Once upon a time, 45 bajillion blog posts were written about olim, their complaints, and a partridge in a pear tree. In our immediate-reaction, “look, two things happened within three hours… it’s a meme!” society, people began talking about this site’s back-and-forth between “olim hadashim,” “olim vatikim,” and their upcoming bout at Wrestlemania 28. (Main event: Hollywood Hulk Hogan vs. Shmuel Goldfish, loser leaves town and moves to Galilee as part of Nefesh B’Nefesh’s “Go North” campaign.)

Complaints ranged from (and these are not direct quotes) “living here is more difficult than I expected because of false expectations” to “we need to take a long, hard look at how to keep human capital here.”

Responses in blog posts and talkbacks ranged from (paraphrasing again) “you can always leave” and “you forfeit the right to complain when you move here” to “if you dare criticize this country, I will shove a 10-foot mezuzah down your throat.” OK, so I made that one up.

Whoa. Don’t people have less combative things to do? Like Pinterest? (How cute, somebody pinned a picture of the classic Hebrew “go **** yourself” T-shirt.)

 This never gets old.

What are we even talking about anymore? The conversation went from addressing specific complaints to the very right of people to complain, with what was perceived as, accurately or not, olim hadashim in one corner and olim vatikim in the other. I could only read so many of these before wondering when a different voice was going to jump in. Can I represent olim beinoni’im (no way to translate that but, yes, I did just compare myself to a medium sized beverage)? Because G-d knows this part of the world needs as much mediation as possible.

Could it be that there’s no actual phenomenon here, but that instead it’s just a function of the internet? Everyone knows that blogs and sites like Twitter and Facebook give everyone a microphone, and that it’s much easier to express yourself (read: complain) now than in the old days.

(To anyone who attacks me in the comments: May your children be subjected to a lifelong diet of American cucumbers.)

Seriously, how did people make aliya before the internet existed?

I would love to read the unwritten blog posts of yesteryear. I mean, have you ever heard the horror stories that olim from the ’70s and ’80s tell to elicit a reaction? Holy hell, can anyone confirm whether or not they’re even true?

“When I moved here 30 years ago, it took three months to get a phone line installed. And you had to give blood before they’d even come to your house.”

“Omigod, you had to give blood!? That sounds HORRIBLE!”

“TOTALLY. And if you wanted to switch banks, you had to first withdraw all your money, and then the bank you were leaving would give you 613 lashings.”

Let’s review, shall we? One blogger wrote:

To voluntarily immigrate somewhere and then subsequently complain about the culture into which you wish to integrate is fairly audacious. In Israel, zeh mah yesh (that’s the way it is). This is what you signed up for, kids.

I don’t know about you guys, but I didn’t sign up for an 80-year-old Polish grandmother elbowing me in the small of my back while cutting in line. How was I supposed to see that coming when I was singing outdated David Broza songs at Young Judaea summer camp and eating nasty falafel I thought was tasty? WHAT WERE WE THINKING? Oh right, we weren’t. We were teenagers. But how many Anglo olim would come if they knew the whole truth? Definitely fewer. Maybe we should start advertising the real Israel so people can know what they really signed up for.

I want to start seeing more honest pictures in Nefesh B’Nefesh’s photo campaign. For example, I propose this advertisement for an Israeli government office:

Another wrote:

There is a disturbing new phenomenon afoot, one that I have dubbed “complainglos”; that is, Anglos who seek to ease the difficulties of absorption and assimilation by bashing everything about life in Israel.

Well, I certainly hope they’re not bashing everything about Israel. Yes, Anglos complain, but does anyone actually believe this is a “new phenomenon”? It’s certainly not new to 2012, and if complaining has increased over the years, the only people who’d have the perspective to recognize it are those who have been here for decades.

The Sages said that as long as birds are of a particular feather, they will flock together and complain about worms (or something like that). Having a community of fellow English-speakers provides a support system (and lovely English-speaking blogs like this one). However, it comes hand in hand with the motivation to complain.

I even found an angry rant from one oleh complaining about Israelis violently pushing people out of the way to board the Egged 405 line, with the guy changing the words to “David Melech Yisrael” to expletives. Oh wait, you’re saying that was me five years ago? Moving on…

Is this place awesome? Yes. Are Israelis the hottest Jews ever? Yes. But let’s be honest, a lot of things need fixing and anyone who’s paying attention knows it. Maybe it’s the government, maybe it’s different groups having too much or too little power.

New generations of complainglos are like the Lion King: It’s the ciiiiiircle of life. Except that instead of singing lions we have Westerners wondering how many times they have to call Orange without getting hung up on.

“Simba, someday you will rule this kingdom. Just know that all cellphone companies are basically the same.”

During my senior year of college (right around the time of the Ben-Gurion administration), I wrote a psychology thesis on ethnic humor. I ran an experiment confirming what we already know: A member of an in-group can make jokes that a non-member cannot get away with. For instance, a black guy can tell a black joke but a white guy can’t. (Fortunately I can get away with it, seeing as I’m dark on the inside and white on the outside. They don’t call me “reverse Crembo” for nothing.)

Israelis (and when I say “Israelis” I include us olim) can tolerate a lot more criticism from people who actually live here than from those who don’t. It’s that whole “you can’t beat up my little brother — only I can beat him up” thing.

Most people who live here will let criticism from their fellow aliya brothers and sisters slide because they know that they’re on the same team, members of the same proverbial family. They know that the complainer has decided to cast his lot with the Jewish people in Israel and shares the same strong emotional investment in this country.

Here’s a little secret that’s actually not a secret to anyone who’s followed my humor for the last few years: For the better part of 364 days out of the year, I complain, and I complain too much. So why don’t Israelis or olim vatikim tell me to shut my Crembo-hole? Presumably because I have a sense of humor about it and bring a smile to people’s faces, highlighted by my annual critique-free Yom Ha’atzmaut list. What people don’t know is that I’ve also been toying with the idea of making a “sixty-whatever things I hate about Israel” list. Why haven’t I done it? Because if it fell into the hands of those who don’t really know me it could lead them to think I don’t really want to be here.

In the wise words of one of the aforementioned bloggers:

It does us no good to cling to the comparisons. We are here for no other reason than that we want to be here.

He’s right: You shouldn’t compare between countries. It serves little purpose and it’s frustrating. And to be fair, I’m the first to admit that I’m poor at taking this advice.

Olim hadashim, it will get easier. Olim vatikim, the newbies need your help, inspiration, and understanding. Do your best Mr. Miyagi and pass on your infinite wisdom, provided it doesn’t require anyone to paint both sides of a fence.

Oleh who catch fly with chopsticks get big arnona discount. 

Let us all enjoy this wonderful country together in peace and harmony. Anybody want a hafuch?

I write you (wrote, rather) from seat 28D on my Delta flight back to Israel.  Frequent flyers* may know that Delta eliminated the direct flight from Atlanta to Tel Aviv a year or two ago, probably because they’re raging anti-Semites.  (Either that or for legitimate business reasons.  One of the two.)

(*My friend and former colleague once told me that he overheard our Israeli co-worker speaking to the airlines on the phone and referring to what he thought was called his “freaking flyer membership”.  You can’t make this stuff up.  By the way, after five-plus years in Israel, I have Gold membership in the frequent freier club.  Unfortunately, it gets me very little except screwed.)

