Ask Crankyjewishguy Vol.5: High Voltage Affair

Today, crankyjewishguy (CJG) dips into the mailbag to answer a letter from Todd in Lincoln, Nebraska, who needs some advice about marriage. Fortunately for Todd, this just happens to be one of CJG's many areas of expertise.

Dear CJG,
I have been happily married for twenty years, but lately I have become suspicious that my wife may be having an affair. For example, the other day I came from work and found the electrician wearing only his underwear while installing a new electric outlet in the floor under our bed while my wife was napping. Two days later, while my wife was in the shower, he was back replacing the wiring to our indoor hot tub, but we don't have a hot tub. Then, last night, at 2 a.m. I got up to get a glass of water and he was replacing the smoke detector in the guest bedroom where my wife was sleeping because my snoring kept waking her up. Should I be worried?
Worried in Lincoln

Dear Worried in Lincoln,
Only if he's not a licensed electrician.

This is CJG's licensed electrician, Verushka Volt,
with all of her tools. The fact that CJG uses a licensed
electrician gives Mrs. CJG peace of mind.

Mazel Tov, Miss Massachusetts!

A fan of crankyjewishguy's (CJG) in Tampa wrote him a couple of days ago to ask if he knew that a Jewish woman was in the running to be named the next Miss America this year, which would make her only the second Jewish Miss America in the 89-year history of The Miss America Pageant. (The first was Bess Myerson in 1945.) CJG knows a lot, though probably not as much as he thinks he does, and he didn't know this. So, naturally, despite a hugely demanding schedule, CJG spent the better part of a day getting up to speed.

The contestant is Loren Galler Rabinowitz, the reigning Miss Massachusetts. Since CJG lives in Massachusetts he is especially excited and if the Miss America Pageant conflicts with a New England Patriots playoff game he plans to watch the pageant. Not!

Loren Galler Rabinowitz, Miss Massachusetts,
 Harvard grad and nice Jewish girl.

Unfortunately, aside from being Jewish, there is little to distinguish Ms. Rabinowitz from the other 52 contestants. Fifty-two? Yes, CJG knows there are forty-nine states in the United States, he just refuses to count Alaska. But Miss District of Columbia, Miss Puerto Rico and Miss U.S. Virgin Islands each get a shot, too. (Take that Miss Guam.) Anyway, as CJG was saying, Ms. Rabinowitz is just your typical beauty pageant contestant: her parents are both physicians, her grandparents are Holocaust survivors, she's a world class competitive figure skater, an accomplished poet and a recent magna cum laude graduate of Harvard. (If she'd applied herself she no doubt could have graduated summa.) With a resume like that how can she hope to compete with the likes of Beth Dennison, Miss North Dakota, a former University of North Dakota (UND) dining service employee, UND grad, farm hand and nanny? Or Alyse Eady, a former Miss South Central Arkansas and the reigning Miss Arkansas, whose official bio includes this little item: she once met George W. Bush in the Oval Office. Wow. So did Tiger Woods and we all know how that turned out. Now, if she'd met Bill Clinton in the Oval Office that might have been worth mentioning because then we all could have had fun speculating about what went down during the meeting or, perhaps more to the point, who. But what could Miss Arkansas and W possibly have discussed during their little visit? Waterboarding? And did she wear that hat?

Alyse Eady, Miss Arkansas, and former
 advisor to President George W. Bush.

So, CJG is rooting for Loren Galler Rabinowitz to prevail over Alyse, Ashley, Kelsi, Kylie, Courtney, Brittany and Whitney (yes, they are all names of real contestants this year) and all the other shiksas in the running for the title of Miss America 2011. Let the swimsuit competition begin!

Cry, Baby!

Speaker of the House John Boehner
upon learning that he is now in charge.

Crankyjewishguy (CJG) is crying today, too, because this man, and his fellow Republicans, have taken control of the House of Representatives. What CJG can't wrap his head around is how the party whose resurgence was bankrolled by a small group of hedge fund managers manages to persuade the average American that Republicans have the answers to what ails those who are struggling.

Now, CJG has no problem with grown men crying, even grown men who are Speaker of the U.S. House of Representatives and, thus, third in line to the presidency. But, CJG does have a problem with grown men who cry at the wrong times, like Purim parties.

John Boehner seems to break down and cry whenever he's talking about himself and his rise from a large working class Ohio family to the pinnacles of power. This strikes CJG as self-indulgent. He thinks Boehner should be crying when Republicans in Congress block $7 billion for health care for  9/11 first responders who are suffering serious medical problems related to their heroic work (they eventually were shamed into shifting gears and agreed to $4 billion), especially when the tax cuts for the rich they fought so hard for are going to add trillions to the national debt. (By the way, tax rates for the rich are at historic lows.)

CJG also thinks Boehner should be crying when Republicans block $108 million to help reduce child marriage around the world, a practice that sentences many children to lives of abuse and slavery, especially when Congress approved, without debate, another $160 billion for the wars in Afghanistan and Iraq. (Blame both parties for that one.) He thinks Boehner should cry when Republicans fight an extension of unemployment benefits for the working class at Christmas, the very people paying the price for Republican economics of the Bush years, but fight tooth and nail to keep the estates of multi-millionaires from being taxed.

Boehner has a lot to cry about, alright. He's just crying about the wrong things. Tomorrow, CJG will try and return to his usual levity, but today was a tough day for him and Nancy Pelosi.

Captain (Dis)Honors: SOS!

