The Angry Jew

The rantings of an Angry Jew in The Pacific Northwest

It has been an interesting couple of days here in Angry Jew land.  While some would get down and despair over what I have had to deal with, not I.  You see, I have two philosophies of life that I try to live by.  The first is, that the universe always finds a balance.  For all the bad stuff that happens, there is an equal amount of good.  Although, I have to admit, it is sometimes hard to find.  The other is, that the Universe has an incredible sense of humor.  After the last few days, the freaking universe has to be laughing it’s ass off at me.

Monday afternoon, I was told that the parcel lockers in my apartment building were broken into and I was on of the victims.  The thief’s haul, an autographed copy of a murder mystery written by Brother John’s Mom.  I got the Young Russian addicted to her work, and she was a bit miffed when she found out she had missed an opportunity to meet the author at a book signing here in Portland.  Brother John apparently worked overtime to get the Young Russian a copy, which is now residing in some Meth Heads squat.

On Tuesday, my keys went MIA at work.  Seeing how I work in a huge facility, a search didn’t go very well.  At 1AM, I was forced to concede defeat and call The X, who rode to my rescue with a spare set of keys.  On the up side, she brought my dogs along, stating, “If I had to get out of bed, so did they.”

Wednesday dawned bright and clear.  A sure sign of a better day.  I decided to leave for work early, do a little shopping and grab some lunch.  After a drive of four feet, I realized my right front tire was flat.  Now changing a tire is no big deal for me, except for the fact my truck has big mudder tires on it and my spare is a plain radial.  I was able to limp along to the local Safeway and pick up two cans of Fix A Flat.  The drone at the check out smiled at me and asked, “How ya doing today?”  “I’m buying two cans of Fix A Flat, how the hell do think I’m doing.”  He proceeded to tell me a story of his boyhood trauma at being sent to the store to buy Depends and Vasaline by his grandmother, and being teased by the clerk.  I guess it was supposed to make me feel better.  It didn’t.

Now partially inflated, I was able to make my way to Les Schwab.  Time was getting tight.  I could not be late for reasons I dare not speak aloud.  Trust me on this one.  I’ll tell you all about it in 107 days.  I was told by the counter person that there would be a half hour wait for a new tire.  No good.  I asked if someone could take a look at it, and just let me know if I dared risk trying to make it to work.  I was told to pull into an empty bay and talk to a tech.  There I met my savior, my hero, Able. 

He took a quick look and confirmed what I suspected, the tire was leaking from the valve stem.  In less then 5 minutes, he had the tire off, a new valve stem installed, and ready to hit the road.  Total cost for this service…Nothing.  I was floored.  He never even asked if I had bought the tires there to begin with.  Now back in the old days, I think they called this kind of thing Customer Service.  I had to threaten him with bodily harm to get him to take ten bucks for his trouble.  Got to keep that good karma flowing thought I, it’s all I got left.

So, that’s been my week so far in a nutshell.  I have to run and get ready for work.  I want to get out of my apartment before the meteor,that I am sure is hurtling to earth as we speak, with my name on it arrives 

  

I know the Angry Jew is getting old, his memory is going, he loses things, (Uh, thanks  Secret Alien and The X for coming to my rescue late last night) but was there not a time in the not so distant past when the plastic grocery bag was our environmental salvation.  Save a tree, eat a Beaver was the battle cry.  Throw down your paper grocery bags, embrace plastic, help the planet.

Well, with the simple stroke of a pen, the mayor of San Francisco will most likely enact the first ban in the nation on plastic grocery bags.  The San Francisco City Council has voted to give the heave ho to plastic bags in favor of more environmentally friendly paper bags. 

Not that I care much, when I get asked “Paper or Plastic?”, I usually ask if they have anything in Titanium.  What my beer and cheesy poofs get placed into for me to carry home is really not high on my list of concerns, but dam it, I can’t keep up.

Eggs are good for you, eggs are bad, eat less beef, eat more beef, seafood good, seafood full of chemicals so it’s bad. Save trees, we can grow more so go nuts and use all you can.   Make up your freaking minds already.

