Goldy

And Bill O’Reilly thinks it’s atheists like me who are the danger….

Every Joo
Down in Joo-ville
Liked Chanukah as such…

But the Kvetch,
Who lived just north of Joo-ville,
… not so much.

The Kvetch hated Chanukah, the whole Chanukah season.
Now don’t ask me why. What? Should I know the reason?
It could be he wasn’t a mensch, that is all.
Or his petzel, perhaps, was two sizes too small.
Such meshug’as comes from one thing or another,
But like most Joo-ish boys, we should just blame his mother!

But,
The reason, whatever,
His mom or his putz,
The Kvetch hated Chanukah. Oy, what a yutz!
For he knew every Joo down in Joo-ville tonight
Was busy preparing menorahs to light.

“And they’re giving out gelt!” he sighed as he said
“I need waxy chocolate like holes in my head!”
Then he nervously whined as his fingers tapped horas,
“I MUST stop the Joos from igniting menorahs!”

For,
The Kvetch knew that soon…

… All the Joo girls and boys
Would say the baruch’ha, then unwrap their toys!
And then! Oh, the oys! Oh, the Oys! Oys! Oys! Oys!
If it’s not what they wanted, the OYS! OYS! OYS! OYS!

Then the Joos, young and old, would sit down for a nosh.
And they’d nosh! And they’d nosh!
And they’d NOSH! NOSH! NOSH! NOSH!
They would nosh on Joo-latkes, and Gefilte-Joo-Fish,
Which was surely the Kvetch’s least favorite dish!

And THEN
They’d do something
Which made the Kvetch plotz!
Every Joo down in Joo-ville, Bar Mitzvahed or not,
Would sit down together, their proud ponim’s grinning.
Then dreidels in hand, all the Joos would start spinning!

They’d spin! And they’d spin!
AND they’d SPIN! SPIN! SPIN! SPIN!
And the more the Kvetch thought of this Joo-Dreidel-Spin,
The more the Kvetch thought, “I can’t let this begin!
“Oy, for fifty-three years I’ve put up with it now!
“Chanukah, Schmanukah! Stop it!
… But HOW?”

Then he got an idea!
And the moment he had,
He said
“I’m no Einstein, but this… not half bad!”

“I know just what to do!” Then he donned an old sheet,
And dug up some sandals to wear on his feet.
“I’m the Prophet Elijiah! They’ve set me a plate!”
(For the Kvetch couldn’t keep Joo-ish holidays straight.)
“The Joos ‘ll oblige ol’ Elijiah, no doubt!
“I will simply walk in. Then I’ll clean the place out!”

“All I need is a camel…”
He looked far and near,
But this wasn’t the desert, and camels are dear.
Did that stop the old Kvetch…?
That pischer? No, never:
“If I can’t find a camel,” the Kvetch said, “…whatever.”
So he called his dog, Max. Then he took an old sack
And he tied a hump onto the front of his back.

THEN
He climbed on this
dog-dromedaryish mammal.
You never have seen
Such a schmuck on a camel.

Then the Kvetch cried “Oy vey!”
As old Max started down
Toward the homes, while the Joos
Where still schmoozing in town.

All their driveways were empty. Just SUV tracks.
All the Joos were out last-minute-shopping at Saks,
As he rode to a not-so-small house on old Max.
“It’s a good thing I brought” the old Prophet Kvetch thought,
“All these bags with to stuff all the stuff the Joos bought.”

Then he looked at the chimney. It seemed quite a stretch
That a fat goy like Santa could fit, thought the Kvetch,
“Still, the goyim believe stranger things, that’s for sure.”
Then the Kvetch shrugged his shoulders, and walked through the door
Where the little Joo dreidels were all strewn about.
“These dreidels,” he grinned, “are the first to go out!”

And he schvitzed, as he shlepped, with an odor unpleasant,
Around the whole house, as he took every present!
Barbie dolls! Mountain bikes! Brios! And blocks!
Pokemon! GameBoys! And all of that shlock!
And he stuffed them in bags. Then his arms spread akimbo,
He shlepped all the bags, one by one, out the wimbo!

Then he shlepped to the kitchen. He took every dish.
He took the Joo-latkes. The Gefilte-Joo-Fish.
He cleaned out the Sub-Zero so nimbly and neat,
Careful to separate dairy from meat.
Then he shlepped the Joo-nosh right out the front door-a.
“And NOW!” kvelled the Kvetch, “I will shlep the menorah!”

