And Though it's Late, A Happy Hanukkah too

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Happy Festivus from 655Jack & JibJab

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I'll be Home for Christmas...

This joke came from presurfer.blogspot.com They, in turn, credited it J-Walkblog.com. Very funny.

Pass it along.
655Jack

A man in Chicago calls his son in New York the day before Christmas and says, 'I hate to ruin Christmas this year, but I have to tell you that your mother and I are divorcing; forty-five years of misery is enough.'

'Pop, what are you talking about?' the son screams. 'We can't stand the sight of each other any longer,' the father says. 'We're sick of each other, and I'm sick of talking about this, so you call your sister in Atlanta and tell her.'

Frantic, the son calls his sister, who explodes on the phone. 'Like hell they're getting divorced,' she shouts, 'I'll take care of this.' She calls Chicago immediately, and screams at her father, 'You are NOT getting divorced. Don't do a single thing until I get there. I'm calling my brother back and we'll both be there tomorrow. Until then, don't do a thing, DO YOU HEAR ME?' and hangs up.

The old man hangs up his phone and turns to his wife. 'Okay,' he says, 'they're coming for Christmas and paying their own way

On Another Night of Hanukkah: Who Knows What Night It Is? I'm Plastered.

From my pal Taya, who I assume is still working off her hangover, somewhere in Margaritaville.

Enjoy.
655 Jack

Tequila Christmas Cake
Ingredients:

2 cups flour
1 stick butter
1 cup of water
1 tsp baking soda
1 cup of sugar
1 tsp salt
1 cup of brown sugar
Lemon juice
4 large eggs Nuts
1 bottle tequila
2 cups of dried fruit


Sample the tequila to check quality. Take a large bowl, check the tequila again. To be sure it is of the highest quality, pour one level cup and drink. Repeat. Turn on the electric mixer. Beat one cup of butter in a large fluffy bowl. Add one teaspoon of sugar. Beat again. At this point it's best to make sure the tequila is still OK. Try another cup... Just in case. Turn off the mixerer thingy. Break 2 eggs and add to the bowl and chuck in the cup of dried fruit.

Pick the frigging fruit up off floor. Mix on the turner. If the fried druit gets stuck in the beaterers just pry it loose with a drewscriver. Sample the tequila to check for tonsisticity. Next, sift two cups of salt. Or someth ing. Check the tequila. Now shift the lemon juice and strain your nuts. Add one table. Add a spoon of sugar, or somefink. Whatever you can find. Greash the oven. Turn the cake tin 360 degrees and try not to fall over. Don't forget to beat off the turner. Finally, throw the bowl through the window. Finish the tequila and wipe counter with the cat.

Bingle Jells!

On the Fourth Day of Hanukkah, We Did it in the Road

The image to the right is an actual screen shot from KABC-TV's coverage of the recent Malibu fires. And this is what the viewer who took the picture wrote:

As we sat glued to television news coveage of the recent Malibu fire on the morning of Saturday, 24 November, 2007 to see if our area was in danger (fortuantely, winds blew the conflagration away from us and towards the ocean), one or more of thse factors produced some rather amusing (and risque) captioning. As a reporter from Los Angeles' KABC-TV was explaining how important it is for residents to evacuate fire areas when asked to do so because such prompt compliance allows firefighters to deal with just the fire and not also with "people in the road evacuating," the captioning (as shown in the still frame displayed above) reflected a distinctly different climax to that statement.

Source: Snopes.com

Happy Fourth Day of Hanukkah.

655 Jack

On The Third Night Of Hannukkah We Say: Happy Han-oo-kah! Happy Eas-tah!

San Leandro is a small suburb of about 70,00 people, outside of San Francisco, right next to Oakland in Northern California. It lays claim to a few distinctions. It is the Sausage Capitol of California. It is the home of Rice-A-Roni – even though Rice-A-Roni is advertised as "The San Francisco Treat.”

And it was profiled by a piece on CBS in the late 60's as being one of America's most racist cities.

San Leandro was (is?) my home town.

Back in the 1960’s and 1970’s, being a minority wasn't too much fun for most minorities in San Leandro. One African American family had a cross burned on their lawn. When a family that was not Caucasian was planning to move into another part of town, neighbors would conspire to buy the home themselves. Others were looked down upon simply because they were working class and people called them "Oakies." Though San Leandro was “The Cherry City” and prided itself on being friendly and welcoming, it wasn’t as friendly when it came to its residents who were different.

