Grim, Gritty and Graphic Violence

Actually I cut all that stuff out. But I did promise, i think several months ago, that i would post some stuff from my class paintball trip. after all, it would be nothing but a waste not to, seeing how bravely and diligently our special war correspondents performed to bring us these special still photos and video clips. Actually, there were way to many video clips for me to put them all up, so here's a few of them:











And here's some great wideo action (well... sorta....)








Not very graphic at all. Hope you enjoy!

More Steven Segal! Woot!

Steven Segal in his latest movie, Kung Fu the Movie starring Steven Segal:



Steven Segal visits the Dalai Lama!



Steven Segal and Van Damm in a very emotional and meaningful new movie!



Man, I love mad tv.

Steven Segal on MadTV

Ever watched Fire Down Below? Or any other movie starring Steven Segal, even those not taking place in the apallaichens (however you spell that)? Then this should be pretty funny. I think it is, anyway.

Pulitzer incoming

I think the title's a play on howitzer, but i can't be sure. no matter.
I don't think i've mentioned before that I'm writing a book. To be honest, it started as a short-story assignment for english class, and got drawn out a bit extensively. it's not really a full length book- i've been working on it somewhat slowly, and having reached page 30, i think i'm maybe halfway through.
the story itself isn't as origional as i would've liked it to be, but i do try. It takes place along the retreat of Napoleon's army from Russia in 1812. yeah, it's a war 'novel'. the main character is a young french noble drafted as an officer, though of course this is right after the french revolution, so he's kind of on his toes. i'm just geting around to the interesting part, but i haven't really written much of anything since i got back from school. i think i'll start that up again.

new avatar!

woot! the old one was too scrunchy.

I ate a piece of french toast today (!)

T oday I ate a small, triangular piece of cut french toast. I did not find this to be the least bit surprising, as it was in fact the very meal that had been presented for eating at lunchtime. After I ate this first piece, I proceeded to swallow the rest of the slice of french toast.

A RECENT POST!!!!

Funny thing; at WITZ, we're not allowed to use the internet. During the school year, I was able to post on this blog maybe once a week, tops, when I came home to do laundry, and even then, I often didn't have time. I always figured when I finally got home for the summer, I'd have another crazy, funny experience to post about everyday, but I'd actually be able to go on and POST it. Yet here I am, typing the first post since the school year ended- on July 4th. I've had all the time in the world to blog- just, somehow, I've never found the time. What does that mean? Did I go and get a life? Maybe. Personally, I thought I already had a life, so I'm not accepting that one off hand. But honestly, I still haven't even bothered to figure out how to put up my paintballing pictures yet. (Ye faint of heart, breath deep.) Also, in a completely unrelated twist of fortune, I am now a junior counsler in charge of some 17 kids, ages 7-9. Some of them are best friends, some of them hate each other, some love to whine about everything, and for some reason all of them love me. I'm pretty sure they just enjoy ganging up on me with buckets in the swimming pool, but who knows? We've had some good times together, and it's only been one week of camp. Maybe I'm getting a life after all.

PAINTBALL- war correspondence

My class went paintballing- again- for this year's class trip. Don't get me wrong, I enjoy paintball. But I must say, going out into the tarantula/malaria infested swamp with nothing but a wierd paintball gun-thing and the crappiest clothes you own for protection (and your buddies- ha!) is not nearly as frightening as doing so armed with only a CAMERA. And yet, fortunately for all you fellow bloggers out there, who sit in front of your computers alll day and never have the oppurtunity to view the outdoors, some of my classmates were willing to take this risk. We have dozens of pictures- over a hundred- brought to you straight from the frontline. Or, as you would have it, straight from a tarantula and malaria infested swamp. we also have several videos, some of which were so graphic in nature that when i saw them back on the computers at school, i jumped and went, "holy CRAP that was cool!" Hopefully, i will be able to post a whole bunch of this stuff in the near future. Also, we got dozens of photos and videos from the other front (biology class), but those were much more graphically disturbing and so will not appear on this website. Actually, this website should have always had a VIEWERS DISCRETION ADVISED label so you squeemish bloggers wouldn't end up reading all these graphically explicit blogs. Oops. fool. you read it.