In light of recent news that the current captain of the USS Enterprise produced and broadcast over the ship's internal television station system lewd, raunchy videos featuring simulated lesbian sex, anti-gay slurs and offensive comments about women, crankyjewishguy (CJG) wants to know if maybe, just maybe, we might be able to trim our defense budget just a wee bit. CJG is all for entertaining the troops who put their lives on the line for us, but maybe a subscription to Netflix would be more appropriate and less expensive than movies produced in-house. It's nice to know that while this aircraft carrier, just one of eleven in the entire fleet, was deployed in the Middle East to support combat missions in Iraq and Afghanistan, Captain Owen Honors (you can't make up names like that in stories like this), then second in command, now first, found the time for such leisurely pursuits. CJG's guess is that he logged the time as "building troop morale," or "Honors honors the troops." CJG would like to get a peek at the ship's log and maybe even review those video tapes for himself.

Carnival Cruise Line's new party ship, the USS Enterprise.

But, CJG's concerns go way beyond the terrible message this behavior sends. There are millions of Americans who may not immediately grasp the difference between the USS Enterprise and the Starship Enterprise and for that reason, Captain Honors has done a great disservice to the good men and women of Starfleet Command. Now, there's no doubt that Captain James T. Kirk had a thing for the ladies, but CJG defies anyone to point to a single instance when his conduct could be deemed inappropriate. And CJG has replayed every episode of Star Trek in his head over the last three minutes and can summon not a single incident of anti-gay or homophobic behavior. Yet, now, Captain James T. Kirk, who served his galaxy so well, will forever be lumped together with Captain Owen Honors. This is terribly unfair to the Jewish people, too, since James Kirk was played by actor William Shatner, who is Jewish. Leonard Nimoy, who played Mr. Spock, is also Jewish, proving that while we may not control the media as Rick Sanchez thinks, we did, in the late 1960s, briefly control the galaxy. In any event, in an effort to minimize this travesty, CJG is urging that his huge international audience not confuse this man

The Honorable James T. Kirk

with this man, who, quite frankly, doesn't look the least bit Jewish.

The dishonorable Owen Honors

By the way, Captain Honors was relieved of his command yesterday. CJG is sure he will find gainful employment in the porn industry or, if he is allowed to remain in uniform, as a replacement for Alex of The Village People.

Raining Cats and Dogs (and Sometimes Birds)

Crankyjewishguy (CJG) doesn't know if you saw this story on the news the other day, but just four days into the new year and CJG thinks we can safely say it is going to be Number 1 on every list of the top ten weird news stories of 2011. In the little town of Beebe, Arkansas, on New Year's eve, 5,000 red-winged blackbirds suddenly dropped dead. Literally. That's right, they just fell out of the sky. People woke up to find dead birds littering the streets, sidewalks and lawns in a one square mile area. Wildlife officials have ruled out disease and poisoning and are focusing on three possible causes: a lightning strike, high altitude hail and New Year's Eve fireworks that may have stressed the birds to death. Whatever the cause, CJG would say this was not a good omen for the people of Beebe as they started the new year. On the Town of Beebe web site, Mayor Mike Robertson calls Beebe, "Your Dream Hometown." CJG would say...no, it's not.

Now, CJG doesn't think birds dying is funny; he loves birds, just like the guy in the picture below. But he does note the irony that they rained down on a town called Beebe. As if this weren't bad enough, a few days before the birds dropped dead, between 80,000 and 100,000 dead fish were found floating in the Arkansas River, which, you won't be surprised to learn, is also in Arkansas.

John James Audubon poses with two feathered friends.

Now, if CJG lived in Arkansas, which he doesn't because (a) he's Jewish, (b) he doesn't play the banjo, and (c) he despises NASCAR, he'd be giving serious thought to fleeing the state. Clearly, something is amiss in Arkansas and it isn't just Mike Huckabee.

In light of these twin disasters, CJG decided to visit the Arkansas Department of Tourism web site. As you may know from ads in various travel magazines, Arkansas bills itself as "The Natural State." Well, they certainly seem to have a lot of wildlife based on recent casualty statistics. And they sure make it easy to find since it's easier to see fish when they are on the water instead of in it and birds when they are on the ground instead of hiding in trees or flying at high altitude. CJG also checked out the official web site of the State of Arkansas and was interested to read that, "We proudly live up to our motto -- The Natural State -- by showcasing clear, clean lakes and magestic mountain ranges for exploration or relaxation." They also apparently like to live up to their reputation for being bad spellers. When he finishes writing this post, CJG is going to e-mail the Arkansas Department of Education, point out that "majestic" is spelled with a "j" and not a "g," and tell them they are embarrassing themselves. By the way, the Department of Tourism web site has an entire section called "Moving to Arkansas." CJG doesn't think so.

At least they spelled the name of their state right.

Ask Crankyjewishguy: Go Ahead, He Dares You

Because he is a font of knowledge on many subjects ranging from politics and rocket science to sex and household cleaning products (Lestoil for oily stains followed by a hot water wash), people within crankyjewishguy's (CJG) rectangle of friends often ask for his advice. (For some reason they refuse to form a circle.) And CJG is more than happy to give it. Now, readers of this blog can avail themselves of this opportunity, too, because today CJG announces a new, regular feature on his blog called, "Ask Crankyjewishguy." Readers are invited to submit their questions on any subject, except badminton, by e-mailing CJG at crankyjewishguy@gmail.com and CJG will answer some of them on the air. If he's not too busy reading the paper at Starbucks he may even answer two.