I’ve taken the JFK-Tel Aviv route a few times and, well, it’s not so bad.  With real problems in the world (we may be on the verge of war with Iran….yiyeh b’seder!…..global warming is causing worldwide natural disasters….yiyeh b’sedeeeeeeeeer!), I’ve gotten used to these planes not having individual TV screens.  It does suck a little when you can’t even watch the movie on the big screen because your controller is broken.  WTF, Delta?  And by that, I mean of course…..

This one made the rounds a few months back.   (Click to enlarge if you can’t see the smaller text)

I mean, seriously-how did this happen?

Marketing meeting:

Moty:  “Ehhhhh, tov-I hev called you here because we bedly need new cereal slogan.”
Shmuel:  “I hev two ideas.  Nahmber one:  We taste good.  Nahmber two:  deh brekfest of chempions.”
Moty:  “Ma, ata dafuk?  B’seder, I hev it.  How about WTF?”
American Masa intern walking past the office:  “Excuse me, I’m so sorry for interrupting, but I couldn’t help overhearing your conversation.  I kind of think that maybe you shouldn’t use WTF.”
Moty:  ”Why not?”
American:  ”Because everyone knows that it stands for ‘what the f***?’ “

(pause)

Moty:  ”B’seder, we use it!  WHO CAAAAAAAAAYREZ???????????”

(American returns to desk, shakes head, and updates Facebook)

So yeah-the downside of no individual TV screens is that you have no individual TVs.  The upside is watching the cleavage shots of “Mission Impossible:  Ghost Protocol” ‘s Paula Patton blown up on a massive screen, knowing that certain people on the plane are squirming in their seats trying not to look.  (Sorry, fellas, I can’t join your minyan.  Do you see what movie is on?)

Highlights of the flight (besides the movie):

• Realizing I knew three people on my flight.  One from ROI (we had figured this out last week thanks to the most popular website in the Jewish world.  No, not the Times of Israel.  Esther K.’s Facebook wall.).  Another was from a party in Tel Aviv like 4 years ago (we haven’t seen each other since but are Facebook friends, funny how that works.)  And one who works at the OU in Israel who I met through Avi Liberman and have since met with a couple of her groups.
• What’s cooler than realizing you know three people on your flight to Israel?  (And, by the way, if you don’t live in Israel and are fazed by this, don’t be.  Didn’t you read #4 on this list?  This happens every five seconds in Israel.  Which means I shouldn’t have been the least bit surprised by what happened next….) When I had to go to the bathroom with my dinner tray still on my tray table, I did that little magic trick where you try to get out of your seat without getting sauce all over your pants.  The woman next to me asked in English, “can I help you?” and took the tray off my table.  Ok, nobody has ever done that before so I thought something was fishy.  Upon returning, I asked her if she was visiting or living in Israel. She said living. Within five minutes, it came out that, surprise, she was an Israeli scout on Young Judaea Year Course four years ago and had seen me perform when I did a show for her group in Bat Yam.  How the hell do these things happen?  I love it.  And if you didn’t follow, the “fishy” part was resolved when I realized she was Israeli.  Disagree if you want but they’re just different.  #crazyhelpful

This generalization has been brought to you by the number 18 and the color “chumus beige.”

Two more things:

One of the flight attendants made an announcement to “please not bring your trays to the galley, leave them on the floor, or hand them to the flight attendants, as we will come get them as soon as we can.”  The funny part?  The first time, she made it only in English.  What’s the point of that?   That’s like making an announcement only in Hebrew to please stop going to the Cheesecake Factory and eating a giant burrito in one sitting.

“Mission Impossible” again:  because my stupid controller wasn’t working, I couldn’t hear the audio.  While looking up at one point, I saw that they referred to Tom Cruise’s character Ethan Hunt as “Eitan” in the subtitles.  NO WAY!!!  HE’S ISRAELI!  Who knew?  Next mission, if he chooses to accept it:  to get ten people to finish a meeting without interrupting each other and yelling “shniya!” every 45 seconds.

It’s good to be back.  More blog updates and columns on the way.

Thank you, Israel, for being awesome enough to allow me to find so many great things about you, even if I sometimes forget to appreciate you  while complaining about something or other for 364 days out of the year.  Today?  No chance.   All is beautiful on Yom Ha’atzmaut.

It kills me to not be in Israel on Yom Hazikaron and Yom Ha’atzmaut but my travels are for a good cause (spreading the good word through laughter and, yes, putting some shekels in my pocket.)  I guess this just means I’ll appreciate it next year that much more.

And thanks to The Times of Israel for hosting the list this year and making it look fantastic.

You know the drill.  Here are 64 MORE things I love about Israel.  Chag Atzmaut sameach!

63 More Things I Love About Israel

62 More Things I Love About Israel

61 More Things I Love About Israel

60 Things I Love About Israel

1.  I love how someone can be completely indifferent to politics but will still argue about their favorite chumus place until they blow an artery.

2.  I love that when I was clothes shopping, a guy let me use his dressing room even though he wasn’t done yet.  I didn’t catch his waist size but he was definitely an XL gever gever.

3.  I love the “mmm-bye” farewell greeting used by certain Israelis when hanging up the phone.  It’s a cross between “l’hitraot” and a Hanson song.

4.  I love that after striking up a conversation with a complete stranger at the Ben-Gurion baggage claim, not only did he offer me a ride home but we also discovered that we shared over 60 mutual Facebook friends.  Seriously, how are there any Jews who still don’t know each other?

5.  I love that because we were unable to get home due to the Jerusalem marathon, we agreed that our driver would drop us off somewhere else, take our luggage to his home in Ma’ale Adumim, and deliver it to us later, with not a fear in the world that it wouldn’t go exactly as planned.  The guy got out of his car to bring the bag all the way to my door.  Now that’s service.

6.  I love how the worker at Bank Leumi decided she could call me “motek” after knowing me for all of 2.4 seconds.

7.  I love that the NU Campaign agreed to sell my line of “yiyeh b’seder” t-shirts to bring a bit of humor to our lives.  Check it out here.  And if they don’t have your favorite color?  Yiyeh b’seder.

8.  I love how when you call a wrong number on Pesach, they still say “chag sameach” before hanging up.

9.  I love that instead of worrying about kids developing peanut allergies, parents feed their babies Bamba before the doctor has even finished cutting the umbilical cord.

10.  I love how every time the Tel Aviv bike rental project opens a new station, people post “Mazal Tov” in the Facebook comments.

11.  I love that the Asian sushi chef gave me the rega hand gesture.  Ech omrim “kibbutz galuyot” in Japanese?

12.  I love that they don’t sell any of that “not kosher for Passover” matza crap here.  Who the hell eats that?  That’s like taking medicine labeled “Insulin:  not suitable for diabetics”.

13.  I love that the owner of the makolet across the street carried my roommate’s groceries home just because.   Strange that batting my eyelashes hasn’t worked for me.

14.  I love that a sheirut driver will divert from their route to make sure a little girl gets home safely, coordinating with the other drivers over their CBs like the Israeli Dukes of Hazzard.  (With the way she dressed, are we sure Daisy wasn’t a Southern freicha?)

