Sage Feldemeyer

ANNOUNCEMENT: Sage Feldemeyer MOVED her Blog

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Thu, 28 Oct 2010 19:15:00 +0000

Sage's Move to Word Press

Greetings my lovely readers,

I have moved my blog to Word Press. You can now be find my wonderful and terrific blog posts at
www.sagefeledemeyer.com. And don't forget to sign-up for email on the new site; God forbid--you don't want to miss a post.

Until my next post...
A very big hug,
Sage Feldemeyer

www.sagefeldemeyer.com

Democrats, 5 Reason to Vote in 2010: (Drek vs. Super-Duper Drek)

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Sun, 24 Oct 2010 19:56:00 +0000

Vote Democrats: Drek vs. Super-Duper Drek

“I feel frustrated, fed-up and resigned. It’s all farchadat—the country is lost—it’s hopeless. Politicians—on both sides of the aisle are tainted and corrupt so why should I bother to vote?” I hear it all the time. I’m sympathetic—to a point.

Not voting option: that makes my potatoes boil—not to mention my blood
Democrat's have a choice: (D) Drek or (R) Super-Duper-Drek

Sage’s Sagiest 5 Reasons to Vote for Drek:

1. If Y-2008 taught us anything—it’s this ONE important lesson: never idealize a politician—even a smart, charismatic man of color, with a Shana Punim Mishpocheh.

Inspiration is lovely—idealization can lead to deep disappointment and disengagement.

2. If you suffer from chronic Obama Disappointment Syndrome—you are at-risk from withdrawing from the political process—it’s counter-productive and completely mishuggeh; resignation and powerlessness are symptoms of a Great Depression: it’s expensive to treat—particularly if you don’t have insurance. Informed Activism is the Cure.

3. Don’t throw out the baby mit the bath water: We know that some Democrats are on the drekiest end of the drek continuum. Let's say you don’t vote in Y2010 because (D) Max Baucus and (D) Ben Nelson were given too much power in the health care over haul so you'll punish all Democrats by sitting this one out.

Imagine a SUPER-DREK majority: Jim (Global Warming denier) Inhofe heads the Senate Environment and Public Works Committee. Have I said enough?

4. You can’t stomach the Democrat(s) running for office in your state: gotcha. In this election, voting for the drekiest Democrat is better than not voting—particularly in tight races. Anyone want a glass a Tea Party?

5. VOTE and then STAY ACTIVE and ENGAGED. It’s called CITIZENSHIP and what a gorgeous responsibility it is. Put it on your Facebook page—right next to your vacation photos.

If you still aren’t convinced, and I can’t understand why you wouldn’t be; think about this scenario:

I woke up on November 3, 2010: John Boehner is Speaker of the House; Sharon Angle, Senator from Nevada; Mitch McConnell, Leader of the Senate; Meg Whitman, Governor of California. The fright-mare doesn’t stop there….

Democrats—you have a choice: DREK or SUPER-DUPER DREK. This election: I’ll take DREK any day of the week—what about you?

Glossary:

Yiddish/Yinglish: English

-Farchadat -Dopey--mixed up

-Mishuggeh -Crazy

-Shana Punim                                                  -Pretty face(s)
-Family                                                            -Mishpocheh
-Drek (drek continuum)                                  -Shit (continuum of shit)
-Mit    -With

Liz: Recalculate Your Relationship with Your Mother!

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Wed, 20 Oct 2010 17:31:00 +0000

Unhappy Liz: Recalculate Your Relationship with Your Mother

Sage as GPS Counselor

The sun is shining as I sit comfortably on the dashboard of Liz’s fancy, shmancy Prius. I lost weight, so I take up less room on the dash; I’m quite a looker, if I say so myself.

Liz, the driver, is anxious. She’s poking me as she tries to program her destination—fidgety fingers mean she drank too much coffee.

The first words out of her mouth--”Shit, shit, shit, I hate you, GPS!” I don’t take it personally; I hear it all of the time. When someone is having a problem programming their destination, they hate me. Go figua?

Liz’s fidgeting starts to annoy me; it’s time to intervene. “Maidala,” I say, “Take your time—a deep breath will help you focus; you could program me, and we’ll both be the better for it.”

Liz apologizes and we are on our merry way. Merry may be an overstatement—we’re on our way. Liz doesn’t want to talk so I hum a tune while she drives.

