Rabbi Sol Solomon’s celebrity interviews, Rabbinical Reflections (sermons), songs, and other appearances on the show.
INDEX: http://davesgoneby.net/?p=25407
Segment originally aired Aug. 20, 2011 on the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.
Note: Interview 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: Full Episode
All content (c)2011 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
Shalom, Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon, with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of August 21st, 2011.
It’s 12pm – do you know where your money is? First it’s up, then it’s down, then it’s up, then it’s down. If you have your money in the stock market, your portfolio is bouncing up and down faster than a hooker on an epileptic.
I go away for a few weeks, take a little time off, and what do I miss? Oh, nothing. Just America going bankrupt.
How does that work anyway? If we’re supposed to pay three billion dollars to Brazil, and we don’t have it, what do they do? What can they do? Send some guy to the White House – “Hola. My name’s Jorge; I’m supposed to break the President’s legs. If you give me one billion now, I can just break his toes.”
I mean, what does going bankrupt really mean? China won’t loan us any more money? Why are we borrowing from them in the first place? I don’t even like Chinese money. You spend a hundred yen, an hour later you feel like shopping again.
But seriously, if the United States crashes to the floor, every other country crashes to the sub-basement. So maybe they can forgive a loan or two; give us another year to pay off. Let us get to that middle period between our current recession and our next corporate fraud.
You gotta love the arrogance of Wall Street. Last month, all the politicians get together, frantically making a deal to raise the debt ceiling. They’re borrowing from Peter to pay Paul – or, in my lingo, borrowing from Faivel to pay Moish – just so we’re spared embarrassment, shame and having to raise goats and churn our own butter.
America stays solvent, and what happens? Two days later, the stock market plummets a thousand points. We go from a triple-A credit rating to double A. What does that mean? What, we have to get our parents to co-sign a loan – fine, dig up George and Martha Washington, will that be enough?
All the topsy-turvy turbulence of the Dow Jones has nothing to do with jobs or debt or wages or social security. It’s all about rich people playing a game with money that doesn’t exist. That’s all Wall Street is – monopoly played by frat-boy pricks. Which is why, even when 90 percent of us are suffering, 10 percent are making money by the bucket and paying taxes by the thimble.
As for the double-dip… Remember what I said half a year ago about gas prices? Go look it up, I’ll wait. But I’ll also refresh your memory. I said that the country would be fine and recover from the George Bush years – unless gas prices went up. If they hit four dollars, we’re shtupped. So what happened weeks ago? Gas prices zipped past 3.50, people shut their wallets, businesses got scared, supermarkets jacked their prices – voila! economic downturn.
The only good news? Now that the market’s in a lull, oil prices are taking a hit. Sure enough, people will start to spend again – so long as they’re not spending it all on the brown crap the Arabians pump out of the ground.
You want houses to sell again? Make it so it doesn’t cost 500 bucks a month to heat them in the winter. You want folks to take vacations? Make it so the airlines don’t have to charge 50 bucks for luggage to offset gasoline they’re just gonna dump over the Atlantic Ocean anyway. You want Americans to have jobs? Make it so you’re not paying people a measly minimum wage to fry McNuggets and scrape canola from a fryer. Come to think of it, we don’t have to frack in Pennsylvania to strike oil; just hit the kitchen of a Denny’s.
Maybe the answer is: instead of borrowing money, we should just borrow oil. Borrow it, use it, refine the waste product back into petroleum, and then return it to OPEC with a few quarts of ethanol for interest. Of course, it still doesn’t pay the Arab world back for 9/11 but, like with everything else nowadays, we’ll write them an I.O.U.
This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches.
RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #20 (7/3/2011): July 4th
(aired July 2, 2011 on Dave’s Gone By. Youtube: Jhttp://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IVfXgUoNdyQ)
Yankee Doodle Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon, with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of July 3rd, 2011.
Yes, we are approaching the 235th birthday of the United States of America, the worst, most corrupt country in the world – except for every other country in the world. Don’t listen to polls that show that country has a better standard of living, that country has better healthcare, that country takes care of its poor, that country has cleaner beaches – all these things may be true in dribs and drabs, but there is still no country greater than the good, not-so-old USA.
When my great grandparents had to get the hell out of Russia, this is where they came. When my grandparents had to get the hell out of Germany, this is where they came. When my parents had to get the hell out of Saint Croix – because they were on vacation and mom got a sunburn and the souvenir shop was out of aloe vera and the hospital there was a shack with an aspirin bottle – this is where they came – and couldn’t wait to come back to.
