Jim Cramer can suck it!

CNBC’s host of “Mad Money” Jim Cramer — and the entire network — received a well-deserved beat down from member-of-the-tribe Jon Stewart on last night’s “The Daily Show” on Comedy Central.

Cramer was squirming as Stewart showed shocking clip after clip of the Mad Money maven being caught up in lies and in cheating investors and the SEC — all of which caused Cramer to backpedal relentlessly throughout the interview.

Some are congratulating Cramer for his appearance on The Daily Show. While it certainly took balls on Cramer’s part to appear (just to have ’em cut off by Stewart), it does not make up for his transgressions nor those of his mother ship, CNBC.

Be sure to watch all three parts of the interview:


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Pope Putz XVI

Putz is a Yiddish word that means penis. It is used to describe a fool or a jerk. It is the perfect word to describe The Pope, Benedict XVI.

Pope Putz

He has decided to embrace a Holocaust-denying Bishop in order to, in his words, rehabilitate him. The Pope lifted the excommunication of Bishop Richard Williamson, an ultra-conservative, who recently said “there were no gas chambers” during the Holocaust, and, according to the Huffington Post, the bigoted Bishop recently went on Swedish state television with his outlandish anti-Semitic claims. In the TV interview he said that historical evidence is “is hugely against 6 million Jews having been deliberately gassed.”

Here’s the Williamson interview on YouTube:

Every major Jewish group is demanding that Pope Putz reverse his decision. You can make your voice heard by visiting the Simon Wiesenthal Center‘s Website. You can also visit the Anti-Defamation League for more information.

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Early Detection Means a Chance to Worry Sooner

Jews have to worry.

We worry therefore we are. And that’s why we invented early detection for many diseases that we really don’t need to know about.

In fact my mother, who’s no slouch in the worry department, told me recently that early detection of many tumors is often harmful because in the vast majority of cases, whatever is detected usually goes away by itself.

In other words the body’s always making tumors but hardly any of them ever cause trouble with us — until we make trouble with them.

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My big fat colonoscopy

Jaffe's Colon
I’m currently not eating in preparation for the procedure. I’m not sure why they call this a fast when each moment without food feels like an eternity. Also what makes them think I want to be asleep when they shove something up my butt. They really don’t know me that well. Just kidding.

Actually I’m a top. As I say in my act — a Jewish top — a dreidel. Once a year someone takes me out and give me a spin.

A Jewish Top

Also in reference to the joke about Jews and abortion: Not only is it not wrong to have an abortion, a Jewish mother is technically allowed to nag the child to death until he’s 35.

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All-ergies; Everything to Sneeze At!

Moving

Oy, what a week. I had to move out of my place in Culver City (that’s a story for another blog post). I hate moving. Packing really butts up against my obsessive-compulsive disorder. It takes me hours, it seems, to pack a box. First I must sort and then clean everything going into the box — even electrical cables get Windexed prior to boxing.

Needless to say my grumpy Korean partner became even more grumpy (and, by extension I suppose, more Korean) and threatened to pack those dirty cables if I didn’t pick up the pace. Of course I couldn’t have that. He won. I picked up the pace. At least I convinced him to label the boxes, another OCD-inspired affliction of mine.

So we finally finished, packed our possessions in a U-Haul and unloaded them in a friend’s garage in Silver Lake, where we will be staying temporarily. We finished rather late in the evening. Both exhausted, we headed for bed. Not our bed, of course, but Maria’s guest bed. It’s comfortable but a full-size. A tad too small for the two of us. We made do.

What I couldn’t hack, however, was the down pillow I found under my head. I asked Lee to switch pillows with me. His was a poly-filled, hypoallergenic number. I had to have it! I made the move for a pillow switch. Grumpily, he asked what I was doing (the maneuver must have awakened him, but this was a matter of life or sneezing!). I explained that I was allergic to feather pillows. Allergies

He was perplexed. Not only could he not understand how someone could be allergic to feathers, he couldn’t fathom how I even knew I was.

I explained that at an early age, perhaps four or five years old, my mother told me, in no uncertain terms, that I was allergic to everything. There was nothing on the face of the earth that would make me sneeze and features were just the tip of the Greenberg (iceberg).

