Yingele...

Lord of War

2006-01-29T14:00:00.000+02:00

Yes, Nicolas Cage's newest blockbuster. The action packed thriller, telling the story of the man that sells bullets - and makes a killing. It costed them $42,000,000 and took them just over a year of filming at 4 different locations. Yet, just as Michael Moore's Fahrenheit 9/11, this is nothing but an anti-American documentary.

As one critic writes; "The movie is an angry outcry against the gun traffic that turns 12-year-olds into killers and cheapens human life to the point where might makes not only right, but everything else." And that is exactly what everyone was thinking as they left the cinema hall.

They where all shocked. The United States of America is the biggest guns and ammunitions producer in the world... America, UK and France create, manufacture and ship deadly arms all over our lovely globe, helping and supporting the infamous bloodbaths in Africa and throughout other third world countries. It is thru countries like these that millions of innocent and helpless people get killed every year, be it in Nigeria, Zimbabwe or Congo.

How sad indeed - but that's not my point. I had learned two other, very diferent lessons that night. First of all, Pringles finally made sense to me. Once you pop, you can't stop. Vit, Yuri's brother, was a curious young chap. To make it short, the brothers received some cocaine as payment for one of the deals. A tiny drop of drugs, can't really harm, can it? So he gave it try, he started sniffing some coke, a small amount of coke. But he ended up in a rehabilitation centre, totally fried. His curiosity didn't kill the cat, it almost killed him.

On the same thought train - Yuri took a u-turn and stopped all the armstrading. He promised his gorgeous wife he will stop, he swore it's all over. Yes, it was over indeed. For like 3 months. No matter how curious one is, and no matter how small, innocent, harmless and unimportant it may seem - if it's wrong or bad, don't do it.

To easen some immigration issues, Mr and Mrs Orlov pretend to be a nice Orthodox Jewish couple. There is this scene where Mr, all neatly dressed in his grey suit and black hat, gets offered some non-kosher fish by his wife. He refuses to eat a single bite of it. As his wife phrases it ever so nicely "you are more orthodox then the rabbi himself". His reply is so short in words, yet so large in meaning. I like the hat, so I wont eat treif. That was lesson number two - if you dress like one, behave like one.

Emunas Ganovim.

2005-12-12T15:35:00.000+02:00

600 shtenders and a golden ark. Yes, I spent shabbos at the great yeshiva of Ponevez. Having earned its fine reputation as best litvishe yeshiva, it comes to no big supsrise - the boys actually sit and learn.I have never seen anything like it anywhere before. A packed beis medrash, shokeling by a gemoro (okay, maybe it was a reb chaim), and learning with such hasmodo and concentration. As if, cut off from the world, living on their own little planet with the rashbo and ritvo as their only neighbours.

Black waves of knaitshittelech screaming yeshei shemei rabo with the whole litvishe kneitch, praying to God with their lips, hands and face. Not one bucherel dares to speak while davening and during krias hatorah. Yes, you are right - it is a kalte litvishe davening indeed. Lecho dodi felt like it was a Wednesday afternoon and veshomru, oh wait, there was no veshomru. Nevretheless, nobody, and I mean nobody, was shmoozing with his neighbour or sitting on the back row discussing yesterdays game.

Rav Shach is looking down at his Empire - a proud smile across his face.

Ponevez, sounds like no place for yingele. I agree, yet there was still a small part of me that would want to be there, part of the crowd. "Yingele", a voice whispered in my head " wouldn't you love to be here?" It was right, I was a little jealous.

Not for the learning, you silly. And neither for the davening. I wanted to be there for the politics, the fights. The excitement, the gossip and the tension in the air. (For those who haven't checked hydepark lately, ponovez was freilich. To make a long and ugly story not so long and ugly; two Rabbi's fighting over who gets to say the shiur kloli, and who yarshens all the million dollar properties in Israel and abroad. Their chasidimlech started beating each other, smashing windows, slashing tires, pashkevilen etc etc.)

Action - Fighting with the police, hiring bodyguards, and spraying the ir hateire with hate graffiti. Seeing who picks what side, who joins what gang. Who suddenly changes place in shul, and who decides to switch shiur. It's fun, and exciting. Not picking sides, and not joining the fights - just to observe, keep track, and watch the 'gedoilim', fight like animals in a dog-eat-dog race.

