The Angry Jew

The rantings of an Angry Jew in The Pacific Northwest

I guess I owe you folks an explanation.

I have just finished my longest sabbatical I have taken since this site began.  It was not an easy choice to make and trust me, you, my faithful readers, have not been the only ones to suffer my absence.

Let me begin at the beginning.

About a month before Conner was born, I was going through one of my worst periods since my suicide attempt three years ago.  Nothing was working, none of the stuff I had learned over the years to control my demons.  Deep breathing, meditation, exercise, none of it was holding back the darkness in my head.

Outwardly, I was functioning, I think.  Friends and family might tell you different.  I began to isolate myself from people I cared for, withdrawing into that pathetic world that I seem to have a love/hate relationship with.  I broke up with the Mad Greek, I am sad to say it just was not meant to be.

I was a hairs breath away from reclaiming my old room on the 6th floor of Saint Vincents Hospital when my Doctor suggested we try something new, so they upped the dosage on my Welbutrin, sadly to no effect.

Then we decided to add something new to the mix…Zoloft.

I started with a small dosage, and it hit me hard.  Instant Zombie, stoned but functional for about five days…that took me into the Thanksgiving weekend.  Things were better.  Things were not getting to me, I was not worried, afraid or anxious.  Just going to work had become an exercise in restraint.  I was having panic attacks before but now all the rough edges had been smoothed over.

Then came Thanksgiving day and it was time to up the dosage.  Same result.  I had been invited to both Kwazy Kates, who I had reconnected with after our somewhat spectacular break up last winter and to join Cable Guy Daves (now known as Daddy Dave) family.

My plan was to go to Kwazy Kates and then drop By Daddy Dave’s place after, but it was not to be.

The Zoloft had me so messed up that I could not drive. I made it as  far as the Meglocoffee up the road when I realized that driving was a little beyond my capabilities.  I called Kwazy Kate and told her I would not be able to attend.  She is not a women who takes NO for an answer very well.  She sent her teenage son to fetch me and i am told I was a very entertaining dinner guest.  My own recollection of the evening was, and still is, a little hazy.

That same weekend Mansfield and her crime partner, Burt by Proxy came by The Angry Jew World Domination Command Bunker for The Tofurky Soda Challenge.  I completed it and can say this stuff was the foulest, most evil concoction known to man.  A great time was had by all, including The Secret Alien who joined the festivities by webcast.

It was when I sat down to write about it that I ran into trouble.

I could not string six words together.  I tried several more times over the next few days, but nothing would come.  Normally this would frustrate the hell out of me, but the Zoloft made it so that it was a no more then a minor annoyance.

It quickly faded into memory.

I stopped writing on Facebook.  I stopped interacting with people, my work performance degraded, I was very content to sit in my easy chair and watch Hulu and Netflix, a new addiction of mine.  I was able to watch three seasons of Dexter in three weeks.  I would read the paper and read an article that would make great fodder for the site, and then shrug my shoulders.  Writing was too much work.

Christmas came and went.  I enjoyed that.  I was able to buy presents for those closest to me and enjoyed the warmth of spending time with both Kate and Dave’s families.  Apparently I did not enjoy it enough to write about it.

The same with New Years.  I had a great time with Kwazy Kate and and her oldest son and his girlfriend.  Yes, Kwazy Kate and I are an “Item” again, although the Zoloft is hampering some facets of our relationship.  No, I am not going to go into detail, if you are that curious you can look up the side effects of the drug and figure it out for yourselves.

Following the New Years Break I took a weeks vacation, which was stymied by a financial conundrum, I will be writing about that one in a upcoming post.  Kwazy Kate and I managed to get away for a night at the coast, another really good story, and yet still there was no great desire to write.

Then on Monday I received an email that cut through the drug induced haze I have been living in.  It said simply,

For a guy who has never had much luck dealing with his emotions, it has been a roller coaster of a weekend.

On Friday morning, I awoke to a text message from Contractor Dave, his son Conner was on his way.  The Happy Pirates water had broken at about three thirty in the morning and they had been at the hospital since 4.

After a quick call to see what, if anything, they needed, I got myself put together and headed over to the hospital to visit before work.

