Narishkeit

1. Run around cyberspace and insult everyone you come in contact with on their blogs.
2. Come back to your blog and insult them some more in the hope that they will come and visit.
3. Post banner ads promoting your site as a resource for free sex, viagra and penis enlargement.
4. Hire an African Elephant to march through Manhattan with a sign promoting your blog.
5. Tell people that if they sign a petition on your Blog Bush will be recalled.
6. Tell people that if they sign a petition on your Blog gay marriage will be abolished.
7. Send press releases to major media groups announcing your new reality TV show about a person and their blog.
8. Create a virus that forces computers to make your blog their homepage. Not legal, but it could be very effective.
9. Get Dad 2.0 to make subscribing to your blog as part of the cost of admission.
10. Ignore dumb and idiotic lists like this one.

My head aches, my heart hurts and my eyes sting but I am still standing.

Actually things aren’t nearly as bad as that line makes them sound but I am exhausted in almost every way a man can be. Part of it is because I didn’t get to play ball this week or last and the lack of my second favorite exercise always impacts my mood.

But for those few of you reading these words on December 24 or 25th let me clarify that the Grinch is my hero and has been for years. There is something about that guy that scratches me right where I itch and a smart man pays attention to those things.

A Jew On Christmas

Some may ask what a Jew does on Christmas. You’ll probably hear the traditional answer of order Chinese and or go to the movies but me, well I am not doing either tonight.

Had Chinese earlier this week and unless I find a few more hours in the day I will probably spend a significant amount of time writing.

Found myself reading A Fool Frolics Freely and decided that I need to do something more with that.

This year proved that I still know things and that sometimes truth is stranger than fiction and today of all days proved that just when it seems you have seen virtually everything that can happen, well you haven’t.

I can’t say more than that because there are boundaries in blogging and only a fool ignores them. I may be a fool who frolics freely but I am not a stupid fool.

Is that redundant?

Really, a stupid fool sounds redundant to me but what the hell do I know, my brain is spent today.

Confession time

I am not one of those members of the tribe who secretly loves and listens to Christmas music. Please don’t misunderstand that to mean that I dislike it because that is not what I am saying either.

It falls into the same category as Chanukah music to me. I can listen to the songs a few times and then I am good for the season but the problem is all of this music is over played and it doesn’t take long for me to want to scream after I hear a few bars of it.

But old Jack Steiner must confess that he enjoys listening to Do they Know it’s Christmas ~ Band Aid 1984.

I don’t own it but if it comes on the radio and it always does I usually listen once or twice. Got some fond memories from that time and it just brings some of them back.

Although I need to add that it feels a bit strange to say 1984 and realize that more than a couple of years have passed.

I remember watching that Apple Commercial that aired during the Superbowl and wondering if in a couple of years we’d look at George Orwell’s story as being quaint.

Great Googly Moogly

Well dear reader I just received a telephone call that truly made my head spin so I am going to end this post here and now. Got to go process what I just heard and figure out what the hell just happened.

Someone thank the universe for helping me to live in interesting times because things just got…weird.

Yesterday evening I confirmed the mirror is a much bigger asshole than I had originally thought. Went to the tailor to pick up my suit and was pleased to see the alterations were perfect and it looked pretty damn good on me.

But in the midst of my joy the mean spirited mirror made a point to highlight my hair or lack thereof. Yeah, it is true the great and mighty melon that rests upon shoulders decided it needs more sunshine and has been actively making more space.

I can’t explain why it would betray me this way but I suppose I should be used to it because the mighty metabolism that I once enjoyed left a while back and hasn’t come home.

One day I am going to catch that jackass and stuff him back inside so that I can return to the days of not caring if I ate 5 hamburgers or just one. Going to lock that sucker up and eat an entire pizza by myself and then finish off a gallon of ice cream.

A Helpful Safety Tip

Should you happen to be hanging out with me during the time when I recover that metabolism you will witness feats of strength in eating that will put the dude who ate 71 hot dogs to shame.

Feats of Strength that have enabled me to never lose at Festivus.

But I must share that I am lactose intolerant. I say this not to cross the line of TMI but to protect you because all that dairy is likely to have a very nasty impact and it may come to pass that you will not want to be within a mile of any bathroom I defile that day.

Some of you may recall the Chicken Vindaloo story but if you don’t suffice it to say that flames just aren’t supposed to be shooting out of there and your priest cannot save you from that satanic eruption. There isn’t enough holy water in the world.

Thinking about it reminds me of a story I once heard from a guy who was a wrestler. He was trying to make weight for a match and thought that a self inflicted colonic would do the trick.