Out of the blue, Liz decides to make a left turn when my signal doesn’t call for it. I must tell her to recalculate; she won’t want to hear that, but it’s my job. A soft approach is called for: “Honey bunch, recalculate—recalculate darling,” I say in a soothing voice.

She stares at me and bursts into tears. “What’s the problem, doll face,” I ask? She tells me that she doesn’t want to go to her mother’s new house. “So, why we are driving there, if you don’t want to go,” I ask. She says, “I have to go!” “What’s have to---why are we going,” I ask again.

Liz confides in me: her mother criticizes her consistently: she doesn’t like her boyfriend; she doesn’t like her pierced pupik—she doesn’t like that she has opinions. “Is she Jewish,” I ask? “No," replies Liz; “she’s mean.”

“Liz,” I say firmly, “It’s time to recalculate your relationship with your mother; if you don’t like what she says and how she says it, tell her that!”

Seeing Lizzy’s distress, I shift my signal to a more 'supportive' mode--naughty collusion: “Lizzy dear, do you want my signal to malfunction while you make a decision? We can’t go anywhere if I can’t get a signal,” I wink at her.

“I want to go home,” she yells out. “Fine,” I say, “but first you have to call your mother and tell her you are not coming; every mother deserves that whether she’s mean or not.”

“A no-show is no good,” I add. Liz calls her mother and tells her that she’s not feeling well so she won’t be coming.

“A white lie—that’s not the recalculate I had in mind,” I tease her. She’s embarrassed. “Look, a white lie is better than a no-show,” I chuckle. She’s relieved, and I’m happy that she’s relieved.

The drive home is very merry. And that sun on the dashboard feels so good—I am in heaven.

Glossary

Yiddish/Yinglish English

-Maidala -Girl

-Pupik -Navel

'Cousin' Elena Kagan: Does She Resemble Aunt Hannah or Uncle Al?

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Mon, 18 Oct 2010 04:58:00 +0000


Supreme Court Justice Elena Kagan: Do you think she looks like my Aunt Hannah?

SETTING: Sage’s Phone Conversation with Longtime Friend, Dora

“Wonderful, exciting—unheard of,” Dora’s description on watching her distant cousin, Elena Kagan, take her place on the Supreme Court. “My uncle Dudye, Elena’s great-grandfather would be so proud,” she sighs. Remember, Sagie—Dudye, fled the Cossacks and wound up in Philly.”

Sage: “Yeah, what a success story, Dorala—from the Shtetls of Russia to the Supreme Court!”

Dora: “Right, Sage—but I have to tell you—I’m sitting here driving myself crazy wondering who Elena looks like. Does she look like Aunt Hannah or does she look like Uncle Al—I just can’t decide."

Sage: “Hannah? Elena's not related to her—she's your relation on your mother’s side, remember?”

Dora: “Well, she has the same body as Aunt Hannah.”

Sage: “Haven’t you noticed—we all have the same body as Aunt Hannah: stout, hips for days, and a big tuchus.”

Ignoring my answer, she calls out to her husband Howard, “Howie, who do you think my cousin Elena looks like—Aunt Hannah or Uncle Al?”

Harry: “She looks like the ‘Milk and Eggs Man,’ Dor!”

Dora: “What ‘Milk and Eggs Man’ are you talkin’ about, Howie?”

Sage: “He’s joking, ‘Gracie Allen’—what the hell is so important about knowing who she looks like?”

Dora: “You’re right—who she looks like—isn’t important. Let’s change the subject: I don’t think those black robes are a flattering look for her—isn’t there a substitute costume she could wear on the court?”

Sage: “Nope, substitutes are not permitted.”

Dora: “Thank God, she doesn’t have to wear a burqa—she’d look like a tent!”

Sage: “They’d all look like tents, if they had to wear burqas, mishuggeneh.”

Dora: “Sage, what’s terrific—she’s not a Scalia—she’s not a Thomas and hopefully, she’s no Alito!”

Sage: “Thurgood: what if she was another Thurgood, Dor----can you imagine?"

Dora: “No”

Sage: “OK, but isn’t a good fantasy healing for the soul?”

Dora: “Absolutely. But truthfully, Sage—the point is—who does she really look like—that, I’m dying to figure out!”