15.  I love that Bob Dylan played his first concert in almost 20 years here.  It’s unclear which language he was mumbling in.

16.  I love that the Red Hot Chili Peppers are finally making their long-awaited appearance here.  I hope they open with “Californicatzia.”

17.  I love that you can discover at a Shabbat dinner that three different women share the same gynecologist.  I couldn’t decide whether to be impressed or uncomfortable.

18. I love that certain stores advertise their dependability by claiming to be open “24/6”.

19.  I love that this gas station offered a Friday special of a free newspaper and Shabbat challah with a purchase of 180 shekels of gas.  Not seen in this advertisement:  a purchase of 250 shekels gets you a brisket and autographed copy of Rabbi Shmuley Boteach’s “Kosher Sex”.

20.  I love that upon leaving gas stations or other parking lots, you see a sign that says “Tzetchem l’shalom”.  Because nothing says kabbalist liturgy like unleaded gasoline.

21.  I love that there is no design too intricate to put in the foam of a café hafuch.  You could request the waiter to draw a Pac-Man board and he’d ask, “ehhhh…..weeth or weethout deh dots?”

22.  I love that even the post office clerks show their cleavage.  It makes me wonder what the numbers you pull out of the machine get you.

23.  I love that during my pre-checkup small talk, my doctor asked me to review the Hebrew inscription he had written for his mother’s headstone before talking to me about Shai Agnon and Hebrew literature.  I know doctors sometimes run late but that was a first.

24.  I love that a prospective landlord gave me the key to check out his apartment at my leisure and trusted me to return it later.   “Thanks, dude-why don’t you just let me paint the walls, whip up a 3 course meal, and then return it when I’m done?………….Seriously?  I WAS KIDDING!”

25.  I love that Apple chose to open their first overseas R&D center in Israel.  Maybe the iPhone 5 will have a virtual assistant named Shiri who answers your questions and does your laundry when you come home from the army.

26.  I love that millions of people rallied in the streets last summer to effect change.  If you don’t think cottage cheese was worth rallying over, clearly you’ve never had Israeli dairy products.

27.  I love that during the tent protests, some protesters set up makeshift communal kitchens.  Even when pretending to be homeless, Israelis still make fresh salads.

28.    I love that no one here cares what Snooki ate for breakfast but the Kineret’s crossing the red line causes my Facebook news feed to explode.

29.  I love that despite having fewer original TV shows than American cable has channels, Hollywood is buying the rights to Israeli TV shows like they’re Middle Eastern hotcakes.

30.  I love the word “pashtida”.  Have you said it recently?  Pash-ti-daaaaaaaaa………  (For bonus fun, you can sing it to the following Backstreet Boys song:  “Everybooooodyyyyyyy…..pashtidaaaaaaaa-dyyyyyyyy….”  No, I’ve never sung this out loud in my kitchen while making pashtida, why do you ask?)

31.  I love that I can advertise my vacant room here and on the Times of Israel and feel pretty confident about psychos not responding.  (Then again, what do I care?  It’s not my room anymore!  Ok, people-spread the word….I’m paying double rent for a month already.  Do you know how many café hafuchs that is?)

32.  I love that during a massive delay in the re-ticketing line at Ben-Gurion, the airport staff passed out croissants and beverages.

33.  I love that the salad bar in the airport’s pre-security atrium actually chops up fresh vegetables before your very eyes.  The last time I saw that in an American airport, Elvis and the mashiach had just hugged me goodbye at curbside check-in.

34.  On that note, I love that you don’t need to drown salad in dressing to make it taste good.  This list is five years old; do we really need to review the awesome taste of Israeli vegetables?  I didn’t think so.  (Of course we do.  If I had a shekel for every time I had a disgusting cucumber in America, I’d be bituach leumi.)

35.  I love that my Arab cab driver said “baruch Hashem” in Hebrew.

36.  I love that Arab guys scream “alte zachen!!!” in YIDDISH.  I guess this is less surprising when you consider that our slang is in Arabic.  Sababa!

37.  I love that no matter how many different ways the Western world tries to spin and sell chumus, we know it can’t touch ours.  “PEOPLE!  GET THE FREAKING PEANUT BUTTER AND EDAMAME AWAY FROM IT!!!!”

38.  I love that Claire Danes told Conan O’Brien that Tel Aviv was the most intense party town she had ever been to.  Thanks, Claire-please come back!  And are you familiar with the conversion process?

39.  I love that when someone accidentally drops a dish, everyone in the vicinity screams “mazal tov!”

40.  I love that kids can walk home at any hour in this country and feel safe.  While this may be an adjustment for children of olim, the biggest thing they need to worry about is their overprotective parents.

41.  I love that instead of Spanish, the Israeli Dora teaches kids English. Hey, D- how about using your map to find Israel and open a Mexican restaurant already?

42.  I love how even after a company has filed the appropriate paperwork with the various government offices, it’s not actually a proper workplace until it has a kumkum.

43.  I love that the selection of hamburgers is significantly better than when I first arrived in Israel.  Move over, Mozes and Agadir….Wolfnights is awesome.

44.  I love that Wonder Woman is called “Ayshet Chayil” in Hebrew.  What, is she cooking Shabbat dinner in her invisible jet?

45.  I love that the Golan has good old-fashioned cowboys.  “There’s not enough room in this yishuv for the both of us.  (pause)  B’seder, I give you hafuch, then you leave.”

46.  I love that I actually found a chumus sufganiya last Chanuka.  I had already reached my sufganiya maximum so I didn’t buy it but who cares?  IT’S A FREAKING CHUMUS SUFGANIYA!

47.   I love that despite questions from abroad about the spectre of war with Iran, daily life in Israel is totally normal.  “Do I feel it?  I feel nescafe going down my throat forty-five times a day, what are you referring to?”

48.  I love the delicious salatim that inevitably fill half my stomach to kick off a Shabbat meal.  Just once, I’d love for the host to serve them and five minutes later say, “That’s it.  Seriously, that’s the whole meal.”

49.  I love that people get more excited about the prospect of snow than teenage girls at a Justin Bieber concert.  Which is surprising since I’ve never seen a 15 year-old faint from inclement weather.

50.  I love that there are approximately 21 million news sources from Israel all over the political spectrum, exactly three for every citizen who thinks he could run the country better than the government at any given time.

51.  I love that even after five-and-a-half years in Israel, the women still become approximately 478 times hotter the minute I hear Hebrew come out of their mouths.

52.  I love that even as a straight man in Tel Aviv, I can step back and say, “Damn.  These are some good-lookin’ dudes.”  (Although after the pashtida reference, some of you are questioning.)

53.  I love that my teacher friend receives a stipend for new clothes every August.  Because if you’re going to be harassed by 40 young Israeli children, you might as well look your best.

54.  I love that a Jerusalem court is currently hearing a case against the producers of “Ha’ach Hagadol” for allowing a cast member to bring a Tanach into the bathroom.  Whereas this may be offensive, c’mon, where do you get your best reading done?  Only in Israel.

55.  I love that Shelly Yachimovich’s winning the Labor party election at the time gave women the leadership of two of Israel’s biggest political parties.  Golda power!

56.  I love how when I told my friend that I was moving to Spinoza St. and wondered aloud who he was, he took three steps towards the bookcase and grabbed a book about Spinoza himself.  “On second thought, achi, I’m moving to Rechov Million Dollars….”