I can’t tell you much about what happened to him because the conversation took place in the steam room at my old gym. What I do remember is that most of us were sitting on towels and he was dressed in sweats.

Can’t say how the conversation started but I remember him telling me about his plan and then mentioning that supermodels do the same thing.

Now I know women have to answer the same call to nature as men but did he have to try to ruin my image of supermodels. Hope that sick bastard crapped himself on the mat. 😉

Things I’ll Do In The Name Of Vanity

I told the Shmata Queen that there are things I will do in the name of vanity and things that I won’t.  My hair isn’t going to be contingent upon taking pills.

She didn’t complain about it but I suspect that crazy broad hopes I am joking when I say one day I will shave my head. I am serious about it.

If enough hair decides to leave me I will take a razor to the rest and join the Brotherhood of Bald Men.

What I will do is commit to and execute a plan to improve my diet and exercise more, especially if I am going to hang out with Mr. Clean, dude is buff and I won’t let him show me up.

And because of vanity and an elephant like memory I’ll do it so that I can walk up to the asshole mirror and show off the six pack I’ll be sporting.

That’ll teach that nasty creature that I am a man of my word. Of course if for some reason it doesn’t happen I’ll just pull the old baseball bat out of the trunk and show the mirror that I am not just a man of my word but action too.

Oh the humanity.

Sometimes it feels like technology is mocking me and I am not quite sure how to respond. Unless I slept for a hell of a lot longer than I thought I did Skynet hasn’t arrived, HAL isn’t here and artificial intelligence hasn’t reached a place where computers can mock a person on their own.

There are moments where the computer stops working and I cant figure out why and then after much cursing, crying and begging it magically begins working again.

Can’t explain how or why it suddenly works, I just know it does.

The blog does the same thing. I get notices that it has gone down and when I try to figure out why I am left baffled and then just as suddenly as it went down it goes back up.

Fourteen Greatest Villains in Literature

Several hours ago my doppelganger provided a partial list of the Fourteen Greatest Villains in Literature. He  listed Goldielocks, The Von Trapp Family, Red Riding Hood and Dorothoy from the Wizard of Oz as being among those villains and I applaud him.

Had I more coffee in me I might add to the list Anne of Green Gables, Jane Eyre and the simply awful Scrappy Doo. Yeah, I know that we are talking about a cartoon character but that freaking mutt is evil incarnate. Dude reminds me of the evil Elf on The Shelf.

Some of you are horrified by this and are probably curious as to why I would pick these people. Well the answer is you never know who is masquerading as good but is positively evil.

Dads and Daughters

Little button nose, big brown eyes, freckles and black hair looks up at me and stares.

“Dad, I don’t know where your parents went wrong with you, but it happened. Fortunately I love you and I can fix the mistakes.”

I don’t know what mistakes she is talking about or how this is supposed to work but I know that this girl has her ideas about things and some times they are funny stories and sometimes I don’t tell them for my own safety.

Really, one day she’ll be older than 9.5 going on 30 and she might kill me then. Hell, that girl of mine has already mastered the female look of death.

Her older brother asked me a few hours ago how she got to be so good at making us feel bad with just a look and I just shrugged my shoulders at him.

“It doesn’t get any easier or any better when girls get older, especially if you really like them.”

He asks me what I mean by that and I just laugh.

“You’ll see.”

 Walking In Mud

Been  quite a day here and I can’t come up with a better description than it has been a “walking in mud” kind of day. The kind of day where you feel like every time you step your leg sinks into the muck until you are waist deep and it takes real effort to pull it out and move forward.

Every step is earned and every move is only managed through sheer will.

And that my friends is why I am ending this post now because it has given me just enough time to catch my breath and prepare to wade through the swamp one more time.

Maybe I’ll see you back here a bit later and maybe it will be in the company of a new post.

I don’t know about you but I think the Elf on The Shelf dude is creepy.  When I posted that he reminds me of Chucky in disguise I was not kidding.

Hell, when I see him it makes me think of all of the benefits of a premeditated first strike. Take him out during daylight hours while he hibernates because when the house is dark all hell just might break loose.

Good thing I am Jewish because that little psychopath is never going to sit on the mantle in my home. No way, no how.

I’d rather run and play in traffic than to take my chances with him. I know, not the kind and gentle Jack you are used to seeing but let’s not forget that I beat up Santa Claus and cooked The Easter Bunny.

Serious Writing For a Serious Crowd

I played around with some more serious topics. Thought about writing again about how The Wiggles Don’t Play here any more. Thought about sharing some stories about how my kids are growing up too quickly and how much life has changed.