Glossary

Yiddish/Yinglish English

-Tuchas -Rear end, Ass

-Mishuggeneh -Nuts, crazy

-Shtetls -Eastern European (poverty-stricken) village
-Dodye -Dovid/David, pronounced Dodja

Reference:
Gracie Allen: Zany comedienne married to George Burns

Addicted to AWESOME? Try Sage's AWESOME Elimination Diet--It's FREE!

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Thu, 14 Oct 2010 16:42:00 +0000

AWESOME: WORD ELIMINATION DIET

Last week I overheard—actually I was eavesdropping— a casual conversation among a bunch of 20 something’s. I heard the word AWESOME two thousand times—OK, maybe it was a thousand times, but who’s counting?

· “Oh, that song is soooo AWESOME!”

· “WOW: you look AWESOME!”

· “How are you?” Response: “I’m AWESOME!”

· “That movie was AWESOME!”

· “I can’t believe how AWESOME your new dress is!”

Sneezing uncontrollably, I was having an AWESOME allergic reaction. I felt light-headed—a type of brain fog that usually only sets in after you’ve eaten a box of cookies.

Sage ‘sneezes’ the moment: I knew it was time—overtime to take some action; a new word diet was born:

The AWESOME Elimination Diet

The Awesome Elimination Diet: FACTS

· Brain nourishment: watch your vocabulary soar to new heights

· More energy through elimination of the toxic word

· Opportunities to grow and thrive as your conversations become more alive—even nuanced!

AWESOME Support: I know how hard it is to wean yourself from an overused word; fortunately, you won’t have to deal with the symptoms of word deprivation—stellar replacement words are plentiful.

Awesome Elimination Diet includes Replacement Words

1. Very impressive

2. Stunning

3. Unforgettable

4. Magnificent

5. Wildly exciting

Harm Reduction Approach:

Relapse is normal—if you slip into AWESOME occasionally—it’s not the end of the world. Our approach: Harm Reduction. When you slip, choose a substitute word as part of your recovery. And please-- don’t be too hard on yourself. You’ll get there!

Finally, ‘ALs’—once you are in the Maintenance Phase of the awesome elimination diet, don’t be surprised if your sentences sound something like this:

“Overall, I enjoyed the movie, however there were several scenes I found confusing.”

What do ya say, bubbelas--are you ready to take the plunge? FREE or your MONEY back!

Yiddish/Yinglish English

-Bubbeleh -Term of endearment/affection

Reference: 'AL' means Awesome Lovers

Senator McConnell’s Soaring Deficit is Replaced by a Heart with Empathy Valves

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Mon, 11 Oct 2010 17:44:00 +0000

Human Heart with 'Empathy' Valves

I’m on a Mitvah Mission. I am about to deliver a unique gift to Senate Minority Leader, Mitch McConnell. I’m grateful that the Senator sandwiched me in between a meeting with a coal company executive and a lobbyist for BP.

“Mr. Senator--what a pleasure to meet you,” I greet him, “you’ve been such a motivation for me and so many others—you can’t imagine. More than once, your actions have moved me to tears; in fact, your recent voting record had me crying for days.”

A vote against strong financial regulation
Not permitting a vote for Obama’s judicial appointees
Holding up a vote for the extension of unemployment benefits
Killing Climate Change legislation

“Senator, I could go on, but I’ll cut to the chase—here's a gift—A Heart with Empathy Valves.” I continue: “As a legislator without a heart, it’s my duty to you and my fellow citizens to accommodate your soaring deficit—and believe me—I care as much about addressing big deficits as you do.”

I give our stunned Minority Leader a tour of his new heart: “Sir, happily your heart will cover up the obstruction you currently have.” I point to the space above his rib cage where a heart normally resides.

“Senator,” I explain, “Here’s how your heart works. If you try to cut food stamps for the neediest Americans, your empathy valves’ alert button will stop you in your tracks; you’ll hear, “Mitchie—shame on you—don’t you dare do that."

“No longer will you act alone—your ever-ready empathic valves will accompany you on each and every piece of legislation that crosses your desk.”

Sadly, our heart recipient looks terrified, and my Yiddisha heart wells up with—what else—empathy. “Listen Jello-Pudding and Pie Filling—I mean Senator,” I say, “acting on behalf of regular Americans is an acquired taste, and you may get used to it and even like it!” A good pep talk has always been my forte.