Are these ideal days for the American people? No, tough times. We are still suffering from a recession George Bush built and Barack Obama can’t tear down. We have crime and drugs and pollution and overcrowding and the Game Show network. We have young people dying and killing in a sandpile called Arabia.
We have cameras at every stoplight, and we have super-computers that know the size and shape of every poop we take before we even eat the food that’s gonna turn into poop.
Worst of all, we have the first – or maybe it’s already the second generation of Americans – that isn’t doing as well as the one before. Even in the darkest jungles of Africa, the son of a chief can tell his father, “Dad, thanks, but I don’t need your shrunken heads. With my new position, I should be getting five, six decapitations a month, and if I make my quota, the wives and I get a ceremonial drum. I know dad, I know. When you were my age you had to castrate a rhinoceros for fuel, but times have changed. And with that new medicine man and his herbal remedies, who knows? I might even outlive you and make it to 40!”
But seriously, so America is in a rough patch. Meanwhile, we have cars that can tell us directions so we don’t get lost. We have ipods that put more music on a chip than a man 100 years ago would have heard in a hundred years. Just a week ago, we passed a law in New York where two people of the same sex can finally marry each other – instead of getting stoned by a mob. And pretty soon in Colorado, it’ll be legal to get stoned in a mob.
Not everything gets better, but before you go all nostalgic for the America of yesteryear, answer me this: Which would you rather have? God forbid you need heart surgery, would you rather have it now, or 1950? It’s a heat wave, and you’re trying to get some sleep in your bedroom. Would you prefer 2011, or 1911? Maybe you work in a factory, or an assembly line. Now…then? Or maybe you came in late and missed your favorite show on TV. Instant gratification on your cable box…or 1970? You’re trying to sell your house – today…or last year?
So you see, even in the worst of times, we usually have the best of times. Think of that as we head into – God help us – election season. Out will come all sorts of garbage, back and forth, right and left, all of it boiling down to one side saying, “We’re doing our best and hope to do better,” and the other side saying, “Your best isn’t good enough, and it couldn’t be worse.” As the mud is being flung and the bull is being shoveled, just remember that two-and-a-half centuries ago we belonged to another country. We bowed to a king, and we paid taxes to a government building roads and schools 3000 miles away. Well, we’re doing that now in Iraq, but still…
On this Independence Day, let us honor this republic, this democracy, this place that still takes immigrants – legally or otherwise – and gives them a shot…that isn’t from firing squad.
On this July 4th, as I stand at my barbecue and press my Hebrew Nationals into the Happy Hot Dog Man, I look over one backyard fence, and there’s the O’Malleys, drunk; over the other fence, the Tortorellis, stupid; down the street, the Gonzalezes – cheap bastards, but friendly – and two blocks down, not on this block, thank God, the Roosevelts. All good people of different backgrounds just trying to get by. One nation, under you-know-who, indivisible, with at least an impossible dream of liberty and justice for all.
Oh say can you see… my Ketchup Critter? Because I put it down, and now I can’t find it, dammit.
This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches.
Topics include: comedy, Addicted to Show Business.
Segment originally aired July 2, 2011 on the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.
Note: Interview 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: Full Episode
All content (c)2011 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com More information on Rabbi Sol Solomon: http://www.shalomdammit.com
Rabbi Sol Solomon’s Rabbinical Reflection #19 (6/25/2011): RYAN DUNN
(aired June 25, 2011 on Dave’s Gone By. YouTube Clip: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QGoZRYSFmX0)
Shalom, Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon, with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of June 25, 2011.
What is the definition of a jackass? A donkey, of course. Also, a stupid person, a fool. That’s according to Webster’s Dictionary and to me, when we talk about the late Ryan Dunn.
Dunn was a castmember on the MTV television program, Jackass, which had crazy people doing idiotic, dangerous things. Putting their heads in beehives, skating into walls, firing objects in and out of their tuchases, and falling on things – lots and lots of falling on things. This is what passes for entertainment in the new millennium. And hey, sometimes it’s funny. A person walking on the street slips on dog poop – it’s amusing. Unless they’re badly injured, in which case it’s hilarious.
Goofy people pulling stunts that the rest of us are too mature or just too cowardly to do can be an appealing form of comic relief. After all, it answers one of the basic curiosities of mankind: “What would happen if?”
What would happen if I ride a motorcycle into a group of midgets dressed like nuns? What would happen if I cover my best friend with firecrackers, make believe I’m going to light them, but instead, I kick him really hard in the nuts? Hours, my friends, of delightful, high-class entertainment!
