it, but she is originally from LA, from my neighborhood. Liz reaches into a box and pulls out one of those convention plastic thingees and hangs it from my neck: Nefesh B'Nefesh Aliyah 2008 I am an official something or other. And my teachers in Yeshiva of Flatbush always said that I wouldn't amount to anything. Nefesh B'Nefesh are really organized. I mean, like totally not-Jewish organized. They set up tables, unfurl posters, and line up water bottles. They have lists, lists of lists, and every single NBN person is smiling hugely. These people love what they are doing, making the Aliyah process as smooth and trouble free as possible. NBN might be a non-profit organization, but it's run like an efficient, but ultra friendly corporation. I have to fill out some paper-work. I'll be back. UPDATE: I'm going to write about Elan Bielsky, 21, who is making aliyah through Nefesh B'Nefesh. Elan is single, from North Woodmere, N.Y. and will be joining the Garin Tzaabar army program. Elan's sister is studying in Israel while his brother Matthew made aliyah with NBN in 2005. The story of Elan's grandfather is being made into a movie starring Danile Craig and Liev Schreiber to be released on December 5th. The movie is called Defiance and is based on the story of the Bielski Brothers who joined together during the Shoah and helped rescue over 1,200 Jews to a nearby forest in Bylerussia. One of the three Bielski brothers, Zus, was Elan's grandfather. Oh, and I ran into old friends from Brooklyn Rabbi Dovid and Frieda Wadler who are making aliyah. Karen and I were friends with the Wadlers when we lived in a one-bedroom apartment in Brooklyn. The Wadlers are making aliyah with NBN, and are luminous with joy. Okay, there's a line I have to join, which will lead me to another line, which, I hope will lead to a line to the plane. Reaching for my trusty Ambien. Goodn night, Gracie.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 07:05 AM
| Comments (12)
I should be packing for my trip to Israel on the Nefesh B'nefesh flight and to attend the First International Jewish Blogger's Conference, but Haveil Havalim #178, The Tu b'Av edition, hosted by The Rebbetzin's Husband, just popped up so now I have an excuse to delay packing. We'd like to thank the Rebbetzin's Husband for including two Seraphic Secret posts: My Infidel Jewish Doctor, and Jihad Against Sexy Fruit & Vegetables.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:44 AM
| Comments (5)
“Robert, explain it to me, I simply don't understand such Jews.” I'm having lunch with a movie/television star. A few years ago he starred in one of the most popular series on network TV. Popular and infamous for its arch leftist agenda. “Must have been hard for you,” I say, “day in day out, being a parrot for their propaganda.” “Hey, it was a great gig. Until they fired me.” “There's no creature as intolerant as a Hollywood liberal.” “I hear ya.” A couple of beautiful women float by trying to make eye contact with the movie star. He doesn't seem to notice. Poor guy, this happens to him all the time. Movie star is a secret Republican, a thoughtful man trying to make sense of nonsense. “I read your article, Help, I'm a Hollywood Republican. That was a brave move, Robert.” I shrug, all false modesty. Actually, it wasn't brave at all. I was just sick and tired of limousine liberals denying the reality of the terrorist threat. Sick and tired of Hollywood's obsession with so-called global warming. Sick and tired of unpatriotic, ungrateful Hollywood, acting as enablers for world-wide terrorism. Here's what I thought: If I don't say something publicly, I'm going to feel like a traitor. After the article was published I was fired from two screenwriting jobs. Both were pay or play deals. It's a measure of how deeply the producers despised me that they chose to pay off my full salary. In effect, paying me not to write. “The thing that I don't understand, Robert, is how so many Hollywood Jews remain active liberals when it's obvious that the Republicans are the party who support Israel. I mean it's just so clear that the Democrats act as shills for Palestinian terrorists. Listen, all the writers on my show, some of the smartest people I have ever met. I mean, off the charts bright. And almost all Jews. Yet when it comes to Israel, they're like rabid. Can you explain that to me?” “The thing is, being smart does not translate into wisdom. All those Jewish writers and producers on your show, clever people, sure, but among the whole bunch, not a lick of wisdom.” The movie star smiles. Wow, his teeth are so white I'm momentarily blinded. “That's good, Robert. Wisdom. I'm gonna remember that one.” And I'm gonna check in with my dentist and see what he can do for me. The Movie Star practically shouts: “Listen, I'm the world's biggest goy, but even I know that Israel is the f----ng shining light of the world!” People turn and stare. Grinning, I go: “You are now an honorary Jew.” “Dude, you have: Made. My. Day.” Karen and I wish all our friends a lovely and meaningful Shabbat.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 10:04 AM
| Comments (35)
“He said what to her?” “Oh yeah, at least that's what I heard and it was like blah, blah, blah.” Offspring #3 is sitting next to me on the couch. The MacBook is all snuggly in her lap as she and a Stern College friend chat via the built-in webcam. Yenta that I am, I lean into the camera and wave hello to Offspring #3's girlfriend. The girls giggle. “Who was that?” “My daddy.” ”Tell your father that I love Seraphic Secret.” Like an anxious puppy, I sit up. Offspring #3 cracks up and goes: “My friend is like obsessed with Seraphic Secret.” I dive back to the computer. Oh joy, Offspring #3's friend now dons a Seraphic Press baseball cap. With such a hat she can conquer the known universe. “What do you like best?” Typical writer, I'm always looking for feedback, desperately seeking praise. Offspring #3's friend is single, female, 20-years old. Hmmm, she's going to tell me that she absolutely adores How I Married Karen. Easy call. She goes: “I love when you write about Barack Obama, especially when you make fun of him. You've convinced me to vote for John McCain.” “Really?” “Absolutely.” In a few days, Offspring #3's friend is flying from the east coast to visit and help hold down the fort while Karen and I are in Israel for the First International Jewish Bloggers Convention hosted by Nefesh B'nefesh. Showered with such praise, I'm suddenly feeling all magnanimous: “You know what, I have decided not to set up the Nanny cam to spy on you guys while we're gone.” Offspring #3 gives me an oh-sure-as-if look, but finally grins and laughs, and her pixallated friend joins in the raucous laughter. They think I'm kidding. “Have you girls registered to vote?” Offspring #3 says: “I filled out the on-line form, now I have to print it out and mail it in.” “Don't forget.” Both girls assure me that they'll take care of the paper work. I'm glowing like a moon, filled with a sense of my blog-power. I'm the Jewish P-Diddy, rocking the vote. I lean back into the lens: “I'm gonna write about you on the blog.” Offspring #3's friend shrieks: “Oh my gosh, I'd love a shout-out on Seraphic Secret.” And here it is.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 10:01 AM