“And guess what, Senator,” I cheerfully add, “your best friend, Humana Insurance, has agreed to pay for your heart installation; they owe you.” He agrees.

“Finally Sir, I brought you your favorite—blintzes and sour crème, in order to celebrate this auspicious occasion; please join me,” I invite him. The Senator politely declines—he can't keep BP waiting any longer.

Now it’s your turn, readers—you tell me: do you think his body will accept or reject his heart with empathy valves? I’m dying to hear from you....

Glossary:

Yiddish/Yinglish English

-Mitvah -A good deed

-Yiddisha heart -Big hearted

Reference: Jello Pudding and Pie Filling, a tasty, sugar-filled treat from childhood and a term of endearment.

The Town: A Jewish Movie Review

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Sat, 09 Oct 2010 06:22:00 +0000

Ben Affleck, The Town

Its movie night: Sam, Michael, Hannah, Rose and me are about to see The Town. It’s gotten terrific reviews; we are excited; we promise to only talk through half of the movie—a real sacrifice. Hannah and Rose get their buttered popcorn, and we are set to watch the movie.

When the movie ends, we stand outside the theater to conduct our ritual: The Jewish Movie Review. “Nu…what do ya think kids,” I start the conversation?

Hannah: “Oy, such violence; I kept my head down for most of the movie."

Sam: “I loved that Pete Postlewaite, but why was his part was so small—I don’t get it—he’s such a good actor—he should have had a bigger part, don’t you think?”

Michael: “I love that Jeremy Renner; he was so good in Hurt Locker; he should have gotten an academy award for his performance."

Sage: “Renner is a wonderful actor--I couldn’t understand a word he said—his Boston accent was so thick—there should have been subtitles; am I right?” “Absolutely—good idea, Sagie,” everyone agrees.

Rose: “The farshunkeneh popcorn was too greasy; that wasn’t butter—that was poison—why do they use that drek? God knows I pay enough for that farcoct tub!”

In the midst of our ritual a complete stranger walks up and asks, “Hey, how was the movie?”

In unison, we reply: “Oh, it was a great movie; yeah, we’re very glad we saw it. No, the violence wasn’t bad at all; and the cast—they were perfect.”

“The only thing that didn’t work,” said Rose, “was the popcorn—that was chalucious. Don’t buy it; the chocolate almonds are a better bet, honey.”

Our ritual comes to an end; we congratulate ourselves for choosing such a good movie. Now it’s time for cake and coffee. Our problem: we can’t agree on where to go!

We’re starving readers: can you recommend a place that has big portions?

Glossary

Yiddish/Yinglish                                                    English
-Farshunkeneh                                                        -Rotten
-Chalucious                                                            -Horrible
-Drek                                                                     -Shit
-Farcoct                                                                 -For Shit

Forget Starbucks---Who Needs All These Coffee Choices

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Tue, 05 Oct 2010 16:04:00 +0000

Cafe Americano by Lara 604

I am visiting a swanky, new coffee house in my neighborhood; a ‘Coffee Concierge’, named Seth greets me at the door. There looks to be 200 types of coffee drinks; I cancel my plans for the morning—reading the menu will take two hours.

The coffee menu looks like a multiple choice test: blend, strength, roast, country of origin, etc. Maybe this is an application for citizenship—who knows?

I tell Seth that I get a horrible case of shpilkes before taking tests; he asks if the word shpilkes is a foreign language or a disease; “Neither Silly, it’s Yiddish,” I happily reply.

Afraid my indecision will lead to an assault by the caffeine starved masses waiting behind me, I decide to cheat on the test: “Seth,” I ask, “can you answer the coffee quiz—I don’t think you’ll get into trouble.” He chooses my drink. I’m thankful, and he’s trouble-free—a real win-win!

Wait! We’re not finished—Seth escorts me to the MILK table; a dizzying array of milk thermoses stops me in my tracks with choices that no one deserves: non-fat, low-fat, two percent, soy, rice, lactose free, almond, goat, sheep—STOP---my mind becomes a wondering Jew.

“Why no breast milk,” I yell out in jest—“it’s the only choice missing—is this discrimination against women?” Some poor shmuck hears my rant; she says she is going to fill out a customer suggestion form requesting the café add breast milk as an option. Seth follows with an apology; Oy! He thinks I am serious too—where’s a sense of humor around here— in a thermos?