The Lion Thing

Over the last couple months- at least- I have been unable to ignore my mom's dauntless hunt for a DVD of disney's The Lion King. Of course, the PT had not seen this to date, and evidently it has been officially lumped in with the rest of those mom certified required viewing titles, such as Bill Ni(?) the Science guy, and Mr. Mom. Untill recently, such a DVD did not exist; but apparently a special edition is now available at the Milwaukee Public Library. I had forgotten exactly why this movie is a classic. Turns out, I just needed some reminding- and chances are, you do too:

http://www.box.net/public/psy3ds07gc
http://www.box.net/public/65hcj2ha0n

Blog Revisited (B'Mhairah b'yomainu Amen!)

I can't help but noticing that noone is actually reading this blog. Not really much of an issue for me, truth be told, because it seems that my worst writing is always when I'm blogging. I write good essays, I'm writing a story that most of my friends seem to like... I just can't blog. Maybe it's because I'm so restricted in what I can actually post online, where anyone can read it. Then again, maybe it's because I'm so restricted in what I can bring myself to post online, where anyone can read it.
Somewhat unsurprisingly, my loyal readers (or lack there-of) seem to have handled this problem for me with an unprecedented diligence. I can only hope that my future posts will be better than the previous ones. (I don't mean to insult you, by the way, if you actually DO read my blog. I am merely denying your existence.)
Well, this leaves us with a wide open forum of unexplored landscape. God knows what's going up here next. Let's see what the issues of today are. I'm thinking....... ok I really am thinking give me a minute......
Alright I got it. Brace yourselves, my eager fans, as we prepare to delve deep into the insanely, gut-wrenchingly controversial topic of: Putting sweet potatoes in a chulent. Or rather, doing so after having hijacked said chulent.
There is no doubt in my mind that this issue is a super-sensitive topic world-wide, and that what I am about to write will be affecting a large majority of the Jewish population of the world. Thereby meaning me and my brother, at least. Lately our Mom has been doing just that, sneaking large quantities of sweet potato into the chulent behind our backs, or when she thinks we don't notice. We don't eat the sweet potatoes, not in chulent at any rate. They are simply far to sweet (duh) and stringy. What's worse, they mush into the chulent so that every bite is filled with horrifically stringy chunks of orange goo.
Now of course we love our mother, and I would like to insert at this point that she bought me rollerblades and she rocks and is the most awesomest mom ever. BUT THE CHULENT, MOM! THE CHULENT!
I mean, it's not ruined, exactly, I wouldn't go so far as to say that. But if my brother is making the chulent, why shouldn't he be able to decide what goes into it, and more specifically, what doesn't? I think he should, anyway. So I guess the real problem is more in the area of chulent rights, not in the sweet potatoes themselves. I wouldn't want to deny Mom of her potatoes, and I think if she would ask nicely, even my brother would consent. But the grim truth that is being forced upon us here is that we have no control over our own chulent. And THAT thought, I think, should prove deeply disturbing to us all.

Cooked like a chicken in a pot

Three of my classmates are leaving WITZ. Actually two have already left and one won't be coming back after Pesach. They're not officially expelled, of course- the two who have left are suspended, and almost certainly won't come back. The other guy is going to a less frum yeshiva.
What can I say? An expullsion doesn't necessarilly mean the guy is out for trouble. One of them was a good friend of mine, and a decent person. He might have made a couple of mistakes, big mistakes, but he had a future here that he cared about. Now he's gone. the other two were friends as well, albeit more troublesome ones.
A very important part of our class is gone. I have to hand it to them, achdus-wise, this is definately the best class I've ever been a part of. We all get along well, or reasonably well, each of us willing to give up something for the others. Just last night, or this morning I should say, we held a goodbye party for the last guy leaving. we bbq'd steaks and hotdogs and burgers at 5 am, even though rabbi renert hadn't left the building yet and two of us would've been suspended with any more detention. I personally didn't have the money to spend on a burger, but another classmate gave me some of his. (i deny everything stated above, by the way). of course, the rabbis found out about all this already, but they understand, i think. to think that these friends of mine aren't coming back, that i'll probably never see them again, that we'll never cook up any pranks together or drive a teacher crazy together again....
it's hard to acept, at least. these people all would've been elevated a good deal by staying in WITZ, but now they're going off to God knows where, and all i can do for them is pray for the best.