57.  I love that the day after Thanksgiving, instead of trampling each other for an Xbox, we conduct ourselves like civilized human beings.  If G-d forbid there was only one container left of chumus, would you and the ars come to blows?  Of course not.  You’d smoke a cigarette, he’d call you ”kapara”, and then invite you for dinner to meet his sister.

58.  I love that my recent move back to Tel Aviv means I am a walking embodiment of the Hadag Nachash song and that I can proudly say I am a fan of both cities.

59.  I love that no matter how much daily occurrences can drive me crazy here, the minute my plane lands in the States, I turn into the Minister of Tourism.

60.  I love that I have lived here long enough to see the proverbial “light at the other side of the klitah tunnel”, that despite difficulties and doubts, I was able to truly celebrate my five year aliyah anniversary last summer.

61. I love that when I go back to America, I feel like Marty McFly returning to 1985 in an alternate reality, recognizing that there is so much more to life than most people realize. There’s something about aliyah. (Starring Ben Stiller and Cameron Diaz, release date to be announced.)

62. I love how prospective olim make me feel like a Jedi when I share my thoughts and experiences with them. “Use the force…of your elbows to cut in line.”

63. I love that Gilad Shalit is home with us where he belongs and the incredible feeling of peoplehood and family we all felt on the day he came home. I can’t imagine having been anywhere else. Welcome home, Gilad.

64. I love that I’ve had this once-in-a-lifetime experience and that it’s not over yet.

There’s only one lead singer of Van Halen.

I can’t badmouth Jerusalem.  It’s easy to criticize what you don’t really know.   It’s easy to say, “Jerusalem is boring and everybody’s religious” when you don’t live here.  Yeah, well, New York is expensive and everybody is rude.  Except when you spend some time there and realize that life isn’t always so black and white.  When you talk about the well-documented exodus of young (play along with me), non-Orthodox people from Jerusalem, they’re supposed to be leaving with some kind of bad taste in their mouths.  My mouth tastes fine (and not just because I’ve had three café hafuchs today).  Seems that some number of people have a tough time seeing the good in both places or can’t choose one without bad-mouthing the other; to me, it’s not a zero-sum game.  By all means, live where you want to live but it’s not a weakness in admitting that there’s value in the other (I think some New Yorkers have trouble admitting that other places could possibly be cool, as if it were to make Manhattan less so.  And I apologize in advance if anyone is bothered by a bit of a rant-ish tone here.  Whereas the question used to be, and mostly from Israelis, “wheech eez beh-ter, Ah-mehr-ica or Eez-rayl?“, now it’s “which is better, Jerusalem or Tel Aviv?”  I just find it a bit tiresome, both the question and the thought processes behind a lot of people making the decision.  I’ll explain.)

Sha’anan Street was right.  The chumus in Jerusalem is good and it is in fact baduk; I checked it outside the Damascus Gate just a week ago and in the Christian Quarter on Saturday (I’m pretty sure it was at Lina but there wasn’t a sign so I could be wrong.  And as I told my friend and co-eater at the time, if it doesn’t have a sign or even a printed menu, it’s probably really good.  And it was.)  I’m pretty sure Tel Aviv has nothing that compares to the mystique of the Old City (have you been to the Temple Mount?  I recently went for the first time.) And there is nothing like the roga and sheket Sha’anan describes like on a Saturday afternoon in Jerusalem.  So many times I find myself the only one on the street as if I were Tom Cruise in “Vanilla Sky” (just without the nice car, Hollywood looks, and overdramatic Tom Cruise faces). And there is no doubt ha’ir hazot hichzir li et hashlita b’chaim (this city returned control to my life).  My life stabilized by leaps and bounds over the last few years living here.

Where IS everyone???  Oh yeah, it’s Shabbat in Jerusalem.

Yeah?  How’s that?

I return to Tel Aviv an oleh of five and a half years, someone who is making a living doing what makes him happy, collaborating with several different organizations here and in the US, as opposed to a guy who just a few years ago was bouncing between jobs writing blog posts about online casino games or celebrity gossip (didja hear the one about the oleh chadash who did dumb jobs based on his English fluency?)  When I last left Tel Aviv, I actually had daymares about Bituach Leumi (our equivalent of social security) and Mas Hachnasa (the income tax authority) giving me a beatdown in a dark alley due to my self-employed tax situation being in such disarray.  Fast-forward to now.  I can walk into both offices with my head held high (as if anyone would ever want to walk into either.)  As I detailed in my five year aliyah post, it took a few years, but life really started coming together over the last year or two. And even though Orange is still charging me despite having left them over a year ago, life is pretty good, with shlita over my chaim.

Mrs. Benjamin Lovitt?  F*** you, Orange.

Then why leave?

I moved to Jerusalem for a job (which I ended up leaving about four months after my arrival, go figure).  But I also hoped the move might bring something that was missing to my life, a sense of community that I felt lacking in New York and hadn’t felt since living in Atlanta.  Well, it didn’t (by no fault of the city).  It seems that we can’t always recapture things we had when we were younger.  Oh well.  Anyone who knows me at all in Jerusalem has heard me admit that I have turned into a boring fart while living here.  I rarely go out and can’t stand a lot of things about the nightlife in this city (the lack of options compared to Tel Aviv –or anywhere else I’ve lived– but more so, the lack of options that are far removed from 15-22 year olds.)

My social life, by my own doing, is pretty non-existent, and I take responsibility for that.  At the same time, I have been either fully or partially self-employed for almost the entire time I’ve lived here.  And lemme tell ya, when you don’t have a normal full-time income, combined with having an artist’s insatiable desire to create and stifle the inner critic saying you’re not doing enough, you can expect your work hours to be a little excessive.  I have directed a lot of time that could have been channeled into a social life into a focus on work.  Whereas I’m pleased and thrilled at my accomplishments over the last few years, a total lack of work-life balance probably isn’t the healthiest thing.  When a few weeks ago, I raced home early Saturday evening thinking, “wild horses couldn’t drag me out tonight“, that was it.  With pretty great clarity, I knew it was time to go and I haven’t looked back.

I’m also not particularly observant (religiously, I mean….not like “omig-d, how long has my tie been sitting in my soup?”  Uh, ok, I’m pretty unobservant by that definition as well.)  Despite my newfound exposure to a crowd more observant than me, it’s not the most natural fit.  More of my friends and more of my good friends from before I moved here are in Tel Aviv.  And I know that we have to take responsibility for things in our lives but for me, right now, it’s really hard for me to improve my Hebrew in Jerusalem.  I’m hoping that will change there.  So that’s that.

I knew it was the religious thing.  Like everyone else who’s fleeing Jerusalem, you’re probably sick all the religious coercion, right?

Well, no.  When I lived in TA, I called myself “chiloni” (secular).  Because if you’re not dati (religious), that’s what you are apparently, as decided by people who like to use labels.  I’m happy to say I won’t be calling myself chiloni in the future.  I enjoy Shabbat.  Even though nobody enjoys sitting on their lazy Jerusalem butt in their apartment more than I do (ok, maybe one other person does, you know who you are), there is something so special about ending your week with a relaxing meal with friends on a Friday night.  (Some thing?  There are a lot of things.)   I like celebrating holidays.  More than that, I’m not turned off by religion as much as many Israeli chilonim might be (thank you, pluralist American Judaism and summer camp!)

