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The Annual pre-Thanksgiving academic debate
So I went to the 60th Annual Latke-Hamantash Debate tonight. It began with a bit of a cappella singing from the Chicago Rhythm and Jews, followed by the panelists and moderator processing in full academic regalia. We learned, from a philosophy professor, that the Hebrew letter which represents the number 60 can, depending on how it's written, look like either a circle (latke) or a triangle (hamantash), thereby proving something or other. The psychiatry department then chimed in, discussing the Ur-myth of Esther, in which the chimps and the humans fought over her, the humans using a circular, discus-type weapon to defeat the triangular-weapon-wielding apes. The next speaker (another philosophy professor, citing Spinoza) argued that the whole debate was moot, that hamantashen don't exist! Really! Because triangles can't exist and as hamantashen are triangles, they can't exist. Q.E.D. But wait! The Dean of Rockefeller Chapel then showed that hamantashen are in the Bible and latkes aren't. Well, what does she know, she's a goy. Oh, dear. I guess the debate still hasn't solved anything. But it was great fun. I didn't stay for the latke-hamantash reception, because I hadn't had dinner, and that really didn't appeal as a meal, so I went to the Medici for steak frites.
Oh! I nearly forgot to say that, if there are any academics out there (Dr. Zugenia?), a new academic journal is about to be launched. It's working title is "The Journal of Latke and Hamantash Studies", and they're looking for papers! So if you are aching to publish your scholarly work on the question of the "superiority of latkes, hamantashen, or other Jewish holiday foods", now's your chance!
Autre stuff
When I got home, there was an SUV parked in my neighbor's spot in such a way as to prevent me from squeezing into mine. It didn't look familiar, but I thought they might have bought a new car (it happens), so I knocked on their door to ask them to move it. Rashid looked and said, "that's not our car". I knocked on the other neighbors' doors, but none admitted to the car or to having visitors. So I called the towing people. Naturally, a couple of minutes later, someone was out there moving the car. I figure somebody heard me and a neighbor talking. Why do people do this shit? If you have to park where you shouldn't, at least leave a note saying where you are. Would have served them right if they'd been towed.
I'm going back to the doctor tomorrow to see about this pain in my arm. I'd almost rather that it were constantly sore, rather than having sudden pain when I move it the wrong way. I get lulled into a false sense of security, if you know what I mean.
I need to go buy some booze for the open house. Fortunately, my liquor store delivers, so I won't need to strain my arm hauling a case of wine up three flights of stairs.
Oh! I nearly forgot to say that, if there are any academics out there (Dr. Zugenia?), a new academic journal is about to be launched. It's working title is "The Journal of Latke and Hamantash Studies", and they're looking for papers! So if you are aching to publish your scholarly work on the question of the "superiority of latkes, hamantashen, or other Jewish holiday foods", now's your chance!
Autre stuff
When I got home, there was an SUV parked in my neighbor's spot in such a way as to prevent me from squeezing into mine. It didn't look familiar, but I thought they might have bought a new car (it happens), so I knocked on their door to ask them to move it. Rashid looked and said, "that's not our car". I knocked on the other neighbors' doors, but none admitted to the car or to having visitors. So I called the towing people. Naturally, a couple of minutes later, someone was out there moving the car. I figure somebody heard me and a neighbor talking. Why do people do this shit? If you have to park where you shouldn't, at least leave a note saying where you are. Would have served them right if they'd been towed.
I'm going back to the doctor tomorrow to see about this pain in my arm. I'd almost rather that it were constantly sore, rather than having sudden pain when I move it the wrong way. I get lulled into a false sense of security, if you know what I mean.
I need to go buy some booze for the open house. Fortunately, my liquor store delivers, so I won't need to strain my arm hauling a case of wine up three flights of stairs.