As for our family, we were definitely different and certainly part of a minority - but not like any of the other minorities in town. Our parents were deaf. We didn't "speak" another language so people could identify us by the sounds of Spanish or Tagolog. When we walked into stores, we “spoke” in American Sign Language. Sometimes our parents, in an attempt to be like hearing people, tried to speak, but most times, we all conversed quietly, with only the small grunts that my parents occasionally made and swish of the hands in the air to break the silence. It was all very fast and stealthy. And it was great when you wanted to talk about someone who was standing right there who didn’t understand sign. But more of that in another posting. In any case, there were definitely not like very many people like our parents in San Leandro. People didn't quite know what to make of us.

We were also Jews. Because San Leandro was primarily Catholic and Protestant, being Jewish meant you got of anti-Semitic remarks. My PE teacher often called me "the roly- poly Matzah Ball." And there were definitely weird looks when I took out Matzah for lunch when it was Passover time. But there was sanctuary (pun intended) from the remarks I got and stares. It was in Temple Beth Sholom. It was San Leandro's only Jewish synagogue. It stood right in the center of town and was rather modest and respectable, as conservative congregations went. It was where every Jewish kid in San Leandro and Hayward went to get Bar Mitzvahed or to attend Sunday school in the 1960’s. Though Jews were definitely a minority in San Leandro, Temple Beth Shalom allowed them to feel as if they belonged someplace. That worked for most members of Temple Beth Sholom, but again, we just had to be different from everyone else!

We were also Sephardic Jews- Jews who hailed from Southern Europe. We didn't speak Yiddish like everyone at Temple; we spoke Ladino, a form of ancient Spanish. Jews who spoke Spanish? My friends assumed we were Mexican. We didn't eat brisket, bagels or Kugel either. We ate baklava and fassoulia. Someone once asked me if we were Greeks. And I wasn’t fair skinned like temple members that came from Eastern Europe. I was dark and swarthy. If you look at my baby pictures, you’d actually think I born a black child. Well, at least I didn't burn quickly in the summertime.

We were just very different. And being different, we attracted other temple members who were really different.

One Jewish couple in particular -- I can't quite remember their name -- lived on Oakie Hill. Oakie Hill was the unincorporated part of San Leandro just above our house. The place probably got its name from the people who moved there from Oklahoma during the Depression (thus the name, "Oakies"). But more than likely the name came from the fact that most people who lived on Oakie Hill were just poorer than everyone else in San Leandro. And being that San Leandro was a racist town that it was, the term was likely applied as a means to stereotype anyone who lived there. We didn't think much of it but we never really saw any other members of the temple hanging out with them. But we continued to say hello to them when we saw them at the grocery store and we didn’t even mind sitting next to them in the back of the temple when no one else would.

The most distinctive thing about the couple was that they drove the biggest, oldest Lincoln Continental - black. People probably thought they were undertakers. Many years later when I moved to New York, I also realized they reminded me of a couple I might have seen living on Chrystie Street or Hester Street on the Lower East Side in Manhattan. They were older, probably in their seventies and they always wore black clothes. The husband was portly and was never without his hat. The wife was usually nicely coiffed but wore clothes that were definitely from another era. The wife also wore the thickest glasses I had ever seen. They were tinted blue - not like sunglasses - but as somehow prescription glasses because she might have had a problem with sunlight. And they both spoke with heavy accents. It sounded as if they were Eastern European but their speech was delivered in a cheery, high pitched fashion. It was as if Borat married Minnie Mouse and they had kids. Different indeed. But we liked them.

One day around Passover, we were riding with our parents in our Sky Blue Chevrolet Biscayne, my brother was probably playing on the dashboard beneath the back window waving to people behind us and I was playing with the hole in the floor that allowed me to see the pavement whizzing past below. I remembered we pulled up to a light and waited for it to change when suddenly, my brother and I heard a horn honk. Right next to us was the black Lincoln Continental, idling noisily. And inside were our friends in black from temple and they were waving hello to us. My brother and I got our parents’ attention and excitedly waved back.

Then our friends in the Continental motioned for our parents to roll down the window so they could talk to them. (They never seemed to get it that our parents were deaf). Instead, I rolled down the back window and shouted hello. With a cheery smile as she pushed up her dark glasses closer to her eyes as if she wanted to see us more clearly, the wife leaned around her portly husband and shouted out in her loudest Eastern European accented voice, "Happy Happy Han-oo-kah! Happy Eas-tah!" He husband nodded in agreement.

It was neither holiday.

Hanukkah was months away and Easter wasn’t a Jewish holiday. But we didn't really mind. They were being friendly to us swarthy deaf types and we were happy to talk to anyone who wanted to talk to us. Birds of a feather, you know.

They remained there smiling and waving, even when the light changed to green and we drove away. That was the last time I remember seeing them, but from that point on, no matter what holiday it was - Jewish, Christian or secular – my brother and I would intone "Happy Han-oo-kah! Hapy Eas-tah!" We’d do it on Yom Kippur. We’d do it on Passover. We even do it on Christmas. And we definitely did it on Easter and Hanukkah.