Today's question comes from Rachel in Weehawken, New Jersey who writes:

"In badminton, why do they call it a shuttlecock?"

OK, next question. Apparently, Rachel can't read. This one is from Mark in Boynton Beach, Florida.

"My 17 year-old son sits in front our 42-inch HDTV all day long playing violent video games like Call of Duty: Black Ops and Grand Theft Auto. He wears nothing but black, his hair is cut in a purple mohawk, he has about 80 body piercings and his arms, legs and neck are covered with grotesque tattoos. His room is decorated with posters of heavy metal bands and reeks constantly of pot smoke. He dropped out of high school, has no friends, is 6'3" tall and weighs 119 pounds, and refuses to get a job, bathe, or light the Hannukah candles. He lets his pet iguana run all over the house and I think he's stealing money from us. What should we do?"

Well, lucky for you, Mark, this one is right in CJG's wheelhouse and the answer is very simple. You need to go out and buy a 60-inch set. Your son can't possibly take full advantage of the amazing graphics in Black Ops on the puny 42-inch thing he's using now. CJG recommends the Panasonic.

The North American Green-Belted Shuttlecock.
 What else could you possibly call it?

Bowled Over

When crankyjewishguy (CJG) was growing up during the Fillmore Administration, there were, if memory serves, a grand total of five college football "bowl" games played either on New Year's eve or New Year's Day. There was the Orange Bowl in Miami, the Cotton Bowl in Dallas, the Sugar Bowl in New Orleans, the Gator Bowl in Jacksonville and the granddaddy of them all, the Rose Bowl in Pasadena. What these bowl games had in common was that each featured two teams playing football against one another and each, except for Gator Bowl, was named for something that grew out of the ground. (OK, sugar needs to be refined from sugar cane, but the cane grows out the ground, so don't write CJG and say he made an error. CJG is infallible.) It wasn't just that the bowls were named for natural things, they were things that tasted, smelled or felt nice, too, provided you like alligator. There was no Poison Ivy Bowl, for example, and no Turnip Bowl.

The official Rose Bowl logo. See how fresh and wholesome it looks?
CJG just isn't sure why they placed the rose atop a cabbage.

The official Sugar Bowl logo. Needs work.

Today, of course, there are something like 850 bowl games which means every college football team in America, and a few from Kazakhstan, get bids to play in a post-season bowl spectacular, and some maybe even two. And gone are the days when bowl games were named for flowers, fruits, or the material used to make your sheets. Now the games are named after banks (Capital One), helicopter manufacturers (Bell), fast food restaurants (Chick-fil-A) and, CJG's personal favorite, the Brut Sun Bowl, named after a deodorant. (CJG doesn't know about you, but to him Brut Sun sounds like a Taiwanese gangster.)

As a result of this bowl proliferation, you get some really interesting match-ups in these games. You know, like the 1-800-FLOWERS Bowl featuring Northwest Bozeman State and the University of Southern Dade County (Ft. Lauderdale Campus), or the South Texas Police Benevolent Association Bowl pitting Oshkosh Community College against the Acme Night School for Advanced Trucking and Hauling, known to its fans as ANSATH. These lesser bowls feature more players in uniform than people in the stands, but each one is televised which means the networks have to scrounge up otherwise unemployed play-by-play announcers and color commentators. Usually, these guys know nothing about football so you hear them say things like, "that touchdown gives the Hackensack Hackeysacks an insurmountable 14 run lead," or "the penalty is declined and there will be a do-over." When CJG watches the announcers calling the Swingline Stapler Bowl, for example, he wonders what could these people possibly be doing for a living during the 364 days of the year when there isn't an utterly obscure football game on their agenda.

CJG also wonders what some of these sponsors get for the millions of dollars they put up to name a bowl game after themselves. Take Bell Helicopter, for example. Exactly how many people watching the Bell Helicopter Armed Forces Bowl are in the market for a helicopter, especially in this economy? And how many are going to drive past a nice little Italian bodega to get to a platter of mini corn dogs at Beef 'O' Brady's just because Beef 'O' Brady's attached its name to a football game between Rutgers and the University of Central Florida? (Rutgers won, by the way.) CJG never even heard of Beef 'O' Brady's until he looked up the 2010-11 bowl schedule on the Google machine three minutes ago. And what's up with the apostrophes on both sides of the 'O'? Even the Irish are limited to one apostrophe per name and this place has three. Is it supposed to make the name readable in both directions? Anyway, as CJG just said, he'd never heard of Beef 'O' Brady's until...well, now it's four minutes ago...but he's sold.

Now that Beef 'O' Brady's has sponsored
 a college bowl game, CJG is a customer for life...

...and he's gonna get there in his new Bell Helicopter as soon as his ship comes in!

CJG's Top Ten Annoying People of 2010

It's fashionable at this time of year for every news outlet, pundit, and pontificator to give us their top ten of everything lists. The top ten sports plays of 2010. The ten biggest news stories of the year. Ten best movies. Ten best books. Top ten reasons to do this or that before the new year. Such a cliche thing to do. So obvious. So trite. That's why crankyjewishguy (CJG) is going to dive right in and name the top ten people who drove him up the wall in 2010, not including members of his immediate family.