I need to find a seat; generations X, Y, Z—and beyond fill the tables. I think, “These kids need jobs—a future--not choices between rice milk and soy milk.”

I spot a table of Gen Xers and introduce myself: “Hi, I’m Sage from Generation X-rated.” A sweetheart tells me that the café is his office; he does his work online, drinks about five cups of coffee daily and feels quite productive.

“An office space—huh—now I understand why my cup of coffee costs as much as a mortgage payment,” I share. I settle in with my new friends, and enjoy my Ethiopian blend with a mellow aftertaste—a blend tailored to my ‘needs’.

Is my expensive, tailored coffee delicious— absolutely; is this pricey, tailored drink necessary—not so much.

Glossary:

Yiddish/Yinglish                                                            English
-Shpilkes                                                                         -Anxious/nervous
-Shmuck                                                                         -Idiot

John Boehner: What Happens if the Man with the Orange Punim becomes Speaker

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Sat, 02 Oct 2010 06:23:00 +0000

Congressman John Boehner golfing by Keith Allison

I am navigating Al and his brother Mark to their destination, a conference aptly named Fifteen Ways to Insult Your Brother; Al is behind the wheel. The brothers are passionate communicators—screaming, yelling and cursing; they adore each other; they agree on nothing.

Giving directions to the brothers is no picnic; I turn up my volume, but I still can’t hear my navigation; I tune into their conversation.

The topic of discussion is the November election; Mark worries that Congressman Boehner, The Man with the Orange Punim, will become Speaker if Democrats don’t bother to vote. Al would like to see Democrats lose; he doesn’t want his taxes raised; he hates government spending, and he’s a fan of tea parties.

“Al, you Schmuck of Schmucks,” Mark’s education campaign begins: “If that corporation disguised as a politician controls the house, say good-bye to social security; say good-bye to the 14^th amendment; forget about protection for people who work and forget about the environment.”

“Mr. Socialist-Drek,” screams Al, “The Orange Punim will lower the deficit and stop that farcocht government spending.”

“Putz, why so selfish,” asks Mark? “What kind of society do you want to live in; we have to pay for services in a civil society—that’s what makes it civil!”

Mark is screaming at Al; Al is screaming at Mark, while my signal desperately tries to navigate.

Finally, I shout, “Al—boychic , if you want to get to your conference on time, then make a left turn in 500 feet.”

From left field, Al starts yelling at me. “Why are you siding with my brother Mark—why not a right turn,” he asks suspiciously? “SAGE, this is a left turn conspiracy, and I don’t like it one bit,” Al continues.

“Al, that’s right, it is a left turn conspiracy; enough with right turns already,” I joke. My joke falls flat, but the brothers calm down. Al offers Mark a tic-tac; they talk about their kids, and they arrive at the conference on time.

Now it’s time for my beauty rest –on the left side of the dashboard; I need to ready myself for Part 2 of—“The Man with Orange Punim.”

Glossary:

Yiddish/Yid-English                                            English
-Shmuck    -Idiot
-Putz                                                                    -Jerk
-Punim                                                                 -Face
-Boychic                                                              -Affectionate term for a male
-Farcoct                                                              -Shit

Blogaphiliacs: Sage and Arianna Discuss All Things Blog.....

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Tue, 28 Sep 2010 20:40:00 +0000

Arianna Huffington at a Podium by Pete Wright

I’m meeting with fellow ‘Blogaphiliac’ Arianna Huffington in her lovely home. Of course, she wants to discuss Blogs—hers in particular. I’m so up for the conversation; I have to contain my excitement.

Arianna gives me a tour of her home. Expensive tsatkes adorn her spacious living room. “Do you think she purchased them with her blog income,” a question I’m dying to ask?

My eyes focus on a table full of photos across the room; the photos feature my host gazing lovingly at objects I can’t make out; I assume the ‘objects’ are family members.

“Arianna” I ask, “they must be photos of you with your lovely daughters—you all look so happy!"

“No, no Sage,” Arianna interrupts, “they’re photos of me with My Darling Blog, The Huffington Post; I only pose with My Blog, dear.” “Well, Your Blog suits you,” I declare—“so radiant you both are!”

“Sagie”—my new nickname—“What do you really love about The Huffington Post,” she asks?