Along with Johnny Knoxville and Steve O, Ryan Dunn took part in these perilous shenanigans. And there was always controversy. Parents worried that their children would imitate these yutzes and put themselves in the hospital – or worse. But that never bothered me. These were professional pranksters. If they wanted to strap raw meat to their behinds while being dangled over a swamp full of alligators – who am I to judge? And if your kid is stupid enough to copy that, well, alligators have to eat, too. So if you want to hurt yourself or your willing accomplices, that’s between you, your friends, and the guy holding the water cannon.
But I call Ryan Dunn a jackass – and a putz and a moron and a bastard – because on the night of June 20th, he had enough drinks to befuddle Russia, and then climbed in his Porsche and started to drive. Eventually, his fancy car came to a stop. Unfortunately, it was in the middle of a tree.
Police estimate the automobile had been going 130 miles an hour, and that Dunn’s blood alcohol was more than twice the legal limit. And yet, a miracle occurred. Oh yes, Dunn and his friend in the passenger seat were both killed, but thank God, they didn’t kill anyone else.
A car is a loaded weapon – especially if you’re loaded. You’re rich, you’re famous, you think you can get away with anything, and you’re gonna live forever. Guess what? You’re rich, you’re famous, but if you have three Stolis and a whiskey sour when you get behind the wheel, you will not live forever, nor will you deserve to.
I don’t care if you’re Mel Gibson, or David Cassidy, or Gary Collins, or Lindsey Lohan, or Nicole Richie, or Rip Torn, or Rick Springfield, or the woman down the street with three kids and a Percodan habit – if you’re driving under the influence, you should be arrested for attempted homicide.
When you get in a car – sober and alert – you depend on your own ability to get safely from where you start to where you want to end up. Alas, you are also dependent on everyone else on the road obeying the rules and maintaining the same level of caution. These include schmucks on their cellphones, women doing their makeup in the rear-view mirror, idiots on bicycles who think the road is their own personal videogame, and the prick in the SUV who thinks a couple of beers won’t affect him if he just drives a little more slowly. The only thing that shocked me about those drive-by shootings in L.A. is that they were done by gang members and not white-collar working stiffs just trying to get home without being cut off at 70 miles an hour by a Jeep Cherokee blaring Lynyrd Skynyrd.
And so, I come not to praise Ryan Dunn, but to bury him. Thirty-four years old and a victim only of his own arrogance and negligence. When they put the word “Jackass” on his tombstone, his fans might take it one way, but anyone with a brain will know exactly what it means.
This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches.
RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #18 (6/18/2011): Father’s Day
aired June 18, 2011 on Dave’s Gone By. Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AI7TbF3qbcg
Shalom, Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon, with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of June 19, 2011.
Happy Father’s Day, goddammit! What a nice thing to be able to celebrate: a non-sectarian holiday that nevertheless follows the fifth commandment: honor thy father and thy mother.
It actually took awhile for the papas to catch up to the mamas on this. Mother’s Day became an official holiday in 1914, but it wasn’t until 1972 that Father’s Day became an official national holiday. Of course, since then, we’ve added an official Grandparents Day, and if Hallmark had its way, we’d have an Uncles Day, a Stepmother’s Day, a Caribbean Nanny’s Day.
Not that these are bad things; anyone responsible for raising a child deserves a day of pampering and obeisance. As the father of 21 and a half children – or is it 22 and a half? A couple of them are very quiet – but as a father, I know what it is like to endure the crying, and the screaming, and the begging, and the pouting, and the tantrums when my wife needs me to help with the kids. I know what it is like when your baby has 103 degrees fever, and you don’t know whether to rush to the emergency room or stay home and finish watching Hawaii 5-0. I know what it is like when you’re in a supermarket, and the kids are yelling and pulling things off the shelves and smashing the cart into the displays, and someone looks at you as if to say, “Is that your kid?” And you just want to say, “No, my real kids are at home. These are aliens who were sent from hell to destroy the earth. As long as I keep them busy in the King Soopers, the world is safe. So you should thank me and stop giving me the stink-eye, all right?”