Now, CJG totally ruined any suspense on this one with his post two days ago where he shared a photo of this woman who, it should be obvious, is clearly having a bad hair day:

But, let's move beyond She Who Shall Not be Named and simply concede that for reasons that hardly need listing, she is the undisputed No. 1 annoying person of the year. So, starting with No. 10 and counting down to No. 2, here they are:

No. 10: Newt "I'll Say Anything No Matter How Idiotic to Try and Get Some of the Media Attention Now Going to that Woman from Alaska" Gingrich. His statement that to understand President Obama's world view one has to understand the mindset of Luo tribesman of Kenya was racist and moronic. And his "I think I'm the smartest guy in the room" demeanor is the equivalent of scraping your fingernails on a chalkboard.

No. 9: Brett Favre. Talk about over-exposed, the guy texted pictures of his penis to a female employee of the New York Jets. CJG is glad he's not in Brett's calling circle. Favre should have left at the top of his game; instead he kept coming back over and over and getting the shit kicked out of him on and off the football field. Just because of him CJG would never buy a pair of Wrangler jeans. This isn't the picture of Brett Favre CJG wanted to show you, but the other one isn't available.

No. 8: That Nigerian widow who keeps e-mailing CJG and asking him to help her move millions of dollars from secret bank accounts in Nigeria to the United States. CJG is tired of writing back to her and explaining that he only helps the poor and disadvantaged. CJG is also getting suspicious that this is some kind of scam, probably being perpetrated by this guy:

No. 7: FOX News diva Greta van Sustern or Cistern or Susteren or whatever the fuck her name is. Plastic surgery did nothing to help her cause. She's still unwatchable.

No. 6: Flo, the Progressive Insurance Lady. Whoever sold this ad campaign to the execs at Progressive is a genius, but not at advertising because this has to be the lamest ad campaign CJG has ever seen. The GEICO Gekko wipes the floor with this dipshit.

No. 5: Tony Hayward, the former CEO of British Petroleum and huge yacht owner. True story: a couple of weeks after the rig explosion, BP put up a virtual suggestion box on its web site where ordinary folks could submit their ideas for stopping the spill. CJG was game: he wrote in and suggested they lower BP executives directly into the broken pipe to staunch the flow. The very next day, CJG received an e-mail from BP's "technical team" thanking him for his suggestion but explaining that after careful review CJG's idea could not be applied "under the very challenging and specific operating conditions in the Gulf." Seriously? How hard could it be to put cement boots on these guys and stuff them into a pipe? They do that off the coast of New Jersey all the time. Tony Hayward not only said ten of the stupidest things uttered in public in 2010, his uncanny resemblance to Mr. Bean made him doubly annoying. Can you tell which is which?

No. 4: The Three Musketeers, a/k/a Mitch McConnell, Eric Cantor and John Boehner. Their highest priority was ensuring tax cuts for the wealthiest 2% of Americans and they were willing to let taxes go up on the other 98% to get their way. Those 2%, they argued, are the "job creators" and unless they got their tax breaks well, they just weren't going to create those jobs for the proletariat. Funny, the rich got their tax cuts early in Bush's first term and by the end of the Bush years the economy lost 8 million jobs. CJG doesn't pretend to have a degree in economics, but before the tax cuts, during the Clinton years, the economy added 23 million jobs. To CJG guy this suggests the connection between tax cuts and jobs is being a wee bit overstated. In fact, CJG thinks this job talk is just a ruse and the real reason this is The Three Musketeers' highest priority is that 98% of these guys' campaign funds come from...you guessed it, the richest 2%. By the way, to CJG's knowledge, Cantor is, surprisingly, the only Jew on this top ten most annoying list though he has his suspicions about Brett Favre. But unless we see those pictures we may never know.

No. 3: CJG's friend and spin instructor, Bill. The first time Bill dressed up like this we all thought it was very funny. The second time it was still good for a chuckle. But, honestly, by about the hundredth time it was clearly nothing more than a desperate plea for attention.

No. 2: Long before he got himself fired from CNN for a ignorant rant about Jews and the media, Rick Sanchez was a bloviator of the first order. The guy's Ted Baxter-esque ego was so big and his talent so small, CJG would sit dumbstruck before his television wondering how Ricky ever landed a job that paid more than minimum wage. If you never saw his coverage of the Hawaii tsunami that fizzled, it's a classic. Do yourself a favor and watch this windbag in action.

Which brings us, once again, to our number one annoying person of 2010, Sar...oops...She Who Shall Not be Named (SWSNBN). As CJG noted above, there are about a million reasons he finds SWSNBN the world's most annoying person, but one of them is her utter disrespect for the native tongue. CJG believes that the ability to speak English with reasonable fluency should be a requirement for any aspiring president, and certainly for any media hound, and it's statements like this one, spoken on the Sean Inanity Show in November, that really make CJG want to pour candle wax in his ears: "I want to help clean up the state that is so sorry today of journalism. And I have a communications degree." And a hard won degree no doubt.

Maybe she should see a neurologist about that tic.

Be It Ever So Humble

Crankyjewishguy (CJG) is posting a little later than usual this morning because his flight home from San Juan was delayed for more than four hours yesterday, a ripple effect from the Blizzard of Oh-ten, and he got in very late last night. And being just a wee bit compulsive, he couldn't go to sleep without unpacking, watering the plants, doing the laundry, and returning a call from the MasterCard early fraud detection unit who wanted to know if CJG used his card to buy a baked stuffed potato for $5.84 in Puerto Rico. (No, CJG is not kidding.) Normally, all of this, especially the anxiety producing airport delay, would make CJG very irritable but there was a guy at the San Juan airport who'd been there for three days trying to get back to New York and the earliest flight they could give him was January 2. CJG doesn't delight in the misery of others; once in a while he uses it to put his own into perspective, though mostly he simply wallows in his own little miseries regardless of the calamity that has befallen the next guy. But stuck in an airport for seven days? Now that's misery. Who among us is as lucky as this girl, who only needs to click her heels to get home?