And he grabbed the menorah, and started to shlep on,
When he heard a whine, like a cat being stepped on.
He spun ‘round with shpilkes, and coming his way,
It was Ruth Levy-Joo, who was two, if a day.

The Kvetch had been caught by this small shaina maidel,
Who’d been watching TV on her big RCA’dle.
“The Prophet Elijiah?” she quizzed the old fool,
“You visit on Pesach, they taught us in shul.”

And although the old Kvetch was surprised and confused,
It’s not hard to lie to a girl in her twos.
“Bubbeleh… sweatheart…” he started his tale,
“Your dad paid full price, when this all was on sale!
“And like any good merchant, I just want to please ya.
“I’ll ring it up right, then I’ll refund your VISA.”

Then he patted her tush. Put a Barney tape in.
And she spaced-out as fast as the spindle could spin.
And as Ruth Levy-Joo watched her mauve dinosaura,
HE went to the door and shlepped out the menorah!

Then the match for the shamas
Was last to be filched!
Then he shlepped himself out to continue his pillage.
On the walls he left nothing at all. Bubkes. Zilch.
And the one speck of food
That he left in the house
Was a matzoh ball even too dense for a mouse.

Then
He did the same schtick
In the other Joo’s houses.

Leaving knaidlach
Too dense
For the other Joo’s mouses!

It was quarter to dusk…
All the Joos, still at Saks,
All the Joos, still a-shmooze
When he packed up old Max,
Packed him up with their presents! The gelt and the dreidels!
The chotchkes and latkes! The knish and the knaidels!

He hauled it all up to his condo in haste!
(A Grinch might have dumped it, but why go to waste?)
“Shtup you!” to the Joos, the Kvetch loudly cheered,
“They’re finding out Chanukah’s cancelled this year!
“They’re just coming home! I know just what they’ll say!
“They’ll ask their homeowners insurance to pay,
“Then the Joos down in Joo-ville will all cry OY VEY!”

“All those Oys,” kvelled the Kvetch,
“Now THIS I must hear!”
So he paused. And the Kvetch put his hand to his ear.
And he did hear a sound rising up from the shtetl.
It started to grow. Then the Kvetch grew unsettled…

Why the sound wasn’t sad,
It was more like the noise
Of a UPS trucker
Delivering toys!

He stared down at Joo-ville!
And then the Kvetch shook,
As truck after truck
Replaced all that he took!

Every Joo down in Joo-ville, the Golds and the Steins,
Re-ordered their presents by going online!

Chanukah HADN’T been cancelled!
IT CAME!
…On UPS trucks… but it came just the same!

Then the Kvetch, staring down at the gifts where they sat,
Stood kvitching and kvetching: “For this, I did that?
“It came without traffic! It came without tax!
“It came without shopping at Bloomie’s or Saks!”
And he kvetched on and on, til he started to shvitz,
Then the Kvetch thought of something which might make him rich!
“Maybe stores,” thought the Kvetch, “don’t need mortar and bricks.
“Maybe toys can be bought with a few well-placed clicks!”

And what happened then…?
Well… in Joo-ville they say
That the Kvetch raised
Ten million in venture that day!
And the minute his web site was ready to go,
He raised ten billion more on his new IPO!
He sold back the toys to the homes they came from!
And he…

… he the Kvetch…!
Founded YA-JOO.COM!

©2000 by David Goldstein
All rights reserved

[An HA holiday tradition, with apologies to the late, great Dr. Seuss—but not to the greedy, litigious bastards at Dr. Seuss Enterprises, LLC. So there. Happy Christmukah.]

Perhaps it’s because I’m not gay.  Or maybe it’s because I’m not a woman.  But I’ve had a hard time getting all riled up about Barack Obama’s choice of the anti-gay, anti-woman Rev. Rick Warren to deliver the inaugural invocation, and I can’t help but agree with Carla over at Blue Oregon in wondering if this type of symbolic litmus test is really worth our collective energy and outrage:

There are a lot of excellent bloggers who know how to take the fight to the halls of DC and beyond. The ability to stir things up is a hallmark of what some of us love to do. But the ability to do this stirring has its limits. Our political capital is finite. Do we really want to spend it in an attempt to influence Obama to dump Rick Warren’s Inaugural invocation? Really?

I know, maybe it’s because I’m not Christian (or even a theist for that matter), and so I find the whole notion of a religious invocation or benediction at any political event unappealing, regardless of who delivers it, but in answer to Carla’s question, I guess I’d say, um… no.  Actual policy, well that’s worth a fight, but this… well… not really.