I remember my father. He was a small man who kept getting smaller as the years went on. I remember he used to come home, stooped and exhausted, holding his abdomen and lower back after hours of lifting heavy bundles. Which was strange because he was an accountant. But in his life he was also a jeweler, a furrier, a candy store clerk, an insurance salesman, a math tutor, a night watchman – anything to put food on the table. And let me tell you, sometimes there wasn’t a table to put food on, so we had to put it on the floor. And one time, the floor fell in, so we had to put the food on our downstairs neighbors’ floor. I still don’t know why they wouldn’t let us use their table…
But what I remember most about my tateh are the quiet times, like when he took me fishing in the Hudson River. We didn’t have to say anything; we just sat side by side getting our tetanus shots.
I remember papa showing me how to daven and put on tfillin in the synagogue. I would get all tangled in the leather straps and the tallis, and I’d get frustrated and start cursing. And then he’d start cursing. Then the rabbi would come over and threaten to throw us out. Then we’d start cursing at him. You can’t buy moments of bonding like that.
I’ll also never forget one of the last things my father ever said to me. He said, “Son, no matter what your mother says, you really are my child. I love you, and I hope one day when you have children, they will give you the joy – and the trouble – that you have given me.” If he only knew.
But what can I say? Once you have children, you can’t imagine not having children. And since it’s illegal to kill them once they’re born, you have to do your best on their behalf. Hopefully, one day a year, they remember you with a tie, or a DVD, or a Sony Blu-Ray player (HINT HINT HINT if you’re listening, you little bastards!).
Whatever your relationship is with your father; if there’s issues, if there’s bad feelings – put them aside for a day if you can, and call him, send him a card, maybe buy him a hooker if he’s lonely – give thanks to the man who put you here, because he may not always be there.
This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches.
RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #16 (5/14/2011): Israel’s Birthday
(Aired May 14, 2011 on Dave’s Gone By. Youtube: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q8SWeaSKKVY)
Shalom, Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon, with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of May 14th, 2011.
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday to you
Happy birthday dear Israel –
You adorable 63-year-old country, you –
You-bastion-of-democracy-in-the-middle-of-Muslim-lunatics, you –
You military marvel even though you’re surrounded by enemies always attacking you, you –
Happy birthday to you!
This past Tuesday, May 10th, marked the Israeli holiday of Yom Ha’atzma’ut – Independence Day! The day back in 1948 that Israel told the United Kingdom, “Thanks for looking after the place for a few years. But, really, it’s time for you to go. We’re a big little country; we can take care of ourselves.”
And do that they have. From the minute Israel booted out the English protectorate, the Arabs attacked. They attacked in 1948, they attacked in 1956, they attacked in 1967, they attacked in 1973 – on Yom Kippur, yet. In 1978, PLO terrorists kept attacking, so in 1982, we attacked. Was nice for a change.
Each time, with the admitted help of American money and missiles, Israel kicked tuchas. All the while, we built schools, farms, hotels, theaters, falafel stands, high-class brothels – don’t ask me how I know about that last one.
Despite having to dump six percent of its gross national product into the military every year, Israel thrives. Despite Jihad rockets launched into Gaza, and threats from charming neighbors like Syria, Lebanon, Libya and Iran, Israel thrives. Despite occasional rotten oranges, like that former Israeli president who raped a girl – (please, Israeli women are loose enough, you don’t have to go raping them. Don’t ask me how I know about that) – despite all that, Israel thrives.
So now we hear that Hamas, the Palestinian party that governs the Gaza strip, has made peace with its old enemy, Fatah, the reincarnated version of the PLO. What kind of names are those anyway? Sounds like you’re coughing up phlegm: Chhhhamas.. F’tah!
For years, these two organizations did what most Arabs have tended to do: hate and kill each other. Ahh, the good old days! But now they’ve made peace…not with Israel, but among themselves, so they can gang up in Israel. Isn’t diplomacy wonderful?
In fact, it works so well that America’s chief envoy to the middle east just resigned. He gave up. After two years of begging for a two-state solution, from a two-terrorist problem. Now, since the death of Yasser Arafat – who should rot in gehenna with scorpions laying eggs in his anus – Fatah has appeared more moderate. Leader Mahmoud Abbas gave indications he might actually work with Israel and the United States to make something decent happen.
But now he’s joined forces with Hamas, aka the Islamic Resistance Movement, aka the kinds of people who think 9/11 was a lucky number. These are the Jihadists, the suicide bombers, the type of folks who could watch an entire episode of Family Guy without one giggle. In other words, terrorist scum.
But hey, Israel has negotiated with bloodthirsty mongrels before. We just wear gloves.
All it would take this time is for Hamas to say two little words: Israel Exists. That’s it. Acknowledge to the world that Israel is a sovereign country that has a right to be exactly where it is. You wanna have a laugh? Go look on google for maps of the Middle East. Do it. I’ll wait.