Wait, so you’re religious now???

It’s not about being a dramatically different Jew from when I arrived.  It’s about how we look at each other.  Some people in Tel Aviv refer to Yerushalmim as those “dosim” as if everyone who has any pride in Judaism can be just painted with broad strokes (and to be fair and honest, I didn’t really get it before I lived here either).  As if a kipah-wearing Conservative Jew who keeps Shabbat is to be grouped in with the Modern Orthodox who might get grouped in with the Charedim who spit on eight year-old girls, because of course, why do the laborious mental work to get to know them and see the differences? I didn’t encounter it as much but I’m sure there’s a good amount of those feelings about Tel Avivim here as well, and when I heard people criticizing Tel Aviv as the city of sin and apathy or whatever, you better believe I defended all my friends there.

If you want to consider yourself to be an open-minded person, I think you’d better be willing to give some of these things up.  Because “those dosim” are everywhere in Jerusalem (and I hear they’ve even grown in numbers in Tel Aviv since I’ve been gone).  In your office.  In your social circles.  In your (gasp) apartment building.  You might even live with one.  And you know what?  They’re both normal and pretty awesome.  I realized that datim leumim (“national religious”/Modern Orthodox?  Again, those crazy labels…) feel pretty much the same way about religious extremists that chilonim do.  Probably the majority of my friends or acquaintances in Jerusalem were what a lot people in Tel Aviv would call “religious” (and again, I should include myself in that).

And as I surely have written here before, Jerusalem taught me to love Shabbat.  Not the weekend.  Shabbat.  When I first moved here, it happened immediately.  I have always felt that if you’re trying to compare Jerusalem and Tel Aviv, both cities fail by the standards of the other.  If nightlife is important to you, sorry, Jerusalem, I’m giving the edge to the city that never sleeps (nor stops sweating). If you’re looking for spirituality and a relaxing Shabbat, sorry, Tel Aviv, I also love brunch in a café or relaxing on the beach, but it’s just different here.  You can’t win them all. I spent my last Shabbat sitting on the tayelet overlooking the city and walking around the Old City amid the most diverse crowd of people you could ever imagine.  In Tel Aviv, Friday afternoon slows to a crawl.  In Jerusalem?  It slows to a corpse.  Seriously, it’s DEAD.  And it’s still mind-bogglingly awesome to me.  That whole “Vanilla Sky” thing again.  A nap is enjoyable everywhere but there’s nothing like doing it in solidarity with your neighbors when approximately 87.4% of the city is doing the same.  Hey, Hamas-if you want to push us into the sea, forget starting on the coast.  Just attack Jerusalem on Shabbat.  You could take over Katamon in about five minutes if you arrive at 4 PM.

And, man, I wish I had a better word but Jerusalem is just flat-out interesting as hell.  Whenever I leave the Old City and pass the Cinemateque, I look at the King David Hotel and Yemin Moshe across the valley and think, “no matter how many times I see this, I can’t wrap my head around what I’m looking at.”  It’s stunning.

Just another view in Jerusalem.

A lot of people say Jerusalem isn’t Israel.  I get that in the way that New York isn’t America.  I also don’t think Tel Aviv is Israel.  But I think the two cities together (plus all the people living everywhere else who are probably sick of this argument about which is more Israeli) equals Israel.  There’s a lot of intolerance and infighting among the Jewish people these days.  Does everything have to be a black/white, all-or-nothing competition?  G-d forbid we open our minds and see the good where it exists.  To everyone in their own bubble (whether it’s on Sheinkin St. or in Katamon), just know that if you choose not to come out, there are consequences.  Not only to everyone else but to you because you’re really missing out.  So Tel Avivim, come spend a Shabbat in Jerusalem.  And Yerushalmim, go spend a Shabbat in Tel Aviv.  You just might be surprised.

So are you excited to go live the Tel Aviv lifestyle?

Nah.  I mean, what do you mean?  Unlike the typical Jerusalemite who decides “enough is enough, I’m outta here”, I’ve done Tel Aviv already.  I bled Yarkon River green for 2+ years upon my arrival.  I don’t need to release years of pent-up energy partying, exploring the nightlife, etc.  With my rent exactly twice what I paid in my last Tel Aviv apartment, I have good reasons to live a bit more boring of a life than I used to while continuing to work hard (albeit with more fun breaks in between).

As for where I’ll be living, I signed a lease with my new friend Yosef, who directed this video which you may have seen. So I’ve been wanting to make more videos, haven’t spent a ton of time on it for obvious reasons (for example, because I’m not a video editor), and will now be living with a professional.  I’m excited.  Am I wondering how I’ll afford to handle such a big rent increase from my current rent?  Yeah.  Am I concerned that my body has almost certainly forgotten how to deal with that lovely, sticky feeling of the summer?  Sure.  But am I excited to walk on Rothschild, go to the beach, sit in my favorite coffee shops, rekindle friendships, and return to a city which, by the way, is awesome?  Yep.  Or I will be anyway, once I find a subletter and get through the next few busy weeks.

So come on, man, tell us once and for all:  WHICH CITY IS BETTER?

Ok, Regis, here’s my final answer.  Are you ready for the big decision after 5.5 years?  Here we go:  who cares?  And who the hell am I to provide this deep, ultimate truth?  Everyone has their own opinion.  They’re two different cities and I’m just choosing to leave one for the other because that was the decision I came to at this stage of my life.

Jerusalem, I love you.  Thank you for everything.  For opening your homes and Shabbat tables to me.  For eating chumus with me.  Chumus Pinati.  Chumus Ta’ami.  Chumus everywhere.  For the awesome Machane Yehuda shuk and running into 40,000 familiar faces on a Friday, for the supercool and fairly new bars in the shuk that I would absolutely positively go to if I were staying, for picnics, beautiful walks where a gorgeous view of the city and hills was always just around the corner, my favorite coffee shop Café Bezalel, the Comedy Basement, even the Gilad Shalit tent, and, finally, the wonderful people I met….I will never forget you. I will be back often, but it’s time to go.

Now what was it I wanted to say….

Oh yes, now I remember.

Tel Aviv!   (HINEI ANI BA!)   Ani magia!!!

Thank you, Israel, for making me completely unable to waste even a drop of water anymore.  The size of the beverage glasses at the suburban Chili’s/T.G.I.Friday’s/Bennigans/Applebees/Ruby Tuesday’s/Houston’s (did I forget any?) chains is unreal.  I’m pretty sure the entire Kinneret could fit into one of them, at least before this wet winter. Have you noticed the robots they employ as waitstaff whose brains self-destruct if you ask them to do the stray from their routine?  A few years ago, I finished my dinner at some restaurant and wanted just a little more soda to wash it down.  When I asked the waiter for just a small partial refill, using my fingers to visually show him, he still brought me back a massive full glass.  I’m surprised that the word “waste” even exists in the English language.   Robots.

(And if you’re bored, here’s a fun game to play with your friends:  translate American restaurant names into Hebrew.  Cheeleem.  Beniganim.  TGI Yom Shishi.  Ruby Yom Shlishi.  Of COURSE I’ve never done this before with my friends Emil and Lymore in the fall of 2004, why do you ask?)