I’m willing to help out, really I am.  I will make sacrifices, bite the bullet, tighten my belt and stay the course.  All I am asking is come up with a plan and stick with it.

Recently, my company pulled me off my job to receive a one hour training course on ethics.  Ethics.  A Fortune 500 company training employees on ethics strikes me as kind of leaving a Catholic priest in charge of a day care center.  Can a company become a member of the Fortune 500 by behaving in an ethical manner?  I think not.  Ethical behavior is no longer a value in our world.  Instead, I believe this was just an attempt by the company to distance itself from any employee who gets caught behaving in an unethical manner.  “Your Honor, we tried to teach them right from wrong, but you know how kids are these days”

Ethics boils down to knowing the difference between right and wrong.  Now if you don’t know that by the age of, oh 12 or so, no training course is going to give it to you.  Do they really believe that someone is going to take this course and say, “Oh, so taking those freebies from that supplier was bad?  I had no idea.” or “Hmm, maybe I should go ahead and give back those back dated stock options worth millions, it is not really ethical for me to have taken advantage of them.”  I don’t think so. 

Now, it’s hard to blame people for being unethical.  Where are we supposed to look for those shinning examples to follow.  Our leaders? 

Riggght.  Just today Attorney General Robert Gonzales has been doing the Washington Two Step trying to explain away the emails that seem to prove he has been lying about being involved in the firing of those eight prosecutors.

OK, how about the clergy?

Sure, but can they explain to me the ethics behind declaring bankruptcy to avoid paying out settlements to victims of child molesting priests.  Or of bashing homosexuals from the pulpit and then paying them for sex in the alley behind the church, because I’m not getting it.

Our Business Leaders?

One word…ENRON

Uhhh….OK….Wait…OKAY…No…Wait…DAMN

Lets face it.  Few, if any, people in a position of power have gotten there by behaving in an ethical manner.  That’s for us little people.  The ones who did not have the drive, the determination, the “Killer Instinct” needed to be successful in the modern world.

And I for one, am OK with that.

Just a few short items of local interest that caught my eye today.

A Beaverton Police Officer is asking for her day in court after receiving a photo radar ticket while on duty.  Seems she was caught doing 40 in a 30 zone for no legitimate reason and is requesting a trial.  The city is going to spend 5,000 dollars to prosecute the case by hiring an outside attorney to avoid any conflict of interest.  Her defense?  The city is picking on her because she’s a woman.

Portland is going to have it’s first Triathlon.  The event, which includes running and biking, and swimming, will be the first Olympic length event of its type ever held in Portland.  Organizers overcame a scheduling conflict with the state and are now accepting registrations.  The race will start with a 1.5 kilometer swim in the Willamette River, long a dumping ground for pollutants and sewage, but improved in recent years.  Volunteers are being sought to pick up any body parts that might fall off  the contestants as they exit the water.

Have a great day.

  

I was talking with a co-worker the other day, The Not So Angry Protestant.  He was upset by the tactics being used by the insurgents in Iraq.  Car Bombs, Chemical Bombs, Snipers, Ambushes.  When he asked if I agreed that these tactics were immoral, I told him, “Not at all, Haven’t you ever seen the movie Red Dawn.”  He got it right away.

What?  You have never seen Red Dawn?  Really?  Are you sure? 

OK.  Quick and dirty.  After the Russian and Cuban armies invade America, Patrick Swayze, Charlie Sheen and the rest of the 80’s “Brat Pack” become freedom fighters.  They conduct ambushes, steal weapons and supplies, and generally annoy the invaders.

Anyway, the point I was making to my co-worker was this, If America was invaded tomorrow, would we act any differently then the insurgents in Iraq.  Hell no.  I would be using every dirty trick I could think of to force the invaders from my home.  As long as there is an armed group who believes we should not be there, I am afraid that history tells us we can not prevail.