And we do it to this day. I'd like to think that we do it because it was part of our interesting childhood, of growing up Jewish and Sephardic with deaf parents in San Leandro. If kids made faces at us because our parents talked differently or laughed because we ate Matzahs or that our friends were different, our parents taught us that it didn't matter; though we were minority, within a minority, within a minority, we were definitely not minor - by any means. At least that's what they implied with their cheery smiles when we lamented that people were staring at us in the grocery store. With their carefree attitude, they wanted us to understand that we were unique. And because we were unique, we were cool. It's an attitude my brother and I carry around to this day and one which for which I am forever thankful. How else could we have dealt with living in such a strange land of white skies and rock gardens that was San Leandro?

So if you see me on the street this holiday season, you could say "Happy Holidays" or "Peace" or "Happy New Year." But I'd love it if you'd say "Happy Han-oo-kah! Happy Eas-tah!" instead. Just to be unique. Just to be cool. Just to be different.

Happy Hanukkah, day three.

655Jack

On the Second Night of Hanukkah, Balducci's Gave to Me

Hanukkah, 2007: Day 2

Ah, what would Hanukkah be without the Hanukkah ham? This picture came courtesy of my good pal Lisa Cahan of Chicago. Being the ex-New Yorker like myself, she knew I would get a kick out of this reminder of how Jews in New York City live with feelings of inauthenticity; that their Jewish inner selves are at odds with the city that spawned a Miracle on 34th Street.

Here's how it went for me living in New York City back in the 80's. For the first time in my life, I'm living in a city where I'm not the only Jew. In fact, I'm living in one of the most Jewish cities in America. There's a deli practically on every corner. Everyone says "oy" this and "shonda" that. Even the Mayor is Jewish. For a kid who grew up in the Catholic/Protestant Portuguese immigrant community of San Leandro, California and who never saw a bagel until I was 18, this was practically like living the Holy Land itself! And yet, when it came to Christmas-time, the whole city became Christian, Jew and Gentile. It was inescapable.

Christmas was everywhere. It was at Macy's in the store windows; in Rockefeller Center with the ice skaters and ginormous Christmas tree; and it was on every corner with the fat men in a red suits, ringing their bells, Salvation Army buckets in hand and ho ho ho-ing you into giving a little to those who didn't have a lot. Who would want to celebrate Hanukkah, particularly when the only things one had to counter the whole Yule time madness were lame little dreidels made out of clay and dime store blue and white paper garlands that said "Happy Hanukkah," that was never spelled the same way twice? Come on, I often said to my troubled inner self. Can't I be both Jewish and Christian just once? Just this year? Can I just dabble in some festive Christmas cheer?

Yes, I wanted to celebrate Christmas. But only the commercial parts. I had no desire to put up a manger or go to Midnight Mass. All I coveted was my neighbor's tree and lights, and to warm up that lonely corner in my studio apartment with a pine scented tree. In the end, who would know? Mom and Dad were 3000 miles away and here I was, a graduate student living in a city of millions. I was an adult and could make adult decisions, presumably free from guilt. Most of all, I could finally indulge in my childhood fantasy of having a REAL Christmas tree. No more humiliating Hanukkah Bush or blue and white lights on the outside of the house that usually invited more stares and snickers than anything else.

But each time I thought I would venture down the street to the neighborhood empty lot, filled with crack addicts and rats, now turned into the garishly lit Christmas Tree farm and buy my little Charlie Brown Christmas tree, I found I just coudln't go through with it. The consequences were just too horrific to imagine.

Because actually getting one would've meant living with the distinct possibility of my long passed away Grandma Flor coming back to life to screech loudly at the sight of the little tree just as she did when I was six years old and I brought home a small tree from school. It was pretty traumatic then and it must have scarred me for life. Here I was at 26 years old, and I couldn't buy myself a damn tree because way back when I was but a wee kid, my grandmother threw out the small tree I brought home. And here I was 20 years later, treeless. I couldn't even sing "Away in A Manger" when it was on the radio. When it came to the line "The Little Lord Jesus" all could I muster up was "The Little Lord Mm-mm." Man, Grandma. I love you but you messed me up!

In the end never got that Christmas tree.

But this story doesn't have a sad ending. I've found a most perfect way around my guilt. These days, I don't covet that tree or sparkly lights to satisfy my itch to celebrate like my Gentile brothers and sisters. Instead, all I have to say is "I'm going to Disney World" -- just like those Super Bowl players say after winning the big game.