Now watch what I do here, as I talk about cup size in a total non-sexual manner:  holy crap, the cup sizes you can find at gas stations in the middle of nowhere is unreal.  Check this out:  SIXTY-FOUR OUNCES!  That’s more than FIVE BOTTLES OF BEER!!!  How are Americans not constantly peeing?

In case you were trying to gain perspective, this is the hand of an adult.

Another time, with my sister at Chili’s, the guy kept returning every few minutes to check my glass.  It’s great service.  I love it.  But if you dare cover your glass with your hand to prevent them from refilling it and then look closely, you can actually see smoke coming from behind their ears as they short-circuit.  Give it a try sometime.

This time, back at Chili’s with my sister, I asked the waiter specifically for just “half a glass of water”.  Before you could say “I don’t give a flying falafel ball about conservation”, he had poured me a full glass.  Next time I visit, I’m absolutely offering my waiter a sum of one million dollars if and only if he can pour me half a glass of water.  If you’re at home saying, “yeah, but you don’t have a million dollars”, you’ve missed the point.

On the topic of water and conservation, not having a dishwasher obviously changes your behavior in the kitchen.  Let me ask you this:  if you made coffee, added milk, and then stirred it, what would you do with the spoon?

Would you?:

A)   Clean it with soap and water

B)   Quickly run it under the water for no more than a second

C)   Put it in the dishwasher

D)   Flush it down the toilet

(I needed a D.)

I can’t do C.  I just can’t.  It’s such a waste and to me unnecessary, unless you really believe that every Purel hand-washing station you see in America is justified.  I know the two aren’t exactly connected but I suspect there’s a correlation.

All this really boils down to the whole phenomenon of feeling more American in Israel and Israeli in America.  And now for a few more pictures….

If you read this as “milk חוג”, you just might be Israeli.

Only in America would you set a policy and then apologize for it.
(Israelis know what I’m talking about:  the abundance of “sorry”s.)

I don’t even know what to say about this one.

A certain synagogue is celebrating their 25th anniversary of having up-to-date educational materials.

Greetings from America.  Thanks to Jspace, I’ve had a fun trip, bringing laughs to people in Southern Illinois, South Bend, and tomorrow, Madison.  (Have you created a profile yet?  Go do it now…I’ll wait.)  If you’re going to live in Israel, you’d better have a sense of humor.  Just a few days ago, fighting broke out along the Gaza border again.  War is hell, people. I should know-I once knew someone who was in it. (Or he did, anyway.)

As each day passes, more and more information comes out about the graphic events which took place in Gaza over the last week. You may have already seen some of the controversial pictures of the unprovoked damage Israel has imposed upon its neighbors. You will hear accusations from Israel’s supporters that these photos spread across Twitter were either doctored or falsified, that these images were not from recent days but from years past or even from other countries in the Middle East. Do not believe them.

Let me assure you: it takes a discerning eye to know the difference. Do not be freierim (suckers); knowledge is power. Please see the following photos for a real idea of the mass destruction and atrocities committed by the IDF before the recent cease-fire was reached. We must stand up for what we know is right. You will be stopped, Zionist pigs!

This attack was carried out by a stealth galactic space jet just moments ago. Where are the so-called “dropped flyers” warning the inhabitants to flee?

A helpless victim is dragged home after suffering abdominal wounds from successive punches in the solar-plexus. WILL THE ATROCITIES NEVER END???

Just minutes before this picture was taken, the IDF launched an unprovoked attack against the Gaza zoo. Israeli claims that Gazans used non-human shields are lies. (Do you know why he wishes he only had some courage? Because a soldier stole it and sold it on Yad2.)

The corpse of a nameless victim of Israeli shelling. Due to the graphic nature of its death, he was unable to be identified.

An Israeli soldier (right) delivers excessive force against a prisoner. His commander watches approvingly.

I am confident that more pictures will be revealed in the coming days. Will you believe the truth or run from it? I only implore you to keep this in mind: please, when you get your news….consider the source.

February 29th at some ungodly hour…

Nothing like a visit to Ben-Gurion Airport to get my blog juices flowing again.  (Hey, I have a tag cloud!  How fun.  Here are all my blog posts tagged with “Ben-Gurion Airport.”  Have fun.)  What is it about wanting to shove a sharp metal object in your own eye while waiting at check-in that makes me want to write?  I flew to the States Tuesday night/Wednesday morning for a couple of weeks and, boy, were my (Iranian nuclear) arms tired.  I was initially supposed to fly Lufthansa through Frankfort (ech omrim “foreshadowing”?) Hey, did you know that the Lufthansa check-in desk is on the first floor of the airport near the arrivals hall?  My friend Ziv said that when they built Ben-Gurion, they messed up and didn’t leave enough room in the departures terminal so they had to cram it down there.  Whether or not it’s true, is there any story that wouldn’t surprise you about why things are the way they are?

“Why in the world is there an upscale mall across the street from the Old City?” 

Well, it’s funny….when Israel reclaimed those areas in ’67, they were eager to finalize the cease-fire agreements before Shabbat.  The United Nations was set to call for a return of the old Mamila neighborhood to Jordan unless Israel could present a compelling reason to maintain possession.  At the eleventh hour, Abba Eban suggested an American outdoors and camping store whose English name written in Hebrew would be transliterated in English as “Deh Nort Face.”  Yada yada yada, Mamilla.”  Is any of that true?  Of course not.  Except for the store name.  And, by the way, it’s foreshadatzia.

No, really-that’s what they call it.
I know.  Let’s move on.

I know we talk about the buses being the worst of the elbow parties but how crazy is check-in at Ben-Gurion?  Jockeying for position plus baggage carts.  It’s like airline roller derby.   I think that’s where small Israeli children first learn to push.  It’s a coming-of-age thing like when mothers bring their babies into the swimming pool with floaties.  “Go, little Dudu!  Over in line 17, Continental!  I see a millimeter of space between their carts, get in there.  Spread your wings and FLYYYYY!!!!!!”  Then everybody breaks into “Uf Gozal”, an Israeli gets his wings, and four hundred people wait three minutes as the people in front of them untangle their carts.

B’kitzur, why the crazy lines this time?  Because of a strike and no, it wasn’t Israel’s.  What are the odds?  Might as well happen on Leap Day.  I guess anything is possible.  Maybe this is the one day a year where crazy stuff happens.  Did the falafel guys all wear disposable gloves?  Somebody report back to me on this, please.

What’s that?  I haven’t made sweeping generalizatiot about cultural differences in 15 seconds?  I thought about the following last week and wonder if there’s anything to it.  Ok, service is better in America-we get it.  I’m a little used to it after five years so I preface the following point by saying this is not an angry vent but more an observatzia (and when I say “I’m a little used to it”, I really do mean a little.  Like I could be more)  We’re all waiting in line last night and it’s NOT MOVING AT ALL.  It was bad enough that the people around were like, “b’ima sheli, what in the halva is going on up there?”  Only when I got to the front did they tell me about the strike and that I’d have to go to the re-ticketing line around the corner.  I don’t know what exactly took so long at the counter but the woman next to me and I agreed that it would have been nice if someone had made an announcement to calm the mob of people.  My point:  everyone focuses on the differences in service  in terms of how polite and customer-oriented service people are but to be a bit more nuanced, I have seen recently a couple of examples where the Israeli service provider was in fact working hard but maybe focusing on what was in front of his/her face at the time, and less on the big picture.  It just doesn’t seem right that they should attend to a single passenger for half an hour without giving the rest of the customers an inkling of what was going on.