You don’t hear about Captain Feathersword any more. My son doesn’t go wild for Thomas The Tank Engine and instead of talking about the Hokey-Pokey my daughter talks about twerking, thank you Miley.

But I didn’t want to focus on that any more than why I don’t like using “Best” as my signature on emails or review the Lessons for Being Human.

I just want to keep writing for the joy of writing and because I think this post was junk. I almost deleted it.

Thought about it but kept it because sometimes I use bad posts to measure my good posts against or at least that is the theory. It is part of what you try to do when you engage in serious writing for a serious crowd.

He Hates What I Love

We are going away for the weekend and my son has done nothing but complain about how awful it is going to be. He doesn’t understand that part of why his whining frustrates me is I love our destination. It is one of my favorite places in the world and it holds great meaning to me.

I want him to love it too. Got no problem admitting that.

He has been there before but it is about five years or so. He doesn’t really remember it and those of his friends who have been more recently have badmouthed it so his opinion is skewed.

Truth is that he doesn’t have to love it. I don’t need or want him to be a clone of me but I would really like for him to have a better attitude about this.

My concern is that he is going to paint himself into a corner where he has to dislike it so I made a point to stop talking to him about it, especially when he told me it is wrong for me to abuse my power by forcing him to go.

That made me see red so I told him I would stop abusing my power to pay for other fun things like Chanukah gifts and a Bar Mitzvah. He gave me a half assed apology and I nodded.

I was 13 once too.

Most of the time he is fantastic, but when he chooses to be a pain-in-the-ass he does an outstanding job. The boy who loved watching The Wiggles used to melt down sometimes and I would dream about the day when he understood logic.

Now he does a decent job of trying to use logic and reason to argue his way out of things and might I add that he is like his father– too damn tenacious with some of this.

Time To Run

And now I have to go. I just heard the floorboard creak softly and I need to check it out. That crazy elf isn’t going to sneak up on me and catch me unaware.

I’ll go Judah Maccabee on him with my Curious George Menorah.

See you in the AM. Be good to each other.

When a reader complains about my headlines being too outrageous my first thought is to email his wife and tell her that she needs to get him some help. Maybe it is professional or maybe she can massage a smile onto his face. I don’t really know, I am not a shrink.

But I am a troublemaker, gadfly, rabble rouser and big brother which means that I have been known to stir the pot a time or two.

I Got F*cked

Outside of headlines I am not afraid  to spell out that I got fucked and not in the kind of way that would make me smile or lie down and think about how wonderful the world is.

Been thinking about that post and Remember When I Punched That Wolf In The Face and conducting a sort of year end mental review. Call it an internal house cleaning or just basic introspection and I’ll nod my head and smile.

Smile because one hell of a bad chunk of life seems to be mostly behind me. One long period of being beaten, badgered, buggered and all sorts of other less pleasant moments is how I look at those things in the rear view mirror of life.

Doesn’t mean that I don’t have moments where I hold my breath and wait for the sky to fall or that proverbial other shoe to drop because I do.

Don’t particularly like that response but sometimes we train ourselves to respond in certain ways so now I am working on training myself to respond…differently.

How Much Control Do We Really Have?

How much control do we have over life and what happens to us? If you ask me I’ll tell you we have next to no control over quite a bit of it.

I can’t make people do what I want them to do or force them to act in any manner other than their own choice. Yeah, I know some of you will come up with examples that prove otherwise. I am physically capable of forcing many to adjust their behavior but this isn’t about coercion or bribery.

It is about daily life and the things that happen. I couldn’t stop the economy from crashing and the impact it had upon me and so many others. Couldn’t prevent a brain tumor from killing a friend or a common thief from shooting a father.

All I can do is work upon my own attitude and choose how I wish to act or react.

I used to hate when people said that but I have found it to be quite powerful and useful. That means I try to pay attention and recognize the important moments and look for ways to turn situations into something more enjoyable and beneficial than they may start out.

Find possibility and turn it into opportunity.

Just Write

Been ridiculously busy with some things and consequently haven’t been able to write the way I want to. It is a bit frustrating because the constant interruptions and chaos makes it more challenging to produce the kind of pieces I want to but from a different perspective it is an opportunity.

An opportunity to continue to train myself how to just run and roll with the punches. A chance to see if I can figure out a way to work more effectively under adverse conditions.

But it doesn’t mean that there aren’t moments where I think about sending the neighbor a note asking them not to tell the police I cooked their dog.

Maybe that would help them understand that even those of us who love dogs grow tired of hours long howling and barking.

And now life calls and it is time to resume working.