The Happy Pirate looked great if somewhat strained during my brief visit.  Most of the family had been run off by the hospital staff.  I guess people congregating is frowned upon, a by product of the H1N1 virus.  She was only at 1 centimeter dilation, so it was going to be a long haul.  I gave my best wishes and headed off to work after soliciting a promise from Dave that he would call if anything changed.

Work that night was an unmitigated disaster.  Way to bad to go into, but lets just say I was not going to be much good to the family.

My plan was to make an appearance, stay for a bit, then head home and wallow in the fact that I felt like I had screwed the pooch, even though there was plenty of blame for the night to spread around.

Like most of the plans I make, it did not last the first shot of the battle.

When I arrived, I was instantly enveloped in the family warmth that is Contractor Dave and his clan.

When I arrived, Dave and his family were settled into the delivery waiting area.  There was his dad, Joe, his mom, Jeanne, and his sister Michelle.

Marie, The Happy Pirate, was resting in the delivery room, watched over by her mom.

I was brought up to speed, that is to say I tried to not look too ignorant as they shared way too much information on dilation, cord blood, mucus plugs and the other various nasty bits that couples learned as part of the child birth process.

I guess it was around 1230-1 when Dave got called back into the room.

Things were starting to happen.

The rest of us made ourselves as comfortable as we could on the truly bad furniture provided for expectant families.  A rump sprung couch, some straight backed chairs.  I watched Castaway on Michelle’s portable DVD player and debated the merits of leaving to grab a shower and a change of clothes.  I decided to gut it out, a decision I regretted as the night wore on.

I just knew that if I left I would miss out on the big event, and, well, to be honest, I was really enjoying the feeling of inclusion that always goes along with spending time with Dave’s family.

We received text message updates from the delivery room as to what was going on. I have to imagine that more then one family member must have lost it to the pressure of the unknown back in the days before cell phones.

Around 4am, 25 hours since the whole thing began, we received word that Marie was in the home stretch, the baby had crowned, a bit of hair had been seen.

Dave’s Mom, who had been about ready to pass out, became a force of nature.  She wore a whole in the carpet, along with a nice grove in the floor.

At 4:57 AM we received the word, Conner Aaron Ayala had joined the family of man.

They were hugs, tears, and Dave’s Mom, if possible, became even more energized.  She wanted in to see her Grandson.

When Marie’s mom came out, there was a loud crack, this would be the sonic boom created by Jeanne’s passage to get at her new Grandson.  Marie’s mom filled us in on the details as we all waited our turn to see the newest addition to the family.

Next in was Grandpa, then Auntie Michelle.

Marie’s sister, Christine arrived as I waited for my turn.  I figured she would go next, blood is blood after all, but Jeannie insisted I go next as I had been part of the vigil.  I assured them I would be quick.

My plan was to offer a quick congrats to Mom and Dad, take a peek at the little critter and steal away for an overdue reunion with my bed.

Again, the best laid plans…

When I got into the room, Marie was half conscious, but looking great.  Dave was walking about three feet off the floor, his new son in his arms.  A nurse took him to get his footprints, apparently the last step in the welcome process, and I got my first good look at him.

I have always said that there is no such thing as a “cute” newborn.  That they all looked pretty much the same, like a boiled chicken.  This assertion was based on exactly zero first hand experience.  I had to admit, this was a pretty darned cute kid.  A smattering of brown hair, no eyebrows or eyelashes.  He didn’t have the “cone head” I expected, and was a uniform reddish/pink.

Like I said, cute.

“So, you want to hold him?” Dave asked.

FUCK NO.

The way I see things, this is their new toy.  They should have the fun of breaking it.  I found it like someone offering you the chance to drive their new Ferrari Testerosa five minutes after they drove it off the showroom floor.

Who wants to be the one to be the one to get the first door ding?

Well, Dave was not going to be denied the opportunity to make me squirm.

After receiving what I thought was an all too brief set of instructions, shouldn’t a test be required for something like this, he put Conner in my arms.

My heart exploded, then melted, then changed to jello.

I have never experienced anything like it.  I don’t even want to try to describe it, words won’t do the feeling justice.

…and then he moved.

…His eyes opened.

…He looked into my soul.

