...He's Going to Ask for Some Sour Cream

Clearly, I've done such a good a job in my past three Jew & A sessions, all your Judaism questions have already been answered. I'm sure that's why, after 15 questions last year, I only got 2 this time around. Surely that's it. It can't have anything to do with my lack of posts this past year, which has caused my readers to go the way of the dodo.*

Anyway, because questions were in short order, I've cooked up a few of my own. Don't worry; they're Kosher.**

* They've all become animated sea captains.
** I wish. Apparently, tying up a rabbi and forcing him to oversee how the questions were made does not guarantee a Kosher label. All it guarantees is that G.I. Jews will break down your door and accuse you of rabbi-napping.

Alex J. Cavanaugh asks:
Have you ever visited Israel?

Yes.

Oh, you want me to expand on that? Very well. When I was 14,* my family traveled to Israel to sight-see and visit relatives. Our van broke down in the middle of the desert, I got the worst sunburn of my life after swimming in the Mediterranean Sea for five hours, and my mother was finally unmasked as the charlatan we all knew her to be.

Oh, you want me to expand on that? Very well. We were in Old Jerusalem, and my mom took a couple photos of the Dome of the Rock. As soon as she did, a man ran over and chastised her for taking pictures of the Muslim women in front of the building. She said she was just taking pictures of the mosque, but he was not fooled so easily. "LIAR WOMAN!" he yelled, loudly and repeatedly. "You are a LIAR WOMAN!"

We'd assumed as much ever since she'd claimed she wasn't the Tooth Fairy, but finally we had proof.
*In other words, still a Jewvenile.

Li asks:
Why is it sometimes spelled Hanukkah, sometimes Chanukah? Which one is correct?

I already answered this question in my Hanukkah primer, but of course I was lying. (I am, after all, my mother's son.) Here's the real truth...

Each of the eight days has its own spelling. Let me break it down for you:
Day 1: Hanukkah
Day 2: Chanukah
Day 3: Hannuka
Day 4: Channukka Shmannukka
Day 5: Hanuqqah
Day 6: KHAAAAAANukkah
Day 7: Hanukkah II: Dreidel's Revenge
Day 8: Bob

The Guy Who Writes This Blog asks:
If you could bring any Jew from history back to life to talk to, whom would it be?

My uncle Morty.

Nah, I'm kidding. I may be Jew-ish, but I don't have an Uncle Morty.

Jesus. This is a tough one... but I'm still going with Jesus. I've always been curious how much of what we've heard really happened, and how much was just drunken ramblings by a bunch of monkeys on typewriters 400 years later.* Plus, that turning-water-to-wine trick would finally make my whinery a success.**

But really, after I bring him back to life (during a lightning storm, of course), I just want to teach Jesus to perform a wailing "Puttin' on the Ritz." It would be sacrilegiously hilarious.
* "Monkeys" is, of course, long for "monks." And "on typewriters" is merely the modern translation for "with quills on parchment."
** What? It is too called a whinery. We're Jews. We whine. For reference, our beverages are made from the fermented tears of grapes who are distraught over the thought of their daughters marrying outside their genus. ("What about that nice Welch boy from down the street? Oy, you make your mother worry.")

The Man Behind The Wheel asks:
What Jew talkin' 'bout, Wilson?

Jew talkin' 'bout how amazing Thanksgivukkah was: We thought there would only be enough turkey for one meal, but the leftovers lasted eight whole days! Based on that success, we're figuring out which holiday hybrid to create next year. In the running so far are Arborukkah (planting trees for 8 days), St. Patrikkah (everyone gets sloshed for a week), and Lentukkah (you give up something for 40 days, but get a gift each day as a reward).

Of course, that last one would require one hell of a menorah.

And finally, Uncle Nate (Wholly Unsubstantiated) asks:
What's your favorite part of the Torah?

You know, I've always liked that part at the end.

Well, that'll do it for this session of Jew & A. I hope you all had a wonderful Bob, and we'll see you again next year!

If You Give a Jew a Latke

This year, Hanukkah starts the night before Thanksgiving.¹ Why is it so early? I'm glad you have an inquisitive mind, dear goyim and girlem, since it's time for my 4th annual Jew & A! And you know what that means...

I will answer any question you have about Judaism.

It's that simple. Just post any questions you might have about Jews or Judaism in the comments section before the end of Hanukkah (sundown on 12/5), and I will answer them for you.

