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Dave’s Gone By Skit: RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #125 (5/23/2015): Harry Shearer

RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #125 (5/23/2015): Harry Shearer

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(aired May 23, 2015 on Dave’s Gone By. Youtube clip: https://youtu.be/PO1sDbOFvbo)

Shalom Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of May 17, 2015.

I’m just wild about Harry, but he’s not wild about us . . . anymore. Last week was a sad time for television viewers–not a tragic one, just sad–because the producers of The Simpsons announced that one of their main voices, a crucial shard of their audio mosaic, Harry Shearer, would not return for the last two seasons of this legendary program. I know, I know. The Simpsons without Harry Shearer is like The Dick Van Dyke show without Mel Cooley. It’s like an all-you-can-eat buffet without a salad bar. It’s like a rabbit vibrator without those extra ears on the bottom. Or sure, it still does a competent job, but your clitoris knows something’s missing.

Harry Shearer, a nice but strange Jewish boy, will always hold my allegiance, not just because of Spinal Tap and A Mighty Wind, and The Simpsons, but because he was also a devoted fan of the early Chabad Lubavitch telethons. He would hold parties for friends and cheer for John Voigt, and presumably do a shot every time the Rabbis started dancing. That kind of mockery blended with admiration is something I aspire to every day.

I also aspire to make $7 million a year, something that will never happen unless I hit Lotto and get in Bill Gates’s will. Harry Shearer could make $7 million for the next two years. All he has to do is continue voicing characters on The Simpsons: Principal Skinner, Ned Flanders, Mr. Burns, Kent Brockman and the goyische Reverend Lovejoy. If a studio offered you $14 million to stand in front of a microphone and say funny things once a week, would you turn it down? My God, for $14 million, I would bite off the penis of a live goat three times a day and five on Shabbos.

But Harry Shearer is above all that. Negotiations may not completely be finished, but Shearer has so far turned down the opportunity to make a paycheck so astronomical, Stephen Hawking couldn’t count the zeroes. And Shearer turned it down on principal. Principal and interest. If you believe his tweets, Shearer is mad because his contract doesn’t allow him the leeway to do other projects. Which is weird considering he’s done bunches of small movie roles, a stage play on the West End, and a weekly podcast for NPR.

On their side, the Simpsons producers still hope for a change of heart. They say Shearer’s contract is the same as all the other major players, and there’s only so much they can bend before they start looking like Mr. Burns.

The weird news is that showrunner Al Jean has stated that instead of retiring characters, as they did when Phil Hartman kicked the bucket, The Simpsons will keep Shearer’s menagerie and just recast them with different voices. Really? Ask yourself, has Kermit really been Kermit post-Jim Henson? Don’t we still feel trauma about the two Darrens in Bewitched? And can you watch later episodes of Cold Case without wondering “Whatever happened to that pretty blonde actress who starred in the show?” before realizing, “Oh, it’s still her”?

I certainly hope Harry Shearer reconsiders and brings us two more seasons of “oodley doodleys” and “Smithers” and “Boo-urns.” But if he must be sprung from Springfield, leave his people be. It’s a big city. You can have new neighbors and school administrators and evil bosses—just as in real life. And all those fans who bitch on the internet, “Oh, The Simpsons has been in a rut since the third season” – now they’ll say, “Oh, The Simpsons has sucked since the third season, but at least they’re not in a rut.”

And you know, if they’re looking for new faces in Homer’s neighborhood, this does coincide with the last season of Aqua Teen Hunger Force. So there’s a meatball, a French fry and a shake that are busy house hunting. Just keep Lisa away from Carl. No good can come of that.

This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches in Great Neck, New York.

–> https://wp.me/pzvIo-1Vx

Dave’s Gone By Interview (5/16/2015): BETSY McFARLAND & Rabbi Sol Solomon

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Rabbi Sol Solomon interviews the daughter of Spanky McFarland, Betsy McFarland

Topics include: Our Gang, The Little Rascals, Stymie, cancer, Michael Jackson

Segment scheduled to air May 16, 2015 as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.

Please Note: Segments extracted from “Dave’s Gone By” may have music and other elements removed for timing and media re-posting considerations. For the full interview with all elements, please visit the audio of the complete original broadcast.