In Vietnam, we tried to fight a guerrilla war with conventional tactics.  We would pacify an area, then leave.  Well, the enemy would just come back.  Add to this that you can not win a guerrilla war without the support of the population, and there was no way we were going to come out on top.  It was this very fact that always bothered me when it came to the governments theory the Tim McVeigh bombed the Oklahoma City Federal Building in an attempt to ignite an overthrow of the government.  You don’t win support for your cause by blowing up kids in a day care center.  McVeigh, who was trained by the army in guerrilla tactics, knew this.  So why did he blow the building during the day?  To survive, a guerrilla fighter must rely on the population to provide him with intelligence, support and concealment.  But I am getting side tracked.

Let’s look at a more recent example.  In the 1980’s the Soviet Union invaded Afghanistan.  Their goal was to set up a puppet government and gain access to the Persian Gulf.  Didn’t work out so well, did it?  They were fought to a stand still by Mujahadeen (Freedom Fighters) who, at first, were armed mostly with WW2 vintage bolt action rifles.  The raided the Soviets, conducted ambushes, and then blended back in with the population.  Later, they received covert assistance from the US in the form of Stinger shoulder fired anti-aircraft missiles, which neutralized the Soviets Hind Attack Helicopters.  Do I really need to mention that one Osama Bin Laden was a recipient of our largess in those days.  Needless to say, despite their best efforts, the Soviets got their asses whipped and went home with their tails between their legs.

Now, I don’t know if what we are doing in the middle east is right or wrong.  I can’t say if bringing democracy to a country where a large segment of the population does not seem to want it is the way to go.  I do know that we are once again fighting a guerrilla war with conventional tactics, and as history shows, that usually does not work out so good.  Maybe our leaders should crack a history book before they get us into these messes.

    

We got another taste of spring like weather here in the Rose City this weekend, so I packed up the Young Russian and headed for the hills to engage in one of my favorite pastimes, target shooting.

I have been fascinated by firearms since , well, as long as I can remember.  Before I even held my first real gun, I had read and studied all about them.  I had the obligatory BB gun as a child, but my dad was dead set against having real guns.  I got to shoot a .22 in Boy Scouts, and from that moment forward, I was hooked.

I am very serious about safety when it comes to shooting.  My life was changed forever after the accidental discharge of one of my firearms, and to this day I am dealing with the consequences.  The Young Russian told me she had never shot before, so I expected to spend most of the day coaching her, and getting to crank off a round or two myself in between.  Boy was I wrong.

We loaded up my truck and headed up to The Mollola River Recreation Corridor, an old growth forest area about an hours drive from Portland.  We headed up an old logging road to an unofficial shooting area I go to.  It was a beautiful day and to my surprise, there were only two other people up there shooting.  Usually, unless you get up there early it is crowded and can be a little hazardous.  I sized up the folks shooting, and they seemed like serious shooters, up there to sight in and do a little plinking.

We set up our targets at around 25 feet and started with some 9 mm pistol practice.  I showed the Young Russian the basics, how to operate the controls, hold, stand and sight the weapon, and then told her to go for it.  After the first few nervous shots, she was on target.  I was seriously impressed.  By her second magazine, she had all her shots on the 12 inch circles we were using for targets.  Her grin just got wider and wider.  Now, I have not shot for over a year, and hergroups were getting smaller then mine, so I figured it was time to up the ante.  I did, after seeing how well she was doing, give her the holster to the 9mm and told her it was hers for the day.  She positively beamed.

Next I broke out my Glock Model 30, a 45 ACP compact pistol.  I figured she would have a little trouble with the 45’s heavier recoil.  I put a 9 shot magazine through it to demonstrate how the weapon functioned and was pretty pleased with the 4 inch group I shot.  She took to the 45 like a duck to water.  Her groups were all over the place to start, but she was able to get them all on the card.  Hmm, I was starting to think maybe she did have some shooting experience.

Around this time, our neigbor had dropped by, and as often happens, offered us a chance to try out his toys.  He was a Cowboy Action shooter and offered the Young Russian a chance to shoot his 44-40 single action revolver.  He assured me he was using light loads and she would be able to handle it.  With a wide grin, she cranked off all six rounds and hit the target every time.