Okay, if you get a regular website run by normal people, you see little Israel and the rest of the Arab world. Now check ANY Arab-run website. The same map will not even have the name “Israel” on it. It’s either blank or called Palestine. It’s not Palestine, you Bedouin schmucks, it’s Israel – live with it. So we can finally live with you.
You know, I hate Germany. Germany turned a bunch of my ancestors into fertilizer. But I don’t look at a map of Western Europe and go, “Hey, what’s that blue thing between Poland and Belgium? Maybe if I close my eyes, it will go away. Ohhp, no.. still there.”
Israel will talk about two states, the west bank, the Golan Heights – all the land we won fair and square in the Six Day War. We will even listen to ideas about carving up Jerusalem – we’ll listen, doesn’t mean we’ll do it.
But nothing happens – just as it hasn’t happened in 63 years – nothing happens until all the Arabs admit that we are here and here to stay.
Happy Birthday, Israel! Yes, we’re going to a party-party. Just not the Hamas-Fatah party.
This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches.
Shalom, Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon, with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of May 7th, 2011.
YAHOOOOOOO! Dammit. I am writing this while still under the euphoria, the magic spell of the big news on Sunday night: Bin Laden…been liquidated. Public enemy number one – and let’s hope when they came for him, he made number two!
This animal, this bastard, this ARAB, who created more chaos than a Loehmann’s white sale, has finally been found and put to death. It took nine and a half years. I don’t know why it took nine-and-a-half years. A six-foot-four, middle-aged man with a beard and a dialysis machine roaming around caves for a decade, sending out audio tapes – and we don’t know where he is? George Bush couldn’t find him, but then again, George Bush couldn’t find his ass in his underpants.
But finally, after thousands of days, hundreds of American casualties, billions of tax dollars, it took just one bullet. To kill the man responsible for four planes, a truck bomb, a dozen suicide squads, and 3000 bodies in lower Manhattan – one bullet: Allah not so akbar.
Was bin Loser the tip of the iceberg? Of course. Terror cells are like pimples; you squeeze off the head, a little pus oozes out, but an hour later, there’s a new head on it. So certainly, we must remain vigilant, and we shouldn’t be surprised if this strike at the heart of international terrorism only redoubles the efforts of the bad guys to be bad guys.
But for this window of time, let us be joyful, and grateful, and even a little giddy. This is Disneyland, Lotto, the Super Bowl and a Lady Gaga concert rolled into one dirty turban. Now, I know, on Passover, we spill a bissel wine from our glasses because we are not supposed to rejoice when our enemy suffers. But COME ON.
In fact, if I am less than completely ecstatic, it’s only because bin Laden did not suffer. In 30 seconds he went from sitting around his million-dollar mansion to taking a slug in the noggin’. Too quick. Too easy. This is the kind of guy you shoot in the foot, then in the knee, then in the hip, then in the arm, then you cut off his fingers, then you pull out his eyes, then you press his face on a Forman grill, then you cut off his ears – and then you start torturing him.
If it sounds like I’ve spent too much time thinking about these things, you’re right – nine-and-a-half years. Thanks to our good, close friends in Pakistan. “Osama who? Al Qaeda what? Nawwww… not in our country. You must be thinking of Canada.” Let me tell you something: venture just another mile or two from Islamabad, and I will bet you find Jimmy Hoffa, Natalee Holloway, Amelia Earhardt and my left blue sock that never made it out of the dryer.
Pakistan has a lot to answer for – and not just `cause their spicy food makes you crap blood. They could have helped us; they could have delivered Osama bin Laden to Washington D.C., put a bow in his hair and dropped him on the White House lawn. Instead, we have to sneak in like Jethro and that Israeli chick on NCIS. After it was over, then we call the Paki prime minister and say, “Oh, by the way, that library book you had out? Wink-wink. The one you said you couldn’t find, that you already returned, and that the dog ate? We came and got it. And the next time we ask if you have one of our DVD’s, you better rush the return box or you lose all borrowing privileges. Have a nice goddamn day.”
I do have to wonder – with everybody dying to see the pictures and the proof – why did the Navy Seals dispose of bin Laden so quickly? Obama said his body was prepared according to Islamic tradition – although where they got 100 pounds of camel dung on a Sunday night is beyond me. But really, did we have to give bin Laden a respectful cleanup? Of all people – we should have rubbed his lips with pork and hung a Jewish star around his neck.