I jump at the chance to respond: “I love the morning headlines; they are sensational!” “Really,” she’s kvelling. I reel off my favorites: Christine O’Donnell says She’ll Stop the Whole Country from Having Sex; Mutilation of Afghans for Fun; 240,000 Jobs Set to Vanish this Week. These are terrific headlines to wake up to!”

“Sensational, Sagie—I am delighted to know that my editors are doing such a good job,” Arianna is ecstatic; in unison, we agree that this is one productive visit.

“What other feedback do you have about My Darling Blog, Sagie?”

Without hesitation, I shift the topic to that poor mishuggeneh Lindsey Lohan. “Blogianna—my new nickname for Arianna—why the big tsumis over that poor girl?" She goes to jail; she leaves jail, and she drinks too much--Nu?" Silence—clearly it's not the critique our Blogianna wants to hear.

Concerned about appearing too negative, I shift the conversation to what works—Ashton, Demi and Sara. “Ashton cheating on Demi, Demi in a bikini and Sara Palin in shorts—now that's interesting!"

“I learn a lot from Your Blog," I add. For instance, who knew that someone could contract throat cancer through mouth shtuping—now that’s a tragedy of big proportion!"

“Let’s not go there, Sagie” insists Blogianna. I respond reassuringly: “Look, all I’m saying is that I’m more informed now, and I appreciate that.”

Unfortunately our Blog-fest ends; I'm look forward to nurturing our budding blog-ship.

As I exit the front door, I yell out, “next time honey, you’ll visit me in my Shtetl; you’ll fall in love with my Russian antiques!”

Glossary

Yiddish/Yinglish                                                             English
-Mishuggeneh      -Crazy person
-Tsatkes                                                                          -Trinkets
-Shtup                                                                             -Oral Sex
-Shtetl                                                                             -Village or suburbs
-Kvelling                                                                          -Beaming with pride
-Tsumis                                                                            -Big deal

I’m Verklempt! Navigating Paul ‘Revere’ Krugman

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Sat, 25 Sep 2010 17:35:00 +0000

Paul (Revere) Krugman's Book, by Bernard Goldbach

'Sage' Character as GPS

I’m verklempt! I am navigating economist and New York Times columnist, Paul ‘Revere’ Krugman to a conference in Philadelphia; he’s set to deliver an uplifting speech on America’s imminent economic collapse; the ‘Revere’ is a tribute to his warnings to policy makers; sadly, the gunifs don’t listen.

My task is to get Mr. Fablunged out of Jersey. “Paul, snap out of it and make a damned U-turn if you want to get to Philly on time,” I say in a gentle tone. He abides, and we’re on our way.

Obamala’s proposed mini-stimulus package is the topic of our conversation; “Feh!” he declares and delivers his greatest hits. “Sage, fifty billion dollars won’t create enough jobs; the tax cuts for research and development are idiotic; we’re like Japan in the 90’s—only worse; unemployment will continue to skyrocket—deflation is around the corner.”

Following Paul’s sermon, I switch my versatile GPS to “I am deaf” mode. God forbid, I should seem rude, but even Sage Feldemyer needs a break from relentless bad news!

I change the subject and ask, “Pauli, what do you do for fun, hon? Do you ever go out dancing or to the movies?”

“I go on the Sunday morning chat shows; that’s always fun,” he smiles. “Is it fun talking to George Will and Ari Fleisher,” I ask? “Absolutely,” he says.

"Incredulous—this guy is really committed or maybe he needs to be committed,” I ponder. “Paul,” I say, “I like all kinds of people, but I wouldn’t want to be on their dashboard—if you know what I mean.”

“Sage,” Paul replies”My analysis of economic policies is important for Americans to hear; those chat shows reach a lot of people.”

As Paul drives, I look at his haimisha punim and think, “Americans are so lucky to have such an informative, depressing economist to read.” I’m worried sick. I’ve never felt more content.

“Paul” I request, “let’s stop for coffee before we reach your destination.” He likes the idea. He pulls up to a restaurant and asks what I’d like in my coffee.

“A teaspoon of arsenic and no milk please,” I reply. I then ask Paul if he’d like to join me in my beverage choice. He declines.

Not to worry bubalas—no arsenic in my coffee, and I’m allergic to milk! Until next time—don’t forget to read Paul in the Times. Misery loves company….