| Comments (19)
“Expensive.” “Oh yes. Beverly Hills expensive. So: I'm escorted by a couple of huge bodyguards into one of the suites and there must be fifty courtiers hanging around. And then I see him, sitting in a chair watching television. Thing is, he's watching two televisions at once.” “The royal Saudi prince.” I'm in shul, talking with a friend, a prominent physician. “Right.” “What was he watching? Oh, please say MTV, and The Playboy Channel.” “I don't remember, sorry. Anyway, I examine the Prince and give a tentative diagnosis. But I tell them that the Prince has to come into my office for a thorough exam. They say no. I have to fly to Saudi Arabia and do it there.” “Cool.” “Not really. Jews are not allowed to set foot on Saudi Arabian soil so I had to go to the Saudi Embassy and fill out special paperwork. I had to show them my tallis and tefillin and get clearance.” “We should call the ACLU, this is outrageous.” “Funny.” “So what happened?” “I'll tell you what happened, 9-11 happened. That's the day I was supposed to fly to Saudia Arabia. I wasn't going anywhere, certainly not to Saudi Arabia.” “Tell me something, how did the Prince get referred to you?” “I have no idea. I asked but they weren't saying.” "Did they know that you're Jewish?” “Oh, yes, absolutely. They insist on Jewish doctors.” I pull a silent movie double-take. “Shut-up.” “No really, they asked me for the name of another physician for another prince but stipulated that the doctor had to be Jewish.” “Why?” “Well, I know they won't go to their own physicians, and some of my best students were Saudis. There are some very fine physicians there. I suspect they're worried about assassination. There's a lot of that going on The Kingdom.” My mind is spinning away in screenplay mode; this has all the makings of a great Hollywood comedy. “I'll bet you got a nice fat fee.” My friend chuckles. “Collecting was a nightmare. I had to schlep to the embassy over and over again and fill out a mountain of paperwork in order to get paid. It took over a year. And then they tried to beat down my fee. They paid just half the bill. I had to go after them for the balance. Can you believe that? “Hey, aren't we supposed to be cheap, at least according to the Jew-haters?” “From now on I stick with my normal patients. The Saudis, never again.“
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 08:43 AM
| Comments (22)
A few observations; 1. We will be told that the barbaric edicts imposed by the Taliban have nothing to do with Islam. Apologists for Islamic terror will assure us that Islam is being “hijacked” by a fringe group who do not represent true Islam. Once again we will be browbeaten with the comforting narrative that moderate Muslims decry this latest Islamic atrocity. 2. To which we reply: If being a moderate Muslim is characterized by total silence and an absence of action against totalitarian Islam, well, these are most certainly not moderate Muslims. Rather, they are enablers of terror, akin to the German civilians who silently stood by and allowed genocide against the Jews. 3. We wait for Western feminists to rise in righteous anger and denounce the Islamo Nazis who proudly commit honor killings, and child-rape. Clitorectomies are widespread in the Muslim world as is the inferior status of women in matters of marriage, divorce and inheritance. The Islamic world wallows in the forced segregation of women. It's a culture designed to make women dependant on men for simple, every day activities. 4. But we know this will not happen. Western feminists, like those who steer Ms. magazine, are far too busy attacking Israel, kvetching about the failed candidacy of Hillary Clinton, painting President Bush as a war criminal, and agitating for the right to slaughter infants in the womb. 5. Yup, Western feminists do have their priorities. Original article here. Hat Tip: Seraphic Friend, David Paulin
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 01:16 AM
| Comments (10)
Jean Peters does a great turn as B-girl—that's code for prostitute—who has the misfortune to get involved with Widmark. Sam Fuller chose Peters for the role over Marilyn Monroe. He felt that Marilyn was child-like, too innocent, whereas Peters had the right combination smoldering sensuality and hardened gutter appeal. At the time Peters was making this movie she was Howard Hughes' mistress. He would pick her up from the studio every day, right after shooting, making sure that she spent no time with anyone else. They were married in 1957, and Peters, a fine talent retired from the screen. Hughes quickly turned into a recluse and the marriage failed. The jewel in this film is Thelma Ritter, an "honest criminal" who has a scene—no spoilers here—that has haunted me since I first saw this film back in the sixties. Ritter was nominated for an Oscar for this heart breaking performance. Check local times.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 03:16 PM
| Comments (2)
Israel is sending 20 million dollars into Gazastan. Here's where the money goes: 1. To an educational system that teaches Jew-hatred. 2. To a death-cult society that elevates the killing of Jews to a religious and national imperative. 3. The money supports terrorist training camps, many built on land where Jews once lived. 4. The Israeli currency pays for the ongoing vitality of a terrorist infrastructure that manufactures rockets and mines, all designed to kill Jews. 5. The infusion of money props up Hamas, a cheerfully genocidal terror gang whose stated goal is to eliminate Israel from the face of the earth and kill all Jews, everywhere. 6. The money is used to keep IDF soldier Gilad Shalit in cruel captivity. 7. In short, the funds funneled by Israel into Gazastan are used to terrorize and kill Jews and further the aims of global Islamo Nazis. 8. In a normal world, this policy would be labeled the work of traitors, kapos. 9. But in a world where Jew-killing has become politically correct, Israel is in danger of transforming itself into a terror-enabling suicidal state. 10. Hey, I have an idea, maybe Israel should shovel some money directly to Iran so the Mullahs can accelerate their nuclear program and unleash a holocaust on the Jewish State. Let's not forget Ehud Olmert's stirring, and uplifting words: "We are tired of fighting, we are tired of winning..." Original story, here.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:59 AM