…and then he started to fuss.  Just a little.  Moved his little hands, wiggled his little head, and i did what any well adjusted single man with zero experience would do.

PANIC!!!!

Dave took him from me and smiled.

…then he laughed.

Then I laughed and thanked God for the dimly lit room.  I hoped he would not see the tears welling in my eyes.

I said my good nights and beat feet back to the waiting room on rubbery legs.

The rest of the family was gone, only Christine was there.

She saw my eyes and knew.  She was a mom herself and understood.

The Angry Jew, a tower of jello.

I swore to her to secrecy.  After all, I have a reputation as a curmudgeon to protect.

As she left to see her nephew, she promised to keep my secret, which I am sure she did, right until she stepped into the room with the new parents.

THE NEW STAR TREK IS HERE…THE NEW STAR TREK IS HERE

Oh joy, oh bliss.

I was a little nervous when The Secret Alien invited me to join him and his offspring to an opening weekend showing of the new Star Trek movie this weekend.

Since an early age I had been hooked on SciFi.  It started with 20,000 Leagues Under The Sea when I was in grade school.  From there, the wonder of tales of the future took hold.  I couldn’t get enough.  The Outer Limits, The Twilight Zone, Voyage To The Bottom Of The Sea, Lost In Space, The Man From Atlantis, The Six Million Dollar Man, Buck Rodgers (Erin Grey in spandex jumpsuits helped get me through puberty) and Battlestar Galactica.

It was in my junior year in High School when I truly went off the deep end.

Some friends of mine dragged me into the world of Scifi Fandom.  Conventions to the non geek amongst you.

Yes, I was one of “Those”.  Yes, I would dress up as a Sandman From Logans Run and run around chasing Runners through the halls of Hotels.  Yes, I would spend what few hard earned dollars I made stocking shelves and running deliveries in a liquor/grocery store (it’s a California thing) on replica phasers and rare comics.  Yes, I spent hours in hotel ballrooms, laying on the floor watching such classic films as The Wizard of Speed and Time, Day of The Triffids, and Bambi VS Godzilla.  I even had a brief brush with fame when I dated the daughter of a very well known Special Effects GOD.

I also learned a very important life lessons, such as Geek Chicks are HOT and the ones that dressed up in Logans Run costumes were usually easy.

So, with all that back story, I was a little nervous about seeing Star Trek in it’s newest incarnation.

Lets face it, as far as I was concerned, what Paramount readily refers to as “The Franchise” has missed the mark more then once.  The Next Generation was incredible once it found it’s feet in the 2nd season, Deep Space 9 lost me after the 2nd season, Voyager and I never got along, and Enterprise never made it past the pilot as far as I was concerned, although I loved the theme song.

I am not going to drop any spoilers or open up a debate on how true Star Trek kept to the history established by the original series, those that followed and the films.

Simply stated, judged purly on its own merits, STAR TREK ROCKED!!!!!!!!!!

I now present to you the 5 things I loved most about the new film, in no particular order.  While not spoilers per say, they will all make sense once you see the film.

1. “NERRRROOOOOO!!!!!”
2. Seeing Kirk bed a green skinned woman
3. Not seeing Kirk wrestle another man with his shirt off.  (Lets face it, there was a lot of that type thing in the original series)
4. McCoys accent
5. A red shirt dies

All I can say is go see it.  NOW!!!  Don’t miss it in the theater, you will be sorry if you do.

They say the first step is admitting you have a problem.

I left my cell phone at home yesterday.

No big deal.  I was in a rush to get to work and left it on my dresser.  I realized it as I was walking up the hill to my truck.

No sweat, thought I.

I never even wanted one of the things.  I only got my first cell phone about 7 years ago, and the only reason I got it then was because The X worked for a company that sold plans and got me the thing for next to nothing.

Before that I had pagers for work and even had an employer provided “brick” phone back in my days on the streets of Los Angeles.  I never wanted one of my own.

Who wants to be that accessible, I would say.

Well, the years went by, slowly my digital phone book grew, and last summer I got my first “state of the art” phone.

Slide out keyboard, camera, internet access, email, texting, GPS and a hundred dollar a month plan that allows me to text China from the moon while sending Picture Mail to Venus, all during peak hours, for one low monthly fee.

Its not like I need all that.