With tens of thousands of travelers stranded in airports, who doesn't
despise this lucky girl and her three enablers?

At the airport CJG observed a fundamental law of human nature: that the more anxious people are to get going, the more they will act in ways designed to further delay the proceedings. When the plane that would fly 180 weary travelers back to Boston finally arrived, people rushed the gate area even though it would be another 90 minutes or so until the plane left because of government overregulation of the airline industry. For some reason the bureaucrats at the FAA have one rule that states that arriving passengers actually have to be allowed to leave the plane before departing passengers can board and another that says no plane can fly without a pilot. Since the crew that flew our plane in had maxed out their flying time for that day, the airline scrambled to find a pilot, at one point offering a free round trip anywhere in the continental United States to anyone willing to fly the plane to Boston. People mobbed the gate even though they knew when the time did finally come to board, we'd be boarding by row numbers, not based on whoever was a big enough douche bag to push their way to the front like they do in Tajikistan. And once the boarding announcement was made asking everyone to please clear the aisle so those whose row numbers were called could actually get to the fucking plane, these people simply moved imperceptibly to one side or the other and made a big fuss doing so as if they'd been massively inconvenienced. Having staked out their little piece of territory for an hour they were loathe to give it up.  Hence, the boarding procedure looked like this:

Eager passengers in San Juan rush to board Flight 734 for Boston.

That's when CJG realized that there's really only one thing that makes him cranky. Other people,

Write or Fly?

crankyjewishguy (CJG) is in a tough spot this morning because he has to choose between honing another hilarious blog post to perfection or making his flight back to Boston from San Juan. His wife and kids are arguing vehemently for flying home since none of them gives a shit about his blog. CJG is torn. On the one hand, he feels he owes it to his legions of readers, now numbering in the dozens, to produce another post. On the other hand, he occasionally has to take the feelings of others into consideration, no matter how trivial or irrelevant. So, while you admire this photograph of CJG he is going to flip a coin.

CJG knows what you're thinking: that's Tom Brady. No, it's not, but people make that mistake all the time. Anyway, CJG flipped a coin and it came up heads so he and the family are flying home. But before he goes, he wants to inform readers that his blog will soon include some insightful and penetrating political commentary. Though he can hardly afford to alienate readers, CJG is nevertheless going to risk losing some of you here because nothing, and CJG means nothing, makes him crankier than this woman, hereinafter referred to as "She Who Shall Not Be Named." Just thinking about her makes CJG want to stick pins in his eyes.

She Who Shall Not Be Named attempts to sucker punch an innocent microphone
which has turned her speech into unintelligible gibberish.

More from Boston tomorrow. Until then, shalom.

CJG's Big Night Out in San Juan

You know your Caribbean vacation has taken a serious turn for the worse when you're having dinner at the Outback Steakhouse in the Embassy Suites Hotel near the San Juan airport on Monday night, your flight doesn't leave until Wednesday afternoon, and you realize you could be eating off the exact same menu a mile from your house with the exact same group of three thousand overweight American tourists whose highest aspiration in life is to move to New Jersey and whose only ambition when they travel is to try and recreate exactly the same conditions they left at home.

There's nowhere CJG wanted to eat more in Puerto Rico than Outback.

Crankyjewishguy (CJG) and his family were supposed to be spending Monday night at the cliffside condo they'd rented overlooking Aguadilla Bay, but for some reason the city of Aguadilla decided to declare a water rationing program under which they delivered exactly no water to parts of the city for what was going on seven hours when CJG and the family decided to pack it in and head back to San Juan ahead of schedule. CJG is cranky on a good day so you can imagine how he was doing during the two hour drive back to San Juan in the pouring rain. His spirits were not lifted when the desk clerk informed him that the room his wife had just reserved two hours earlier was not available. Though Mrs. CJG had ambitious plans for the night in San Juan, the children (well, they are 20 and 15) declared a moratorium of their own on going anywhere outside the confines of the hotel, hence last night's outstanding dinner at Outback featuring exotic dishes with Australian names you can only find at about twenty thousand other chain restaurants throughout North America. At least CJG could pretend he was in Australia surrounded by spanish-speaking Puerto Rican waitresses.

While we're on the subject of Outback Steakhouse, sentient readers of this blog will recall that a few days ago CJG was kvetching about the fact that no Jew can travel, even to remote corners of the globe, without running into people he or she knows, or is maybe even related to. Hence, the chance encounter between CJG's son and two of his fellow Tulane students (brothers) and their parents on a local surfer beach on the west coast of Puerto Rico. But, just when CJG thought the world couldn't get any smaller, it did.