Geschollessen

That title means "wet" I think. But I digress.
There comes a time every year for us young Jews, a special season when our parents get to use us as beasts of burden. We call this time "Pesach", which means "Pass-over", because it means you get to spend the majority of the spring time packing boxes and passing dishes down the stairs to the basement until somebody trips and you lose all your fleishigs plates in a single go. You also get to clean the whole house, under beds and couches, those dark, nasty corners in the bathroom that you didn't even know existed because of all the wet moldy towels piled on top that no one ever threw down the laundry shoot. By now, me and my brother "larry" are old enough to carry huge piles of dishes and cardboard boxes weighing something like 300 lb, so our mom has taken advantage of this special season to redo the kitchen. It's pretty much the same, except we're doing it all a few weeks in advance. Right now I'm waiting for mom to get home so we can get started on the cutlery. Wish y'all luck with the pesach cleaning! I gotta go now shes coming home.

And a Merry 'Chanuquanzmas' to you!

Actually it's Purim. Happy Purim everybody! I'm sure the many distant Yeshivas in every corner of the Jewish world are pulling incredible shtick right around now, some of which I will likely never hear about. As for us at WITZ, I think we've had our share. In fact, my brother (larry) and I have written a 'Grommen' about it for all of you to enjoy. For those who don't know, a Grommen is a mix of poetry and song that I think originates in Germany. It is sung, usually loudly in groups, each line going up, the next down, then crecsendo, then back down. It has a lot of nanana's between each line, more between each verse, follows a simple rhyming scheme, and the lines don't need to fit exactly, just mostly. Since this is a mostly non-offensive Grommen that i anyways intend to read at WITZ, I have included some (mispelled) names in it. Most of you won't get many of the jokes, but I'll try to help it along by leaving a breif explanation afterwards. Hey, WITZ is a small world you know. Here we go:

It's almost Purim time again,
The perfect time to make amends,
For all the crazy things we've done;
We did it just to have some fun!

This month was really full of shtick!
There were some things that made us sick;
Like yellow milk and a pile of muck-
But that wasn't shtick, it was only Chuck!

There were bodies floating in all the tubs;
Rabbi Waxman's office looked like a pub!
The Sformes Gym was really nice;
We even got cards for Mrs. Riice!

Old WITZ came back in the Pelts hall,
With beer cans lined from wall to wall.
The Monster Toilet was first rate-
But the new mens' warehouse made everyone late!

None of us know who chucked the vaccuum,
And of course we didn't flood the bathroom.
But if that made the budget tight,
Just wait untill the water fight!

Alright, so maybe we overdid it;
It drove us nuts and we admit it.
But while the craziness persists
We hope you enjoy this Purim at WITZ!

LINE BY LINE TRANSLITERATION (not brought to you by artscroll):
OK paragraph one needs no expounding. The yellow milk is to be taken literally, as is the description of Chuck "The Confiscation Man" as a "pile of muck". The bodies were jacketed manequiens (however you spell that) covered in koolaid, and the seniors put vodka bottles all over Rabbi Waxman's office.
Tape and a backboard transformed that little trash can outside the beismedrash that everyone tries to shoot for after washing for shachris into "the SFormes Gym". I actually still don't get it, but I think it's hilarious.
A table in the lounge was transformed into the "Solitaire only" table, a joke on Mrs. Riice, who, in legend, is a master player of solitaire from years of working in the WITZ main office.
A memorial coffin (one of Chuck's freezers) for old WITZ was set up in the entrance hall, complete with yearbooks and beer cans and Rabbi Waxman's old laptop from the eighties, which we weighed in at a level 42 pounds before smashing to pieces.
The monster toilet was in the Hanhallah bathroom and had a pair of very lifelike feet sticking out of it.
The "Men's warehouse" is a tradition every year- the seniors take everyone's hats and jackets before shachris and dump them in some side room where "you're sure to find the hat for you!" Everyone is always late to shachris.
A few months ago, some unknown person/persons chucked the schools vaccuum cleaner off the catwalk into the courtyard, destroying it. The school was going to charge my entire class $400 for it, and actually brought in policemen to fingerprint the vaccuum. The seniors put two manequin police men up in the courtyard, with a taped off crime scene, siren, and chalk outline on the sidewalk. Of the vaccuum.
All of the above took place on Rosh Chodesh Adar.
We did NOT flood the bathroom.
The weekend was party to one of the fiercest water fights WITZ has ever seen, which resulted in the entire school looking like hurricane katrina hit it. My room just barely survived.
Well, I guess that pretty much sums it up. I'll go ahead n' post this so all y'all can read it. Happy Purim!

