the good old days

“We will call it Mexican flu. We won’t call it swine flu,” said Mr Litzman, who belongs to the ultra-religious United Torah Judaism party. — BBC

Look, if you don’t like the term “swine flu”, just call it H1N1, which is more accurate than “swine flu” anyway. Making up an alternative casual term is fairly silly (and, in this case, not terribly kind to Mexico who just happened to get stuck with the initial outbreak)… but it is also a telling statement of just how well-prepared you are to handle a potential pandemic.

(I also don’t really understand why you’d want to avoid naming diseases after a unclean animals anyway — is “Mexican Flu” somehow healthier?)

If you’re having a Passover Seder, apparently there are a lot of accessories you can get.

Like this one.

Of course, this brings up two questions…

1. How does one distinguish this GENUINE inflatable matzoh ball from an IMITATION inflatable matzoh ball? (How embarrassing to buy an inflatable matzoh ball and then have a guest points out I’ve got a cheap knockoff hanging from the ceiling.)
2. Is it kosher to inflate your fake bread? It’s not exactly leavening…

Actually, what I most want to get for Passover is this really cute set of stuffed Ten Plagues that I saw in a catalog years ago. It’s got a cute stuffed drop of blood, a cute stuffed frog, cute stuffed lice, cute dead cow, cute sad baby face for the death of the first born… hmmm. Maybe this inflatable matzoh ball isn’t looking so bad after all.

Via Writes Like She Talks, I learned of a cute bit of Stalin-esque photoshopping:

Two women serve in Israel’s new Cabinet, but some Israelis would rather not see them.

Newspapers aimed at ultra-Orthodox Jewish readers tampered with the inaugural photograph of the Cabinet, erasing ministers Limor Livnat and Sofa Landver.

Ultra-Orthodox newspapers consider it immodest to print images of women.

The daily Yated Neeman digitally changed the photo, moving two male ministers into the places formerly occupied by the women.

The weekly Shaa Tova simply blacked the women out, in a photo reprinted Friday by the mainstream daily Maariv. — Associated Press/Washington Post

The “ideal” solution would have been to not print the photo at all, rather than tamper with it; I suppose a black box saying “OMG WOMAN DO NOT LOOK!” is better than pretending somebody else was standing there, if I have to choose between the two. Censoring part of the picture escalates the insult.

I’d like to recommend a book I enjoy about this topic, The Commissar Vanishes, as background reading — it is an excellent overview of photographic manipulation during Stalin’s reign. There’s a website which covers the main points; frequently Soviet officials being removed from old pictures once they were decided to be unwelcome (any evidence of Stalin associating with them had to be removed). There’s one photo in the book (not on their site) in which four or five party officials leave the same photograph as it’s published over time, eventually leaving only Stalin and a couple others in the “group” shot.

While I’m impressed by the technical skill required to “fix” some of these shots (especially considering they were working on actual photographic negatives, not with Photoshop), the effect is pretty disturbing.

In general, it’s not a good idea to follow the lead of despotic regimes when choosing your editorial practices. It’s just bad journalism.

Hamentaschen are cookies made for Purim — or really anytime you want a buttery cookie with tasty filling. Since the holiday commemorates Esther’s defeat of Haman, the cookies are (according to some traditions) shaped like Haman’s hat. Therefore, feel free to chant, “Haha, we ate your hat!” while eating. (THAT is NOT a generally accepted tradition, it’s just something my daughter started last year.) It’s likely that the pastry existed (as montashn) before the hat idea, and then one day somebody said, “Hey, these cookies look just like a hat,” and things snowballed from there.

Hamentaschen can be filled with pretty much anything sweet; apricot, raspberry, or prune jam are some of the most common. But I like to make mine with poppy seed filling, because it’s one of the few recipes that call for more than a light sprinkling.

Poppy Seed Filling
1 cup (250 ml) poppy seed
1 cup (250 ml) milk
1 oz. (30 g) butter
2 tbsp. (30 ml) honey
1 tart apple, grated

Bring poppy seed and milk to boil, add butter and honey, and boil until thick. Cool, then add grated apple.
– via jewishappleseed.org, which also has a recipe for the cookie dough

You can also make poppy seed filling for strudel, or probably any cake or cookie that would usually have a fruit jam filling. It’s probably not for everyone, but it’s worth trying.

The ingredients are pretty simple, aside from ONE WHOLE CUP of poppy seeds. (You WILL test positive for opiates if you eat this, FYI…)

One reason I like this picture is because it shows a strong contrast between how I prep ingredients (get something out, measure it, put main container away), and how Buzz preps ingredients (get everything out, measure it… take a picture). It is one of the rare areas of life in which he is more disorganized than I am.

Pouring honey onto melting butter is just pretty.

And after everything boils and congeals for a while, it begins to look kinda weird. Actually, it begins to look like various volcanic formations in central Oregon, such as the land around Lava Butte.

We had a very, very nice vacation around Bend one summer. It’s fun to trek around the rocky, lumpy, bizarre landscape, and then picture the same trip if you were a pioneer in a covered wagon and the National Park Service hadn’t gotten around to putting in sidewalks yet and you didn’t have an air-conditioned hotel to return to — it’s quite likely you would have thought you were literally in hell. (Lava Butte photograph from US Geological Survey.)

Anyway, we were talking about cookies.

To make the triangle shape, roll out the cookie dough and cut it into circles. Any diameter is fine, although smaller cookies will hold less filling. Then, fold up the three sides so there is a sort of cup around the filling, and pinch/squish the corners closed. Make sure you can see the filling through the middle.