More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com

More information about Rabbi Sol Solomon: http://www.shalomdammit.com

Dave’s Gone By Skit: RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #124 (5/9/2015): What’s in a (Baby) Name?

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RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #124 (5/9/15): What’s in a (Baby) Name?

aired May 16, 2015 on Dave’s Gone By. Youtube clip: http://youtu.be/p8xmxxCuBnY

Shalom Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of May 17, 2015.

By the time I am old enough to enjoy Social Security, there probably won’t BE Social Security, so I’m going to enjoy it now. Last week, the Social Security Administration released its annual statistics on the most popular baby names in America. What, pray tell, are mamas and papas naming their spawn? If they’re celebrities, they’re naming them Apple, and Moon Unit and Ol’ Dirty Bastard III, for all I know. But the rest of us are picking pretty standard monikers for their toddlers.

For example, girls’ names in the Top 10 include Olivia, Charlotte and Abigail. I presume that Olivia comes from Law and Order – Special Victims Unit running on every cable channel, every hour of every day. And since no one can spell Mariska, let alone pronounce it, they went with Olivia. There’s also Emily, which could be named for that hot actress in Bones. Obviously, you can’t name a girl “Bones,” unless you want her to be a little too popular on prom night.

Also on the ladies’ list at number five: Ava, a name I haven’t heard since Frank Sinatra was cheating on her, and Madison, which I guess is better than naming your daughter Jefferson or Roosevelt. Or, for that matter, Bush.

On the penile side of things, name number 10 is Daniel, nice Jewish biblical name. Daniel was a man of apocalyptic visions and good deeds — so good that an angel saved him from a den of lions, which, let me tell you, was much scarier than their living room.

Speaking of the Old Testament–which, being a Rabbi, I am wont to do–only one woman’s name, the aforementioned Abigail, originally comes from the Bible. Abigail was a hottie handmaiden who ended up marrying King David. Never underestimate the appeal of a good handmaiden job.

Meanwhile, unlike the women, half the names on the men’s list have Hebrew or biblical ties. There’s Michael, the archangel, and the goyische James. At number eight you have Ethan, or Eitan, which is Hebrew for strong, firm and safe. Good description for Ethan Allen furniture, though for Etan Patz, not so much.

At number four on the list, there’s Jacob, who went down a rung on the ladder from last year. While, as he did in 2013, flooding the top spot is Noah. I guess people Noah good name when they hear one. Heh heh. I apologize.

Other hot names the past two years include Liam, Alexander and Mason, which could be a tribute to the Freemasons, or those heavy glass jars, or, my guess: former child actor Mason Reese. William is on the list, of course, because William’s always on the list. Alas, there’s no Solomon. Perfectly good name if you ask me.

And as far as the men are concerned, I’ve gotta say, biblical though it may be, it’s a boring roster. Roll through the top 20, and you see Benjamin and David and Joseph and Matthew. Where’s the Yerachmiel? Where’s the Chuchelmaimen? Where’s Teufenvogel and Zazu and Willebold and Mbutu? How about showing some initiative people. How are your children going to get famous and rock one name like Cher, or Moby or Beyonce if they’re all named Elizabeth, or Andrew or John?

At least in the Arab countries you get some variety. The top name is Mohammed. But you also have Muhammed, and Muhammad, and Mohammed, and Mohammad, and Marmaduke.

I’m not thoroughly convinced that a baby name is all that telling about what a person will grow up to be. Nobody names their kid “Adolf” anymore, but that’s no reflection on Adolphe Menjou and Adolph Green. And maybe Harvey Fierstein and Harvey Milk could have compared notes, but if you can find a connection between Don King and Don Knotts, you’re just trying too hard.

So if you’re having a baby this year, remember that 2015 offers all sorts of opportunities to supplant Emma and Noah as the names of choice for American infants. Pinchas and Gittel, your chariot awaits.

This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches in Great Neck, New York.

Dave’s Gone By Interview (5/2/2015): STEVE GOTTLIEB & Rabbi Sol Solomon

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Rabbi Sol Solomon interviews photographer Steve Gottlieb

Topics include: Flush, Washington DC.

Segment aired May 2, 2015 as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.