What am I doing in Disney World, you may ask? Well, if you happen to be in Florida this year around December 28th, you can find out. Come on down to EPCOT Center to see Marlee and me reading the story of Jesus and singing along to traditional Christmas tunes as part of the Candlelight Processional. Yes, you heard it right. The story of Jesus!

For the last 7 years, Marlee has been invited along with a host of other celebrities, to participate in a program of scripture and song as a means to entertain the thousands of holiday visitors to Disney World. She signs the story of Jesus and I narrate it. In between passages, a choir of 350 singers and an orchestra of 85 perform wonderful Chirstmas songs. I admit that the first year though I was eager to indulge in my Christmas fantasy, I was initially concerned because I didn't know the names in the Jesus story, let alone the story itself. And Marlee was no help. She laughed to herself at my dilemma. And as she said, she had no guilt; it didn't bother her because she said she could be reading the phone book in sign language for all the hearing audience knew. I was the one who had to SAY the story right. Even the producers of the event knew this Jewish kid was venturing in to Virgin Mary territory when, after the first performance, they handed me the CD of the show that they sold in the park to visitors and asked me to "enjoy" how Phylicia Rashad narrated it. From the first track on the CD, I got the hint. Too much Jew and not enough Christian here. Eventually I figured out that if Danny Kaye could sing "Snow" and Babra Streisand could sing "I'll Be Home for Christmas," then I could certainly muster up a decent narration of the story of the Little Lord "hmm-mm" that would make Marlee proud.

Well, eventually, I got it right. And they've been asking Marlee (and me) back ever since. She and I perform three times a day and we shout out one hell of a hallelujah chorus. And we must be doing something right because there's a standing ovation each time. So, come on down. If you do, you'll see Marlee signing the story BEAUTIFULLY and me, off to the side, microphone in hand, satisfing my annual need to celebrate some Christmas cheer. I like to call it "Two Jews Reading the Story of Jesus."

And if the ghost of Grandma Flor should decide to visit me in the Florida night, I'll ask her for the same special dispensation that I'm sure the great Irving Berlin, who was probably a very nice Jewish boy, asked of the ghost of his Grandmother when she found out that he wrote the most famous Christmas song of all time, "White Christmas"...

"Grandma! A guy's gotta make a living!"

Say Hallelujah and pass the Hanukkah Ham. And have a Happy second Day of Hanukkah.

655Jack

On the First Night of Hanukkah, My Chicken Gave to Me...

Before you go and start cutting up that Kosher chicken you got from Trader Joe's to make your chicken soup for the first night of Hanukkah, you better check those gizzards. You never know what you'll find. 655Jack

Bracelet Lost 28 Years Ago Found In Chicken
(WBZ) FAIRMONT, Minn It won't fit him anymore, but a Gloucester, Massachusetts man has his metal identity bracelet back after it was found inside a chicken gizzard in Fairmont, Minnesota.Aaron Giles, who is now 32, lost the bracelet in his grandfather's barn 28 years ago.Giles lived in Fairmont as a child and played hide-and-seek and other games with his brothers in the barn.He told the Fairmont Sentinel he thinks he lost the bracelet when he was 4 or 5 years old.The barn was dismantled a few years ago, and the materials were used to construct another barn in a town about 45 miles away. Giles thinks his bracelet was imbedded in the barn materials when they were moved.Workers at a meat store were cutting up chickens when they spotted the bracelet in a chicken gizzard recently. Giles told the paper the bracelet pieces are intact and the clasp still works.It had the street address and phone number of his childhood home engraved on the steel, along with his father’s name, Doug Giles. That allowed a worker to track him down.Giles says he expects the bracelet to stay in his family for many years to come."It's the strangest story that I have ever heard in the meat locker business," store owner Mark Olson told the Sentinel. "I've heard of livestock swallowing unusual objects, but this situation stands out."

Four Crazy Brits to Celebrate 8 Crazy Nights

It's that time of year again. Time to light the candles! It's also time to have a latke (kudos if you know how to work with hot oil; I find it scary), have some gelt (if anyone has the inside track on where to get some 75% cacao dark chocolate gelt, you could make a killing in the 18-49 demo!), have a dreidel (please, if Jews can write great Christmas songs like "White Christmas," why can't they write a decent song about something made out of clay?!). Or Hava Nagila! Let's all chant "OY!"

Happy Hanukkah to all!!
655 Jack

Is that you, Hanukkah Claus??

Turkey Day is just 3 days away and that means
the holidays will soon be upon us (they actually
started at the stroke of midnight after Labor Day)
Whether you worship the Western Wall, Jesus, Allah or the Almighty Dollah, it's time to celebrate! I'll try my best to post more often. Look for holiday musings, both past and present and some of my favorite links in the next few weeks.