I get maybe five calls a day, and one of those is a persistent robo-call that I have never listened to beyond “This is an important…”.   I do use it to stay informed and in touch.  I check my email about 3 times a night at work (especially the last few weeks), update my Facebook status, text a friend now and again, catch up on the latest headlines during my breaks and of course, to keep up with my readers.

So, given all that, you would have to agree that leaving my phone at home was no big deal, right?

WRONG

I was a wreck all night.

I kept going to my bag, where I store my phone while I am working, and got more and more agitated as each time I would realize it wasn’t there.  By the end of the night, I was a basket case.  I felt disconnected, out of touch and alone.

I all but dashed home to once again reconnect to the digital world.

I missed a phone call form BBQ Brandon, another from The Secret Alien, and an email promising to increase the size of my…but it didn’t matter, I was reconnected to the world around me.

Do I have a problem?

Only to the extent that I just received word that I am eligible for a free upgrade on my phone, so I have to run down to Best Buy and check out the latest in communications technology.

Give me a call if you like, I’ll have my phone on.

I have been on a downward spiral these last few weeks, but, thanks to the King of Late Night, I’m bouncing back better then ever.

I have been doing a lot of thinking about my life these last few days, and frankly, it has not been good.  Lamenting opportunities missed, pining away for lost loves and in general, feeling like there is no fucking point to it all.  Most of my life I have felt that I was heading somewhere, but I had lost sight of the goal, to experience all that can be experienced.

OK, so how did The King Of Late Night bring me back from the edge of the abyss?

I have no clue, but it worked.

Yesterday, a buddy of mine loaned me a set of video tapes, yes, I know, “How 80’s”.  Anyway, after a particularly ugly night at work and the prospect of a short turn around for a split shift today, I decided to pop in tape and have a drink.

By the end of the hour, my sides were aching, there were tears in my eyes, and my face ached from the unfamiliar act of smiling.  I reconnected with people I had not seen in years and made some startling discoveries, I mean, who knew that Queen Latifah sounds exactly like Pearl Bailey in her prime?

I don’t know if anyone else would have reacted the way I did to this blast from the past, frankly I don’t care.  All I know is that I owe the grin on my face this morning to the King Of Late Night.

Thank You Johnny Carson

and Dolly Parton

and Don Rickles

and Dolly Parton

and Joan Embry

and Dean Martin

and George Carlin

and Ed &Doc

You guys will always be The Kings.






Watch carefully and take note of where Dean Martin is ashing his smoke.




I did get a call back from a gentleman named Dave with the corporate office of the sandwich chain, which I will name now, TOGO’s.

Dave explained that the chicken they are using now does in fact come from the same supplier, they are the same birds, raised on the same “farms” and raised on the same feeds.  The difference is in the way the chicken is processed.  Apparently, it used to be processed with nitrates and potassium something or other.

Now it is processed with water, salt, sugar and baking soda.

So, I guess it IS OK for them to advertise it as new, even though they announced it a press release in December of last year.

Just to be on the safe side though, I am going to stick with their Pastrami.  At least I KNOW that will eventually kill me, instead of having to guess.





That’s what I am supposed to write today.  A smarmy piece dripping with love and peace and harmony.

Well Screw That!

Today , across America, we will gather in groups of people who rarely speak, and pretend to love each other for the one of three days a year we force ourselves to act out this farce.  We might volunteer our time to hand out crumbs to the less fortunate before we settle down to our own feasts.  We will give quaint little speeches about how thankful we are for the people in our lives, friends and family alike, and then settle in for the Dallas game.

Then, tomorrow, with bellies that are still distended, we are expected to swarm out like maddened lemmings and fight our way through pre dawn “door busters”, “sock sales” and in general create some lovely sound bites for the media talking heads to use as back drops for their “Black Friday” pieces.

Damn, I am getting cynical in my old age.

So, with all that being said, what am I thankful for this Thanksgiving Day?

Here’s the short list.

