Photography, Family, Girls Love Footwear

Day 14 of the War

7: 02 am PST The pattern is tediously familiar, the Arab Muslims begin a war with Israel. They openly state their goals: to wipe Israel off the face of the earth and to drive the Jews into the sea.

Israel responds and hammers the Arab armies, slices and dices the Arab terrorists. The world media have a series of grand mal seizures and quick, before the Arabs are brought to their knees in abject surrender, a cease-fire is imposed on Israel.

Next we see the Arabs declaring victory, dancing in the streets, and getting billions in foreign aid to, ahem, alleviate hunger and poverty. Monies that are promptly used to buy arms, build a terrorist infrastructure, and prepare for the next round against the despised Jews.

Israel rejected the UN resolution for a cease-fire in Gaza. This was a wise move. Militarily and politically. A cease-fire would only rescue the rapidly collapsing Hamas, terrorists who are unable and unwilling to battle real men, real soldiers. Hamas are only capable of killing women and children—especially Muslims whom they use as human shields. In fact, IDF troops discovered a Hamas map that details their plans to hide among civilians.

Accepting a cease fire would also place Hamas, a proudly genocidal organization, as an equal to Israel in the U.N. This is moral inversion at its worst. It would be like giving The Crips a seat on the Los Angeles City Council.

To quote from the Hamas Covenant:

Israel will exist and will continue to exist until Islam will
obliterate it, just as it obliterated others before it. (Preamble)

And this:

[Peace] initiatives, and so-called peaceful solutions and international conferences are in contradiction to the principles of the Islamic Resistance Movement… Those conferences are no more than a means to appoint the infidels as arbitrators in the lands of Islam… There is no solution for the Palestinian problem except by Jihad. Initiatives, proposals and international conferences are but a waste of time, an exercise in futility.’ (Article 13)

Israel has instituted a daily three hour humanitarian truce, but of course, Hamas use this truce to fire at the IDF and undermine all humanitarian efforts. Why? The more suffering in Gaza the more rage at Israel for it never occurs to the craven media that Hamas are responsible for the suffering in Gaza. In truth, Hamas have two goals, to kill Jews, and to increase civilian casualties in Gaza.

Let the world moan self-righteously about the suffering in Gaza. This is the same world that ignores the thousands of missiles that pour into Israel year after year, the same world community that couldn’t care less about Gilad Shalit, the kidnapped Israeli soldier. The same world community that relentlessly holds Israel responsible for the dysfunctional Arab Muslim world.

Seraphic Secret hopes and prays that Israel’s leaders continue this war of defense and vanquish Hamas.

Seraphic Secret will be updating all day, until Shabbat. Just keep scrolling down for the latest war news, morale boosting pics of you know who, our popular, totally random, and deeply whacky Hollywood anecdotes. And hey, today is Friday and you know what that means: Friday Footwear. Alas, we are that superficial.

8:48 am PST Chained to his computer, Jack presents his Gaza War Roundup #13.

8:51 am PST Aussie Dave and The Muqata continue live-blogging the war.

9: 01 am PST From The Muqata, a reminder to those who hate and try to destroy the Jewish people:

9:37 am PST Don’t forget to head on over to Big Hollywood, the new conservative multi-blog, founded by Andrew Breitbart and edited by my good friend John Nolte. I have two articles up: The Ten Best Movies (I Screened) in 2008. And my controversial The Real Battle of Algiers.

11:33 am PST Joshua Pundit comments on the infamous U.N. cease-fire resolution. No mention of Hamas missiles raining down on Israel. No mention of Gilad Shalit. A moral abyss. What else is new?

11:41 am PST You know what time it is? It’s time for the daily BB morale booster.

11:56 pm PST For those who still cling to the notion that the Arab Israeli conflict is about borders or land, this should disabuse you of that quaint notion. H/T Weasel Zippers

12:23 pm PST The moment you’ve all been waiting for. Yup, it is Friday Footwear. Seraphic Secret at it’s most shallow.

Stealth-like, as if on a black-op mission, Karen scopes out the new racks of shoes at Loehmann’s. She knows that deliveries are unexpected, footwear smuggled in the dead of night through secret and complex tunnels that wind their way from New York to Los Angeles. In Karen’s ear, there is a seductive whisper. Karen turns, and there they are, beckoning: “I have been expertly cross-bred between the dancing, light-as-air Cyd Charisse and the coolly wicked, Gloria Grahame.” Karen turns away. She tells herself that she’s just looking, not really buying. Comes the next dangerous line of dialog: “I am Cole Haan, on sale you fool!” Karen tells herself, “What’s the harm in trying them on? It won’t go beyond
that. It must not.” A deep, warm fog rolls in as Karen slips into the shiny shoes. She turns this way and that. They fit. They are practical. And, oh dear, they have that fab-u-lously slightly dangerous look—girlishly military—that makes them perfect for everyday wear. And they are on sale. Cole Haan on sale. Shazzam! It’s over. Abruptly, Karen is home, modeling the new shoes for Robert. He says: “Cute, unbelievably cute.” Once again, the deranged universe is in perfect order.

1:06 pm PST Seraphic Secret has long maintained that a two-state solution is, in reality, a Final Solution aimed at the Jewish State. Hence, we strongly support The 18. In fact, Gaza is the Palestinian state, and it is nothing less than a terrorist entity bent on Israel’s liquidation. An argument can also be made, but it won’t for political reasons, that Jordan is also a Palestinian state for 80% of her population is Palestinian. Now, the great and mighty Soccer Dad sees signs that the notion of a two-state solution is dying.