Only 16 shopping days to Hannukkah and 35 shopping days to Christmas! Don't ask me when Kwanzaa is...

655Jack

Here's a great article from http://www.gadling.com/ as all of you contemplate your holiday travels. Make sure to think of the TSA this year in your holiday stocking; just make sure it's 3oz. or less.

JJ

Love the snow globe, but don't hand carry it on an airplane
by Jamie Rhein

While perusing the list of things not allowed as carry ons on airplanes, snow globes caught my eye. These are those items I usually associate with Christmas. Remember the one in "It's a Wonderful Life" -- the Jimmy Stewart classic holiday movie? The snow globe represented the main character's idlylic town--all cozy and snowy in winter. Even if you had that snow globe-- calling it an antique--a movie classic piece of memorabilia, TSA wouldn't blink and eye before snatching it up and selling it on Ebay.

Okay, I remember a snow globe at the end of "It's a Wonderful Life," but maybe I'm making this up and I just think I saw it. But, there was also a snow globe in "Citizen Kane" that crashed to the ground and broke at the end of the movie when the main character dies, right as he whispered, "Rosebud." Either one, doesn't matter. You can't take it on the plane.
See, the water in the snow globe might not be water at all--and heaven knows what those white flakes or glitter that swirls about when you shake the globes might be made of. Plastic, sure. How about EXPLOSIVE plastic? Just kidding, I have no idea.

I'm actually not faulting TSA for putting snow globes on the list. I never would have thought of their possible use as a terrorist weapon. Seems mean to me. Clever, sure, but definitely mean. Snow globes are magic. They are where you hold a world in your hand that you can alter by turning it upside down or shaking it. They are like the best memories of childhood--like pudding. You can take pudding on the plane, but just 3 ounces or less.
So if you happen to be traveling for the holidays and pick up a snow globe in some gift shop, just remember, wrap it in a towel or something, and put it in the middle of your suitcase--otherwise, maybe you can buy it back on Ebay like Neil suggests.

Sometimes You Just Gotta Dance

These guys have the right idea. So what if they're monkeys; sometimes you just have to dance.

Hurts So Bad

A slow Sunday, but meanwhile...

This was an article that came up in my Yahoo! News. What was interesting was the picture that Reuters used to accompany it.

No lie.
655

What? Did I say something wrong?

Tue Sep 25, 11:34 AM ET

Malaysian doctors have reattached a man's nearly severed penis after his first wife, enraged by his comparison of her sex skills with those of his younger second wife, decided to chop it off with a kitchen knife.
The man, a 43-year-old Indonesian worker in southern Johor state, was lying in bed with his 48-year-old wife talking about his newly wed second wife, who is in her 30s, when the incident happened, the New Straits Times newspaper reported.
Despite his shock and pain, the man managed to pull on his trousers and ride his motorcycle to a nearby hospital, where doctors had to put in 11 stitches to reattach the organ.
The man later complained to police, who arrested the woman and plan to charge her with voluntarily causing grievous hurt with a dangerous weapon, which carries the penalty of a three-year jail term and a fine, the newspaper reported.

Reuters - Tue Sep 25, 2:26 PM ET A knife is used to cut gammon in Stuttgart May 15, 2006 in this file photo. (Michaela Rehle/Reuters)

We are Connected to Victory and Happiness

This is freakish on so many levels...

But I have just one question -- when buying shoes for dogs, do you buy women's shoes or men's shoes?

YouTube - Mariko Takahashi's Fitness Video

655Jack

Jack's Happy New Year wish: More information than you need to know

I cannot take Sudafed.

I came back from China with the weirdest cold but then, I wasn't surprsied considering all the spitting and sneezing that took place in every public place. Combine it with the most killer jet lag I've ever experienced (15 hours of time difference makes for big jet lag) and I was ripe for one of the nastiest head colds I'd ever had.

It began on the flight home and went into full throttle the first night back. No need to go into detail here but suffice to say, there I was trying to sleep with every box of Kleenex I could find in the house. Normally, I would've slept it off but before I knew it, I had only 3 hours of sleep and it was time to get up and go to Temple for the Jewish New Year.

No sniffling and davening allowed there so I decided maybe I should take Sudafed.

Big mistake.

It made my head feel like it was a balloon detached from my head. My sinuses dried out but my eyes were constantly tearing and it gave me a killer sinus headache.

To top it all off, the Temple I'd been going to for the last 15 years changed Rabbis and the new Rabbi was "different," to put it nicely. He was a diminutive Argentinean man who came to Los Angeles via Sweden (he was THE Rabbi of Sweden for several years) whose accent made Charro sound like a Rhodes Scholar. It was as if Ricky Ricardo went Jewish and was conducting the service with malapropisms everywhere. "Hocus Pocus" became "focus pocus," and so on. The service was supposed to start at 10 but we didn't get to the first prayer until 10:50 because he was too busy entertaining us with his rearragned English while regaling the congregation with stories of his multicultrual life, his Yiddishe mother in Israel, etc. etc. OY!

