Now that Chanukah is on its last gasp, can I mention that the Dreidel song is the most uninspired and boring song ever foisted on a religion. No wonder there are so few of us, if that's the best we can do!
The dreidel game, on the other hand, is some kind of Jewish Candyland. Not worthy of us, my brothers.
This ape has more rights than you do. For instance, it doesn't have to pay taxes. Or buy health insurance.
Not only are we kissing up to Iran, now we are making overtures to the Castro regime. I can't believe I'm in the same country I was born in.
Here in the US, if someone expresses mild doubt about the feasibility of gay marriage, his life is made miserable and we try to ruin his business. However, in Cuba, gays are languishing in prisons camp, and apparently this is okay, because no enemies on the left.
In Iran, they murder young men for being gay, but that's okay because Muslims have a different culture and we can't judge them by our standards.
I wish I could believe that this cut in funding would affect the higher-ups in the IRS, especially those who tromp on the faces of ordinary people. But my experience of local and state government leads me to be cynical.
When my husband worked for the New York State Education Department, there was a big austerity campaign--draconian cuts were going to be made. People feared for their jobs. In the event, they cut out two positions--for part-time charwomen.
Everyone who worked there knew there were high level employees who never did a lick of work. Their jobs were spared, and they continued to do nothing--with annual cost-of-living raises-- until they retired on comfortable pensions. By the way, they contributed nothing toward funding their pensions. These were 100 percent funded by the State. Nice work if you can get it.
No wonder everyone wants a civil service job.
I'd like to put in a word of recommendation for the novels of Gerald Petievich which deal with the Secret Service, but only incidentally with lazy and free-loading employees.
Readers of my book, "Nothing Much," have written me extensively about their aunts. It seems my readers have as many aunts as I do, maybe more, and these aunts have loomed large in their lives. The aunts in question are devoted to bridge (or canasta, or mah jong)and would walk over burning coals in their bare feet rather than miss their weekly game(s). They also wore large, imposing hats and loved to get together to gossip or dish the dirt. But did any of these ladies plan to bring a card table and four chairs to the cemetery, to their mother's grave, in fact, so they could keep the old lady company while playing a comfortable game of bridge? I didn't think so.
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