It's cheap, dirty and disgusting, nevertheless exciting to keep up with. I am exaggerating. I wouldn't be able to stand such hypocrisy, corruption and billigkait. Isn't it fascinating how such a low form of politics can creep into the highest ranks of so called bnei teire?
Mivnei vonim shel homon, loimdei toire bivne brak. One day, the gemoro foresees, you'll see ehrliche yoidden dressed in a frak and a black shnipsel, learning toire in bnei brak. But. don't be fooled. Check their yichus.

Rav Shach is looking down at his Empire. I wonder what's crossing his mind.

Happy Birthday!

2005-12-05T14:17:00.000+02:00

Happy birthday to me, happy birthday to me. Happy birthday dear Yingele, happy birthday to me.

Deja Vu.

2005-11-04T11:51:00.000+02:00

A promise is a promise, so as soon as I got up, I got myself dressed and ran to shul. The running was necesary - it was already 10:30. I got there just in time, and started the brochos. Now, I haven't been in shul, and davend properly with a minyan in ages. Aaaaages actually. So today was special. Special? Well, not quiet. More like weird.

The tefilin part went easely, but then started the davening. The last time I felt this way was 5 years ago, the day I turned 13. Today was really similar. It has been a long time since I had my tefilin on with my hit and rekel. Such a weird feeling, balancing a falling hat onto the tefilin box. Just like 5 years ago.

Hoidy lashem kiru vishmoi... Davening has begun. I was actually suprised, and a bit shocked at myself. Besides for Ashrei, Shema and Shemone Esre, I haven't seen any other page of the siddur for aslong as I can remember. I used to be able to daven up in minutes - the words would just flow out of my mouth. Now, eum, to say the least, my ivre is no more what it used to be. Just like 5 years ago.

Imagine the town-shaigetz rolling up to shul in a hat and jacket, and actually praying from alef till tuf. All eyes watching. Well, they weren't really, but I still kept looking back to see who might be looking. No-one was staring, no-one knows who I really am. Some just came to tell me sholom aleichem - do you learn in the area? I was complexed and scared, just like 5 years ago.

All in all, it was a nice way to start the day. Who knows, maybe I will get used to it. We'll see what Sunday brings.

Holy Day, Happy Day.

2005-10-12T11:09:00.000+02:00

Erev Yom Kippur. I am drinking liters of water, eating tons and am having the regular pre-fast stress. Got to go soon and shlog kaporos, with money though - no shit-droppin ugly-noisy creatures. Exactly one year ago, I emailed a couple of friends a sweet dvar torah I had wrote. I just re-read it, and it actually brought a smile to my face. Please note - my writing skills were really bad then, and I was only 17...

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Many people are scared of יום כיפור. They are worried. Usually יום כיפור is a very stressful time. To be honest, I never really liked this part of the year. We all know that we have done many aveiros, so we're scared of having a bad year ח"ו. How mistaken we are… יום כיפור should be the happiest time of the year! G'd really loves us, no matter how many aveiros we made, no matter how distant we think we are from Him. G'd has tons and tons of mercy, רחמים, and bestows us the whole time with kindness, חסד. We both know that in reality we don't deserve anything. As it's written in many seforim, that even if a person would only do mitsvos, he still doesn't deserve anything, since G'd does with him so many kindnesses and favours. When we pray for all Jews to have a nice and sweet new year, we shouldn't ask it because we deserve it… We don't deserve it. Just ask G'd to give us a good new year, not because we are worth something, we know we aren't, just have mercy and make us another kindness, we are sure that we will have a sweet new year! Remember as long as we ask for G'ds mercy and kindness. We are sure to get it. Guaranteed. No matter how much we sinned, His mercy has no limit…

I'm sure that G'd will have mercy with us, and in His kindness will give us a great new year. A happy new year. A healthy new year. A good new year.

So be happy!! This coming year, שנת תשס"ו is going to be a great and happy year for all of us!!
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Have an easy fast, and a sweet new year!

Oh, and all of you out there, anon's and friends alike - please forgive me for anything I have done... I really didn't mean to hurt any of you, and wish you all a happy, happy new year.

Happy New Year

2005-10-03T13:27:00.000+03:00

Hey everyone.

Just wanted to wish you all a very happy, happy new year! Have a nice yom tov, and don't be stressed. (What I am totally...) Even if the davening wont flow so easy, even if we wont really 'feel' that holiness everyone is so going on about, I am sure we will all have an amazing and blissful year.