Glossary

Yiddish/Yinglish                English
-Gunifs -Small time crooks/thiefs
-Haimish                            -Homey, familiar, likable
-Fablunged    -Hopelessly lost
-Bubala                             -Term of endearment/darling person
-Verklempt                       -Overcome with emotion
-Punim                              -Face

Yom Kippur: Mr. Twitterwitz Texts God using a Forgiveness App

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Wed, 22 Sep 2010 21:36:00 +0000

(Mr. Twitterwitz) Texting App

Last week was Yom Kippor—the holiest day on the Jewish calendar. Off to Shul I went.

Once in Shul, I found an uncomfortable seat; I readied myself for soul searching and a growling stomach. The synagogue was full of young people. “How exciting to be amongst a new generation of Atoners,” I mused.

Eyes closed—deep in reflection, my heart was torn apart; I needed forgiveness in a bad way: the righteous rage and resentment I’ve kept 'company' with was fighting to keep its place in my heart.

"I’m not sure I’m ready to say good-bye to my 'company'," I told God; "these emotions feel like a normal response to chaloshes times; and to top it off, my son Mendel never introduced me to his new love, Hershel; don't ask--don't tell--doesn't he know I'm against that?"

Engaged in a spiritual struggle, I was suddenly distracted by chirping sounds. The strange sounds were coming from nearby Prayer books.

“What could those chirps be?” “Were this year’s Prayer books featuring exotic birds?” As an avid birdwatcher, I wondered, “should I have brought my binoculars?” Intrigued, I moved closer to one of the noisy Prayer books; a very young man was texting, twittering and fluttering on his I-Phone. His name, I learned, was Mr. Twitterwitz.

In a quiet synagogue voice, I asked Twitterwitz if texting was a new way of connecting with God. “Yes,” he said, “I’m trying out Apple's new Forgiveness App; I want to see if it works.”

He showed me the app on his I-Phone. “Isn’t technology something,” I remarked. “Is the chirping sound God’s response to you," I asked?

Whether God answered Mr. Twitterwitz was not an issue for him; bonding with his new App was paramount. “It’s more efficient to text God for forgiveness; prayer takes too long and sitting in Shul is uncomfortable,” he shared.

Still curious, I asked, “Nu, now that you’ve texted God for forgiveness—how do you feel, Twitterwitz?” Without a pause, he said, “I feel finished!” Finished, he was—he got up and left.

After Twitterwitz departed, I wondered, "could I text God for forgiveness?" I don't think so since I don’t have an App to my name. Not to mention, I don’t do efficient and discomfort is my middle name.

If Mr. Twitterwitz’s connection to God is texting—Zie Gezunt! For now, I’ll take my uncomfortable seat, soul searching and hunger pangs. But who knows, I may try an 'App' one of these days!

Glossary

Yiddish/Yinglish                                                      English
-Shul                                                                 -Synagogue
-Chaloshes    -Horrible/loathsome
-Zie Gezunt    -Be healthy (used as a farewell)

References: Yom Kippor
1. Hunger pangs: Fasting for 24 hours is a Yom Kippor ritual
2. Atonement: amend one's behavior and seek forgiveness for wrongs done against God and against other human beings.

Mr. President--Obamala: CLONE Elizabeth Warren!

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Tue, 21 Sep 2010 05:13:00 +0000

Obamala with 'Sage' on Air Force One

I’m on Air Force One with Obamala—what a Macher I am! I received an invitation to meet with the President last week. That’s good because I didn’t want to show up unannounced; my manners are impeccable.

Obamala is a big fan of my blog; most surprising, he loves Yiddish—who knew! Let me tell you—Air Force One is no United Economy flight; such leg room, I’ve never seen—a michaya!

Obamala and I drink tea and nosh on potato knishes; I ask the President questions about his family and life on 1600 Pennsylvania Ave—that’s his address— I hope he doesn’t mind that I am sharing it with all of you.

“Sir how’s the Mishpocheh,” I ask? Michelle, Malia and Sashala are fine, he tells me. “Mr. Obamala, President, Sir….Mrs. Potus is so gorgeous; those shamttehs she wears—Oy—they must cost a fortune; she always looks like a million bucks!” The President thanks me for my kind words and sips his tea.