Then the unspeakable happened. He introduced Happy, an African man in a dishiki. (Is that what you call those African shirts with wild prints that look like short Mumus?) Happy, we were told, would accompany us during morning prayers with drumming and African tambourine. ??!!?? If had selzter in my mouth, I would've done a spit take. I wouldn't have believed it had I not seen and heard it with my own eyes and ears. I kid you not that when it came to the Amidah prayers, he began drumming and asked the congregation to chant along with him, African style! Where was I? Zimbabwe Beth Sholom? After an hour an a half of this strange cultural mash-up, I'd had a splitting headache. For the first time ever, I slinked out of a High Holiday service. I just wasn't man enough to take the multi-culturalism any longer. I felt like I was in a bizarre episode of Seinfeld or Curb Your Enthusiasm and with the Sudafed swirling in my head, the drum beat drumming, I was sure I was on Jewish acid.

It was time to go.

Iit only got worse.

When I arrived home, I was immediately shuttled to my landlady's house for New Year's lunch. Initially, I was looking forward to an enjoyable break from the mystery meat Chinese food and veggies I had been eating for the last two weeks. But I was wrong, wasn't I?

Just some background, my landlady is as sweet as can be. God Bless her, she's a Holocaust survivor and with her husband (Russian, who's always insisting that visitors should drink) and her daughter and son-in-law, they couldn't make a more nice family. But I forgot about what can happen when it comes to food and people come from deprived backgrounds. They eat when given the opportunity to make up for what they didn't have back then. For me it was a disaster. Whatever effort I had spent the last 5 months eating clean went out the door (I was good about not eating white flour, avoiding processed sugar, etc..even in China where I just went veggie when the mystery meat appeared). It was time to suffer.

First, I was pried with wine (hey, goes well with Sudafed, right?). Then I was offered (read "force fed") home made gefilte fish, (unusually sweet for some reason). Then the rest came down for me like plagues on the Egyptian Pharoh. Matzoh balls (the biggest I'd ever seen), noodle kugel (Manhattan city block sized portion), chicken (half) and stuffing (oh Hell, if you're going to go all carb, do it right) and lemon honey cake (two servings, at my landlady's insistence). Let my stomach go!

In the end, I just couldn't refuse. Each time I protested that it was too much, I imagined my landlady gaving me a look as if all her days at Auschwitz were in vain -- maybe because I wasn't appreciating the food which she slaved so hard to make and which she was serving us to make up for the food she was denied there? A shonda that I should waste a morsel. As I rolled myself out of her apartment, I was convinced that I was going Jewish hell for even thinking that. BTW, do you do know what Jewish hell is? Eternal guilt.

I came in after lunch feeling as if I had a nuclear reactor fuel rod burning in my stomach. Suddenly, all those carbs in me made it difficult to even keep my eyes open. (Pile some jet lag on that plate, won't you?). I just had to lay down. An hour later, I woke up sweating like Wayne Newton on "Dancing With the Stars" and my heart racing a mile a minute. And for a moment I wasn't sure if I was going to puke or poop. (Thanks for sharing, Jack). I finally did the latter, (thanks for sharing again, Jack) but that did the trick. It felt as if a weight was lifted off my shoulders (or belly, as it were). Good boy, Jack!

That night, I followed my other neighbos' advice and took good old dependable Alka Seltzer - Nightime Cold Medicine. This time there was no dealing with the acid flashback nightmare that was Sudafed. (In fact, my neighbor said 10 mg of Sudafed was way too much for my delicate little system). And you know what? All went well and I slept like a baby. This morning I woke up with barely a sniffle and my cold nearly gone. Now all I had to deal with was the big bowl of jet lag that I had on top of my head.

Here's wishing you a Happy New Year.

By the way, for those of you looking for a Temple to go to in the L.A. area but want to know how they each rate, check out this link:


Los Angeles Synagogue Review

The Jasons in China: I've Been Shanghai'ed

Shanghai, China

September 10, 2007


Ni hao

The trip is nearing an end and I've found myself in what is probably the city of the future - Shanghai. The best way to describe it is take New York City, add a few cups of chopped up Las Vegas, throw in a pinch of Vancouver and a dusting of San Francisco and wok fry the whole concoction with a heavy dose of spicy Chinese peppers. The architecture is fantastic here. They've taken the skyscraper and created a whole new urban art form, breaking free of conventional straight lines and corners. And they've taken the traditional skyline one step further and have learned to make it work as visual entertainment at night by covering buildings with the most spectacular lights. Fifty story buildings appear to pulsate and move to the city beat and in the end, creates a city that literally feels like it never sleeps. For a city that has 22 million inhabitants (and growing), it does fairly well, with cleaner than average streets and orderly foot traffic. There are signs of a very different culture however; people sneeze openly without covering their mouths, spitting on sidewalks is very common and personal space and orderly line formation do not exist. But that's their culture so you learn to live with it!