Good yom tov,

ying.

The Royal Engagement

2005-09-27T20:42:00.000+03:00

He always used to go on about what a special boy his son in law will have to be. He kept telling me that, after he already tasted the sweet flavor of such special boys for his daughters, the next would most definitely need to be as good as them, in the least. A boy, who when learning, would delve into the gemoro uncontrollably and enthusiastic. He would write al his illustrious chiddushim down and keep on learning with great hasmada. A boy who would rip through all heavens with his pure prayer, a boy that would be loved by men and God alike – loved for his kindness, mentshlichkait and middos toives.

Mazal Tov! Men gait shoin brechen teller. Finally, finally, he found the boy that he was so desperately looking for. An eighteen year old rebbishe ainikle. Everyone was all excited and looking forward. So the next day I helped them all prepare the tnoyim – shlepped plates from one place to the other and bought some wine and liqueur. Loaded it all onto the minivan and off we went. I was so tired and exhausted, I just felt like dropping. (Okay, okay, I won’t exaggerate…)

So we got to the royal engagement. The hall was really nicely decorated, with a massive Kol Rino Veyishuo banner behind the unworldly long head table. The Kol Hoalom Kulo photographers where there already, equipped with all the paparazzi gadgets. The Kalla’s father was there, the hall was just half full. I was all excited, waiting to see the Chosson. After hearing so much about him, his character, spirituality and holiness, I couldn’t wait to finally meet his Royal Highness.

Everyone gets up; finally the choson, surrounded by his family, enters the hall. Oh my God! No, it can’t be. Your average chassidishe bochurel, the turn-and-twist-and-curl-his-payes-nonstop, gartel-around-his-tuches boy… That’s the chosson?! I know him, well, just by face. He isn’t on the Bums 50 list, but he isn’t exactly the angel I expected. Just an average, nice sweet chap. Nothing major.

Maybe the guy got some massive yichus? Well, apparently, his father is some corner rebbe in Netanya. You know? The kind of guy that used an atlas to create his rebbishe name… I looked up at the head table; all the glitter silk beketches, all the rebbe’s where from the kalla’s side. All where family, and friends of the kalla’s father and grandfather. So I was patient, and waited. Maybe some big rebbe might still walk thru the door? Nope, no one came. The boy didn’t have any special yichus…

So what does he have? Oh, I forgot. He has al lot of bling bling. You know; the kind that gets you everywhere… Money brings you everywhere and gets you anything. So now all is understood. The rebbe’s, the yichus, the gorgeous girl… It all came with a pricetag.

Or, maybe, just maybe. Perhaps, when a shidduch is supposed to be, it will be. No matter who what and when, no matter how and why – if that yingele is supposed to get that maidele, nothing in the world can stop it.

Pretty Woman

2005-09-11T04:15:00.000+03:00

Hey everyone. After a month of holidays, swimming, screaming and fighting, I'm finally back here in Israel. The shofar has been blown - now let the party begin. Yingele's life is okay, nothing really changed. My parents have realized (damn!) that money doesn't grow on trees, so yingele is supposed to get some knowledge, wisdom and eventually a piece of paper that might get him a job. Not sure what, where and when but I might have some extra free time for studying and all of that. Oh well, we'll see what happens with that.

It's motse shabbos, 4.23 am. I just had a disgusting burger and finished watching Love Actually and now Pretty Woman. (I know.... Girlie girlie movies - ober vus ken men tien.) I'm most definitely in a crazy mood, so not sure if this will make any sense in the morning.

Any of you see the movie Pretty Woman? Well, basically, it's the Cinderella story of a hooker who falls in love. It has the same My Fair Lady style - transforming a billige and proste prostitute into a beautiful and pretty woman, a woman shining with class and style. From shlepping on the roads in a mini skirt and chewing gum, she became the elegant queen, all dressed in Gucci, Louis Vuitton and Chanel.

If prostitutes can become princesses, maybe little yingele can still become a someone. Maybe there is still hope that he can change, and will change. Maybe, just maybe.

Or does this only happen in movies?

Have a nice week everyone, it's lovely being back home.

Hey

2005-08-20T21:10:00.000+03:00

Yingle is on Holiday and won't be posting for the next two weeks.
So he hopes to hear from you all then.
Love a very special person in Y's life.

Talmud Torah.