| Comments (10)
Let's explore why the Persians would act in such a dumb and insulting manner: 1. The Persians view all competition with non Muslims as a religious test: Islam over non-Islam. To lose to a Jew would be theologically indefensible. It's like admitting that our G-d is stronger than their G-d. Real sophisticated theologians in the Islamic Republic of Iran. 2. They're just a bunch of racist, Jew-hating Islamo Nazis. 3. All of the above. Hey, I have an idea, let's get Barack Obama to fly on over to Beijing and engage the Iranians in, what does he call it? Oh yeah, “tough diplomacy.” I'm sure BO, with all his ivy league charm can, you know, get the genocidal-yearning Iranians to sing kumbaya and embrace the Israeli delegation. I mean, two years in the trenches as a community organizer, AKA Socialist agitator, has definitely prepared BO for dealing with The Islamic Republic of Iran. As for us, here at Seraphic Secret we just can't wait for Israel to bomb the crap out of those savages. For the complete story, please click here.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 02:41 PM
| Comments (15)
—Mishnah Ta'anit 4:6 We'd like to thank Simply Jews for including Seraphic Secret's Gearing Up for the Nefesh B'nefesh Conference. A word of clarification. You don't have to be a blogger to attend the Nefesh B'nefesh Bloggers Conference, in person or via webcam. Anyone can attend, but all have to register. Well, not anyone. If you are an Islamo Nazi, I strongly suggest that you sign up for the next Peace Now conference. You'll find the atmosphere there much more congenial. So, if you haven't already registered, take a minute and do it now. It's so simple and fast even I did it in less than a minute. So: It is now four in the morning and I woke up with a migraine. The T'sha B'av fast is barely past the go mark and I'm already suffering caffeine deprivation—in extremis. You know why I love John McCain? He spent five years in a hell hole of a Communist POW camp—hey, what's that compared to two years as a community organizer?—where McCain was ceaselessly tortured. And you know what John McCain did? He resisted. He refused to break. He spit in the eye of his cruel North Vietnamese Communist torturers. I confess: Deny me coffee and I'll confess anything!” Anyhoo. On T'sha B'av both Jewish Temples were destroyed, first by the Babylonians in 586 BCE, and then by the Romans in 70 ACE. On this intense day of mourning, Karen and I wish all our friends a meaningful fast. Obligatory Beijing Olympics Post: No interest in the Olympics. Absolutely none. It was fun in the days when the East German women were, uh, endowed, if you know what I mean. But now it's like: “Who's going to get busted for steroids?” And gee, if they're all on steroids doesn't that kinda level the playing field? Just saying. Anyway: I must link to this post by my friend Jameel about Israel's only frum Olympian. Meet Bat-El Gaterer from the Jewish settlement of Kochav Yaakov. She kicks butt. Literally. Would love to observe her shidduch dates. It could be like Preston Sturges funny.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 04:22 AM
| Comments (5)
I know, you're all kvelling. You want one too. Just click and make a campaign contribution. It takes money to win an election. Lots of money. Karen and I wish all our friends a restful and miraculous Shabbat.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 01:10 PM
| Comments (2)
Islamo Nazis on the march in Canada, and the Canadian authorities are oblivious. Take a look at what happened to author Howard Rotberg.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 10:20 AM
| Comments (2)
Safety Last (1923). Harold Lloyd made a series of “thrill pictures.” This film is his best effort. Lloyd is usually rated number three in the silent comic pantheon, below Chaplin and Keaton. But Lloyd and his crew of clever, hard-working writers created tight scripts with almost perfect narrative coherence—and silent cinema's most precise sight gags. Harold Lloyd always played a character named Harold, a smiling, eager to please young lad. Lloyd was the most American of the great silent comics: optimistic and aggressively pursuing success. Every time I screen Safety Last my heart beats in my chest like a Gene Krupa solo. The film is thrilling and laugh-out-loud funny. Pandora's Box (1929). German director G.W. Pabst wanted to sign Louise Brooks for the coveted role of Lulu, but she was under contract to Paramount. Marlene Dietrich, the toast of Berlin, was in Pabst's office to sign the contract when a telegram from Brooks arrived announcing that she was available. Of Dietrich, Pabst said: “She was too old [Marlene was 26, Brooks 21] and too obvious—one sexy look and the picture would become a burlesque.” Pabst was right, Dietrich was always a highly self-conscious, sexually charged performer. In contrast, Brooks was an innocent provocateur, unconscious of her sexual clarity. The film was a financial disaster and it took decades to be rediscovered as an authentic masterpiece. Like Lulu, Louise Brooks haphazardly danced through life, spurning love, destroying relationships, crashing and burning in Hollywood. Fleeing to New York, Brooks, an alcoholic, worked as a sales clerk in Saks Fifth Ave., and when money was tight, a call girl. Brooks ended her days in a shabby one-bedroom apartment in Rochester, N.Y. authoring snarling essays about old Hollywood. Thief of Baghdad (1924). Douglas Fairbanks, Sr., the screen's first action hero, starred in eight dazzling silent swashbucklers. Orson Welles said it best: “He had something that nobody ever equaled—a kind of charm, a kind of dash, a sort of innocent arrogance that has never been seen since on the screen.” Thief of Baghdad is a magical movie. Pure fun. Pure energy. Pure fantasy. Yet at the same time deeply human. When Fairbanks first saw the massive sets, designed by the legendary William Cameron Menzies, he wanted to cancel production fearing that the architecture would dwarf his character. Director Raoul Walsh convinced Fairbanks otherwise. Fairbanks leaps and flies through space, hands on hips, head thrown back in laughter. The gargantuan sets are reduced to a playground. Watch for the great Anna May Wong in a supporting role as The Mongol Slave Girl. My Best Girl (1927). Mary Pickford, Mrs. Douglas Fairbanks—until a shattering divorce—was the silent screen's most important actress and producer. Pickford was earning ten thousand dollars a week in 