Perhaps you've always wondered why so many Jews' names end in "berg" or "stein." Maybe you want to know Moses' thoughts on gay marriage. Or maybe you're simply hoping to find a good local deli. Whatever your query, send it my way. Even if it's been asked before, don't let that stop you — like the Jewish calendar, the answers to such questions are in constant flux.

So, what do you want to know?


Past Jew & A's:

• Uncle Nate's Wholly Unsubstantiated Hanukkah Primer
• One Crazy Guy Explains Eight Crazy Nights
• Your Chosen Questions About the Chosen People
• Judaism's Deepest Secrets Revealed

¹ That's the American Thanksgiving. Canadians celebrated theirs last month, because they're always one step ahead of us on things like holidays and healthcare.

Don't Do the Rhyme If You Can't Do the Meter

National Novel Rhyming Month (NaNoRhyMo) is back for the fifth straight year! And by "fifth straight" I mean I skipped last year so it only happened in my head but that still counts.

Just like every year, I'll be handling this one a little differently. Instead of manipulating existing rhymes to describe novels (my favorites are probably still It (Fresh Prince) and Hunger Games (Take Me Out to the Ball Game)) or creating new rhymes for novels' titles, this year I'm going even more basic.

This year, I'm rhyming NaNoRhyMo itself:

If you're a writer who is at all rational,
Of course you'll fashion all words and your passion will
Help you to catch and haul phrases, then cash in all
Of them to gain some great fame international.
That is the hope as you live in your hovel
And craft divine sentences while you still grovel
To agents and editors, hoping they'll gobble
Up every last word, since success would be novel.
You're tired of all of this nickel-and-diming;
Your writing's superb, what you need now is timing.
Just one little nibble and then you'll be climbing
Up out of the slush. (Okay, now I'm done rhyming.
No, really. I mean it. I'm finished. I'm dunth.
I know that pretending to be Seuss is funth,
But whether your first try or your trilli-onth,
There is no good word or phrase that rhymes with month.)

Happy NaNoRhyMo, everyone!


Past NaNos:

• NaNoRhyMo 2011 (National Novel Rhyming Month)
• NaNoRhyMo 2010
• NaNoRhyMo 2009
• NaNoRyeMo (National No Rye Month)
• NanoRhino (Microscopic Rhino)

What You're Saying When You Talk Like a Pirate

It's that time again: International Talk Like a Pirate Day! In past years, I've helped you with the how. How to talk like a Jewish pirate, like numerous international pirates, and like assorted other pirates. There's not much more to cover on that front, so this year I'm skipping the how and giving you the what.

When you say the stereotypical pirate phrases, what are you actually saying? The phrases are old, and language gets muddied over time. Meanings get muddled, pronunciation mottled, and things stray a bit from their original intention.

I've done extensive research into pirate historic linguistic patterns (all without leaving my brain) and here's what I've found.

Avast, me hearties!
This is pirates being deep. In essence, it means "the world is a vast place, my friends." And of course, "hearties" comes from the fact that all pirates had those MOM heart tattoos.

Shiver me timbers!
The "er" in shiver is actually a corruption of "arrgh," which pirates were always interjecting into everything. Thus, that leaves us with "shiv" (a makeshift knife) and "me timbers" (my peg leg). It is akin to a challenge to other pirates. As in, "Go ahead, just try to stab my wooden leg."

Ya scurvy dogs!
This one just shows how mumbling and poor grammar can lead to misinterpretation. It's not "ya scurvy" but "you's curvy." And "You's curvy dogs" is roughly comparable to "You're sexy bitches." Just one of the many things a pirate captain would say to try to keep the crew's confidence up on those dreary long voyages at sea.

Walk the plank!
Um... yeah. This one's pretty much what you think.

Yo ho ho and a bottle of rum!
An easy one. It's a call to the ship's first mate — on most vessels, the first mate was affectionately referred to as Yolanda, or Yo for short — to bring the captain another delicious Ho Ho and the aforementioned bottle of rum.


And there you have it. Now instead of going around today spouting these sayings in stereotypical fashion, you can sound like you really know what you're talking about.

Yarrrr welcome.

I'm Back! And Older Than Ever!

I was anti-social this summer. In a manner of speaking, that is. You may have noticed no one was at The Wheel for two months, but I also hardly visited others' blogs. On Facebook, I did little more than Like pictures of babies.¹ I all but left Twitter for dead, and completely forgot there was ever anything out there called Google+.²

So, you might be asking, Why did I abandon the sweet nectar that is the internets?