• That the whole election is over and done with.  I am trying not to expect anything too much from Obama, but it would be nice if he was able to bring about some of that change he was talking about.
• Our men and women in uniform, around the globe.  There are no words that can express my thanks for each and every one of you.  In addition, their are no words that can adequately express my shame and revulsion at the way our returning veterans are being treated.  Each and every one of you has given your all for this country, and that is the least you can expect from your country in return.
• That I still have a job and will be able to return to limited duty on Monday.  YEAH!!!  You can only watch so much daytime TV before your brain starts to rot.
• My friends who have stood by my over the years.  My second family who always seem to be there when I least expect them and need them most.
• The ability to share my thoughts in this forum.  Every once in a great while, i will get a small thank you or some other form of appreciation that allows me to go on writing.  I truly love what I do and am glad there are a select few out there who appreciate it.

So, there you have it America, your smarmy thanksgiving piece, Angry Jew Style.

A small note for those of you who are going to head out to stimulate our economy tomorrow, take it easy on the folks working retail this season.  Keep in mind, it is not their fault that they are out of stock, don’t have it in your size or color and have no control over the price or the number of registers that are open.

Remember, this is the time of year we are supposed to pretend to love on another, so send a little love their way.

Sat what you will about partisan politics, Red State VS Blue State, the fact of the matter is, John McCain is a decent man.

No, I don’t support his bid for President.

No, I don’t think he is the best man for the job.

Most of you by now have seen the clip of him telling his supporters to be respectful of Obama, that he was a decent family man.

Could have it been scripted?

I doubt it.  John McCain is many things, but given his performance in the last two debates, I would have to say he is just not that good an actor.  However the most telling portion of the video is when the woman says that Obama is an Arab.

Don’t listen to his words, turn off the volume and watch the man.  Humor me, just try it.




If you watch his reactions and body language you will see a man sickened by what this campaign has become.  He knows he has to follow the advice of his “handlers” if he wants to get elected, but he is troubled.

I don’t know if it is the blatant stupidity of his followers or just the realization that his campaign is going to come to naught, but in that brief silent moment, you can get a peek at John McCain, the man, not the candidate.

I think I have finally gotten a handle on the problems I have been having with my assistant at work and while doing so, I have come to the conclusion that I am a dinosaur, on my way to extinction.

You see, even though I have been a union member for going on 9 years now, I  have never learned to think like one. You see, I got my work ethic from the military. You have a clearly , or in some cases, as in Iraq, not so clearly defined mission. It is up to all members of the team to contribute 100% to accomplishing the mission.

Sadly, civilian life has never been that easy.

It has eaten and frustrated me for years. You see a task that needs doing, you do it. Simple. It does not matter if it is “your job” or not. So long as you are helping the unit accomplish it’s mission, you are doing the right thing.

My frustration comes from only having met a few people in my line of work that feel that way.

Maybe it is a misplaced or archaic sense of loyalty to my employer.

The way I see it is, my employer owes me nothing. In exchange for my labor, my company provides me with the means to live the lifestyle that I care to live. Everything I have is because of them. My truck, my DVD’s, my apartment, the food on my table, my medical insurance, all provided as a reward for my sweat.  In return I am asked to make as much of their product as I can in the time allotted.

It is a pretty simple arraignment, but as with most simple things, it is made more complicated by those either do not understand or are unwilling to get with the program.

Day after day I listen to coworkers bitch and moan about how much the job sucks, how unfair the company is, how they hate working overtime.  I see them complicate the job with personal issues, matters of ego or trying to prove their own importance in the grand scheme of things that is the making of a simple product.

To my way of thinking, if you hate what you are doing that much, them maybe you should find some other way to finance your lifestyle, because everything you are doing is simply making the mission that much harder for the rest of the team.

The sad thing is,  my frustrations with my coworkers inability to accept direction and be a team player are turning me into one of “them”.  My complaints to management fall on deaf ears as they are only concerned with the result, not the extra effort required to get to the goals, and rightfully so, they have their mission and I have been given mine.

Lately,  I  have spent more time worrying about the impact he is having on me personally then carrying out my part of the mission, and that is having a negative impact on my ability to be part of the team.

After much soul searching, I had to just let it go.  I will continue to do my best to carry out my part of the mission.  My coworker will either see the folly of his ways on his own or he wont.  It is simply beyond my control.

He will either contribute to the mission, or he will imped it.  My hope is that those above me will see things for what they are and take the steps to insure I have the tools to accomplish my mission.