And beyond that, we could’ve put him on display! Maybe a Pay-Per-View special with Geraldo Rivera; every hour he reveals another inch of the corpse. Vegas would go crazy. But what do we do? We bury the him at sea. If we wanted bin Laden to drown, just put him in a tank and let the families of 9/11 victims piss on him for an hour. Why deny America the satisfaction of seeing our mortal enemy vanquished? Instead, we have to take the word of the White House, the military, the DNA tests – and I’m willing to. But if there are people out there who deny the Holocaust and disbelieve that we ever put a man on the moon, how the hell are we supposed to make a bunch of Jihad jugheads believe their martyr didn’t really live out his life playing pinochle in Morocco?
I know. I’m being negative. It comes with the Jewitory. If there was ever a time to leap up and do a hora of delight, this is it. But there are still too many questions, too many terrorists, too many memories.
Osama, you ugly dead son of a bitch, you’re with your 72 virgins now. Bet you never figured they’d all be men. And they all look like Gary Busey. And they all have razor blades on the ends of their shmeckels. Let the eternal raping begin.
This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches. Vengeance is mine saith New York.
Shalom, Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon, with a Rabbinical Reflection for the week of May 1, 2011.
Mazel tov, mazel tov – it’s over. Finally, it’s over. The biggest merger since A&P took over Waldbaums in 1986. I’m talking, of course, of the wedding between Prince William and Kate Middleton, which, barring someone not forever holding their peace, happened Friday in England.
I have to say, I feel terrible. Not for the bride and groom; he’s rich, she’s hot – they’re set for life. No, I feel bad for the morning TV news shows. What will they talk about now that they have to send their cameras back across the Atlantic? How will they fill twenty minutes out of every half hour if they can’t stop English people on the street and say, “Hey, aren’t you excited?” If they’re not careful, these news programs are gonna have to resort to something drastic – like reporting news.
I know, I’m being a killjoy. But find me a Jew who isn’t!
More to the point, I do have mixed feelings about the overdose of media coverage for what is, at its core, a simple ceremony between a man and a woman. Or, if you’re in Massachusetts, a man and a man. Or if you’re in Rhode Island, a woman and a woman…which is my favorite. But turning this semi-sacred ritual into an international media circus rankles, mainly because so much pomp and circumstance and money is frittered away on a one-time event.
Pundits have said the marriage of Billy and Kate is just another distraction, a shiny bauble that hypnotizes us into briefly forgetting just how screwed we are by every corporation in the world. It’s the media saying – “Don’t look at that gas pump with five dollars a gallon on it; look at Buckingham Palace with the horses, pretty horses. What? You’re worried that your home value just depreciated another ten percent? Come watch a princess shop for a dress that’s 30 times the value of your house! Doesn’t that make you feel better?”
Now, I’m not saying there aren’t positives about the whole marital megilla. Certainly England is getting tons of tourism and free publicity, and part-time jobs for people willing to stand on street corners and hawk souvenirs that say, “He gets to bone her in the Palace, and all I got was this lousy t-shirt.”
And I will also say that while the wedding is definitely a mindless distraction, it’s also happy news. How much of that do we get? Every day it’s Syria this and Democrats-versus-Republicans that, and a fire in the foothills and a serial rapist in the suburbs, and Tokyo melting down and Charlie Sheen melting down, and cancer victims throwing up and glaciers thawing out until you just wanna pack it in.
So for once, we get a big, bright, beautiful happening: a ritual that upholds tradition while giving everyone a parade and a party. Two nice young kids, the gorgeousness of London, and the old woman can die now, she has an heir – it’s all good.
So while the temptation is to be a sourpuss and go, “millions of people are homeless and starving, and these bluebloods are eating cake; the reality is, people are gonna be homeless and starving no matter what, and a few hours of nuptial noodling isn’t gonna make a farthing’s worth of difference.”
And hey, for those of you who are really jealous of the prince and princess and their billion-dollar wedding just remember: They had one of these 30 years ago – and we all know how that turned out. Let’s just hope this time, when the princess gets slammed in the tunnel, it’s only a metaphor.
This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches, in Great Neck, NY. To the happy couple, L’chaim!
Rabbi Sol Solomon interviews comedian Shecky Greene
Topics include: comedy, show business.
Segment originally aired April 30, 2011 as part of the “Dave’s Gone By” radio program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz.
Please Note: Interview 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: Full Episode
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More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
More information on Rabbi Sol Solomon: http://www.shalomdammit.com