More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
More information about Rabbi Sol Solomon: http://www.shalomdammit.com

Dave’s Gone By Skit: RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #123 (5/3/2015): Popeyes

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RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #123 (5/3/2015): Popeyes

aired May 2, 2015 on Dave’s Gone By. Youtube clip: http://youtu.be/FgAWY957oPY

Shalom Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of May 3, 2015.

I don’t know how much a gold nugget is worth, but I’ll tell you how much a chicken nugget is worth: $400. Let me explain.

Last month, Marissa Holcomb was working at a Popeye’s fried chicken in Channelview, Texas. We can already feel sorry for Marissa Holcomb because if there is a tenth layer of hell, it would be a Popeyes Fried Chicken in Channelview, Texas.

So Ms. Holcomb is doing whatever managers do in a Popeyes franchise—dipping claws and beaks into a secret combination of garlic and sawdust, keeping the grill reasonably free of pestilence, and coping with the kinds of customers who find Kentucky Fried Chicken too high-end. And this was a busy night for Popeyes because they were running a special: two nuggets for $1.19. I mean, why pay more for arteriosclerosis when you can get two lumps of toxic entrails for the price of a Bruno Mars download?

So Marissa Holcomb, mother of three, with another on the way, is selling customers breasts and thighs—since she was obviously giving hers away for free—when in comes a robber. He leaps over the counter, waves his big, scary gun around, and gets away with $400 out of the register.

Now, you would think this thief, this animal, this cowardly piece of garbage with a weapon in his hand and a beanie over his face—you’d think he was the villain of this story, but oh no. He’s not the Bluto of this Popeye parable.

After the robber runs out the door, one of Holcomb’s superiors approaches her. Does he ask her, “Are you okay?” No. “Would you like the rest of the day off?” No. “Do you need to change your underwear?” No. The manager says, “you owe Popeye’s $400.”

“Exqueeze me?” says Holcomb, her eyes popping. Because it’s Popeyes.

“You owe us the 400 bucks the thief took when you were on your shift.” Why? Because employees are supposed to make sure that the cash registers don’t hold that much money at one time—specifically because it encourages crime, and if a thug does rob ya, he gets away with pocket change instead of a big score.

So because this woman was too busy to unload the till, she was on the hook for what the crook took. Still, she told her overlord, “I just had a gun to my head, and if you think you’re going to hold me up for 400 bucks, you know where you can put that drumstick.” They fired her, and that’s when the fire-storm began. The story went viral, with readers swearing they would never set foot in a Popeye’s restaurant—and those were just the ones trying to avoid diarrhea.

Of course, at Popeyes corporate, the high mucky-mucks were shamed into making nice-nice. They explained—and this is true—that they can’t be there to oversee every manager and every decision at every independent franchise. It’s like asking the Baseball commissioner to stop players from grabbing their nuts and spitting; he can only fine them after the fact. And heck, I can’t even get the Rabbinical council to stop doing it.

More importantly, Popeyes apologized to Holcomb, offered her her job back AND $2,000 in lost wages . . . which is a small price to pay for the company to win back a smidgen of consumer respect. Too small. As of this writing, Holcomb was weighing her options, which no doubt include hiring a lawyer to sue Popeyes for $80,000 per nugget.

To be fair to Popeyes, this woman had apparently been warned a few times to make sure the cash registers weren’t bulging wider than Aretha Franklin’s stretch pants. So she may have been due for a dressing down or even a suspension for ignoring an important rule. But that was not the time. You don’t tell a person crawling out from under a desk after a California earthquake, “I told you not to put the stemware in the breakfront!”

Like so many mega-businesses, Popeyes put profit before the proletariat. The truth of the matter is: If I was working in a store and someone came up to me with a gun, I would give them the register, the silverware, the carpeting and three of my best-looking daughters. And if I was managing a store where this happened, I would send the employees for counseling, give everyone a week off, and hire a big, shtarka security guard. I couldn’t pay him much, but he could have the leftover daughters. And if I was a thief hoping to rob the store, I’d move to Baltimore where everybody’s getting stuff for free! And if I was a customer hoping to eat Popeyes’ chicken, I’d look both ways, carry a gun, and double-check to see if there are any stray cats left in the neighborhood.

This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, crossing the road with the proverbial chicken, to Temple Sons of Bitches in Great Neck, New York.