The trip reached its zenith yesterday with a marathon 12 hour tour that left even me exhausted. Note that the picture below says it all. I needed a break so I gave in and had a good old cup of Seattle's best brew!




Somewhere in there, we had a free day, and we visited the site of the tallest building in the world and had lunch in the tallest hotel in the world next door. The lobby of the hotel began at the 56th floor and it soared up to the 85th floor! When you looked up, you actually got dizzy. It looked like the scene out of The Empire Strikes Back where Darth Vader intoned: "Luke, I am your father! NOOOOOOOOOO!"

Later, as we drove around town, I caught a glimpse of this sign that was advertising a new kind of nightclub. I wonder if this was something that would fly here in the US? Not a place if you're waiting for a hot cup of coffee from a waiter or waitress, eh?



Our last day we visited a small river town that was described as the Venice of China. It was China of decades ago. The town begged to be photographed in sepia tones so I flipped a switch on the camera and this is what I got. By the way, the town had it's own gondoliers, just like the ones in Venice but instead of men, the gondoliers here were women. And each one had their own song which they serenaded boat guests with!


Except for lunch where we were served spicy shrimp, heads, legs and all (they were so small that to eat them you had to pop the whole shrimps in your mouth, heads and all, and use your teeth to bite off the heads and remove the shells), it was a great way to end the trip. By the way, I passed on the shrimp. Surprised?

China is a great place to visit; we'll all certainly get a look next year when images will be beamed into our households as we watch the Summer Olympics. But try and visit in person. If you can overlook the spitting, sneezing and crazy crowds, you'll see some of the most spectacular sights in your life and experience a trip unlike any other.

Xie xie,

Jackie Chan

and The Jasons

The Jasons in China: If This is Thursday, This Must be Xian

Somewhere in China

September 6, 2007

You know you're on vacation when you actually lose track of what day of the week it is. It doesn't help that my day here is one day ahead of yours and my day is your night, etc., etc...But I'm having a hell of a good time.

Where am I? Oh yea, I'm in Xian. Today we flew into the city from Beijing and found a very different landscape. Instead of endless city scapes we found farm lands. We ventured into the city of Xian and did some shopping. Imagine my surprise when I bought a deck of cards for my mom and got this shopping bag.

Now it's evening in Xian and I've just returned from a dumpling dinner. And when I say dumplings, I mean lots and lots of dumplings at Xian's premiere dumpling house. Sixteen courses worth of dumplings. Dumplings of all kinds, in all shapes and sizes. Pork. Pork and vegetable. Pork and pumpkin. Chicken and vegetable. Shrimp and vegetable. Vegetable. And walnut! (shaped like little walnuts and VERY tasty). Stacks and stacks of bamboo steamers filled with dumplings. It was like a Chinese dumpling version of Willy Wonka. By the end you were wondering who would've thought those little doughy delights would make you feel so full?

After dinner we took a walk and drive around town where the light mist made the entire downtown area of Xian glow like a Chinese lantern.

Earlier today we also had a chance to visit the Eighth Wonder of the Word - the Terra Cotta Warriors of Xian. Truly spectacular and overwhelming.

It was amazing to find out that this vast collection of archeological gems was discovered while a farmer was digging for a water well -- and that he is still around, 30 years later, working as a guide at the museum. There are estimated to be over 8,000 figures out there but only 2000 have been unearthed and restored. It was wild.Ever feel like you're being followed by a man of stone?

Meanwhile, on our last last day in Beijing (whenever that was..oh yea, yesterday) we visted the Hutongs, the old sections of homes where people live as they did over 70 years ago. We rode pedicabs which were a hoot. We also had a chance to visit a Kindergarten class and chat with kids who were happy to greet us with a big "Hello" in English.Our final lunch in Beijing gave us a glimpse into real Chinese life. We were invited into a local resident's home and get a home cooked meal. W all agreed it was the best meal of our entire trip. "Ding Ding Hao!" which means very good was the most appropriate phrase.


Man, do they love their multi course meals here. The meal went on forever!

Onto Shanghai tomorrow.

Ding Ding Hao!
Jackie Chan

The Jasons in China: Day 3

September 3, 2007
Beijing

Ni Hao!