Not that my fellow progressive bloggers shouldn’t feel free to express their outrage if that’s what yanks their chain, but as Carla demonstrates, mainstream observers would be mistaken to view the netroots as some sort of group-think monolith, and should avoid mistaking loudness for leadership.  Even the name brand national bloggers speak only for themselves; if you don’t believe me, just read their comment threads.

Meanwhile, Carla is dead-on in pointing out that the political capital of the netroots is finite, though I’d elaborate by saying that it’s also rather limited when it comes to influencing the White House, regardless of the occupant.  Maybe it’s because I’m just a lowly local blogger, but it’s hard to see why I’d bother wasting my time trying to persuade Obama to hire a different preacher?

Or… maybe not.

Yesterday’s Seattle Times piece on Seattle DOT’s salt-free snow removal policy apparently struck a nerve with frustrated readers, at least judging by the four follow-up stories and editorials in today’s edition, plus two more in today’s Seattle P-I.

Huh.  It turns out the lack of salt can cause high blood pressure too.  Who knew?

Mayor Nickels better hope the city thaws out soon, before the nascent Frozenwatergate scandal threatens his reelection prospects.  But for all the calls for the city to change its no-salt policy, it’s likely way too late for the current storm system, if not much of the winter season.  A no-salt policy means that the city stockpiles… um… no salt.  And anybody who’s trekked to their local Home Depot this week in hopes of buying some rock salt knows that it is usually in shortest supply when it is needed most.

With many of the city’s major arterials glaciated over the past week, including much of the downtown, the city will no doubt reevaluate its no-salt policy.  But deciding to use salt, and having it available to use are two different things, so for now we’ll just have to wait for rain and warmer weather to melt our icy streets.

Apparently, unlike the state Department of Transportation, and transportation officials in most major cities, Seattle refuses to apply salt to city’s icy roads, for fear of runoff into Puget Sound… which is, of course, salty.  Huh.

Whatever.

No doubt our city’s salt-free road clearing policy is an inconvenience to folks like me without four-wheel drive, but there is a side benefit that every car owner enjoys… our cars last longer out here.  A helluva lot longer.

My first car was a 1964 Mercury Comet, which I acquired shortly after moving here in 1992, and it sure wasn’t the oddity it would have been back in Philadelphia or New York, where road salt would have long ago digested its parts into a pile of rust.  Folks simply didn’t drive thirty-year-old cars back East, unless they were well cared for classics, but hunks of steel like the Comet were a pretty common sight back in the 1990’s, before the invasion of the Priuses.  (Prii?)

So I don’t know how much Seattle DOT’s salt-free diet does to save the Sound, but it certainly saves our cars, thus I and my rust-free, 8-year-old Altima have no complaints.

Just spoke with Will, who reported with pride the SUVs braving Belltown’s icy streets to buy crack from the dealers in the alley behind his building.  I guess all it takes to keep our local economy going through this wintery mess is a little motivation and a good, old fashioned, American entrepreneurial spirit.

While one needn’t design a transit system to deal with weather conditions that occur once or twice a decade, it’s important to note the failure of our region’s bus system to operate anywhere near full capacity during our week of snow and sub-zero temperatures.  Light rail and street cars, on the other hand, they can handle nearly anything our Puget Sound climate can throw at them, as long as trains are run frequently enough to prevent the overhead power lines from icing over.

I don’t point this out as some sort of I told you so, or as a bit of advocacy for even more rail, but rather as an observation about differing attitudes toward transit in cities with rail versus those without.  Those of us who grew up in cities with extensive rail systems expect transit to be reliable, because… well… it generally is.  In cities like Seattle however, we merely expect transit to be somewhat reliable, conditions permitting.  Snow, floods, traffic jams and accidents… that sorta shit happens, and bus commuters learn to deal with it.  (Whether your employer is willing to deal with you missing a week or more of work because your bus route was canceled, well, that’s another story.)

I think over time, as more rail comes online, and more commuters grow accustomed to its comfort and reliability, attitudes toward transit in this region will gradually change.  No longer looked down upon as mostly an alternative for folks who can’t afford to drive, we will eventually become both more appreciative of our transit system, and more demanding.  And that’s a good thing.

I just watched a bit of 60 Minutes for the first time in God knows how long, and I learned that Andy Rooney is still alive.  Sorta.

Who knew?

I parked my car by my house Wednesday afternoon, not really believing the weather would live up to the dire forecasts, and there it remains for at least a couple more days, if not a week. Silly me.