Before their hasty departure for San Juan late yesterday afternoon, CJG and his family were at a beautiful outdoor seaside restaurant enjoying another of the leisurely (i.e. excruciatingly slow) meals for which Puerto Rico is famous, when a woman comes over to the table and asks if CJG is from Boston, to which CJG replies, "Yes. Any other questions?" After all, it doesn't take a genius to guess CJG is from Boston since older son is wearing a Red Sox cap and a t-shirt that says "Charles River Y." Then she asks, "are you from Mayberry?" (For his own protection, CJG is substituting "Mayberry" for the real name of his town which, except for a very good Indian restaurant and a Starbucks, is in all other respects exactly like Mayberry.) OK, wonders CJG, who's stalking me now? Then the lady points to a twenty-something kid with long sideburns, a scruffy beard and a hat that once belonged to Mike Nesmith of The Monkees sitting a few tables away and says, "my son used to work at Starbucks in Mayberry and he used to see you in there every day." As if it isn't embarrassing enough to be outed as a daily user in front of his wife and kids, now CJG is going to have to spend part of his get-away-from-it-all-vacation saying hello to this lady and her extended family, including Kyle, who for a full year made CJG his tall decaf mocha latte with whipped cream and who, when he didn't prepare it properly, made CJG really cranky. What does CJG need to do to get away? Climb Mt. Everest?

CJG's Starbucks barrista, the one who tracked him down
on Shack's Beach in northwest Puerto Rico.

What Blizzard?

crankyjewishguy (CJG) doesn't get it. He keeps reading about some huge blizzard bearing down, and friends up north keep e-mailing him about it, but he's looking out his window and he doesn't see what all the fuss is about. This is the view from CJG's window:

CJG enjoys a huge snowstorm as much as the next guy, except maybe Shaun White, especially when he's reading about it in Puerto Rico. But, just so readers being buried under two feet of snow and whipped by 50 m.p.h. winds don't feel too badly, there were some rain showers here yesterday, the result of a cold front that kept temperatures down in the upper 70s. So, CJG and his family have been enduring some weather-related adversity of their own. Feel better now? CJG observes that your frame of reference instantly changes when your location changes since his wife complained all yesterday morning about the rain, even as friends up north were stocking up on Spam, bottled water, candles, batteries, flashlights, generators, shovels and Snowmelt in preparation for the onslaught.

Now, it has occurred to CJG that when he gets home in a couple of days his driveway and front walk will be buried in what will then be heaps of frozen snow and ice, some of it piled up by the snowplow operators who delight in dumping a new foot of snow at the end of your driveway just when you've finished digging out a foot of snow.

Thanks to Bill for sending this photo of CJG's car. Unfortunately,
CJG left the sunroof open when he left for vacation.

CJG hopes all his friends and neighbors, to whom he has given so much over the years, will remember his kindnesses and have his driveway and walkway cleared by Wednesday around suppertime. Would dinner be too much to ask?

A Shout Out to Canada!

Last week, CJG gave a shout out to Croatia for being second, only to the United States, in page hits on his blog. In recent days, however, Canada has moved into the silver medal position and in recognition of its performance CJG offers below a unique interpretation of the Canadian national flag. In fairness to Croatia, CJG notes that Canada's population is about eight times Croatia's and weighted for population, Croatia is still way outperforming Canada. But a promise is a promise and CJG needs all the help he can get from the Great White North. (I'm talking to you, Sidney Crosby). In the future, however, CJG will adjust the figures taking total population into account. Note that no special adjustments will be made based on the size of the Jewish population since CJG seeks to appeal to everyone regardless of race, religion or level of intelligence.

CJG hopes global warming skeptics take a close look at this photo.
This poor woman's natural habitat is literally disappearing out from under her feet.
How will she feed her young?

Call me, Sid.

CJG Unhurt After Encounter with Famous Tough Guy Actor

So, crankyjewishguy (CJG) is sitting at this beach front surfer shack called Sonia Rican on spectacular Jobos Beach in Puerto Rico while his older son orders something like his tenth meal of the day even though it's only lunchtime, when this very distinctive looking fellow sits down next him and CJG knows he's this actor he's seen a million times but of course can't remember his name. But CJG says hello and asks him if he's the actor he's seen a million times whose name he doesn't remember and sure enough CJG's celebrity antennae is right on. As CJG and his family get up to leave, CJG says goodbye to the actor and the actor wishes CJG a Merry Christmas, which is too bad because then CJG has to tell him not everyone celebrates Christmas. Some of us are Jewish, you know. Then the actor says, "geez, what a cranky jewish guy," and CJG is like, "wow, I can't believe you recognize me from my blog." What the actor says next you can't print on the Internet. Actually, he was a real mensch, which, in Yiddish, means a person of high character and integrity, or more simply, a good guy. 

Anyway, CJG looked him up when he got back to the place he's staying. Like CJG, this actor was born here, but raised in the upper 48. His name is Luis Guzman. He's been in tons of movies (Traffic, Boogie Nights, and Anger Management to name a few) and TV shows (Miami Vice, NYPD Blue). CJG recommends that you not mess with the Guzman. 

Feliz Navidad: Christmas in Paradise

As almost everyone knows, Jesus Christ was Jewish so it seems like an incredible coincidence that he was born on Christmas. Like, what are the odds of that? Maybe 365 to one? Anyway, Merry Christmas and Happy Birthday!

As readers of this blog know by now, are maybe even sick of hearing by now, crankyjewishguy (CJG) and his family are spending this Christmas in Puerto Rico. Since CJG grew up and still lives in a place where winter exists, it's a little hard to get that Christmasy feeling when all the houses look like this:

Thanks to gross overconsumption of fossil fuels as depicted
here, this is what Christmas will look like in Winnipeg by mid-century,

One thing CJG has noticed about the tropics is that with the notable exception of south Florida, people who live in balmy climes are much less cranky than other folks. CJG worries that if he spends too much time here he may have to change the name of his blog to "mellowjewishmon" (pictured below). Breathe easy!