Next up, I broke out my Bushmaster M4 Carbine, a semi-automatic version of the shorty M16 used by our troops.  This she had some trouble with as the stock was a little too long for her, but she enjoyed herself immensely, ripping off thirty round clips as fast as she could pull the trigger.  I had saved the best for last, and now it was time to have some real fun.

We moved  our targets out to around 100 yards and I broke out my “Sniper” rifle.  It is a Colt AR15 HBAR (Heavy Barrel).  I have equipped it with a 3×9 power scope, sniper hand grip and cheek piece.  It rests on a Harris Bipod and I use it to hunt Ground Squirrels and Prarie Dogs.  With match grade ammo, I am able to get dime sized groups out to 250 yards.  I fired first, and had to adjust the scope a little to bring it on target.  I was able to get a five shot string into a one inch hole with several of the rounds going through the same hole.  Then it was the Young Russians turn.

I explained to her how to acquire the proper sight picture, how to support the gun and control her breathing.  She got behind the gun, settled in and with a look of fierce determination, she squeezed off her first five round string.  When I peeked through the spotting scope, all of her rounds were in a very nice 5 inch group.  As she continued to shoot, her groups got smaller, with her final group measuring just under 2 inches.

Needless to say, she is now hooked on shooting.  We stopped at not one but two gun shops on the way home, so she could start dreaming about what gun she wants to get first.  She is pestering me to take her to the next gun show, and wants to know when we are going shooting again.

As for me, I think I have been suckered.  No one is that good their first time out.  My guess is that she is a Russian Spestnaz (Special Forces) trained agent here to steal Americas fashion secrets, but I’m not going to tell her that.  As good as a shot as she is, I don’t want to piss her off.   

Another Gitmo detainee has confessed to terrorist acts against the United States.  Waleed bin Attash, a suspected key al-Qaida operative, confessed before a hearing that he was the mastermind behind the bombing of the USS Cole and the American embassies in Africa.  Just last week, another detainee, Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, confessed to nearly three dozen plots including the 9/11 attacks on the U.S., according to transcripts released last week.

Proof positive that not only is our detention of these so called enemy combatants justified, but it is now bearing fruit.  Right?

Listen, anyone who knows anything about interrogation will tell you that you can pretty much make a suspect tell you anything.  Memories can be changed, or even embedded.  Now I am not saying this is the case here, but these guys have been in our custody for over three years now and all of a sudden they are telling us exactly what we want to hear?  At a time when Bush’s approval rating is at an all time low and support for the war is crumbling?

I’m not buying it.  It is just too coincidental for me.  If I were locked up, tortured and interrogated for years on end, I would tell them anything I thought I could make them believe.  While in the military, I was taught that if you are captured, you tell the enemy everything you know, that no one can resist torture, and if you can get away with it, make stuff up so they will go easier on you.

I can’t say with any degree of certanty that this is the case here, but my gut tells me not to believe a word of it. 

I have a confession to make.  Its my shameful little secret and I am counting on your discretion not to spread it around.  It could ruin my reputation.

OK, here goes.

I CAN’T COOK CHICKEN ON THE GRILL.

It’s true.  I have tried.  Lord, how I have tried.  I can do great things in my oven, I can turn out delicacies in my wok, but every time I have tried to do chicken on the grill, I end up with it either being undercooked or charcoal.  Cook until the juices run clear, they say.  HOGWASH!!!! 

OK, deep breath.  Go to your happy place.  Ahhh, much better. 

The closest I have been able to get, without having to worry about starting a salmonella outbreak, is to use an old restaurant standby.  I will cook the chicken in BBQ sauce in a covered pan in the oven, until it is almost done, then finish and sauce it on the grill.  Cheating, I know.

I had just about given up on being able to enjoy the taste of chicken cooked in the great outdoors until my hero, Steve Raichlen, rode to the rescue with his Beer Can Chicken.  Now, this recipe is my own variation, but feel free to experiment.

First a few general chicken tips.