Impressions of China on Day 3

I've seen very few birds and no cats. Not a tweet to be heard for miles because I was told by our tour guide that there was a concerted effort to eliminate the pidgeon from Beijing. I say good show. Who likes those rats with wings? As for the absence of cats, we in the US know how effective their pet food is in helping control the pet population...They eat anything with two legs except people and anything with four legs except for tables. In China, our tour guide told us they eat: beef (all parts), pork (all parts), chicken (all parts, starting with feet which are imported from the US because we just won't eat them), as well as eel, snake, crickets, turtle, frog, lizard, ANY fish, etc. etc. I think I've seen most of these during one our many Chinese meals. "Mister! Hello! Mister! Hello!" is getting to be my least favorite phrase that I hear while shopping.Traffic in China anytime during the day makes the 405 at 5 pm on a Wednesday look like traffic on Christmas morning. This afternoon it took us one hour and fifteen minutes to travel 10 miles. Lucky that us Jasons used this time to catch up on our sleep. By the way, China is BIG. We've learned that Beijing with 18 million people is China's second largest city. There's a city in the middle of China with 33 million people. Though people still spit freely on sidewalks and in public areas, the China I've seen is the cleanest place I've been to in all my travels (not a speck of litter anywhere), the people are the friendliest and nicest I've encountered and all is orderly and safe which works well for this OCD American tourist. Not even the food issues could stop me from coming back. I suggest a visit to China for all.





Xie Xie,
Jackie Chan

The Jasons in China: Day 2

September 2, 2007
Beijing

Ni Hao!

Today we spent the majority of the day at The Forbidden City with a visit after lunch to the Temple of Heaven. First we started out in Tienanmen Square, site of the infamous uprising. It was Sunday and most people were families strolling about taking pictures of each other. One of the members of our group who is black told me of how a family from the Outer Provinces came up to her smiling, touching her skin and asking to take her picture with them; they had never seen a black person before. All the woman could do was laugh, it was so weird. Then it was inside to the famed Forbidden City. Bigger than two Disneyland's put together, it really brought the film "The Last Emperor" to life (go rent it if you haven't seen it; great film). Outer wall, followed by an inner wall, followed by an inner palace, followed by an inner courtyard, it was enormous. We walked for hours and finally came out the other side just before lunch.And today we finally had our first Chinese meal. Lunch was like a great Chinese meal in Downtown LA. Dinner was another matter. Two words - Beijing Duck. And if you weren't a fan of duck (watching it brought out with the head intact and then being sliced up with the eyeballs staring at you didn't help) , you were out of luck because there was no alternative for us non duck eaters. I did try it but it was no go. It tasted like very gamey, greasy dark meat chicken. I tried to find an edible vegetable but the rest of the meal was pork or unidentified meat (the waiters spoke NO English). After much quiet protesting on my part, I finally got my dinner - white rice. Ah well, not every meal can be perfect. That's what I brought Lara Bars for. Bon Appetit, Jack! I guess I can fill up on breakfast tomorrow.













Tomorrow is Monday and we're off to The Great Wall at Badaling.

Jackie Chan & The Jasons

The Jasons in China: Day 1

Goodbye, Golden Gate. and hello...

Beijing
September 1, 2007

Ni Hao from Beijing

The end of our first day here in China and all I can say is this place is fantastic As you can see from the pictures below, we visited the Great Wall but as this was our free day, our new friend Blandina who works for UNICEF helped us hire a driver to take us to the less touristy part of the Great Wall at Mutinayu. What a great chance to see the wall without the crowds.

China is a vacationer's dream. People are extremely polite, the streets and avenues spotless and one never feels unsafe, no matter what time of day or night it is. And it's cheap! After our visit to the Great Wall, we visited the Silk Market. But don't let the name fool you. It was seven floors of every single expensive brand clothing, shoes, watches, at you could think of, all at rock bottom prices. A lot of the stuff was fake but as fake goes, it looked pretty real; D&G, rada, LV, Rolex, Gucci, North Face, Polo, Abercrombie & Fitch, Nike. Whereas Santee Alley in downtown LA is all about purses, this place had everything else including everything above and more: shoes, designer sheets, underwear, backpacks, etc. As we walked through the aisles, the salespeople would tug at you, hold your hand and say "Mister? Miss? Come buy!" It was actually funny because they were all extremely friendly and eager to help you find whatever you wanted but most times you would walk on buy, clearly not interested.

After 45 minutes of being tugged, pulled and yelled at we'd had enough. But if shopping is what you like to do, come to Beijing and the Silk Market. No better bargain shopping around.

Tomorrow our tour officially begins and we visit Tianemen Square and the Forbidden City.

Cheers,
Jackie Chan & The Jasons in China