CJG is Now Facebook Friends with God!

crankyjewishguy's (CJG) wife is pretty savvy about social networking and she is trying her best to drag CJG into the 21st century. She explained to him that to build an audience for a blog you have to create lots of links and cross-links and you have to learn to use Facebook. So, CJG immediately went on God's Facebook page and "friended" him (or "liked" him). Whatever. Now, CJG is hoping that God, who has like 4 billion Facebook friends, will "friend" or "like" him back. CJG is praying God isn't too selective. For those who don't know God (so to speak), this is his Facebook picture (you think he could have put on a shirt for the photo?):

Anyway, enough about God. Yesterday, CJG and his wife drove from San Juan to CJG's hometown of Aguadilla, Puerto Rico while the boys sat in the back seat and watched Jackass 2.5 on a laptop. After all, why would you fly all the way from Boston to Puerto Rico? To look at the scenery?

As in San Juan, CJG was disappointed in the reception he received upon arriving in the town of his birth after a 57 year absence. The bagel, lox and cream cheese reception never materialized. Even Gerard Depardieu got a warmer reception in The Return of Martin Guerre and that was after the locals figured out he wasn't Martin Guerre after all but an imposter. It's not that there weren't plenty of people in the streets for CJG's homecoming. There were. Unfortunately, all of them were in cars trying to get to one mall or the other. Though Aguadilla isn't much to look at from street level, CJG and his family are staying in a clifftop condo with a spectacular view of the ocean and beach below. This makes CJG very mellow, except that the neighbor with the adjoining rooftop patio has outdoor stereo speakers that play bad music all day long. CJG guy and his college age son spent a good part of the afternoon trying to figure out if they could take out the speakers with a few well placed fastballs.

Now, it didn't take more than five minutes on the beach for CJG to be reminded that no Jew can truly get away no matter how far he travels from home. At Crash Boat Beach, a surfing spot frequented by locals, but few tourists, CJG's older son immediately ran into two guys he knows, brothers, actually, and Jewish, of course, who attend college with him at Harvard on St. Charles, otherwise known as Tulane University. And once the parents started talking they discovered that three of them, out a possible four, attended Tufts University at the same time, CJG being the exception as he is both older than the others and attended a different and, according to the infallible U.S. News and World Report college rankings, slightly more prestigious institution of extremely higher learning. 

Crash Boat Beach without people, as CJG would have preferred it.

Now CJG can be very sociable if he tries, and he enjoys chance encounters as much as the next curmudgeon, but sometimes he just wants to get away from it all. So next year he's taking the family to the Falkland Islands in February. With his luck he'll be standing in a penguin rookery and Howie Finkel, his arch nemesis from junior high school, will walk up and give him a wedgie.

CJG Arrives in The Homeland: Greeted by Huge Yawn

As crankyjewishguy (CJG) wrote last week, he was about to make a trip with his wife and kids to The Homeland. Well, CJG is pleased to announce that thanks to his little white pills he made it! But, while CJG was happy to leave the cold and snow behind for the balmy breezes of his native Puerto Rico, he has to confess he was a little disappointed with the reception he received upon arriving at Luis Munoz Marin Airport in San Juan. Not only did he learn the airport is named after somebody else, apparently someone in this establishment forgot to tell the people of Puerto Rico that CJG was coming home after 57 years. CJG was sort of expecting a reception that looked like this:

Instead, CJG was met by this guy:

Oh, well. That's life. A series of small disappointments interrupted by sleep. CJG is optimistic, however, that when he and his family leave San Juan later today for his hometown of Aguadilla, word will quickly spread and a bagel, lox and cream cheese banquet will waiting for him when he gets there. (Don't forget the capers!) 

By the way, CJG is well aware of the controversy surrounding Barack Obama's birth certificate and that some ridiculously large percentage of the population (a percentage that correlates, not surprisingly, with the mentally deranged population of the country) believes Obama is a foreign-born Muslim terrorist. But CJG was very surprised to receive a lot of e-mail from "birthers," some of it rather impolite, challenging his claim that he was born in Puerto Rico. Since CJG is keeping all of his political options open, he presents here for your inspection a genuine, uncertified facsimile of his own birth certificate, slightly redacted at the request of the Department of Homeland Security. 

CJG's birth certificate proving he came ashore on the island of Puerto Rico.

CJG guesses the only remaining question is whether being born in a U.S. territory, not a state, makes him a "natural born citizen" and, therefore, eligible to serve. In that regard, CJG points out that John McCain was born in the Panama Canal Zone and that's in a whole other country. CJG thinks it's in Panama. Granted, for a zillion other reasons, among them his choice of running mate and senility, McCain was utterly unqualified to be president, but no one argued his birth in the Canal Zone disqualified him. CJG rests his case and announces that if nominated, he will name Lewis Black as his running mate, the first all-Jewish ticket in history. For future reference, this is Lewis Black, a great American, off his meds. He will preside over the Senate.

The Ten Commandments of Spinning Etiquette: Thou Shalt Schvitz!

Please note that starting tomorrow crankyjewishguy (CJG) will be filing from The Homeland: Puerto Rico. He is assuming they have Internet there. As CJG will be wandering The Homeland for a week, if he is unable to get online he will not be able to post. If CJG does not reappear by New Year's Eve, please notify whatever authorities you deem appropriate.