• Chicken offers the greatest chance of Salmonella and other food borne nasties.  Clean and disinfect all tools and utensils after use.  Be sure to rinse your chicken with lots of running water.
• There is no waste in chicken.  Save the insides, neck and carcass in the freezer and use them to make your own homemade chicken stock.  You will find that it is much tastier then the stuff in cans.
• A good quality remote probe thermometer will take all the guess work out of your cooking time.  Insert the probe into the thickest part of the thigh, not touching the bone.  Set your temperature for 175 to 185 degrees and it will beep when its done.
• My personal choice of woods for chicken is fruit woods.  Apple or cherry are great.
• If you only season the outside of the chicken you will get…seasoned chicken skin.  Use your fingers to gently separate the skin from the breast meat and as much of the thighs as you can reach without tearing the skin, then put your seasoning between the meat and the skin.
• Beer can chicken works great on the grill using indirect heat.
• The non-drinkers out there can use a soda can filled with apple juice as a substitute for the beer.
• Smoked chicken meat is pink when cooked properly.  Don’t freak out.  If it’s bloody, you have pulled an Angry Jew and undercooked it.  This is where the thermometer comes in handy. 

Now on with the show.

The Angry Jews Beer Can Chicken

3-4 pound Broiler/Fryer Chicken

4 Tablespoons Poultry Seasoning

1 12 ounce can of beer

Enough soaked wood chips for 3 hours of smoking

1. Rinse chicken and pat dry.

2. Use 1 TBS of your seasoning to season the cavity.  Use two more between the meat and the skin.  Don’t worry about seasoning the skin, the smoke will do that for you.

3. Using an old style (Church Key) can opener, poke three or four holes in the top of the beer can, drain off about half the beer, (wink, wink) and add 1 TBS of seasoning.

4. Set up your smoker for 225-250 degrees

5. Now for the tricky part.  Insert the beer can, holes up, into the cavity of the chicken.  Place it on the smoker grill so the legs and the can form a tripod.

6. Insert your probe thermometer and set for 180 degrees.

7. Smoke for 2 1/2 to 3 hours or until thermometer reads 180 degrees 

8. Remove from the smoker and carefully remove the beer can from the chicken.  The can and it’s contents are going to be HOT!

9. Place on cutting board and tent loosely with aluminum foil.  Let rest for ten to fifteen minutes before carving.

Enjoy!

I would like to start this week be relating a story from The Young Russian.  I think it illustrates one of the basic flaws in female thinking when it comes to dating, relationships and such.

She works in a trendy, high-end woman’s clothing store in Downtown Portland.  Last week a young (20 something) man came into the store looking to buy a gift for his mom.  Now, as The Young Russian tells it, he was a “Geek”.  Not very well dressed, somewhat awkward, you know the type.  She helps him select a few things, but when it came time to ring up the sale, he said he would come back on Saturday, he wanted to talk to his sister too make sure his mom would like what they had chosen for her.  Then he asked for The Young Russians number.  She responded, with what I am sure was a “come hither” glance that melts me about 50% of the time, that if he came back on Saturday, she might.

That was it.  An amusing story about her work day.  Until Saturday.

You see, the Geek came back.  Cleaned up, well dressed, I believe there was mention of a tie.  Obviously he had taken her at her word.

Now, you ask, what did our heroine do?  Did she make good and give up the digits?   Nope, she hid in the back.  On of her co-workers even offered to pretend to be her lesbian girlfriend so she wouldn’t have to make with the 411. 

Now, anyone who reads this blog knows what the status of my relationship with The Young Russian is.  (Uh, if you are a regular reader, could you drop me a line and fill me in, because I get confused sometimes.)  As a self professed Geek in good standing, I had to come to the young mans defence.

So, why didn’t you just give him your number?

Because he was a Geek.

I’m a Geek and you see me.

But I didn’t feel any kind of attraction to him.

Were you attracted to me at first?

No.

Of course not.  I’m twice your age, mostly bald and chubby.  I play video games, watch old movies, read too much and watch Science Fiction on television.  I’m a blogger.  It does not get much Geekier then that.

