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Wednesday, April 23, 2003
 
I had a great time in California, even though California itself cannot be blamed for this fact. I won't bore you with a rundown of how New York and Los Angeles are different, except to say that everybody in California is a turd-gobbling idiot.
     On Passover, I was taken by some cousins to the absolute worst seder ever, which if you've ever been to a seder you know that they're not exactly packed with laffs. But wow, is all. I've never been the most conservative traditionalist in any room, ever, but as I watched the Passover ritual get trampled under the flip-flopped feet of a legion of SoCal feel-gooders, I understood for a moment what it must feel like to be a reactionary in a world of assimilation. I felt like Tevye, except gayer, because instead of being surrounded by tough Russian christians with leather hats and broken vodka bottles, I was surrounded by a pillowy mass of smiling christian flab swaddled in ringspun cotton. Listen:
     1) The event took place in a church. What? Ok, it was Unitarian, and therefore "church" may be more accurate, but still: a church, with crosses and shit. It was structured as a multi-culti, let's-all-pretend-to-try-to-understand-each-others'-cultures-for-an-hour-or-so kind of deal, with a pastor horning in on the haggadah with her little christian observations. About Jesus. And how he related to Passover. And how he died for our sins.
     2) They ran out of wine before the second cup, substituting grape juice. Sure, it tasted better than Manischewitz, but that's hardly the point. Fuck.
     3) The total time from sitting down to eating dinner was like forty minutes. The reading should last until you've got hemorrhoids and your stomach finishes digesting itself and starts nibbling at your liver. Forty minutes? That ain't suffering. Guh.
     4) The dinner was potluck. Somebody brought rolls.
     5) Pointing to the stage, the lady next to me whispered in my ear: "that's Susan up there. She used to be a... Hebrew, but she converted."
     6) At the point where many people would choose to sing the solemn hymn "Go Down, Moses," a passel of bratlings crowded around the piano to sing this: "Oh Pharoah, Pharoah/Whoa, baby!/Let my people go/Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah" to the tune of "Louie, Louie." I am so totally not shitting you. I would have choked them with gefilte fish and rubbed horseradish into their eyesockets, but NOBODY THOUGHT TO BRING ANY TO THE FUCKING SEDER.

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MY IMAGINARY GIRLFRIENDS

Chan Marshall
Rotem of the IDF
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DISALLOWED FOREVER

"I could tell you, but then I'd have to kill you!"
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"from whence"
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"...the exception that proves the rule"
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any use of the question "spit or swallow?"
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the phrase "drop trou"
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fake-o reviewer verbs:
"penned" for wrote
"helmed" for directed
"lensed" for whatever
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"expat"
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the euphemism
"passed away"
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pronouncing merci beaucoup as "mercy buckets!"
(see also: "grassy-ass!")



PET PEEVES

"confinscated"
-
trying children "as adults"
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"drownded"
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misuse of reflexive pronouns, as when someone says "Please talk to Bob or myself." Come on people now. "Myself" is not just a fancy version of "me"! LEARN IT.
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tattoos in the Courier font
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any use of Comic Sans