1916. Keep in mind those were the days before income taxes, when a dollar actually meant something. In 1919, Pickford co-founded United Artists with Fairbanks, Chaplin and Griffith. It was acknowledged by all that “America's Sweetheart” was the brains behind the new studio. In My Best Girl, Pickford gives one of her most endearing performances as a level-headed department store shop girl who falls in love with the owner's son, Charles "Buddy" Rogers, who's masquerading as a regular working stiff. The film is a clever inversion of the Pygmalion story as Mary coaches the clueless young man in sales. “Gee, you're awfully dumb,” she says. Rogers immediately falls in love with little Mary. And so do we. Goddess (1934) Lingyu Ruan (1910-1935) was the biggest silent movie star in China. Her father died when she was a child and her mother was a house maid. Ruan's deeply sympathetic portrayal of a prostitute trying to raise a beloved son is considered by many to be the pinnacle of silent Chinese cinema. Ruan's performance is deeply nuanced and disciplined. There's a touching moment when Ruan watches her son in a school play and she smiles with such pride and love that your heart just opens. Tragically, Ruan's private life was fodder for the merciless Chinese tabloids. Her life unraveled in the public eye when her vindictive husband went for the jugular. Out of shame, Ruan took an overdose of barbiturates. She was just twenty-four years old. Her funeral procession was three miles long, attended by tens of thousands of fans. Three women committed suicide out of despair. Lingyu Ruan was a star for just ten years. She left behind a dozen movies. Her tragic heroines, free of false nobility, fed the romantic fantasies of an entire nation. When I was in China my government minder (spy) almost wept with joy when I expressed admiration for Ruan's work. This great actress is practically unknown in the West and that is a pity. Ten Great Silent Movies: Part I
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 07:51 PM
| Comments (17)
I receive a good number of e-mails asking me to recommend the best silent movies ever made. That's a tall order. I can't really do it. What I can do is list some of my favorite silent films. I've made a list of ten films that I love. This list is not definitive. In fact, it's almost random. Here are my guidelines. 1. I limit my choices to a single film from each star and director. 2. I only list films that are available either on VHS or DVD. 3. I won't list propaganda films—no matter how technically brilliant—in service to totalitarian, genocidal regimes. Thus Soviet Communist Sergei Eisenstein and German Nazi Leni Riefenstahl are absent. Movies are a moral landscape and I will not have anything to do with films that justify and enable mass murder. 4. I recommend a wide selection of genres. 5. In no particular order.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 10:38 AM
| Comments (10)
Two weeks ago I bought a new computer—a Mac, natch. A sleek, black number with a "13 inch screen, 2 GB of memory and a 2.4 Ghz Intel Core Duo. I'm a happy puppy. Happier still because I got a free i-Pod touch with my computer, and let me tell you, this little baby is like Star Trek fun. I'm all: “Beam me up, Scotty.” Anyhoo. Let's go to Israeli singer Yael Naim for some familiar tra-la-la. But no dancing. It's the Nine Days FBI Warning: If you are extremely frum the following video might be disturbing as it contains kol isha. Do not hit the play button if such sounds and images agitate your hashkafah.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 03:07 PM
| Comments (24)
The terrorist Jew-haters understand that BO is a moral relativist with no stomach for fighting Arab-Muslim terrorists. Hence, BO is their candidate of choice. They are cheerfully contributing funds to a man who spent over 20-years as a member of a racist, Jew-hating church, (and BO has the chutzpah to accuse John McCain of racism) a candidate who, even today, refuses to acknowledge that he was dead-wrong about the troop surge that has defeated al Qaeda in Iraq. In fact, BO claimed that the surge would make the situation in Iraq even worse. Yup, the terrorists know an appeaser when they see one. As opposed to John McCain who spent more years in captivity, being tortured by the Communist North Vietnamese, than years BO has sat in the Senate. Last week a BO android showed up at the front door of my home. She requested—actually more like demanded—a $200.00 contribution so I could help effect “change in this country.” I politely declined. The BO droid suggested $150.00 dollars for, you guessed it, change. Again I politely declined. She finally reduced the price of change to $25.00. I said: “By the way, what kind of change are you talking about?” She said: “For a different kind of politics.” I said: “You mean BO will get rid of campaign fund raisers who chant meaningless slogans?” To read the entire story, please click here.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 09:34 AM
| Comments (8)
“I'm heading to Eretz Yisroel for the Nefesh B'Nefesh International Bloggers Convention.” “Lucky you, do they need a physician on the flight?” On Shabbos, I attend the early minyan. It starts at 7:15 AM. After davening there's a kiddush with cholent, fruit and some pale, slimy looking cold cuts. The tough guys in shul—not me—make l'chaims with shots of whiskey. I always feel vaguely ill when I see my friends downing whiskey and heart-attack cholent at nine in the morning. So: We've finished davening, and I'm talking with a close friend, one of the three hundred and eighty-seven doctors who attend the early minyan. I'm like: “I need a physician on the flight. I can't sleep on planes, end up working non-stop on some screenplay so my eyes get all strained and then I get a killer migraine.” “When are you leaving?” “August 18 I'm flying to New York on the red eye and then switching to the NBN Flight to Israel. The International Jewish Bloggers Convention hosted by Nefesh B'nefesh and powered by Web Ads takes place on Wednesday August 20, starting at 5PM. ” “I wish I could be there.” “No problem. Get this: You can attend in on-line. The whole thing is going to be broadcast. There's even a chatroom for registered web guests who can't make it to Jerusalem. You just have to make sure and register online.” “Cool. I'll do it. Meanwhile, how about I write an Rx for some Ambien for you. The regular dosage for the LA to NY flight and the CS will knock you out on the flight to Israel.” Ah, better living through massive medication. I go: “That would be great. Thanks so much. How can I ever repay you?” He goes: “Well, Robert, I was wondering if you'd take a look at a screenplay I'm working on.”
