Men and Sharks

I know you're all wondering why I haven't posted for a while. I have been very busy defending my masculinity. After that audio blog, some people questioned my membership as one of the stronger sex.

Yes, I am a man. I'll swear it on my stack of classic Playboy magazines if I must. I led the panty raids at Camp Ramah and, as you can see from my home movies, I'm a real good dancer.

But that's not enough. I am going to swim with the sharks along the Galapagos Islands. I like these guys. I respect them. And I think they'll respect me too.

Posts of the Evening

I can do that

Play this audio blog

Damn, I Love My Kids

I Don't Wear a Kippah - Yet

I'm Not in Cleveland

This does too count as a post!

I Can Do That!

One day my son might kill me for retelling some of these stories but they are just too funny not to share. The beauty of a five old cannot truly be expressed in words. The honesty and innocence are so gratifying and so much fun. Also, he's a lot smarter than me.

Earlier this week we had a conversation about the best way to mark your territory. This took place while we were camping in the woods. Of course, we live in LA where there are no woods. So, actually, we were in a tent alongside the LA freeway.

So here is a condensed version of our discussion.

"Daddy, I have to go pee."

"Just step outside the tent, son, and take care of it."

I peeked outside the tent to watch. To my surprise, my young son did not simply unzip his pants and urinate in the gutter, as I've taught him. He lifted his leg and placed it on top of a fire hydrant, and proceeded to pee on the hydrant.

"Who taught you to do that son?" I asked him.

"I saw a dog do it and I thought: I can do that!"


You cannot help but smile at this. I love that little boy.

Hey, dog, get away from us. Scram! Go! Get out!

Play This Audio Blog

Damn, I Love My Kids

My son is the image of his Dad. He can already bench-press 300 pounds -- at age five! And my daughter is the smartest, most beautiful, and most accomplished two year old in the universe. She can play Chopin and deconstruct the writings of James Joyce. But most importantly, she can climb up on my lap, kiss my cheek, and turn this old curmudgeon into a puddle of melted wax.

I Don't Wear a Kippah - Yet

Though I have many Orthodox friends, and I pray at an Orthodox synagogue (on days when Church of the Tree Frog isn't holding services), and I participate in rituals such as Kaparos -- swinging a live chicken around my head in the middle of the kitchen as my children scatter in fear -- I still have not fully embraced Orthodoxy. For example, I don't wear a Kippah. My hair rocks. It looks great. I don't want to take off the Kippah at night and have Kippah-head-hair.

I can't do it yet. Maybe when I start losing my hair. Ask me then.

I'm Not in Cleveland

There's a lot to love about LA. Did you know that 90 percent of all porn films are made right here in LA County? How many do they film in Cleveland? Nada! Not one! A certain Shmata Princess thinks Cleveland rocks. But how can you rock without porn stars?

What I really like about living in LA is that people here care about important stuff, like working out and looking good. It worries me that I'm gaining a little weight. I'm not the stud I used to be, my wife tells me. I look at myself in the mirror, and I see a stunningly handsome guy, but he's not sliding into jeans with a 27 inch waist anymore. Still, I can hold my own on the basketball court. In fact, I can beat you to a pulp.

It's tough to be a tough guy. I am Taurus, the bull. I charge at anything in red panties, except that trannie guy, Leslie. But inside, I chafe, I hurt, I could use some medicated ointment. I get stressed sometimes and I want to punch someone out. But I restrain myself. Yesterday, I pushed a guy down an elevator shaft because he let out a wet fart. But I regretted my hasty actions and I'm sending a large bouquet of flowers to his funeral.