Dust, mold, mildew, grass, pollen, dust mites, bees, you name it. They all contributed to my bouts with hay fever. And if the mere suggestion of being allergic to everything wasn’t enough, I was taken by my mother each week to the allergist for shots for all of these supposed allergens.

A scratch test, when an allergist literally scratches allergens on a patient’s arm and then waits for a reaction, is the typical method of discovering whether or not one has allergies. I did not have scratch tests, however. My doctor and I relied on my Jewish mother’s word. In those days a Jewish mother’s word trumped any test any doctor could perform.

From childhood on, my experience with allergies has been a constant and arduous process of elimination: To find out what doesn’t make me wheeze.

Sneeze graphic from: Allergy Help.


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Happy New Year! Now worry.

I know you are probably still completely exhausted from kvetching about how awful 2008 was, and I’m sure you are sick of hearing how 2009 couldn’t be worse. But it can. And here’s how: The Life Expectancy Calculator (thanks Capettawitz!).

There’s no time like the present to worry about the future. So take this opportunity to plot the age at which you may, well, expire.

According to Peter Russell’s Website, The Spirit of Now, “your Virtual Age is a reflection of your health and vitality. The lower your Virtual Age the better shape you are in. It is used to calculate the Life Expectancy of someone of your current physical age.”

So try it out. See how long you may live.


Virtual Age Calculator Created by Poodwaddle.com

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My long hiatus is coming to an end…

The move to Los Angeles took a lot out of me and therefore I took an extra-long break from the blog.

But though some might say my time in La La Land has, to a small extent, worn down some of my edge, believe me, I’ve got more so much to obsessive, rant, kvetch about I’m ready to explode.

So stay tuned!  There’ll be new blog entries this week!

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Sarspar-what??

There is no doubt that I’ve been working on this blog obsessively. Go figure.  And not eating for three days has helped me drop a few pounds.
 

But this kind of wisecracking from the fine people at WordPress gives me a little tsuris:

 

And what is Sarsparilla? Sounds vaguely anti-Semitic to me.

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You’re very lucky to be miserable!

One of my favorite quotes is this one from “Annie Hall”:

“I feel that life is divided into the horrible and the miserable. That’s the two categories. The horrible are like … terminal cases … blind people, crippled. I don’t know how they get through life. It’s amazing to me. And the miserable is everyone else. So you should be thankful that you’re miserable, because that’s very lucky, to be miserable.” -Alvy Singer

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Good to the last drop! But not in my bathroom!

So what I’m going to tell you actually happened on the 7th day of Hanukkah, December 11th, but I’ve been too depressed to blog. Everyone says that being depressed is actually the best time to blog, but that’s a blog topic for another blog post… Menorah

 

 

So back to what I was telling you. You already know, or you should, that I’ve been forced to live with my mother and stepfather due to a horrible moving mishap. And you may not know that while my mother is a lovely, intelligent, intuitive person that looks incredible for her age, she is also insane.

I’m absolutely sure she is obsessive compulsive, to a fault. And she has a Type-A+++ personality. She is overbearing, as any OCD, ADD Jewish Mother should be, and I am the object of her domineering need to obliterate me with her love. (Reading this would kill her!)

The Flying Nun

 

 

 

For more than 2 weeks I had been putting up with the Hovering Jewish Mother (Sally Field’s Flying Nun has nothing on my mom!) when she finally broke the camel’s back with that proverbial straw. I had just returned from taking a tinkle to “my” desk in my sister’s old room when I heard a knock on the door. I really did not want to answer but I did. She opened the door and had a coy, almost coquettish grin on her face. I knew I was in for it but I really had no idea just how far in.

“I really have to teach you how to pee,”

she said with a silly grin on her face. 
 
As if I hadn’t heard what I clearly had heard, I replied,

“What?”

She said,

“I had to teach your step-father how to pee correctly too.”

As if that confession would relieve the retched strains of embarrassment I was now feeling. 

 
I was already broken, like a prisoner of war, and all I could muster was,

“We are not having this discussion.” 

That was it. She had, at the very least, just undone years of therapy. What a waste of time. Of money. And I had nothing left. Yet she went on.

“Alan, this is serious. You’ll ruin the marble floor! Marble is porous!”

I told her I’d be more careful and then, after she left and had closed the door behind her, I searched the floor for my balls.

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