Sweet 16

Last week I turned 16. Sunday, to be specific. looking back, it was a pretty good day. I expected sophomore year to be a really cruddy, painful, grueling experience, but it hasn't shaped out like that. I figured like this:
A. All the juniors who hated me last year are now seniors.
B. All the seniors who liked me last year are now gone, along with many of the great beis medrash guys.
C. There will be lots of annoying freshmen to bother me, but who i won't be able to or have the heart to pick on.
D. My brother will be here, and he will get picked on, and I will have to be constantly defending him.
E. Everything will be much harder and my grades already suck.
F. The "Freshman defense" rules instated last year will no longer apply to me, and no one will recieve suspensions for beating up on me.
G. etc

Well, it didn't happen like that. I got over the old upper-classmen leaving, and got closer to the new ones. I've become friends with many of the freshmen, and my brother is adjusting well to the yeshiva atmosphere and making freinds. I've surprised myself by applying myself much more forcefully to my grades than i thought i could, and it shows on my GPA.

And then halfway through the year, i think, Hey, didn't i think this year was going to be awful? Funny how i forget so soon. I probably would've remembered that dread if my fears had been realized, but when God had mercy on me, I ignored it. I guess i have a lot be thankful for. I have a better family than I could ask for, a yeshiva and classm8s who care about me and whose company i enjoy, good food and personal belongings, and, i feel, a progressive and productive take on life. Everyone one I know and every moment of my life has contributed to who I am today. Thank you all.

To be [politically correct], or not to be?

Abba's gonna kill me for this one.
Unfortunately, this doesn't seem to be a topic that is widely debated in this country. Everyone just accepts that you must be politically correct, in the same way that everyone accepts that you only must do so when speaking in public. But recent events have raised my eyebrows concerning the neseccity of this little social peripheral.
1. SWARMS OF PRIVATE LAWSUITS
One important rule of political correctness- the big corporation is always wrong. Our courts are conveniently set up in such a way that even if the company would not be found accountable, it would be cheaper for them if they settled. So we end up with rich kids/snobs sueing corporations for ridiculously trivial and inevitable transgressions-- and getting even richer off it. This seems like lunacy to me and (hopefully) you as well. Is it really that bad to put a person like that, who would take advantage of so many others in for their own benefit, in their place-- even if it would hurt their feelings? especially since that's the point?
2. THE SICK BRUTAL FRENCH KINDEGARTEN SONGS
Being at yeshiva in the cheese state, i often come into contact with canadians. For those who don't know, Canada is made up of five major groups:
*Brits
*Frenchies
(Real Brits are called Britains, real Frenchies are called Frenchmen. Canadians are neither.)
*People who can't decide if they are Brits or Frenchies
*Punk rockers
*The coast guard
The Canadian government tries to interject a little bit of it all into their educational program, so the Canadian kids end up memorizing sweet little songs from Britain, France, and Punk rock. I ended up hearing a lovely french kindergarten song, which i would never be able to spell out, but which i did have translated for me. The lyrics?
"A little bird, we have a little bird-
a little bird, what should we pull off it?
Should we pull off the head? We should pull off the head!
Off with its head, off with its head,
little bird, little bird,
oooooooooo! ..."
The song then repeats, moving on to the feet, wings, etc. This blatant depiction of graphic violence to French (and Canadian) school children (and little birds) greatly disturbs me. so, can i say that french schools are wierd? no, i couldn't get away with that, even on my blog. sorry, frenchmen. as if you care anyway. i mean, gimme a break!
i understand the need for sensitivity towards others, people who i dont understand- but these people i understand, and i see what they're doing to be plain and obvious stupidity. what's so shocking about ridiculing the ridiculous? it's certainly something to think about. and as it were, i got time to dwell on it-- depending on which variation you use, that song can take awhile to sing.