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 07:47 AM
| Comments (21)
Baruch Ha-Shem. I can dump the L.A. Times AKA We Hate Jews But Call it Progressive anti-Zionism, castaway The New York Times AKA Obama Election Headquarters, and get some real news. For my readers who don't speak Yiddish: Frum means observant. As in: I'm so frum that I don't do laundry during the Nine Days. We'd like to thank Little Frumhouse on the Prairie for including two Seraphic Secret posts; both drew a great deal of attention and e-mails. First up is Moshe Hammer Z'L, A Life Interrupted, our portrait of a Lubavitch Chasid who leaves behind a brilliant artistic legacy. Plus, Seraphic Secret's enthusiastic review of a new collection of Jewish short stories, Everyone's Got a Story. Enjoy! Oh wait, it's The Nine Days. Okay, don't enjoy. And here's today's Word Cloud:
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 07:51 AM
| Comments (10)
Regular visitors to Seraphic Secret's comments section are, by now, familiar with Dr. Carol, a devout Christian friend whose articulate and passionate observations about Israel, politics and culture, regularly grace this cyber space. Recently, Dr. Carol, with her mother and youngest daughter, visited Israel for the very first time. We asked Dr. Carol to jot down a few impressions of her long-awaited pilgrimage. In truth, we were prepared for an enthusiastic and chatty travelogue. We should have known better. More than anything, Dr. Carol documents a journey inward and creates a moving and loving kesher, mystical connection, to our deepest emotions. We are deeply grateful. RJA by Dr. Carol All through junior high and high school I read (several times) every Leon Uris novel I could get my hands on; I read Chaim Potok. I bought the special Life magazine issue on the Six Day War. I watched both Entebbe TV movies. More than anything, I wanted to go to Israel. My parents went on a tour with my aunt in 1998 and again in 2002, but I couldn’t seem to get the money together for a trip. I didn’t even have a passport. Thanks to the prodding (okay, nagging) of my best friend and world traveler Christy, I finally applied for a passport in 2007. Still, the only place I went with it was Canada, which really doesn’t count as traveling—at least not to this Buffalo native, used to bopping over to Fort Erie for Chinese food on a whim. How Far From Prishtina to Israel? Then came Kosova. My university has a campus in Prishtina, and we were offering a master’s program that included a course I teach here at home. Part of the course is taught online, and then there’s a week of intensive classes at the Prishtina site. The university was paying my airfare to Kosova. Hmmm, I thought. How far is it from Prishtina to Israel, and would it be possible for me to make a side trip after my week of classes? It was, indeed possible! Just a quick and fairly cheap hop from Istanbul to Tel Aviv, and my first visit to Israel became a reality. My mom and youngest daughter flew from the US to Tel Aviv to meet me, and we were off on our adventure. I’m a farmer’s granddaughter. Land, and soil, means something to me. I didn’t expect to see a first-century Israel, like the pictures in my Bible. So my plan was to tour the land, not the typical Christian sites. I wanted to walk the shores of the Galilee, see the valley between Nazareth and Cana, go up Mt. Hermon, stroll the streets of Jerusalem, walk among the whispering ghosts of Masada. I wanted to see what drew people to this land, what made G-d choose this place over all others, and maybe understand a bit more why there is so much dispute over this hot, dusty, rocky spot. The Great Israeli T-Shirt If the land was, without exception, dramatic and beautiful, the people were, without exception, warm and welcoming. We were so obviously American that the first question was always “What do you think of Obama?” One gentleman engaged us in a discussion of Obama vs. McCain for quite a while, then sighed and said “Hashem will have to do His will.” We agreed. Our Arab cab driver cocked an eyebrow when I said Obama was bad for both the US and Israel. But he didn’t argue. Many years ago my aunt brought a T-shirt for my son from Jerusalem. It had a picture of a fighter jet on it, and the words “Don’t worry, America—Israel is behind you.” He was sad when he outgrew the shirt. The first thing I bought in Jerusalem was the same T-shirt, only in a larger size. As an American, I am grateful Israel is behind us. My worry, and the worry of those I met in Jerusalem, is that an Obama-led America will not stand behind Israel. By far the hardest part of the journey was the visit to Yad Vashem. We never made it all the way through. I have read a lot about the Holocaust, but the sheer volume of material to look at and read and shudder over was too much to take in at once. My daughter, who is not a history buff and was being exposed to much of this information for the first time, seemed on the verge of tears as she remarked that she was ashamed our country did not do more. Truly we have much to answer for. I only hope Obama learned something from his visit, but I am not sanguine. Visions of Ariel ZT'L Seraphic Secret, and Ariel ZT’L in particular, was never far from my thoughts as we walked about Jerusalem. I saw him in every black-hatted young man striding by me, those who greeted me with a smiling “Shalom” and those who could not look in my direction. We were privileged to stand at the Kotel and offer prayers; I thought of Ariel as my hand touched the cool stones, and my throat tightened at the realization of where I was. Being in Israel wasn’t without challenges. It’s time to learn some Hebrew; while Seraphic Secret has taught me a few words (interestingly enough, “kallah” in particular came in handy), the language barrier was difficult but not insurmountable. The guide book neglected to tell us that speed limit signs were round circles. Signage was minimal and sometimes non-existent. A motel would have been nice. The heat was, at times, oppressive. I didn’t find driving to be tough, but then I’ve driven in a lot of big cities and I’m not afraid to show some chutzpah, as the Hertz agent advised. I did not, though, like the big “Hertz” signs on both sides of the car; nothing like advertising “here’s a tourist, probably with money”. Not that I had much money; I am an assistant professor, after all—but still it made me uneasy. We were wary of towns with a preponderance of Arabic signs and avoided taking route 90 north to Tiberias on our way back from Masada. We learned how to haggle with Jerusalem shopkeepers, a skill we’d not had before. We met a shopkeeper from Chicago who called us “neighbor” and commiserated over the lack of signage that had stymied and confused us so many times. We saw so much, and yet there is so much left to see. We visited Oskar Schindler’s grave and left stones in respect for his bravery. We hoped that we would be as brave, should we be called upon to be so. We rode the cable car up Masada’s slopes, imagining what the band of Zealots on the mountain thought as they saw the magnitude of the Roman camps and the steady, inexorable growth of the siege ramp that would spell their doom. We dipped our hands in the slimy, warm waters of the Dead Sea and burned our palms on beach rocks gathered for souvenirs. We took our shoes off and waded in the Sea of Galilee, drinking in the beauty of those blue waters and the mountains ringing them. Home We looked around and saw history, a history we knew as well—or better—than our own country’s history, and realized that Israel felt like home because it was. Before I learned of Paul Revere and Joshua Chamberlain and Dwight Eisenhower, I knew the stories of Jonah and David and Gideon. Just as the New England of my ancestors is part of my blood and bones, the Israel of my G-d is part of my heart and soul. Our visit was during the heat of summer. My mother wants to see the land in bloom, and although professors don’t get vacations in April, I’m already planning a way to carve out five or six days to take her there. If there’s time, I need to finish what we started at Yad Vashem. I didn’t see the Jordan River or the villages on the western banks of the Sea of Galilee. I want to go back to the BaFi café in Neve Ativ for more of their fabulous salad and bread with garlic butter. I want to explore Afula in the daytime, not when I’m lost in its traffic circles at midnight. I have to go back. Karen and I wish all our friends a lovely and meaningful Shabbat.