2005-08-01T15:41:00.000+03:00

Fine. So last night I was the special guest. Well, not really special, but I was the guest. Me and a couple of friends ended up going to our rabbi's siyum. The rabbi has a kollel, and his crew just finished yet another mesechte. The tables where all nicely laid, golden crispy bilkes, gefilte fish, schnitzel, kugel and delicious strawberry ice cream where all on the menu. After all, it's a sudas mitzvah – so just stuff our faces! Everything was prepared with style and class, fit for royalty. All was there in honor for the words of wisdom that these real bnei torah feverishly have learned.

I was pretty much shocked, or should I say amazed, by the behavior of some of these kli koidesh… Is that what the torah teaches them? Some where just joking and making fun – others where just stuffing their faces with food. The rabbi was darshening, and of course - noone was listening. At least try, fake listening. Pretend you care. But no, your silly and immature jokes are more important. Much more important.

Many years ago (lol), when I was nicely learning in yeshiva ketana - I realized something really odd. It was strange seeing that, in a place solely devoted to establishing young teens future, they where so wrong, so mistaken. The learning boys where frequently the only ones that one was supposed to look up at. Any other boy, who wasn't so smart, or didn't have a tuches to sit on all day, was labeled second class. And to make it worse, not only did the rabbi's label them that way - even their fellow colleuges looked down at them. Please do note, we are talking about 14 year old, immature little kids. Nevertheless, their ideas come from what they see, from what they feel by their superiors.

I was talking to this rebbish child the other day - he was all proud of the fact that his son-in-law knew 1500 daf by heart, at the age of 18, just before he got married. Now, by no means am I trying to push him down. In matter of fact, he's a really nice guy. Middos toives, kedishe and simche.

But, if all the boys sitting on those wooden benches, shokeling by a shtender, leaning over, reading a reb chaim.... If all those black-and-white bochurim think that their only mission is reaching the 1500 blatt gemoro. If that's what they think Judaism is all about... And the rest isn't really important. If a kind heart, a clean head and a straight life is unimportant - then, then.. I don't know. it's pretty sad.

But if that's what the Rabbi's preach, is there any wonder why the so called good-learners get snatched, and all the other boys - better boys, kinder boys just get dragged along and wait for whatever second class girl will take them... And once they get married; Kollel. They all got to sit in kollel. 2 years? 5 years? 10 years? Bloody hell! Will that do any difference? Will he be any better, just because you want him to sit for 10 years in kollel?! You give him money - he gets a free vacation, and just sits in kollel. Gan eden!

Or maybe it's all the systems fault? Maybe blame it on the net? No. Just blame it on the yachne town syndrome. What will the shtetl think if your son in law would work.... Hashem yishmor! "You know Yossel's new aidem - he works!" Oh, tragic.

And who's to blame for the way our lovely shtetl thinks and acts? Well, the Rabbi's of course. They are the ones that pressure the 'learning' factor of judaism, instead of focusing on things really as important. But, let us not blame them. Isn't it easyer to just tell the whole yeshiva that everyone has to sit and learn all day - instead of helping each individual boy. Just tell them to learn, and you'll save yourself the hassle. The hassle of helping the kids, one by one. The hassle of polishing all the young diamonds, fixing them and restoring them to their original glory that God so magically bestowed on these young men.

And the Rabbi's, on their turn, just point their fingers towards the hailige mishne - Talmud Torah keneged kulom...

Am Hanetsach.

2005-07-20T00:18:00.000+03:00

Sharon is still as stubborn as one could wish to be. We never imagined we would have world’s most inflexible and stubborn donkey sitting in our Knesset, playing Mr. Dictator. A filthy dictator, that is what he is. Whoever doesn’t agree with him gets demoted. Whoever goes with him receives a nice reward – free upgrade; becomes a minister. The police, army and media all participate with his big, corrupt and filthy politics.

Monday was the beginning, the first, of a massive 3 day march to Gush Katif. The rally started with fervent prayer and lively dance at the gravesite of the Baba Sali in Netivot. From there they continued their hike, broke through the human wall created by the police and arrived at Kfar Meimon. They’ll attempt to get as close to Gush Katif as possible, on the third day. The streets are full of posters, and the roads are all orange. Complete families; men, women and their children are all ready to join the hike. Equipped with large backpacks, sleeping bags and dressed in their orange uniform, eagerly waiting to get on the bus and join the rest.