“So how is life at the White House Sir?” “Sage, it’s like living in a fish bowl,” he responds. “A fish bowl—huh—is that like living in a shtetl, I ask?” He smiles, sips his tea and doesn’t answer. “Is there a pattern here,” I wonder?

The conversation shifts to his administration; “Mr. President, can we talk-- really talk, I ask?” “Sure Sage,” he answers with enthusiasm.

“Mr. President—Obamala, I am thrilled with the appointment of Elizabeth Warren to oversee the creation of the Consumer Agency; a bigger mensch, you couldn’t appoint. She actually likes Americans more than banks and credit card companies—can you imagine that Sir? In fact, I think we need a lot more Elizabeth Warrens in your administration.

The President smiles broadly, and I continue. “Sir, I have a suggestion: CLONE Elizabeth Warren; that’s right—clone her; you could get rid of Geithner, Summers, Rahm, Gibbs, Gates, Salazar and the others; they’re soooo 2009! She could replace them. No problem.”

The President looks skeptical, but always a gentleman, he thanks me. “One more suggestion,” he gestures me to continue. “Please do me a favor, forget compromising with the Republicans and the Doggie Democrats; they’re no-goodniks; Americans need them like a loch-in-kop.”

“If you want support from your base, act on your promises from 2008.”

Thrilled with my rhyme, I don’t wait for Obamala to respond; instead, I thank the President for a lovely meeting and the delicious knishes—they were to die for!

Next, I prepare for a meeting with Elizabeth Warren—we have so much to discuss!

Glossary

Yiddish/Yid-English                                        English
-Macher     -Big Shot
-Mensch                                                           -A special person
-Michaya                                                          -A pleasurable experience

-Nosh -Snack
-Mishpocheh -Family

-Shmattehs                                                       -Rags or clothes
-Shtetl                                                              -Small village populated by Jews
-Luch-in-kop                                                   -Hole-in-the-head

References
Mrs. Potus is Michele Obama
Doggy Democrat is a Blue Dog Democrat

Drek, Shmeck, Mr Beck: That Mishuggeneh from Fox

noreply@blogger.com (Sage Feldemeyer) — Fri, 17 Sep 2010 20:59:00 +0000

Glenn Beck in Uniform

I am taking my 91-year old Aunt Sylvia and her friend Sara out for errands. Her mind is sharp, but her hearing is not so hot; she’s always mixing up names. She keeps mentioning, 'that Mishuggeneh, Mr. Shmeck'. I have no idea who she's talking about.

"Sagla," says Aunt Sylvia, "Mr. Shmeck has a TV program where he talks nonsense, writes on a blackboard and cries at the drop of a hat; you remember, he had a big Megilah in Vashington; he sat on Mr. Lincoln’s lap!"

Ah! It’s beginning to ring a bell. I remember reading about a rally in Washington, but the leader was Glenn Beck of Fox television, not Mr. Shmeck; I assume it’s the same person.

I correct Aunt Sylvia; “his name is Glenn Beck, not Mr. Shmeck; he hosts a popular program on Fox.”

“YES, 'that’s the Mishuggeneh', I’m talking about Sagala--Mr. Shmeck of Fux. What do my fellow citizens see in that schmendrick, Mr. Shmeck," Sylvia asks? "He tells his viewers things that aren’t true; he shouldn’t do that!” “Isn’t that right, Sara?" "Of course," Sara exclaims.

“Aunt Syl," I explain, “the furcockt economy is scaring people; Americans don’t know which way is up--what or who to believe."

"Fear, shmear," yells Sylvia, “does that mean they have to listen to that drek from Mr. Shmeck? I can hardly hear, but what I hear I don’t like."

"Sagala, I’m not the biggest fan of Obamala, but Mr. Shmeck makes up things about him--that he hates white people--that he’s a socialist. I only wish he was a socialist, believe me. I know from socialists, and he is not one! Am I right, Sarala," asks Sylvia? "Absolutely," Sara says in solidarity with her friend.

I take Aunt Sylvia home. My parting words: “Sweetheart, take a break from Mr. Shmeck; your blood pressure will appreciate it.” “Feh”, she blurts out—“I want nothing to do with Mr. Shmeck or Mr. Beck!”

Glossary:

Yiddish                                  English
-Schmendrick                         -Jerk, fool
-Farcoct                                 -Crappy
-Drek                                     -Shit
-Feh                                       -Expression of disgust
-Megileh                                 -Big deal