Coming from Philadelphia, I know how to drive on ice and snow, and therefore I also know when not to drive.  I have no four-wheel-drive, no traction control, and no ABS, and while I might be able maneuver down my hill without fish tailing into the cars parked on either side… I might not.  The relatively passable Rainier Ave. tantalizingly beckons only a couple blocks away, but for now I can only reach it on foot.

I can’t say I’m bored, but I’m certainly a little stir crazy, so this afternoon I’ll pass some time by hiking a couple miles back and forth to the Viet Wah to pick up a few supplies.  (I’m out of goddamn garlic, and I’m craving fresh ginger.)  And I imagine tomorrow, I’ll take the bus somewhere… anywhere… if only for a change of scene and some face to face conversation.

I suppose I could get me one of those four-wheel-drive trucks or SUVs to get me off my hill on those handful of days every few years when the roads actually demand traction… and, you know… I actually need to go somewhere… but I’ve got a better solution.  A few years from now, the next time one of these big storms hit, I intend to be living walking distance from a light rail station.  Sure, I’ll miss the view from my hill, but I’ll love the year-round convenience.

Speaking of desperate Times, more bad news may be coming for the struggling Seattle-area newspaper as longtime advertiser Windermere Real Estate mulls pulling out of the Sunday Times, and taking its four pages a week of advertising with it.  And if Windermere goes, could other realtors be far behind?

In recent meetings, Windermere managers have advised agents of the possible end to the weekly, multi-page advertising buy, which has been a fixture in the Times’ real estate section for… well… forever.  Agents were told that with 87-percent of clients now coming to Windermere via the Internet, management is exploring whether newspaper ads still provide a sufficient return on investment to justify their cost.

Managers also cited what they saw as relentless and overly gloom-and-doomish coverage of the local real estate market on the Times’ front page, complaining that compared to the rest of the nation the local market is actually much healthier than the Times reports.  I guess the thinking is, why spend money advertising in a paper that’s actually hurting your business?

But whatever the reason, chalk up yet another formerly steady revenue source on which the dailies can no longer rely.

In the latest sign of their increasingly desperate financial situation, the Seattle Times instructed about 500 managers and non-unionized employees to take one week unpaid leave by February 28.  The Times would not reveal the amount of money it expected to save by the mandatory action, only that it needed to achieve cost savings early in the coming year.

Scary time to be in the news biz.

[NOTE:  I’m not sure what happened, but the server burped and I lost this post, and all its comments.  Strange.  So please add your comments to the thread again.]

With a budget battle brewing in what will be one of the most consequential legislative sessions in years, the number of journalists covering our state government has plummeted:

During the past 15 years, the state population has increased by 25 percent and the amount of tax money spent by the state has more than doubled. Yet the number of print, television and radio journalists covering the state Legislature full time has dropped by about 70 percent.

[…] In 1993, there were 34 journalists covering the Washington state Legislature. By 2007, there were 17. This year, there may be as few as 10 full-time journalists, mostly newspaper reporters.

We are facing the prospect of a huge hole in political coverage, with potentially devastating results for our state’s citizenry, but it’s also an opportunity for new media to rise to the task and help fill the void.  I thought about heading down to Olympia myself for the session, or hiring some youngster at slave wages to do it for me, but what’s really needed is a seasoned reporter who knows the ropes.  You know… like Josh Feit, who has been covering the Capitol for years.

The problem, of course, is the money.  It’ll cost HA about $15,000 in salary and expenses to pay Josh to cover this four month session… and that’s on top of the money I ultimately need to raise to support myself.  And I’d like to hear from you, my readers, whether you think it is worth it?

I don’t expect to raise all, or even most of the money in an online fund drive; I’m pursuing larger commitments from individuals and interest groups eager to see more in depth coverage of the coming session while promoting the growth of independent media.  But it all starts with your support.

So let me know what you think about these ambitious plans, and we’ll move on from there.

Paul Weyrich, one of the founders of the Heritage Institute, and a leading force in the modern Conservative movement, died this morning at age 66.  No cause of death was reported, but I’m guessing it was of a broken heart.

… at least by Seattle standards.  I’m guessing in Erie, PA, not so much, but here in Seattle, who could argue?  It’s just a shame to have canceled school yesterday based on the possibility of snow.

Now let’s see if the various districts have the common sense to just call off tomorrow in advance, and let everybody officially start Winter break early.

School let out about an hour and half ago, and the first few drops of rain are starting fall.  But still no sign of snow.

What do you think the chances are that Seattle schools will be open tomorrow, when the roads will be considerably icier than today?