Posted by Robert J. Avrech at 08:37 AM
| Comments (15)
WPR
P.O. Box 5134
Bergenfield, NJ 07621
Karen and I wish all our friends a lovely and meaningful Shabbat.August 28, 2008
Montage: Old City, Jerusalem, Part II
Psychedelic doorway and courtyard. My eyeballs felt like they were being stabbed by forks.
Observe the lovely rhythmic patterns of the jig-saw stonework. I think it's Ottoman.
Hijab Barbie placed above and beside traditional Western Barbie.
Black and white door. It's definitely got that Franz Kline thing going on.
Nothing like acid green and pink to bring on a flashback to the wretched 60's.
My favorite doorway. Security on Jewish homes and institutions in the Old City is super tight. The Cousins demand Judenrein neighborhoods—and nations.
This is the entrance to Har Habayit, the Temple Mount, Judaism's most holy site. But Jews are forbidden entrance. The armed guard is an Arab. His job is to make sure that Jews do not enter and violate Jew-hating Islamic sensibilities. We asked the guard how he was able to identify Jews. He smiled and said: “I am Muslim, I know a Jews.” Then he hugged and exchanged pleasantries with Daniel Luria (far right), our Ateret Cohanim guide.
Beautiful texture, and just love the keystone.
A Chassid davens, prays, at the Kotel, the Western Wall. Jew, Christian, Muslim or Martian have freedom of access.
Karen places a kvittel, prayer note, in the Little Kotel, the Little Western Wall.
And finally, I was interviewed by Judean Eve on Israel National radio, Arutz Sheva yesterday morning. I discussed being an Orthodox Jew in Hollywood, a Conservative Republican in Hollywood, the First Nefesh B'Nefesh International Jewish Bloggers Conference, my novel The Hebrew Kid and the Apache Maiden, the current Israeli government as the new Judenrat, Shabbos in Efrat and yes, I got all mushy about How I Married Karen.August 27, 2008
Seraphic Radio Interview
Silent film star Colleen Moore does a radio show with an American soldier.
If you'd like to listen to my conversation with talk show host Judean Eve, broadcast on Israel National Radio, Arutz Sheva, here's the link.Montage: Old City, Jerusalem, Part I
The height of fashion.
I like doorways.
Memorial plaque for Elchanan Aharon, murdered at this spot by Arab terrorists.
This doorway looks like a Barnett Newman stripe painting.
Covering all the ideological bases.
Our guide was baffled by my focus on brightly colored doorways.
Notice that the color of the Nun's habits match the Jerusalem stone.
Chassid davening at the Kotel, the Western Wall.
An Israeli-Ethiopian Jew sits in the shade near The Kotel.
Karen davens at the Little Kotel, the Little Western Wall.August 26, 2008
Judean Eve to Interview Seraphic Secret on Arutz 7 Radio
Yours truly with Judean Eve.
I'm going to be a guest tomorrow morning, 6 am, Pacific Time, on Judean Eve's radio show broadcast through Israel's National Radio, Arutz Sheva.Olmert's Hands: Washed in Blood
Two of this particular group bear special mention as an example of the kind of people Olmert is releasing to a hero's welcome among the Palestinians. Muhammad Abu Ali murdered two people. In 1980, he killed Yehoshua Saloma (Hy"d) in Hebron, a young Yeshiva student studying in the Kiryat Arba Yeshiva. Saloma, a new immigrant from Sweden, walked into Hebron from Kiryat Arba to buy some dried fruits for the upcoming Tu B’Shvat holiday. While he was shopping, he was brutally ambushed from behind. Ali later murdered a fellow prisoner while he was in jail.
Said Al-Ataba masterminded an attack on the Petach Tivka market in 1977 that wounded dozens and took the life of an Israeli woman, Tzila Galili, (Hy"d).
Both of them are now free to kill again. And that's not merely a figure of speech.At least 180 Israelis and counting have been murdered by terrorists who had been released from Israeli jails, and that doesn't take into account those that were arrested or killed in an attempt.
2. Terrorists must never be released unless they have served their entire sentences, or they are in a box.
3. When terrorists who have been released from Israeli prisons commit further crimes, those who ordered their release should be prosecuted as accessories to murder.Best of the Jewish Blogosphere #179: The Nefesh B'Nefesh Bloggers Edition
“Earthlings who refuse to read Haveil Havalim must perish!”
* Photos of the event are now on the NBN website here.
* More pictures of the NBN Convention by Jacob Richman are here.
* And a complete list of the bloggers who participated in the conference and the live webcast is available here.August 23, 2008
The Terrorist is Still Dead
The Mystical Lights of Efrat
Glock and Daven
The Last of the Bensonhurst Kids
Meet Larry, my buddy from Bensonhurst. Okay, so it's not Larry. But Larry looks exactly like William Powell in The Thin Man.
The Next Generation
We step outside where men and women gather before going home for the Shabbos meal. Friends make plans to visit each other. David and Elana's son Jeremy, is home for Shabbos, on leave from active duty somewhere quite dangerous in the land of Israel.