Our lovely dictator is scared of does rightist-hooligans-religious-settlers-fanatic-extremists or however he likes calling us. An orange carpet of 100 000 marchers would smash the whole Kisufim junction apart, just as it did after Netivot, and just walk into the Gush without a drop of sweat. It would bring his whole disengagement plan drastically down, and mess it really up.

Monday, the police – afraid and scared of our success – stopped 500 busses on their way to Netivot. Police stopped busses, arrested bus drivers and emptied the entire bus. They confiscated all the driver’s licenses, leaving him and his bus helplessly stuck on the side of the road. What a mature and democratic way – just stop all the busses with no reason or excuse and try to prevent them from reaching the Baba Sali’s grave.

Not having any means of transportation, we all gathered at Jerusalem’s main entrance. Police have been expecting us. No one was allowed to cross the road. Hundreds of police and soldiers where there. Horses, motorbikes and water cannons, all waiting so eagerly for us. Police brutally arresting kids, pulling and pushing. Cruelly slamming everyone to the ground, and then dragging kids off the floor. I looked to the side and spotted two young girls. Both where just standing on the side, a pocketsize book in their hands. They where doing the only thing that could really change anything. They where saying tehilim.

The place is Germany, the year is 1940. Sorry, my mistake. I meant Israel, 2005. Tens of thousands of protesters, Jews, all locked up in Kfar Meimon, a little Moshav not far from Gush. Welcome to the ghetto. Fifteen thousand of Sharon’s puppets have laid siege on our fellow Jews. No one comes in, no one goes out. No food, no drink. Nothing. That’s our lovely government. That’s our lovely dictator, Arik Sharon.

I was walking home, all tired, upset and fed up. I couldn’t take it any more. I couldn’t live with it any longer. The politics, brutality and corruptness. It made me sick. I didn’t like the country anymore; ashamed with my government, ashamed with my police.

I came home, checked the news and watched the rallies. They showed the protests, the prayer and the dancing. No one was crashed, nobody looked upset. All our brothers where dancing lively together! Am hanetsach lo mefached - singing and dancing, all smiling and happy. Sparkling love, friendship and hope.

I smiled and thanked God for my lesson. I love Him, His People and His Land.

Greener Grass.

2005-07-13T11:37:00.000+03:00

Hey everyone! The computer is finally back, all fixed. Ventilator blowing, and the hard disk is running smoothly. The past two weeks where fine on this side of the world - the sun is bright and the grass is green. Hope all is fine and well on your side.

The Gay Parade. How much fun - Not. As I'm sure you all remember, those lovely faggets ran round town all proud and parading. Their crown of glory, their sole pride - their low and perverted sickness. Disgusting. Oh well, cest la vie. I wasn't planning on being anywhere close to the neighbourhood during their ShameParade.

Don't ask how and why, yet I still ended up in kikar tsion. There was a nice protest, we all got to fight with the cops. Yelling, booh'ing and screaming. It was fun. Once all the action calmed down and the extasy started cooling off, I was walking down Ben Yehuda - going back to yeshiva. There was a whole kipke feverly debating and arguing. So, naturally, Yingele joins the battle.
There wasn't much arguing really; everyone agreed. The fags can go ahead and parade. They can run around in ridiculous bikinis, holding hands and dressing up like pethetic kallas. Whatever they want they can do, no-one really gives two hoots. But in their backyard - not here.

In between all the shmoozing, one of the chiloinim pats me on my back and tells the crew loud and proud "You all see? I wish my kids would get the same education as these kids! Look at them! They don't get up to the things my kids get up to".

"Achi! Mah Pitom!? The entire hookers industry live off Bnei Brak Datiyim! And murderers. Murderers they are. You know how many people get stabbed in Meah Shearim every year?" came the reply.

Bang! I felt a stone brick hit my head. I woke up! He woke me up. His idiotic and silly reasoning opened my tired eyes. It was him against me - now my mind opened up. Just a little. Our Frum world has problems. Problems I say? I mean some serious major issues. Every community, every chassidus and every moised has it's pekelech. We have divorces, cheaters, crooks and filthy cheap politics. No-one claims that the so-called 'frum' world is free of any tribulations. But let it not corrupt us. The others aren't any better. What the Goyim have - we don't. They have much more corruption, much more politics and much more filth than us, the Goy Kodoish. Just open any newspaper and see for yourself. We don't have any master bombers, our kids don't sleep with their teachers and our sons don't knife each other.