Yes, but your sweet, a great cook and a fantastic lover.

(OK, I threw that last part in myself, Its good to be the writer.)

He might be all that and more, but now,  you’ll never know.  What would it have hurt to let the guy take you to lunch.  At the very worst, you would have lost an hour or two of your life.  If it was horrid, you could have looked him in the eye and said “Your a very nice guy, but I just don’t feel any chemistry between us, so thanks for lunch and have a great life.”

Well, what if he was a psycho or something?

Well, if your going to think like that, you might as well take your co-worker up on her lesbo offer.

Oh, go play your video game or something.

Now, in all fairness to The Young Russian, she told me a few weeks ago, when we were going through our latest “Bump in the Road” that she is happy with the way things are between us.  That she wants to get her career on track, get her immigration finished, and get her personal life in order before she starts hunting down her future Mr Right, all of which I respect.

To the rest of you ladies out there,  Give Geeks A Chance.  If anything, because we don’t get it very often, we tend to appreciate it more.  That’s all I’m saying.

Last night The Young Russian and I went out for coffee after dinner.  We headed to The Starbucks over by Washington Square and, overpriced drinks in hand, we headed over to the Barnes & Nobles next door.

I’ve always loved books.  I prefer used book stores.  There is something about the smell that takes me back to my youth.  Saddled with a hyperactive brainiac, my mother would take me to the library and let me wander for hours on end.  On more then one occasion I can remember a helpful librarian steering me out of the adult section, where I preferred to browse, and back to the kids books.  In my early teens I was devouring books on every subject, from space travel to modern warfare.  While enjoyed the typical child diversion of Tom Swift and The Hardy Boys, I also loved to pursue knowledge of things beyond my years.

Books take me places I will never go, do things I can never do, and to make friends with people who never existed.  It’s an escape.  There is nothing more comforting to me then to curl up with a good book, a good bottle of bourbon, and read the night away.

I prefer fiction, especially military fiction, but the writer had better have done his homework.  I also enjoy Sci-Fi, but not a lot of fantasy. A good spy story is fun, but I hate whodunnits. 

I have always had a hard time understanding people who don’t read for pleasure.  Books were my friends when I didn’t fit in.  If it had not been for Stephen King, Stephen Golden, Terry Brooks, Clive Cussler and Harry Harrison, I don’t think I would have survived High School.  Their characters never judged me or demand that I fit into clique, they just allowed me to tag along for the ride. 

Anyway, I shared all that to tell you this story.  As we are waiting in line to pay for our purchases, we were standing behind what I assumed to be a mother and son paying for theirs.  The sales girl was explaining the discount member plan to the mother, I  guess her card had expired and she had to wait for her next purchase to get a discount. 

The kid, a boy of about 12 or 13, kept interrupting the girl with snide comments such as “You mean we don’t get out discount now, that’s not how it should work.” or “Mom, why do we only get to save 5 dollars, it should be more.”  My personal favorite was when the kid looked the sales girl right in the eye and said “Your not very nice, we should get a bigger discount because we buy a lot of books.”

Now all the while, I could see the sales girl getting more and more frustrated.  She was trying to be polite to the kid and explain the discount plan to him, but she was losing it.  The truly disturbing part to me was the attitude of the kids mom, she seemed to be just bursting with pride at the intelligence of her rude little hatchling. 

Well, before they finished their transaction, we got called over to another register to pay for our purchase.  In due course they started to leave as the Young Russian and I finished our business.  I couldn’t resist, I had to say something.

I walked over to the beseiged sales girl, smiled and in a voice loud enough to be heard by the departing mother I said, “If I had a retail store, I would pay you double what you are making here to come work for me.  If it had been me, I would have reached across the counter and back handed the little brat.  Your the best.”

Several customers who overheard me muttered their agreement and the poor girl let out a sigh of relief.  She started to reply, but I just smiled and told her, “I know you couldn’t say it, so I thought I would do it for you, sweetie.”

And then we left, content in the knowledge that, at least in some small measure, another poor, abused retail clerk had been avenged.