—> https://wp.me/pzvIo-1VU

Dave’s Gone By Skit: RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #122 (4/19/2015): Campaign 2016

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RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #122 (4/19/2015): Campaign 2016

(aired April 18, 2015 on Dave’s Gone By. Youtube clip: http://youtu.be/h-wdAa7RXFM)

Shalom Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of April 19, 2015.)

Well, the Presidential race for 2016 officially began this week when Hillary Clinton threw her hat into the ring as the presumptive Democratic nominee. Her decision to run came as a shock to an order of Trappist Monks in Burkina Faso, but pretty much everyone else in the universe was expecting this, oh, seven-and-a-half years ago.

And why not? For all the negative publicity and setbacks, the past six years of Obama-America has been moderately successful—spectacularly successful if you compare them to the previous eight years under Shrub. The economy slowly turned around, real-estate is up, gas prices are down, we managed the wars that Dubya started, gay marriage and legal pot became the norm (and, astonishingly, the empire did not collapse), people who couldn’t afford healthcare . . . still can’t afford healthcare but now they have to have it, we’re making nice-nice with Cuba, and we turned bin Laden into fish food. Not perfect but not bad, considering Obama inherited a country that was so rotten, it could have been a Renny Harlin movie.

Through it all, Hillary Clinton took her lumps in 2000 and bided her time visiting a million countries between then and now in order to keep us out of new wars and, let’s face it, to avoid spending quality home time with her husband. The GOP is gonna hammer Hillary over Benghazi and ISIS and her seeming inability to answer a direct question, but half the Republican candidates won’t answer a direct question, either–`cause they can barely speak English.

I kid, I kid, but look at what the Red States are throwing at the next election: Jeb Bush. Do we really want to hear that last name connected with the White House ever, ever again? Sure, comparing Jeb to his brother George W. is like comparing Steven Spielberg to the guy who directed “Gummo.” But Jeb’s intelligence is a danger in itself. Let’s not forget who was governor when Florida hijacked the presidency from Al Gore 15 years ago. (In case you forgot, it was Jeb Bush.) And while he’s pro-education and more sensible than most in his party about immigration, he would decimate social services and be so right-wing on abortion, he’d make jacking off illegal because you’re killing a bajillion potential human beings in spermatozoic form.

Then you’ve got Ted Cruz. He looks like Joseph McCarthy, sounds like Rick Santorum, and comes off like a Sunday preacher on acid. Gotta love him for being pro-Israel, but no Federal money for Hurricane Sandy? No leeway on gun control? No compassion for unwed mothers? No comprehension of global warming? No remorse for shutting down the government in 2012? No admitting that he can’t even run for president because he was born in Canada? (Actually, he can `cause his mom’s American, but why isn’t he up north shooting moose and ordering Terrence and Philip to get a haircut?)

Then you’ve got Marco Rubio, who makes one crowd-pleasing speech, and suddenly he thinks he can run the free world. (Remember how that hot-speech thing worked out for Sarah Palin?) Anyway, he’s Latino, and he’s got charisma. Good for him. I liked Desi Arnaz, but I wouldn’t’ve voted for him. Rubio is anti-same-sex marriage and has so little experience in foreign policy, he makes pre-2008 Barak Obama look like Henry Kissinger. Including the glasses. Worst of all, Marco was mentored by none other than Jeb Bush — the guy he’ll run against in the primaries. Who says there’s no loyalty in politics? I do; I say there’s no loyalty in politics.

Also in the hunt: Rand Paul. He’s so right wing, he makes the Koch Brothers look like Emma Goldman. Paul is another of those religious fundamentalists who thinks conception begins in the nut sack, and he is the epitome of the Republican who believes the way to govern is to block anything and everything the Democrats wanna do. If Obama says walruses have tusks, Rand Paul will filibuster to make sure they’re called “long teeth” instead.

Other rambunctious Republicans who might give Jeb a jolt include Chris Christie, who was desperate enough to accept a Democratic handout but arrogant enough to clog up the George Washington Bridge. Rick Perry, who is currently under indictment, hates gays, hates abortion, and worst of all, comes from Texas. Scott Walker comes from Wisconsin, for which he deserves sympathy. And I hear he’s very much an advocate of two-year colleges – by which I mean that he’s cut so much funding from state universities, they won’t be able to afford four years of teachers.