These really are delicious cookies, whether you make them with poppy seed goo or other sweet filling of choice.

Dear photography studios,

Regards,
Jewish woman

Seriously, that menorah was ugly. It made me want to invent a different religion which involved a motorcycle, stuffed bear, and rocking chair, which were the most interesting props in the room.

Feeling nostalgic? Well, The Responsibilities of American Citizenship will help you remember just how incredibly exciting you found civics class in high school! It’s part of the “American Adventure Series”, which must just be jam-packed with exciting action… or at least, fascinating information.

The instructor, Dr. Clifton Ganus Jr., was a professor at (and later president of) Harding University, a Christian university.

The Harding American Studies Institute is designed to… promote “a complete understanding of the institutions, values, and ideas of liberty and democracy.” In doing so, the ASI exhibits a generally conservative political stance, focused on going “back to the fundamental values that made this country great.” — Wikipedia

This film was produced as part of their educational mission.

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Dr. Ganus reminds his students that forces in society are at work, gradually destroying the pillars of our nation’s value. (You’ll notice that FUNDAMENTAL BELIEF IN GOD is at the foot of these pillars.) America is the number one target of socialists, and socialist forces among us are working to establish a worldwide dictatorship.

Oh dear. What can we do?

Well, it’s important that everyone learn as much as they can about why our nation is so wonderful, what makes it so, and how we can keep it that way. There’s a quick run-through of our Obligations of Citizenship…

1. Understand What Makes America Tick
2. Understand Tactics of Communism — its basic, godless philosophy, and so on
3. Understand Disguises of Socialism — these aren’t just disguises, they’re cunning disguises
4. Understand Propaganda Techniques (of communism and socialism, of course; capitalist propaganda is A-OK)
5. Take Interest in Education — not learning anything yourself, mind you, but finding out what’s being taught in your schools (in other words, are your neighborhood children learning Godless Socialist Propaganda.. perhaps cunningly disguised?)
6. Become Active in Government
7. Strive for Spiritual Growth
8. Dedicate Part of Every Day to Citizenship

Now, on one level, this film is funny. You never know what new prop Dr. Ganus will pull out to illustrate his point — a globe, a bunch of flags, a troop of boy scouts frying some eggs — and he kept managing to surprise me with his creativity. Looking deeper, however, the discussion emphasizes eternal vigilance against a very vaguely defined “enemy”, not to mention defining religion as the fundamental difference between the American way of life and the Godless Commie Bastards way of life. Paranoia runs rampant as students are encouraged to watch for socialism; the enemy is “cunningly disguised” so there isn’t much one can do except be suspicious of everything. When a full four of your eight “Obligations of Citizenship” consist of watching out for THE ENEMY, something’s just not quite right.

The Berlin Wall may be down, but much of the 1955 rhetoric is still present in American society, albeit with a different enemy to replace “socialists.” While I’m certainly not per se opposed to religion, this film helps make an excellent argument for keeping it separated from government. It should certainly not — and, legally, can not — be included as an obligation of citizenship. Historically, being convinced the country has a divine mandate to do something has always led to trouble.

Drawing comparisons to modern paranoid incitement and propaganda are left as an exercise to the curious reader. It shouldn’t be all that hard.

I always found Friday the 13th to be so seriously underwhelming. “OOOOOOH, you don’t want to do THAT!” my friends would squeal about anything totally random. “It’s FRIDAY THE THIRTEENTH! It’ll go wrong!”

Today, June 13th, is my son’s birthday, and it is going to go beautifully. Babies are great: everything is so totally extreme to them. He will smear cake all over himself and think that is the Best Thing Ever. His older sister will open presents for him and he will think that is the Best Thing Ever. He will be bounced and cuddled and cooed over and he will think that is the Best Thing Ever. He will probably fall and bonk his head and that is the Worst Thing Ever, but then he gets picked up and comforted which is the Best Thing Ever. And that stacking shape toy thing that’s his present… you guessed it, Best Thing Ever.

I am immune to friggatriskaidekaphobia because I have a frigging awesome baby party to attend. Booyah. I don’t even care about the forecast of rain, because even if it comes true, Baby Boy has taught me that rain can be the Best Thing Ever.

So thanks, Frigg, if you’re actually responsible for fertility, because the kids are loads of fun and very educational.

It started out rather innocently. One day there was a huge rumble of thunder, the normal ramp-up of a thunderstorm echoing around the hills of southern Indiana. My two-year-old comes running in, crying, “There’s a bear outside!” I laugh, and tell her, “No, sweetie, that’s thunder.”

“Ohhhhh,” she says, eyes growing wide. “Thunder Bear!”

And the myth grew from there. Whenever Thunder Bear growled, my daughter shrieked in half-real fear. Eventually, she decided he must ride a motorcycle around the sky — a Midwest thunderstorm can be quite loud and persistent, exhausting the vocalizing power of even the most persistent of angry ursines. If it started raining while we were in the car, she declared Thunder Bear was riding along with us on the roof. At times, she would feed him, tossing pretend food through a pretend roof hole.

Now, two years later, she has decided that Thunder Bear is a god and told us so at a recent Shabbat meal. While we’re hardly the most observant of Jews, it did seem a little inappropriate. To abide by the first commandment, though, we made sure she understood that G-d is number one and there are no others before him — they’re welcome to hang out after him. But I fear it’s only a matter of time before we’re starting to leave out sacrificial bowls of honey to propitiate Thunder Bear (or attract him, since the Midlands of South Carolina seem to be drought-prone).

I can’t wait to introduce her to the Church of the Flying Spaghetti Monster