Sometimes it really feels like all the prostitution is indeed in Bnei Brak. We hear all the gossip and politics - we get disgusted. Disgusted and ashamed. Nevertheless, let's not forget; the grass on the other side isn't greener. How colourless our lawn is - their's are much worse.

Lil' Post It Note.

2005-06-22T20:18:00.000+03:00

Hi Everyone.

The ventilator on the laptop conked out - the computer overheated. It had some scary 'not enough space on disk to replace cluster' errror. Thank God it's still in the warranty year, so I just sent it to HP. It can take up to a week or ten days till it's back. Please understand any delay on emails and posts.

Kind regards,

ying.

Love Actually.

2005-06-16T19:11:00.000+03:00

Fine, I agree. I am a little too negative. Actually a little more than just a little. So let me put my pink sunglasses on and give it a try. Fingers crossed, here goes...

Let's us all take a break. A relaxing break from all of our world's problems. Everyone agrees; we are living on a polluted planet. A dark, mad and sad world. But let's halt. Let's catch some breath, and let's stop our self destructive negativity. Let's start looking at everything from the bright side. It's bad - but there is always some sunshine. That little sunshine, those happy sparks that we'll shine onto our world, might push aside some of the darkness, some of the pain. We all have enough trouble overcoming our own limitations without fretting over the fact that God didn't see it fit to distribute evenly the gift of intelligence. We all want to fix our world. Everyone wants to make it a safer, better and happier place. Good! Very good! But - we can't.

As the one who pleaded innocent says:

I'm starting with the man in the mirror
I'm asking him to change his ways
And no message could have been any clearer :
If you wanna make the world a better place
Take a look at yourself, and then make a change.

Instead of trying to fix them up, instead of us getting all worked up just because of them. Instead of us waisting our time with those fakers, bluffers and crooks. Let's just all forget about them. Forget about the whole bunch of them; they aren't worth it. We will live our lives - not theirs. Let's just all be happy. We live happy and honest lives. Our families and friends love us. We love others. Love is what we spread - on our lovely world. There are so many nice and lovely people around. All those kind Rabbi's who never give up on me. All the nice Rabbi's who actually care about me. Every holiday - those who give me their precious time. We all have nice parents who take care of us, who love us and cherish us. No matter how mean we where, no matter how much wrong we did - they still care for us. They still help us and give us, after so much pain that we gave them in return.

Kindness. There is so much kindness that surrounds us. We could ask favours from anyone. Whenever we need something there's always someone special there for us. Is it a pack of sugar, a couple of eggs or a shoulder to cry on - we are never alone. This world is actually pretty nice! Last week as I was coming back from town, I was sitting on the bus next to this young Yemenite kid with nice long curly peyes. He was busy munching from his small brown bag of peanuts. Without a word, he smilingly looks up and offers me some. Just look around, and see. Love, actually, is all around us.

Where Is The Love.

2005-06-09T17:26:00.000+03:00

If you never know truth, then you never know love. Why does this world need to be so evil? What a corrupted globe we live on. Rabbis blinded by the money, twisted for the honour. No justice and no honesty. The rich just become richer, the poor just poorer. No sincerity, envelopes is the only language spoken. Those who give some nice tips, get good customer service. The bigger the nedove, the more chance you’ll win the case. Chance? Yeah, just hope the other party hasn’t out-tipped you. Din Torah – but then without the Torah. Din Beshure sounds more like it. Well, if it’s a beshure you won’t be able to prove them wrong, will you? Money and yichus is a (not so) secret weapon. It’s all in the name. If you’re not Halbershtam or Reichman, just bang the walls in despair. Whatever happened to the values of humanity, Whatever happened to the fairness and equality. Instead of spreading love, we're spreading animosity. Lack of understanding, leading us away from unity. That's the reason why sometimes I'm feeling under, That's the reason why sometimes I'm feeling down. It's no wonder why sometimes I'm feeling under, I gotta keep my faith alive, until love is found.

Families totally bashed apart. When the father dies, the love goes with him. The family affection is 3 feet under, deeply buried. Lawyers are happy; the shiva is over - the fighting starts. Five wills start popping up, and the niftar changed his mind 15 times. Brothers stop speaking to each other, cousins banned from each others house. I feel the weight of the world on my shoulder, As I'm getting older y'all people get colder. Most of us only care about money makin, Selfishness got us followin the wrong direction.