The Killing
The town of Efrat, in Judea, in the holy Land of Israel
August 21, 2008
Wall to Wall Bloggers: Part I
Why Wasn't Hamas Invited to the NBN Conference?
Treppenwitz details the entire gruesome drama here.
Does the Face Mirror the Blog?
Carl of Israel Matzav, photo courtesy Yehuda
Karen and I will be celebrating Shabbat with family in Efrat, which is in the land of Israel—our land, our home, our yerusha, birthright. We wish all our friends a lovely and peaceful Shabbat. August 20, 2008
The Moroccan Amen
Cup used for ritual hand washingAugust 19, 2008
Nefesh B'nefesh: Scenes from a Flight
New immigrants to Israel
Yours truly all choked up
Welcome home
not unless the State of Israel has hired Versace to design their uniforms, and I really don’t think that’s happened—yet.
Israeli soldier girls. Great and fashionable army.
Benjamin “Bibi” Netanyahu, Israel's next Prime Minister.
Trepp: “He better be.”
Singing The Hatikvah
Jameel of The Muqata
And here's the NBN page with all the fine blogs collected in one easy to read spot.August 18, 2008
Preflight: Quick Cuts
Benzi Kluwgant smiles even though I woke him up at 6:30 AM
Liz Bernstein, NBN official extraordinaire
Seraphic Secret
Blogger
Dovid & Frieda WadlerAugust 17, 2008
Best of the Jewish Blogosphere #178: The Tu b'Av Edition
Ma'ayan Ariel reads Haveil Havalim every week, and so should you.August 15, 2008
Secret Confessions of a Hollywood Movie Star
A Hollywood Republican meets his fateAugust 14, 2008
Seraphic Secret Rocks the Vote
August 13, 2008
My Infidel Jewish Doctor
Saudi physicians prepare to perform surgery on a member of the Royal family.
“They booked the entire top floor of the hotel.”August 12, 2008
Jihad Against Sexy Fruit & Vegetables: Seriously
“Hi, I'm a secret counterterrorist agent. Robert is writing a
screenplay about my thrilling adventures fighting Islamo Fruit Nazis.” Besides the terrible killings inflicted by the fanatics on those who refuse to pledge allegiance to them, Al-Qa'eda has lost credibility for enforcing a series of rules imposing their way of thought on the most mundane aspects of everyday life.
They include a ban on women buying suggestively shaped vegetables, according to one tribal leader in the western province of Anbar.
Sheikh Hameed al-Hayyes, a Sunni elder, told Reuters: "They even killed female goats because their private parts were not covered and their tails were pointed upward, which they said was haram.
“I only look like a cucumber. Actually, I'm a Method
actor, trained by Stanislavsky.”
"They regarded the cucumber as male and tomato as female. Women were not allowed to buy cucumbers, only men."
Other farcical stipulations include an edict not to buy or sell ice-cream, because it did not exist in the time of the Prophet, while hair salons and shops selling cosmetics have also been bombed.
Most seriously, Sheikh al-Hayyes said: "I saw them slaughter a nine-year old boy like a sheep because his family didn't pledge allegiance to them."
Please sign our petition pleading for the life of this young
woman, about to be executed for un-Islamic behavior.Such tactics have triggered a backlash among Sunnis, whom Al-Q'aeda had claimed to be protecting, the sheikh and military leaders said.
Lieutenant-Colonel Tim Albers, an American intelligence officer, told the news agency: "Al-Qa'eda's very heavy-handed killing of civilians backfired on them. The Sunnis just wouldn't stand for it any more.
"The self-described protectors of the Sunni community now kill more Iraqi Sunnis than anyone else."
August 11, 2008
Pickup on South Street
Don't miss Sam Fuller's great Pickup on South Street, (1953) broadcast this evening on Turner Classic Movies. It's a beautifully crafted hard-boiled drama, and Fuller is at the top of his form in this tale of an amoral pickpocket, Richard Widmark, mixed up in international Communist espionage.
Richard Widmark about to pick Jean Peter's pocketbook.Israel Sending Millions to Terrorists
Hamas parade in beautiful, downtown Gaza City, sponsored by
the State of IsraelPalestinian Authority (PA) employees in Gaza will receive complete salaries this month after Israel agreed to send 72 million shekels (20 million dollars) in cash to the besieged territory, Palestinian official said on Saturday.
Jehad al-Wazeer, head of the Palestinian Monetary Authority (PMA), expected that Israel will allow the entry of the cash to Gaza very soon 'so the banks will be able to pay full salaries to the employees.'
On Thursday, the banks started to pay employees' salaries but many workers received only part of the monthly payment, as the banks did not have enough shekels in cash, al-Wazeer says.
Israeli banks severed ties with Palestinian banks in Gaza last year after the Islamic movement Hamas forcibly took control of the coastal strip.
Al-Wazeer added that the crisis widened when Israel delayed replacing 40 million shekels of paper currency withdrawn from circulation by banks in the Gaza Strip.
August 10, 2008
Iranian Olympic Swimmers Flee from Jews
As I said, I could care less about the Olympics, but hey, there is some entertainment value in witnessing the Jew-hating Islamic Republic of Iran flee like cowards from the Jewish athletes in Beijing.Politics reared its ugly head at the Olympic Games once more on Saturday after an Iranian swimmer refused to compete alongside Israeli Tom Be'eri.
Mohammad Alirezaei was due to race against Be'eri in the fourth heat of the 100 meter breaststroke, but pulled out, apparently under the orders of the chiefs of the Iranian delegation.
Hat Tip: Seraphic Friend from the Great North, A. Mark David, QC
Best of the Jewish Blogosphere #177: The T'sha B'av Edition
Five misfortunes befell our fathers ... on the ninth of Av. ...On the ninth of Av it was decreed that our fathers should not enter the [Promised] Land, the Temple was destroyed the first and second time, Bethar was captured and the city [Jerusalem] was ploughed up.
Haveil Havalim #177, The T'sha B'av Edition, hosted by Simply Jews, is up and chock full of excellent articles from the universe of Jewish bloggers.