Another example:  at a mostly empty café recently (where there were not people waiting for a table or a high-level of work stress), the waitress cleared a table instead of taking our order (or bringing our drinks or whatever it was).  Was she doing her job?  Yes.  Was she attending to a dirty table instead of humans?  Yes.  Did we want our café hafuchs?  You betcha.  This went on for a good few minutes.  Again, five-plus years into this thing called “craziness”, I often have the ability to chill and be patient.  But I don’t think I’ll ever stop noticing or trying to understand.  And although the odds of me ever waiting tables in Israel are slim (I was a waiter in Atlanta about 10 years ago and part of me is DYING to do it again to help make at least one restaurant a better place), much like Ben-Gurion dreamed to make the desert bloom, I too dream of not having to point a semi-automatic weapon at my waiter to get a glass of water.

America: A country where there exists more water than coffee. Can you even imagine?  When I get back to Israel, I’m going to start showering in hafuch.  (And will then lick myself dry.)

ANYWAY….b’kitzur, I waited around 2.5 hours to get reticketed on Continental, am currently flying through Newark, and should get to Dallas around 7 hours later than expected.  Could have been worse I suppose.  At least Continental has great in-flight entertainment.

Best part about the delay?  Getting a pass to the Dan Lounge.  After passing through security, I made a beeline (ech omrim “beeline”?) there to see what the buzz was about.  When I walked in, the woman at the reception tried to tell me that because I was no longer flying Lufthansa, the pass they gave me wouldn’t suffice.  Ok, to be fair, let me now go the other way:  that was a totally bulls*** American answer.  Seriously?  That’s why Lufthansa gave it to me, to compensate me for screwing me.  I was about to….what’s a level below “fight”?  Dispute?  I was about to tell her it was mamash lo b’seder until she couldn’t reach someone on the phone and let me in anyway.

Two things about this:

1)  Again, it’s amazing how much easier it is to raise your voice or be aggressive in Hebrew.  Holy crap, I had a real moment recently getting onto a sheirut.  While walking to the back, my jacket which I was carrying accidentally brushed a guy’s face as I walked by.  Instead of not making a big deal out of it or saying nothing, he swatted it and made some kind of noise.  I instinctively responded “sli-CHAAA!!!” in a way I had never before, in the same tone of voice someone might say, “JEEEE-sus!  Oh-KAAAAAAY!”   On one hand, I was a little embarrassed that I had matched his obnoxiousness with an impatient combative tone but on the other hand, I also had a small inner smile as I thought, “I just became 12.4% more Israeli.”

It’s so easy to be aggressive in Hebrew, is it surprising that we have a war every five minutes?

2)  I don’t know if it’s even a normal response to tell someone “zeh mamash lo b’seder, MAMASH lo b’seder” but everytime I do it, I feel like I should wag my finger like Babu Bhatt on “Seinfeld”.  “Jerry, you are very bad man.”

The lounge:  overrated.  It was a big room filled with tons of comfy chairs (comfy for the airport, anyway) and a food area.  Dried cereals, fruit, coffee, bottled drinks including beer.  Obviously, it’s fun to get free stuff but whatever.  The whole idea that it’s a “lounge”:  who the hell wants to sit in a chair before an eleven hour flight?  That’s exactly what you’re about to do, sit on your ass for half a day.  If they want to pamper passengers, they should have a weight room and a jungle gym.

I made sure to take pictures anyway to document that I was in fact in the lounge (overrated in hindsight).  By the way, if there’s a surefire way to demonstrate that you don’t belong there, it’s by taking pictures.  Fellas, there’s a tip for your next fancy date:  when you take your lady to a fancy restaurant, take a picture of the bill to prove what a stallion you are.  And in the words of Jerry Seinfeld, you might as well get your genitals in a to-go box because you won’t be needing them.  (Random question:  in 2012, is it gay-unfriendly to say “fellas….when you take your lady”?  Writing “significant other” takes too long.  I want my blog to be LGBT-friendly.)

Here’s the sign just outside the lounge.

What the hell is the Hebrew word?  We didn’t learn that in Ulpan, probably they knew we’d be in no position to need to know it anytime soon.

“Hey, Dafna, do you teach your students about deh airport lounge?”

“Ma pitom????  These freierim don’t even have jobs yet!  HAAAA!!!!”

By the way, I’m sure I’ve mentioned this before but has anyone else noticed that the only place you’ll see the big-ass American coffee cup sizes is in the airport?  A few of the kiosks have a large sized cup which would probably be the smallest size at Starbucks.  Kind of like how the plane pressurizes on the way down, they need to gradually get you used to it again so your head doesn’t explode when you walk into Starbucks for the first time and see it.

So, yes, as I was saying, my tour has corporate sponsorship.  How cool is that?  Jspace is a new site, designed to be your one-stop shop for everything Jewish.  Like most sites, there’s a social networking component where you can create a profile but more than that, you can see events going on in different cities, you can find information about any big Jewish organization (if they’re not all there yet, they probably will be), there’s a dating site built in, etc.  Jspace had an impressive booth at the Federations’ General Assembly and it sounds like they could be on their way to being a great resource.  Everybody gets it (including them):  they’re not going to replace Facebook.  But that doesn’t mean they can’t be a great resource for “what’s going on Jewishly in your and other communities.  I’ll be blogging on their site over the next couple of weeks so be sure to go check out the site.  Here’s a recent article from the new Times of Israel site about them.

I know, I know, after naming your past tour “Chumusface”, it just doesn’t sound the same but trust me, this is better for all parties involved.

After a few days in my hometown of Dallas, I’ll be in a teeny, tiny town in Illinois on March 4th (Benton, and it’s nowhere near Chicago so I know no one’s heard of it), in South Bend, Indiana on March 10th, and Madison, Wisconsin on March 14th. What these towns have in common is that they all host Jewish Agency shlichim. As always, I’m excited to work with them and to bring laughs to their communities. Maybe I’ll leave out the story about the Ben-Gurion check-in.

So that’s it. Hold down the fort for me in Israel. Bigger life update coming in the next month.

Quick life update:  I ran my car into a tree.  The good news is I’m fine.  The bad news is it was on Tu B’shvat.  The JNF is pissed.

Ok, ok, I’m joking.  (Sorry if I scared you, Mom.)  If only I had a car….

Now for a real update:  almost three years ago, I had a meeting with David Horovitz, then the editor of the Jerusalem Post.  I had requested a meeting with him to pitch a regular humor column.  I walked into his office, eager, excited, and full of confidence like a band member meeting with a big record producer to hand over their demo tape (if you’re reading this and under 18, a tape was how dinosaurs used to listen to music).  Before I could give my shpiel as I had done many times before, he cut directly to the chase like a man who, well, had limited time because he was the editor of the Jerusalem Post.  Here’s the thing about record producers:  it’s probably safe to assume that you aren’t the first one to sit in their chair so excuse them if their enthusiasm is a bit tempered.