On the other hand, if the Rebbes do mistakes, so could we. If the Leader will go to court, so will we. Rebbes fighting, putting us all in shame. Money, honour and some more honour. Korach vechol eidosoi. Calling police and going to court. Bribing gaboyim, paying picture magazines and closing a couple of yeshivas. War for a golden strokes bekitche - that’s why they lose the precious love. If this is what our leaders are, if those are our influential cream of the crop, what do you expect of us? With this world that we living in, People keep on giving in, Makin wrong decisions. Only visions of them livin and Not respecting each other, Deny thy brother. The wars' going on but the reasons' undercover, The truth is kept secret, Swept under the rug, If you never know truth, Then you never know love .

By those lovely litvakkes it isn’t any pinker. Roshei Yeshiva fighting over the frak. The houses in South Africa, the weekly shiur klali and the honour of sitting up front. Fists flying and police chasing; all while the rashbo is being kvetched. Drop the rashbo a minute and find the love. Find it, use it and cherish it. I’m amazed - and terribly shocked - by all the teenage boys still admiring those rabbis. Is it any wonder why their love is lost, too? People killing people dying, Children hurtin you hear them crying. Can you practice what you preach, Would you turn the other cheek? Father Father Father help us, Send some guidance from above, Cause people got me got me questioning, Where is the love?

I gotta keep my faith alive, until love is eventually found.

Ish Chosid Hoyo.

2005-06-05T16:10:00.000+03:00

Viznitser Rebbe.

Once upon a time... Ying is extremely excited. In a couple of minutes he'll be off to the holy Rebbe. The rebbe had an ainikel, and tonight is the Vachnacht. The Rebbe, despite his weakness, will be Fiering the Tish. An hour later, he's finally in the Rebbe's Chotzer. The Cheider has just finished, and all the little kids are running into the Beth Medrash. Men - in black - of all ages are hastily running towards the grand Shul. He is getting more and more excited! Soon he'll be seeing the bright face of his rebbe, soon he'll be shaking his holy hands. "Ven Kimt de rebbe Arain?" he impatiently asks, eagerly waiting for the big moment.

Ying can't be bothered shleping to the Rebbe. What's the big deal of a Vachnacht? The white ostrich delivers one every couple of months. He feels distanced. Distanced from the holiness of the Rebbe. He doesn't want to go, doesn't want to feel alone. Save the screaming and fighting, tonight he's off to the rebbe.

He climbs onto the high parentches. His friends slowly help him up onto the stands. A large hush falls onto the crowd - The Rebbe Is Do! The music is on full blast, and the parentches are dancing lively. 'Kol rino viyeshio', they all sing united, 'the rebe zol leben a mazel tov'. The whole place looks like one large waving black carpet.

God almighty! Look at all those boys on the parentches! All climbing. pushing and fighting just to get a tiny glimpse of the rebbe. The music is actually pretty good. Oh look! The rebbe is here. Wow! Look at that shining gold beketche! Pure silk. He wonders what a rebbe does with all the money. Ying would join the dancing - but doesn't feel comfortable. He doesn't feel at home.

Everyone is joining the Rebbe's simcha with such joy and pleasure as if it's their own. The rebbe starts clapping rhythmically his hands, all the chassidim follow. The rebbe gets up and they all join hands. The music pumps up, the singing loudens and the dancing intensifies. One can feel the ecstasy in the air.

He looks around, scanning all the black-hatted chassidim. He doesn't understand; how come they are as happy as if it where their own simcha? Maybe they are just faking the happiness? Maybe this is all a show? And look at the kids. Naively believing that the rebbe is almost God. On the other hand - maybe he is really holy, and it's all not just an act...

The crowd is once again hushed - the rebbe starts speaking. Everyone freezes, trying to understand his smart words, trying to absolve his great wisdom. Ying pushes himself forwards; maybe he might hear some of the holy words that the rebbe is whispering. The rebbe's face, so pure. The holiness, sweetness and brightness that shines from his face, touches ying's heart.

He feels disconnected. Ying doesn't see anything in common with the chassidim, nor with the rebbe. They are all so holy, so innocent. His heart stays untouched, unchanged.