August 08, 2008
Our Bestest Friends: John & Cindy McCain
Canada: Death of Free Speech
Graphics: Courtesy of Wolf HowlingAugust 06, 2008
Ten Great Silent Movies: Part II
Ten Great Silent Movies: Part I
Show People, (1928) starring Marion Davies and William Haines. My favorite movie about movies, ever. Marion Davies was an accomplished comediene who, because she was William Randolph Hearst's mistress, never garnered the professional respect she so richly deserved. Davie's performance is a stunning achievement. Her on-screen work looks effortless, the sign of a fine actor. Show People is director King Vidor's love song to Hollywood.
Wings, (1927) with Charles "Buddy" Rogers, Richard Arlen, Clara Bow. William Wellman's brilliant ode to the flyboys of WWI. Clara Bow is luminous. The aerial combat scenes maintain a coherent geography so the audience always knows what's going on. Most directors shooting dogfights just cut and cut and cut and the frenzied pace overrides any narrative sense.
Orphans of the Storm, (1921) D.W. Griffith directs sisters Lillian and Dorothy Gish in a powerful story about two sisters separated during the French revolution's reign of terror. Lillian Gish pioneered a naturalistic style of acting more suited for the camera as opposed to the dominant theatrical style. This was Griffith's last great film. He's masterful with the big scenes, but at his best when covering the small intimate moments between the long-suffering sisters.
City Lights, (1931) Charlie Chaplin as The Tramp and Virginia Cherrill—the first Mrs. Cary Grant—as The Blind Girl. Chaplin made this silent film after sound was established in Hollywood. He took a huge gamble on a great story over new technology. This film ends on the most heart-breaking scene in movie history. If you don't cry, check to see if your heart is beating.
The Passion of Joan of Arc, (1928) starring Falconetti as Joan the Maiden. The story is told almost exclusively in close-up. The use of fluid tracking shots and skewed geometric angles are a visual feast. Falconetti's once-in-a-lifetime performance is a case of passionate personal resolve over acting technique. Danish director Carl T. Dreyer reveals the pure soul of a martyr. One of the most influential films of all time from one of the greatest directors in movie history.
Ten Great Silent Movies: Part II
August 05, 2008
New Mac, New Soul
Gaza Donors to Obama
“Please elect Obama—so we can slaughter
more Jews and Crusaders.”Palestinian brothers inside the Hamas-controlled Gaza Strip are listed in government election filings as having donated $29,521.54 to Sen. Barack Obama's campaign.
Donations of this nature would violate election laws, including prohibitions on receiving contributions from foreigners and guidelines against accepting more than $2,300 from one individual during a single election, Bob Biersack, a spokesman for the Federal Election Commission, told WND in response to a query.
The contributions also raise numerous questions about the Obama campaign's lax online donation form, which apparently allows for the possibility of foreign contributions.
Last week, the Atlas Shrugs blog outlined a series of donations in 2007 made to Obama's campaign from two individuals, Monir Edwan and Hosam Edwan, totaling $29,521.54.
In an online form on Obama's campaign site, the Edwans listed their street as "Tal Esaltan," which they wrote was located in "Rafah, GA."
Rafah is not a city in Georgia. The Atlas blog immediately raised concerns that the money may have been donated from the Gaza Strip town of Rafah.
August 04, 2008
Gearing Up for the Nefesh B'Nefesh Bloggers Conference
“He read my screenplay and then slipped into a coma.”August 03, 2008
Best of the Jewish Blogosphere #176: The Dirty Laundry Edition
Marilyn Monroe says: This is just a silly publicity photo.
I actually can read. And ooooh, I just adore Haveil Havalim.The Nine Days are the first nine days of the Jewish month of Av. A strict level of mourning is observed, in accordance with the Talmudic dictum (Ta'anit 26): "When the month of Av begins, we reduce our joy." They are days of intense mourning culminating in Tisha B'Av which commemorates the destruction of the first and second Temples in Jerusalem.
During The Nine Days, Jewish law (Halakha) forbids eating meat, and pleasure-bathing [swimming]. These prohibitions are in addition to those adhered to during The Three Weeks, which take place concurrent to The Nine Days. These restrictions include listening to music, getting a haircut or shaving, drinking wine [except on Shabbat], participating in weddings and wearing freshly laundered clothes.
—Wikipedia
August 01, 2008
Seraphic Reader Visits Israel—For the First Time.
My youngest daughter wanted to see the Mediterranean, and so we drove to
Nahariya—what a beautiful drive that was. She stood on the pier waiting for the
big wave to come and soak her, and I managed to catch the shot at the moment
before the water crashed all over her. Everyone on the pier enjoyed watching
this little drama immensely.
I’ve wanted to go to Israel since I was five. I sat at my dad’s feet as he read the Bible to us each evening, listening to the wonderful stories from the Torah and fascinated by the thought that G-d had chosen a People. I remember asking Dad if we were Jewish and being very disappointed to find out we were not.
Stepping into the Sea of Galilee
With my first glimpse of a glowing moon reflected in the Sea of Galilee I was hooked. It felt like home but not like home, if that makes any sense. The names were familiar; we delighted in visiting Nazareth, Cana, Migdal, Tiberias, Abu Ghosh, Jerusalem, Ein Gedi—all places we knew from our daily Bible reading. We marveled over Mt. Tabor and told my daughter the tale of Deborah and Barak, and of Jael, who vanquished Sisera with a tent peg. We stood on the summit of Arbel and gazed at the valley below, amazed at the drama of this landscape. We have hundreds of pictures and not one does justice to what our eyes beheld.
When we were walking through Yemin Moshe we saw a bridal party come out of a house and go to the windmill for pictures. An older gentlemen was standing there watching, and followed the party to their waiting car and stood by as they got in and drove off. We walked through the park and sat on a bench to rest for a bit and enjoy the cool evening, and he came by. He struck up a conversation and we asked him if he knew who the bride and groom were. He didn't understand, so I asked if he knew the kallah and then he understood. So the little Hebrew lessons from Seraphic Secret came in handy!
Israeli Signage: Fuggedaboutit