(I apologize to any Cadians who felt abused by this post. I don't really think badly of canadians, except that my roomate is one, so in order to thouroughly denegrate him, some innocent people will inevitably need to be offended.)

Green as a fresh pickled toad...

I recieved a rather rude surprise last week while putting on tefillin. The sun was shining on my face as i adjust my tefillin in the a small hand mirror and suddenly noticed two bright green eyes staring back at me. I found this to be somewhat disturbing because my eyes are blue. it says BLU on my state ID. (That stands for blue, for those of you who may have assumed it stood for hazel or blond or something.) A few months back, my roomate told me my eyes were green, and i was like, "what? green? right. yeah, their blue. y'know.blue." i didn't take him very seriously. i imagine eyes changing colors aren't such uncommon things, but i've never heard of it before and it give me the creeps. then i come home, and find out- ta-da! my sister's eyes have also turned green. what is the world coming to?
Looking back on it though, i've decided to embrace the more positive aspects of this sudden change. such as.... if my hair were red, my eyes would now match it somewhat better. yup, there's one. I'll try and think of more. Any suggestions?

EXAM OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

So if I am to understand this correctly, everywhere, all over America, this week is exam week. That doesn't sit well with me, because i am one of the minority groups who are forced by the government to take said exams if i am ever to get a job. yeah i'm a sophomore. that really bugs me.
But to put my parents' minds at ease, I will breifly sum up my chances at these exams. I have four:
ENGLISH: First up. I'm generally a pretty good writer, so i'm not awfully scared of this one. however, there is a certain lack of clarity concerning what our essays will be about. The headers are usually something like, "Determine the subtle subterfuge inherent in Huckleberry Finn's skullduggery (wth?) as compared with the miscreant indescretion of Hamlet." Needless to say, improvision is a necessity.
HISTORY: Also easy, and shorter than writing essays. however, our history teacher is often, well, confused. He puts questions on the test that he never taught, then tells us they're 'not required'. He is constantly trying to figure out exactly how much our tests are worth according to his own grading system. That, and he hasn't had a date since high school, so he's kind of on edge. I guess you can't blame him.
MATH: This one will be cumulative. I've been doing rather well at math this year, but I'm still pretty nervous and will be doing as much studying as I can for this. As anyone familiar with my school knows, our math teacher is one of those, if i may, pompous, arrogant, leftist college professers who can't even imagine the possibility of Bush still being president, even though it's 2006. Yeah, he's also kind of chaotic and violent. And he supports greenpeace. And his face looks like a crumpled up washcloth (input by my dear roomm8).
BIOLOGY: I. AM. DOOOOOOOOMED. There's no hope. Our teacher is a very creepy sort of psychopath, and he decided to take the three hardest sections in the book- photosynthesis, cellular respiration, mols, homeostasis- and putting them on the exam. Sorry, mom. Sorry, abba. I tried. If i think my head is in danger of imploding during the exam, i will scribble my will in the corner with a little note to the professor telling him to plz not rip it up. Also, noone touch my drawer in the basement. it is mine forever. it is boobytrapped. you have been warned.
so wish me hatzlacha rabbah! I'm gonna need it.

