To this I say most definitely yes. The asker says that her spouse is of non-jewishness and they have children who like to have a tree. It is just a tree with many lights! A tree is a non-denominational little being. There are trees is Israel. In fact, an old Jewish saying says that a man must do three things in his lifetime: have a son, plant a tree, and write a book. Think of this tree in that way. Everyone who plants one is Jew!
And too, a menorah going full force on night number 8 is much like a tree lit up, no?
Zamboni say if your Irish girlfriend Cathy o’Shea can pig out on your aunt Tilly’s latkas, then you can enjoy tree for a month.
see Christmassy bowtie- this by Ralph Lifshitz!
I hope this helps, and you can always put Star of David on top.
Thick enough to act as its own bookend, I never cracked the spine, thinking it was, too, too Moby Dick, too long, hard, but recently finishing The Art of Fielding, by Chad Harbach one of the best novels I’ve read in a long time, and towards the end of the book, a daughter says goodbye to her father by way of reciting a one-page chapter from M.D., all about this guy Bulkington (the names alone in this book pulse with energy, Ahab, Tashtego, Pequod, Starbuck and best of all Queequeg, Queequeg for god’s sake) ,“in landlessness alone resides the highest truth, shoreless, indefinite as God”, this guy Bulkington who’s practically alergic to land for whom the very land under his feet makes him itch to get back out to sea, and I wonder if i’ll ever read the whole book which doesn’t seem quite so important as itching for something the way Bulkington does. -jw
Zamboni has never been too big on technologicalness. I still do not have cell phone and up until starting this blog a year ago in the past I sent messages to friends via two small but reliable hermit crabs named Sonny and Crockett.
When Steve Jobs died I did not pay much particular mind to it. A friend of mine, however, from Croatia, told to me that Steve Jobs was this great man and visionary. To me he was just another business guy acquiring millions of clams by making gadgets in China to sell to people. And this he did, but I do some research and I like very much this speech I see him give.
And just like Zamboni, he is college dropout! (Actually Zamboni was asked to leave Franconia College due to jumping onto football field to tackle rival team’s running back before he make touchdown, the olde “12th man” play.)
But this advice even great zamboni can use.
RIP
Little late, but suits Veteran’s Day all the same. Great Zamboni himself returns shortly- but this is beautiful, until then.
In normal life after a touchdown, a kicker comes onto the field and kicks an “extra point” just a little old “1” to add to the 6 points of a “touchdown”. It’s just what teams have done, for decades. It’s “what you do”. Like brushing your teeth before bed. Like salting the pasta water.
Normal. Houses that had “A” shapes were once normal. Then Buckminster Fuller made a geodesic dome. Frank Lloyd Wright made a house like a rock fallen over a creek. The first viewers of said creations must have dropped their jaws, wrinkled their brows: “what am I looking at?”
That is what I did tonight when I saw this play. You see, every once in a while, a team does a perfectly legal gamble for a Two Point Conversion. Instead of kicking just the solo point, they do a little pass or run back into the end-zone and get 2 points. Then there’s this.
This bizzarre set up that looks like two different plays set at once and a snap that moved sideways. Looks like it was directed by Anne Bogart or drawn up by a grad student at Cooper Union. Way left you have nice little triangle, three men. A man hiking the ball, behind him looks like a quarterback waiting. Normal except for their strange isolation. On the right the normal looking scrum of players. “Hike!” The ball skews out not behind to the dummy quarterback but sideways into the big scrum, to the real passer.
Defense is defenseless. #17 in red runs one way, then the other, lost, because the other two points in our little triangle have run streaming into the end zone’s corner… While he is busy being lost, the Oregon Duck who hiked the ball just steps into the endzone, receiving pass from the guy who was set up way over yonder and caught that sidelong nap.
I could watch it a hundred times and never tire of the legerdemain, the unexpectedness, the architecture of it. The acting it took. The conviction of the two red herrings fleeing into the corner to make the guys in red into Keystone Cops, confused, too late. They are the magician’s waving hand and the “Abracadabra” that distract you from seeing him do..do…what? Where’s he get that rabbit? Alas, my team has lost, but we may have learned something.