He proposed that I pitch him three different stories.  I’m not sure what response I was expecting but I suppose it was closer to “Omig——d!  You are simply the funniest thing since chicken-fried falafel!  Here’s a blank paycheck and a byline.  WHEEEEEEE!!!!!!!”  (Skeptics:  have you ever seen chicken-fried falafel?  IT’S A RIOT!  Easily the funniest thing since a buffalo in a mikveh.)

Since I still don’t know how to use Photo Shop, I can’t create that image.
Instead, I’ll give you an image of Balki.  Just because he’s funny.

I was about to leave Israel to work at summer camp and I wasn’t so interested in writing three stories in hopes that he might like one.  Was I lazy?  Maybe.  Unclear.  I guess it wasn’t important enough to me to follow through under those circumstances.  Or maybe it wasn’t the right time.

Perhaps it’s a function of living in such a tiny country but for at least the second time in the last couple of months, a fun and exciting opportunity is returning to me and saying, “MAH KOREH, GEVER?!”  Within the next few days, David’s new news site, the Times of Israel, will be launching and, thanks to an invitation from someone at the Ops & Blogs section, the site is already hosting my first article, “The Idiot’s Guide to Bombing Iran.”  For a sneak-preview of the site, you can read it and some of the other blog posts on the Ops & Blogs page specifically, although the rest of the site isn’t live just yet (and even that page may be down….but my article should be up….for the most part.)

When we first met a few years ago, David pointed out that the “slice of life”/typical oleh perspective wasn’t exactly what he was looking for.  After the initial response of “but my stuff is good” passed through my mind, I realized that he had a good point.  Every year (or three months), there’s a new immigrant fresh off the boat, ready to tell the world that Americans and Israelis are different and that there are so many crazy, hilarious, exhilarating, and ridiculous things about getting settled in this country.  When I read them, I think, “Really, oleh chadash?  Been there, done that.  How about something new?”

It’s not unrelated that I’ve been writing less on this blog for the last couple of years because, even taking into account how much I loved nothing more than documenting my first few years in Israel in what I hope was hilarious fashion, how long can you do it?  How long can you be the new, wide-eyed, commenting-on-every-little-thing-while-trying-to-assimilate-into-society oleh?  Not that long.

David made me wonder if the smarter path wasn’t to try some kind of political satire, writing about the news and more high-brow topics (you know, because Israel is never in the news.)  It may have taken three years but this invitation extended to me by the Times of Israel was all I needed.  This article on Iran was my first ever crack at such a serious topic and I think it came out great.  I can’t imagine dealing with anything graver and certainly hope this isn’t the last time I take on such a subject.  Not to toot my own horn but if you’ve read my stuff before and if you’re still reading, I don’t think you’ll hold it against me.  I think this might be one of my favorite pieces I’ve ever written.  I’m also not just kissing up when I say this but I think David is a great writer; I wouldn’t have written this for just anyone.

Take a look, comment on the site, and as always, share if you like.  Thanks to my friends Liza and Yoav for the last-minute proofing and extra sets of eyes.  I give you “The Idiot’s Guide to Bombing Iran.”

Enjoy!

Chag sameach and enjoy eating fruit!

]]> http://www.benjilovitt.com/2012/02/my-new-favorite-time-waster/feed/ 0 http://www.benjilovitt.com/2012/02/my-new-favorite-time-waster/ http://feedproxy.google.com/~r/WhatWarZone/~3/o0Uyw2E0rNw/ http://www.benjilovitt.com/2012/01/the-nu-campaign-and-benji-team-up-the-best-combo-since-chumus-and-pita/#comments Sun, 08 Jan 2012 23:08:22 +0000 Benji http://www.benjilovitt.com/?p=4079 Once upon a time, there was an oleh….we’ll call him Renji.  Renji got fed up with the stupid tourist t-shirts that hadn’t changed since the Ben-Gurion Administration.  You know the ones:  ”Super Jew”….”My Job is So Secret, Even I Don’t Know What I’m Doing”…the upside down “Go *&^% Yourself”.  Ok, admittedly, that one is still kind of amusing to this day.  But you’re telling me that we can’t do better in the 21st century than to recycle the same dorky shirts?

After complaining to his friends about the same ol’ shirts, Renji finally did something about it and hired his good friend Swillary to design some new shirts based on a few ideas he came up with.  Voila!  Funny Israeli t-shirts!

The response to Renji’s shirts was quite positive but there was only one problem.  Renji couldn’t sell them.  Well, to be more accurate, Renji couldn’t make them, not in bulk anyway.  Rather than front the money for tons of designs, styles, and colors, he set up a site on a Cafe Press-type on-demand site where they’re only printed (wait for it) on demand.  Before the shirts were even marked up, they were over $20 at the absolute minimum.  Renji knew from that point that nobody would want to buy them but he didn’t feel like committing his life to running a t-shirt business.

This little fairy tale is so old that Renji even had hair and lenses on his old t-shirt site.
Unfortunately, his hairline did not live happily ever after (although it did recede into the sunset.)

Oh well…you live, you learn.  Renji was pleased that he had at least given it a shot and never regretted it a bit.  He learned that from every failure comes a lesson and that no project is so urgent that it must be rushed into immediately. Another time would come.  However, Renji continued to think about his t-shirts, wishing he might get another chance to raise the lame level of t-dorkiness in local stores.

One day, a year and a half later, Renji was accepted to participate in the Schusterman Foundation’s ROI Summit, a conference which “unites young creative Jews with like-minded peers, mentors and professionals in an effort to develop and promote current and unique initiatives.”  Upon checking into his hotel room on Mt. Scopus, imagine Renji’s surprise to find out that his roommate was a man named David Kramer.  Who’s David Kramer, you ask?  Well, David Kramer just happens to be the founder of the NU Campaign, a company which makes socially conscious t-shirts supporting different causes and stories.  Amazingly, David and Renji had traveled in the exact same circles, working with groups like Masa Israel, Birthright, and Nefesh B’Nefesh.  They stayed in touch after the conference, meeting several times in Jerusalem and even in Denver at the JFNA General Assembly.  And now?

Renji and David are proud to announce the NU Campaign’s new “Benji Lovitt series”!  There’s a new page on the site called “Funny” which includes, as of today, four shirts.  Three of them are Renji’s.  Which ones?  In the unlikely event that you can’t guess, they’re the ones which say (you’re not going to believe this) “yiyeh b’seder“.  More will follow.

These specific shirts are $18 for online purchase but are on sale in the store, located on Shlomzion Hamalka Street, just a stone’s throw from Ben-Yehudah and Zion Square.  Anyone reading this who frequents Jerusalem should definitely check out the store where you can find shirts benefitting causes like Save a Child’s Heart, the Leket Food Bank, Arsim for Hair Gel, and more.  (Ok, so forget the last one.)

They say that good things come to those who wait.  Hopefully t-shirts come, too.  I’m thrilled to be working with such a cool initiative and to be helping them promote all their shirts to Birthright Israel groups starting this winter.

So head on down to the store to check out the cool stuff they’re doing and to the website as well.  And if you can’t make it any time soon?  Just remember….yiyeh b’seder!

From our recent Hahafuch variety show….enjoy!