Let crankyjewishguy (CJG) reintroduce readers to Bill, CJG's technical advisor and spin instructor. Bill and his sister, Alex, own Spynergy, an awesome spin studio in Wellesley, Massachusetts. This is Bill:

Bill is widely considered one of the most innovative people in stationary indoor cycling today. Proof in point: the protective head gear and artificial breathing apparatus. Some in this arcane, somewhat obscure, marginally relevant field even call Bill "a genius," though CJG thinks this is overstating it a bit. CJG realizes Bill looks a little like the winged God, Mercury, in this photo, but that's just a light fixture on the wall behind his head. Why Bill is wearing golf shoes CJG doesn't know. You'll have to ask him.

CJG is an avid spinner (in winter) and cyclist (in spring, summer and fall). It's how he keeps his youthful figure. CJG has given a lot of thought to spin and has developed, in consultation with Bill, CJG's Ten Commandments of Spinning Etiquette that he generously shares with you here (not be confused with The Ten Commandments):

CJG'S TEN COMMANDMENTS OF SPINNING ETIQUETTE® 

            Nothing ruins a good spinning class like bad spin etiquette. Spinning is about camaraderie, group spirit and good karma. Why is etiquette so important? Because it makes you a better human being. It makes for a world worth living in. It ensures that you don’t inflict your petty needs and wants on others. Etiquette keeps other people from thinking of you as obnoxious, self-centered, and egotistical even if you are obnoxious, self-centered and egotistical. New spinners and experienced spinners alike should memorize and observe CJG'S Ten Commandments of Spin Etiquette®  or risk the opprobrium of the group.

1. Though Shalt Follow General Decorum. Spinning is very demanding exercise and new spinners often overdo it the first time in a thinly disguised effort not to appear weak and inadequate. But the shame of being a beginner pales in comparison with the shame of actually throwing up in class. So, know your limits, restrict alcohol intake to no more than six drinks in the previous two hours, and, under no circumstances come to class under local anesthesia.
2. Though Shalt Not Chit-chat (part 1). Chatting is for the coffee shop. There are some people who call themselves spinners who see spin class as just another occasion to gossip, and the majority of these chit-chatters, CJG is obliged to point out, are women. These are not true spinners. These are people talking while sitting on stationary bikes. If you can carry on a conversation during spin class you need to turn up the tension on your flywheel and pedal faster.
3. Thou Shalt Not Chit-chat (part 2). It is never, ever, OK to use your cell phone while spinning. In fact, if your ringer so much as goes off during class it is not only acceptable, but encouraged, for your fellow riders to bludgeon you to the edge of death with sweaty towels. Though CJG said “never, ever” there actually is one exception. It is OK to call to call someone on one of the other bikes to tell them to stop talking.
4. Thou Shalt Not Be Late. Come to class on time, especially if you are new to spinning. There are new people who come into class just as it’s about to start and then need help setting the various adjustments on the bike, assurance from the instructor that they will not be carried out of class on a stretcher, and a recitation of the various spinning positions. This delays the start of class for everyone else during which time the gossipers work up an irreversible momentum. Very bad vibe.
5. Thou Shalt Observe Basic Rules of Good Hygiene. Wipe down your bike after class! For an hour your sweat has been dripping all over the handlebars and the tension knob and accumulating in a puddle underneath the bike. Please, take a minute to help prevent the spread of disease. The Centers for Disease Control has verified that most global pandemics begin not on Vietnamese poultry farms or in remote Nigerian villages, but in suburban indoor cycling studios. (For men, condoms are always recommended.)
6. Thou Shalt Not Eat. Never bring anything to eat during spin class. There was a guy who used to spin at a club with CJG who always brought a banana to eat during class. What next? An Egg McMuffin®? Hey, man, it’s spin class, not the Tour de France! At least share.
7. Though Shalt Not Smoke. It probably goes without saying, but please, NO SMOKING until after class.
8. Thou Shalt Dress for the Occasion. Heart monitors are acceptable. Wearing a portable defibrillator is not. Discrete, unobtrusive jewelry, such as a cross or Star of David worn around the neck, is OK. Wearing a yarmulke and a talus is not. There is no religious discrimination in spin class, but style is important and you simply cannot spin properly if you are dressed like a rabbi. Silent prayer is permitted since it is often needed.
9. Thou Shalt Not Yell. Some spinners get so carried away in their own reverie they treat spin class like a Southern Baptist Tent Revival, yelling “Amen,” “Hallelujah,” and other words of rapturous joy in response to the instructor’s commands. Others sometimes let loose with a Navajo war whoop. This is very distracting to other spinners who, lost in their own reverie, can be easily startled and then fall off their bikes.
10. Thou Shalt Not Covet Other Spinners (some restrictions may apply). This is a nuanced area of spin etiquette that may take months to master. Let’s start with the simple first rule of looking. It is always OK to look at the instructor. That’s why he or she is there. To be looked at. Looking at the instructor helps you figure out what to do. Should I be in the saddle? Should I be pedaling faster? Is the class over? Visual cues from the instructor help you answer such questions. If you haven’t seen the instructor for more than ten minutes it is safe to assume that class is over and you can stop pedaling. It is impolite for men to stare directly at the beautiful woman in skin tight, low cut Spandex. You may, however, select a bike that gives you a perfect view of the beautiful woman in skin tight, low cut Spandex in the mirror in which case the only other people in class who know you are staring at the beautiful woman in skin tight, low cut Spandex are other male riders who, had they gotten to class earlier, would be riding the bike you are on. Women are always allowed to check out the men in the class, but should do so in the first ten minutes of class before their staggering incompetence becomes apparent.