Hiding in the Bushes

Hi everyone! (*insert owl hooting or crickets or whatever signifies void*) Alright so I realize i've been gone for a while , more than a month, maybe even two months, but that's life for you. I origionally meant to update this blog once a week, but after a while i decided that it's just not very practical when i don't even have internet access 6 out of 7 days a week. So I'm trying to catch up a bit now, but don't bother checking every day, my eager fans. I'm afraid you're just not going to get that, so you'll just have to go back to doing whatever it was yall were doing before I entered the blog-o-sphere (supporting ralph nader? am i spot on or what?). It's not like i won't be posting or anything- just that my consistancy in writing is about the same as my biology grade average.
Moving on- what happened this week? well, Chanuka happened. On the first morning of Channuka, I sleep-walked to the breakfast room (old beis medrash) after shachris and was rather surprised to find a bush- yeah the green kind- stuck to the ceiling. It had lights decorating it, and more lights taped to the walls and ceiling all over the room. A sign proclaimed "Happy Channuka Bush!". I couldn't help but laughing. There was more laughter as more people filed in for breakfast and noticed the new plant life on the ceiling. Then the other shoe fell.
The rosh yeshiva stormed in and stopped in the doorway, looking a bit put-out/furious. The room became deathly silent. "NOBODY TAKES ANOTHER BITE UNTILL THIS ABOMINATION IS OUT OF HERE!" Everyone immediately began trying to get the bush down- no mean feat, as it was stuck to the high ceiling. "NOT FAST ENOUGH! Everyone participate, I want it gone!" I guess the Rosh Yeshiva didn't find it very humourous. At length we got the thing down and dragged it outside. When noone would confess to having planted the bush, the Rebbe canceled breakfast and sent us all out of the breakfast room. (I snuck back later and stole some cereal). I'd thought it was funny at least, if somewhat inapropriate. Later the Rosh gave us a late breakfast and free donuts to compensate.
Now since this story occured a week ago, I've gotten mixed opinions on it. Some were very severe when they heard about the Channuka Bush; some thought it was hilarious. I guess i'm sort of middle ground on the issue. Now I'm hearing that one of my classmates might be expelled over it. Is this really that big a deal?

Vus? A Squirrel? Get lost!

Today my parents did parent teacher conferences at WITS. But I don't want to go into that, because that's miserable and depressing, and besides, they're the only ones who read this blog anyway. So I'll talk about other things.
The other day at breakfast, I was eating a hard boiled egg in the old bais medrash when I saw a squirrel. No it wasnt in the building, it was outside in a small tree, which was leaning against the window. Big deal, you say. But this was no ordinary rodent! it was not eating a nut, but a grilled cheese sandwich from sunday (brought to it, i assume, by the infamous "the Alan the Cook"). It had a hand on either side and was nibbleing away at the thing, crust and all. Now these aren't exactly your ordinary cheese sandwiches, either. They ressemble a piece of american cheese slapped between to chalk-white pieces of cardboard. Apparently this does not bother the lesser rodents as much as it bothers me. Me and my bunkmate Avram scrounged around for a camera (seems every camera in WITS was out of batteries or film, but in the end we found one). We couldn't get a good shot, so we went outside and snuck up behind the squirrel. When it heard the camera click, it ripped a chunk of the sandwich, stuffed the chunk in its mouth, threw the rest of the sandwich at us and ran for it. We chased it down the drive, and it skittered under Rabbi Wachsman's car, which had just pulled up.
"Rebbi! Rebbi! There's a squirrel!"
"Um....so?"
"Rebbi- stop that squirrel!"
"Why?"
"Rebbi- it has a sandwich!"
"So?"
By the time we'd explained to him that we didn't want to eat the sandwich, the squirrel was gone.

Peace & War

Thinking it over during the long, dull hours of shabbos at WITS, I couldn't help but notice the odd character differences among my siblings. I won't deny deny it, I've got a thing for war and death and guns and all that is violent and gory. I didn't always have this "thing"- i think it developed when i was like 10 years old. I pride myself on being rather fluent in military language, weaponry and field tactics. My sister fudge, on the other hand, abhors all violence and death whatsoever, and gets upset whenever she sees me playing Call of Duty (still a great game). Instead, she spends a good deal of time in music. My little sisters do not abhor violence, and in fact they beat up my little brothers whenever they have time to spare. I enjoy sketching realisticly styled war scenes, although i have no problem doing other things too. Like puppies, or butterflies. Larry does not do the whole fancy shaded figure drawing shtick- instead he draws carttoons. Generally cartoons of spaceships and other sci fi stuff.
Where do these differences come from? It sure isn't my fault. I think my family has got enough diversity to start a university. All we need now is a majority to go with all our minorities. It'll have to be something vague, like "humanoids". I think most of us fit that mold.
I really can't think of any good way to end this, so I'll just stop here.