Or... perhaps you're actually asking Where did I put my glasses?, Do I have something in my teeth?, What is the square root of x?, or Who wrote the book of love?

First off, that last question is just wrong. The correct wording is Whomba-doo who, who wrote the book of love? Nevertheless, I'll try to answer all of those and then get back to the one about me.

Check the cupboard. Yes, you do; it's called dentin. Nice try, but do your own homework. And Kathleen McGowan.

Okay, back to me. Why did I go off the grid? Because grids are for tabulating data³ and I had better things to do with my summer. I traveled (20 days out of 28 at one point). I read. I did improv. I spent more time with The Professor.⁴

So yeah, I might have been a bit selfish. I left you all to your own devices by leaving all of my devices. 'Twas a wonderful summer.

I hope yours was, too.


¹ I mostly ignored pictures of food... though I did hit Like for pictures of baby corn and baby spinach.
² I'm still not entirely sure it exists.
³ Or possibly ironing football players. Yeah, I still don't get that one.
⁴ He's now 2. At this age, some boys are obsessed with trains or tractors or dinosaurs. He loves animals. Knows dozens and dozens of them. Thus, we took him to both the Buffalo Zoo (his favorite part: riding the carousel) and Elmwood Park Zoo (favorite part: crawling through a tunnel). He enjoys hitting baseballs off a tee, so we brought him to his first baseball game (favorite part: hiding in a cabinet in the skybox). Nope, never a dull moment. I can't get enough of this kid.

This May Just Be the Blood Loss Talking, But...

I'm still alive. We all are. It's been over a week since our home was beset by these horrible creatures, but so far we've been able to hold them at bay. Barely.

They can't come inside unless we allow them in, yet every night we hear them tap-tap-tapping ever so softly at our windows, trying to get to us. And contrary to popular belief, they're not confined to the night. They stalk us during the day when it's overcast, and swarm if we get too close to the shadows. We rarely go out anymore.

When we do venture outside, I've had to fend off hordes of them multiple times to protect my family and my home. I've taken my fair share of lumps in the process, but no matter how many I vanquish their numbers do not dwindle.

As much as they'd love to feast upon my flesh, I'm but an appetizer. Their true prize is my young son, whom they view as a succulent delicacy and wish nothing more than to drain him of his life's blood. This became abundantly clear when I dropped my guard for one moment on the way to our car, and nearly reacted too late to save him. The two raised welts on his neck are a constant reminder of how close they came.

I don't know how much longer we'll be able to hold them off. Garlic has no effect, nor do crosses or holy water. We need someone more experienced in these matters to swoop in and slay the foul beasts. Otherwise, I feel we'll soon be overrun.

Damn mosquitoes.

So You Think You Can Blog

Forgive me, Father,¹ for I have sinned. It has been five weeks since my last post.

I can cite various reasons for this lapse — laziness, extra quality time with The Professor, blogs are soooo 2011 — but the main one is this: I haven't come up with anything worth sharing.

But Nate, you might say (because you're prone to talking out loud to blogs), you still haven't come up with anything worth sharing, yet here you are screaming into the void for all the denizens of the interwebs to hear. To which I say: I'm not screaming. You can tell I'm not because I have yet to use one exclamation point or put any words in all caps.² Also, this is written, so if net denizens are hearing it, they should probably start taking their meds again.

So why, you may ask (because you're still under the delusion you're talking to me), am I blogging now if I have nothing to say? You'd just as well ask why the sky is blue or why babies are cute. Because no matter what your question is, I'm not going to answer it. If I did, it'd mean I actually had something to say, which would mean I'd be contradicting myself. And I may be a lot of things — overburdened web designer, light-hearted rogue, the hero that Gotham needs right now — but I am no hypocrite.

You may be asking yourself (because you've given up on me, but haven't yet shed the habit of talking out loud), what does this mean for my blog? Will all my new posts be this void of substance? Well, if you look at my archives, you can see that, yeah, they will be. That's pretty much how I roll.³

Welcome to the Wheel: All flash, no substance.

Oh, and I lied about the flash.


¹ ...of the Internet, Al Gore.
² Okay, technically the word "I" is in all caps, and I've used it repeatedly, but that's being rather literal, isn't it? Who do you think you are, me? I hope not. If everyone starts thinking they're me, I'll be beside myself. (Belated bad pun alert.)
³ Okay, technically I roll by tucking my knees into my chest and going ass over teakettle, but that's being rather literal, isn't it? (Except for the part about the teakettle. That's metaphor, or some such nonsense.)