And like a true piece of art even truer than a painting or sculpture, it can never be used exactly like that again.
“I’d love to hear the Great Zamboni’s response, if he is available for such trifles… What did the General Strike accomplish?”
This question comes from Jiannush Warrenski, in referring to the strike called in Oakland by the Occupy movement, which shut down many banks and businesses and filled the streets this last Wednesday.
One thing Zamboni knows is that we are all living in a matrix. A gooey vaseline thick web of stuff through which movement is so hard that stillness and stagnation become much easier and natural. Like a fog of thick smoke or steam. Are we clear so far? Good.
Once long ago I was working as a flight attendant. Unfortunately, an insane man grabbed the lever of the emergency door -while we were 35,000 feet above the Rockies, and flung it open. See what I mean?
Like Seal so rightly said,”we’re never gonna surviiiiiive, unless, we get a little craaaazy” right? I’m having some trouble concentrating here because I am in *the &^ > the steam room of the Bellagio and my smartphone is starting to do str &^%%% ange things while I am not seeing well and I have been in here for four and a half hours which probabablyly is not wise but I just about to have sweated all my toxins out… I can finish this answer:
The General Strike and Occupy Movement is the avante guard, the literal front guard teeth of the blade that will play a part to change America forever. Zamboni loves America- and the day I got my citizenship in 1967 was the happiest of my life, (after of course making love with Sophia Loren in the coat check room at the Stork Club) I believe in this country and that our greatest days are ahead of us not behind. I believe more general strikes will happen, and more places occupied, and that one day bankers will have the same salary caps as teachers and that american flag T-shirts from Old Navy will one day be made in America by American workers. Yes I believe we have not even seen the beginning of the movement in all it’s waking-up-sleeping-giant fury or fomentation. So, Mr Jiannush, I toast you to one day when strip malls have been replaced by http://www.imogeneandwillie.com/story, and our children laugh hysterically when we tell them how 20% of the people once had 85% of the wealth!
Did the general strike accomplish all this? No! Will we? yes!
I have seen seen the future tonite, and this is what it is looking like:
In the light of a Shell station, a man in a chicken suit pulls up alongside four motorcycle cops. The chicken man has a bike rigged with speakers. The speakers begin to blare, “We Are The World” and excitedly the chicken man sings and glad-hands the police. They won’t shake his hand, but they smile and lean on their motorcycles, allowing Chicken man to slap them on the back and sing circles around them.
Many 99%ers hold signs. Among them one reads “we need a maximum wage!” another is handwritten, “I don’t need sex, the government is screwing me every day.”
It is a mix of people: hippies, punks, men in suits, black, brown, white, kids, texting tweens, jocks, unions, teachers, even a man dressed in tux and tails, sign reading “unemployed composer- more money for the arts!”- there is no kind I do not see. Truckers gladly get stuck in the crowd and allow people to climb up on their rigs. They blare their horns. A band powered by bicycle plays a Led Zeppelin song.
Back at Oscar Grant Plaza there is an old white van, “free tea”. He has been giving out free tea for six years. The van is wood-pannelled inside with bookshelves and plants.
The tea party is no longer serving decaf Lipton. It’s Venezualan Red Ginger Roiibos English Earl of Gray Red Bull Kicked Up Pumpkin Chai baby!
Ah yes, the Kergulian Islands, where I spent three years waiting to be rescued after my fateful plane crash and deal with the devil. Being on the underside of the world, it is opposite everything, and around this time each year I get the summer doldrums since it is that season now on the Kergulian Islands. In this world I live in now it is fall and glowing pumkins and short days into long cold nights of apple cider and David Lynch movies, but deep in my soul it is the long day'd Kergulian summer of swimming with sea elephnats, roasting penguins over an ice fire and discussing life with the native tribe. I look back on these days with pleasure, and know the melancholia even to be a blessing of dese guys.
As greatzamboni blog turn ONE YEAR OLD soon, I await your questions.
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