And did I mention Donald Trump was running again? Just take a moment to process that. Donald Trump, who went bankrupt three times and yet brands himself as a financial genius. He does have a magnificent knack for self-promotion, but he spends money he doesn’t have like it’s going out of style—so why isn’t he running as a Democrat?

Oy. It’s gonna be an interesting year and a half. Night after night of Rachel Maddow shilling for Hill and Sean Hannity sugarcoating anything the Republican party scrapes off its shoe and smears on a ballot. My parishioners tell me, “Rabbi, you bitch and bitch and bitch but don’t offer an alternative. Why don’t you run for President, you’re so smart?” The answer is, I’m smart enough to know my limitations. If I were President, the first thing I’d do is declare war on every country threatening Israel. The second is to make it illegal to use the New Testament as anything more than literature or a doorstop. And the third would be to make pastrami a mandatory part of all school lunches. As for immigration: look, my wife and I have 21 ½ children. Where the hell are we supposed to get nannies for less than six bucks an hour if we send back all the illegals?

Global Warming? Half my relatives live in Florida, and their skins are like komodo dragons from the sunshine. For the sake of the Jews, let’s at least get some umbrellas down there and maybe a few icemakers. Quality of life crime, like graffiti or noise pollution? A simple and effective plan. First offense, 25 hours of community service. Second offense? Death penalty.

As you can see, I am not meant to be the leader of the free world. `Cause I’m a schmuck. I’m saving you the trouble; I’m telling you, I’m a schmuck. The hard part is keeping some other schmuck from becoming president. For 227 years, we have failed at this almost uninterruptedly. I wouldn’t hold out much hope for the next four.

This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches in Great Neck, New York.

—> https://wp.me/pzvIo-1YP

Dave’s Gone By Interview (5/9/2015): RAY STEVENS & Rabbi Sol Solomon

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Rabbi Sol Solomon interviews music legend Ray Stevens

Topics include: novelty songs, comedy, Nashville, music.

Segment aired May 9, 2015 as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.

More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
More information about Rabbi Sol Solomon: http://www.shalomdammit.com

Dave’s Gone By Interview (4/18/2015): BILL PLYMPTON & Rabbi Sol Solomon

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Rabbi Sol Solomon interviews animator Bill Plympton.

Topics include: Your Face, Cheatin’, animation, Disney.

Segment scheduled to air April 18, 2015 as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.

More information about Rabbi Sol Solomon: http://www.shalomdammit.com

Dave’s Gone By Interview (4/11/2015): ELLIOT TIBER & Rabbi Sol Solomon

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Rabbi Sol Solomon interviews author Elliot Tiber

Topics include: After Woodstock, Andre Ernotte, Belgium, Rue Haute

Segment aired April 11, 2015 as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.

Note: Elliot Tiber passed away 8/3/16.

More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com

More information about Rabbi Sol Solomon: http://www.shalomdammit.com

Dave’s Gone By Skit: RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #121 (4/5/2015): Passover

RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #121 (4/5/2015): Passover

(aired April 5, 2015 on Dave’s Gone By. https://davesgoneby.net/?p=27305. Youtube clip: http://youtu.be/P5iBQJD75tg)

Shalom Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of April 5, 2015.

Friends, are you constipated? I certainly hope so, because that would mean you are eating your matzah, the traditional food of the Passover holiday, which we are in the midst of celebrating as we speak. Well, as I speak; you’re just listening.

But yes, Passover is one of the most important Jewish holidays—certainly the most labor intensive. Other holidays, you cook a meal, you make a blessing, maybe you don’t eat for a day—boom, you’re done. Okay, Sukkos, you have to build a little house, which is a pain in the ass, but you get to use it for a week, and you can make believe it’s a gazebo or a cozy shed. And if you’re too lazy to build, you can always go to the local shul and stay in theirs. Just make sure to use the guest towels.

But Pesach? Oy, what a production. You have to clean the whole house, top to bottom, of every crumb, every last bit of leavened bread. You have to sell everything in your fridge and cupboards to your local Rabbi–because what Rabbi doesn’t want to be responsible for two-week-old meatloaf? You gotta change all your dishes and cutlery, because a fork that touched pizza is somehow satanic for a week. And then, throughout Passover, you can eat only foods that are approved for holiday use. Wheat and beans and whole-grain products are verboten, and everything you reach for has to be certified Kosher L’Pesach. Which means a bottle of ketchup that’s $2 the rest of the year now costs $7.50. Why? Because some mashgiach was there to make sure that no tomato came into contact with a pretzel. HaShem forbid.