1:24 pm PST Good grief, Jack, don’t you ever sleep, rest, nap, spend time with Mrs. Jack? Gaza Update 13.5.

Joel McCrea

1:46 pm PST From John Kobal’s invaluable People Will Talk, a snippet from an in-depth interview with the durable leading man, Joel McCrea, (1905 – 1990) who stresses the actor’s moral responsibility towards image and choice of roles.

He [director Tay Garnett] was trying to get me to do Postman Always Rings Twice, but I turned it down. You know why? I’ve always had a feeling of responsibility towards the image that I’m creating, and if I’m moving in with Lana Turner and going to bump off her husband, then this isn’t the image I want. I wanted The Virginian, I wanted Union Pacific, I wanted to be the guy who rode off into the sunset, “right” over “evil,” I always felt that. It wasn’t the money, I never turned a thing down because of money.

Karen and I wish all our friends, relatives and especially the IDF a lovely and meaningful Shabbat.

So: we’re back in Los Angeles. Visiting with our girlses for Chol Ha Moed Succos was revitalizing and, um, fattening. When Offspring #2 and #3 get busy in the kitchen—watch out ye mortal Jews.

But between the joy of Succos and spending time with our granddaughter Ma’ayan Ariel, your faithful correspondent noticed that the girlses are, unbenownst to moi, stocking up on—you guessed it—footwear.

“Okay, Offspring #2, how about modeling the new shoes for posterity.”

“Do I have to?”

I shoot her my most vulnerable and pitiful look.

“Okaaaay.”

“Let’s go outside, the light’s great at this time of day.”

“Do I have to schlep outside, Daddy?”

“Okay, we’ll do some inside and a few in the hallway. I love the pre-war tile.”

Elegant but understated low heeled pumps with
just-barely-revealing Venetian blind slots—very Art Deco.
I’ve dubbed these: Sandra Dee Dances the Cha-Cha With
Troy Donahue.

These boots belong to Offspring #3, but as
you can see (?) Offspring #2 is modeling and lusting
for these Brian De Palma Dressed to Kill boots.
Beware, the girlses are each working out ruthless
Ho Chi Minh ownership strategies.

Behold, history in the making as Ma’ayan Ariel gingerly
steps into her first footwear. There’s something very Japonisme
going on here. Pretty in buttery power pink, with adorable
pleated bow tie caps. But Ma’ayan Ariel gnashes her teeth
and wails:“I want my Christian Louboutin,
it’s my birthright!” Patience, child, patience.

As our regular readers know, I like signs. Walking near
Offspring #2’s apartment I spotted this restaurant and gee, it looks
like it belongs on my home turf, somewhere on Melrose where LC
and her Jimmy Choo-clad crew will discuss how best to disembowel
the evil Spencer.

More than a great sign, Dougie’s is, for me, a shrine,
an ultimate destination. On the flight over I had visions of a
massive, juicy Dougie’s Deluxe Burger with Portabello Mushroom.
We landed in NY and I immediately asked Offspring #2, who picked us up:
“Is Dougie’s open?” OS #2 looked at me with a worried expression:
“Daddy, it’s 11 at night.” I’m like: “Does that mean it’s closed?” Patient as a
kindergarten teacher: “Yes, daddy.” Next morning: “What time does
Dougie’s open?” My wonderful son-in-law, a Dougie’s maven says,
“Eleven AM.” I sit and stare at the clock. I’m out the door at five to.
In Dougie’s I inhale the aroma and really I should be arrested for
imbibing a dangerous drug. I order my burger Deluxe and then peek
in the back to make sure there’s a Succah. Jewish law requires that
all meals be eaten in the Succah. My heart skips a beat. I run to the
front and in outrage shout: “Where’s the Succah?” The little wretch
behind the counter tells me they don’t have one. I sputter: “I just flew
all the way from Los Angeles!” Wretched Kid looks at me as if I might be the
craziest person he has ever encountered. Alas, he’s probably right. My molars
are aching. Plus, there’s a thick blue vein—like a worm—throbbing Alien-like
in my neck. Wretched Kid, I’m praying for restraint. “Fine,” I growl,
“I’ll take it to go, but you should give me a discount you know.”
Wretched Kid actually looks like he’s reaching for the phone
to dial 911. “Or, um, throw in a few pickles.”
I power walk back to the apartment complex, sit myself down
in the communal Succah and—oh joy—even at room temperature
my Deluxe Portabello Burger and crispy fries are perfect.
Just perfect. I love Teaneck. Seriously.

The Teaneck Gardens (not a garden in sight) Communal Succha
where I devoured my Dougie’s Burger and where we ate all our meals.
By the way, the Succah represents the Clouds of Glory that followed
the Children of Israel through the desert after the Exodus.
Thus each and every holiday meal has a mysterious, brain flipping taste.
Delicious food prepared by my girlses becomes even more delicious.
Yes, the simple but holy architecture of the Succah infuses every delicate
morsel with off-the-scale, savory, mouth-watering tastes,
and yours truly can often be heard emitting a series of
embarrassing and unnatural visceral moans.

Karen and I wish all our friends and relatives a restful and meaningful Shabbat.

And hey, just have to pass on this information about Obama and his buddy the Jew-hating Palestinian terrorist. Hmm, Obama has a lot of Jew-hating friends. But, hey Jews will vote for BO anyway because American Jews consider it a sin to vote in their self-interests.