It’s a lot of nonsense, of course, but like all religious rituals, the doing of them forces us to remember who we are and the legacy to which we are tied. God doesn’t give a rat’s tushie if we hide the Afikomen or not; but my great, great, great grandfather hid the Afikomen—probably from the Cossacks—and my 21 ½ children will hide the Afikomen from my (god willing) 150 grandchildren. It’s not the activity; it’s the legacy.

Or, on Passover, it’s leprosy. And blood and frogs and boils and murrain and darkness and death of the first born and all the things usually caused by Comcast/Xfinity. We remember the 10 Plagues God visited upon the Egyptians as payback for subjugating the Hebrews. And when Moses visited Pharaoh and told him, “Look, we’re leaving. Can we get a severance check and a few weeks of interim health insurance?”, Pharaoh said no, so God made him suffer. Actually, Pharaoh didn’t say no. I mean, at first he did, when Moses was turning water into blood and making frogs jump out of underwear drawers. Pharaoh saw a bunch of magic tricks and said, “Copperfield does them better.”

But as the plagues turned nastier, Pharaoh was ready to be done with the Jews and let our people go. Until HaShem hardened his heart–I guess with some kind of aortic Viagra–and forced Pharoah to make ruinous choices, essentially robbing the king of Egypt of his free will.

I admit, I’ve always found something unsettling in that story. It’s one thing if Pharaoh is so evil, or so moronic, that he invites torture upon his empire through his own pig-headedness. But the Torah makes it clear that God is pulling the strings. He’s like the schoolyard bully that grabs your fists and makes you sock yourself in the face, all the while saying, “Stop hitting yourself. Why are you hitting yourself?” In the Pesach story, God puts Pharaoh through ten rounds with Mike Tyson, and then a bonus round with Muhammad Ali. The Jews finally hit the road, Pharaoh sends soldiers after them—presumably all second-born sons–and what happens? They all drown. God is nothing if not thorough.

So what do we learn from that gruesome fable? First, that if you mess with the Jews long enough, you get payback of biblical proportions (pun intended). After all, the Hebrews served as Egyptian slaves for generations before the big rescue. Stopping the punishment at flies or even flaming hail just wouldn’t send the same message as mass murder.

The second thing we learn is a rational reason why we spill drops of wine during the Passover seder. The Haggadah explains that even though Pesach is a happy holiday, and we’re delighted to recall the deliverance of Israel from Egypt, we’re not supposed to celebrate a hundred percent. We diminish our wine glass literally and our joy metaphorically, because even though our enemy treated us worse than the worst Jennifer Lopez movie, they are still human beings. They are still God’s children being destroyed.

Personally, I don’t spill a whole lotta wine on Passover—and not just because we have to use the same tablecloth for two nights. I rejoice freely when my enemy falls. When the Navy Seals took out bin Laden, I tore off my clothes and started dancing naked around the house. Which caused some problems because I was outside. But oh boy, did I shake my tailfeather! Miley Cyrus could have studied my tuchas for twerking lessons. And if I’d been alive in 1945 to witness V-E Day, I would have kissed a girl for every German that got a bullet through his eye or a bayonet through his heart. (You could probably call it VD Day…) I still would do this, so if any young girls want to stand in the street and let me kiss them, drop me an email, and I’ll get my sailor suit out of the cleaners.

Don’t get me wrong; I like the idea of being a good sport when my adversary is vanquished, but in reality, the misery and death of my enemies gives me less pause than a skip on my CD player. (For those of you under 30 who don’t know what that is, a CD player is like Spotify on a pancake.)

Anyhoo, my point in all this is however you celebrate Passover—if you follow all the rules, some of the rules, or if you serve bacon croissants during the Seder—and however you feel about Passover—whether you’re there just for family or you’re looking for a greater spiritual purpose in choking to death on horse radish—enjoy the holiday, appreciate the history, and take comfort that you don’t have to fast and no one gets circumcised.

This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches in Great Neck, New York. Dai-Dai-enu.

–> https://davesgoneby.net/?p=27305