The large fish slowly makes it's way from the rebbe's table, and everyone starts pushing their way to it. He manages to grab a tiny piece of sherayim. Everyone bentches, and the rebbe leaves to his house, followed by all the chassidim, with happy sing and lively dance. Ying gets back to Jerusalem, proud of belonging to his rebbe's army. He says shema with real devotion and concentration. Hi head hits the pillow, falls asleep and is deep in his dreams of becoming one day - like his rebbe.

You crazy? Ying push and get dirty just for a piece of fish? Nothing will happen if he wont taste some sherayim. He leaves the place feeling alone. He has lost his rebbe, the rebbe lost him. Nothing in common, it's just not his place. Anymore.

I am astonished at how much I changed in just one year.

Tagged!

2005-05-29T22:15:00.000+03:00

I have been tagged. Inspired by Yiddishe Mamme, both Lost Spirit and Shevy want me to practise 5 casual acts of pure kindness. Five times two is ten, but I’m sure they’ll forgive me. They could add a kindness on their starchart.

1. This morning I happily prepared some nice breakfast for my hungry brother. Nice of me, no? Well, he didn’t really mention anything, but who cares. I did it for Yiddishe Mamme, not for him.
2. Just walked over to that pretty girl and told her how stunning she looks. A smile from here till Timbuktu, I think I made her day. So father, so son.
3. There where hundreds of people pushing and fighting to get onto that bus to Meron. I shtipt and pushed my way on and kept the seat on my left ‘Tafus’. My friend wanted a seat . Some guy didn’t seem too pleased and started a whole scene. The second he opened his loud gob, I opened mine. I yelled at him, like never before. You needed to see him curse his head off! Didn’t his mamma teach him some manners? He finished yelling at the top of his loungs and finally got off the bus. I didn’t punch his teeth out. Kind of me, isn’t it?
4. Some day last week, at like 12.30 I was outside shul and an 18 year old shababnik zoomed by. He gets off his stunning Yamaha motorbike and wants to put on tefilin, so I eagerly took mine off and let him use them.
5. Handed a couple of coins in the desperate hand of an old beggar in Geula. I kindly smiled at him, and wished him all the best.

Phew! Mission accomplished. I know have the honor to tag The Clown of Blog, The King of Blog and The Freshman of Blog. Good luck brave and kind men!

Next assignment; CosmicX tagged me. Cosmic, here goes:

If I could be an innkeeper… I would make sure to keep my kretshme open every Motze Shabbos. Especially in the winter, when it’s freezing cold outside. Just incase the Baal Shem Tov would pop by.

If I could be a missionary… I would build a large house in the shape of the 770 one. Then I would put a massive yellow moshiach flag blow by the window.

If I could be a world famous blogger… Grrr. I am a world famous blogger.

If I could be an athlete… Pass.

If I could be a professor… I would teach biology class in Beis Yaakov.

Phew. Another one accomplished. Yiddishe Mamme, Lost Spirit and Shevy - revenge is ever so sweet. Enjoy your new asignment!

Connection Lost.

2005-05-24T23:23:00.000+03:00

Lag Ba'omer bonfire in Meron.

Meron - The little hill up north in the Land of Israel. For one day a year, a quiet village is transformed into a lively and busy city. Thousands flock annually to the holy tomb of the Tanna R’ Shimon Bar Yochai. The whole place is totally chock-a-block. Everyones neighbor will literally be spending Lag Ba’Omer praying, crying and dancing in the Galil Mountains. The whole place is one huge balagan. Chai Rottel Inc. has put up drinking stands all over the place, thousands of pilgrims praying and proud Papa’s carrying their 3 year old zeeskaiten happily on their shoulders.

Everyone thinks I’m crazy; I can’t‎ be bothered going to Meron. It’s a 3 hour bus shlep, coming back to Jerusalem at four am. I can’t be bothered running around, through all the pushing and geshtiperst and making sure not to stray off the glat-mahadrin men-only path. Little Yingele is not excited to see the Beyaner Rebbe light the gigantic bonfire, and he won’t feel comfortable dancing kadatchkes with the Toldos Aaron Chasidim. Indeed, there are a few cool parties, markets and barbeque's at the bottom of the hill, but there’s no big chance that I’ll be joining them.

“Yingele,” they tell me, “just go to Meron. You’ll feel a connection with your God.” A connection with God – that’s what it’s all about. I see. But what exactly is this ‘connection’ then? How does it feel? And what will happen if I will indeed experience it? I question if it will change me into a better and happier Yingele, or will it just fill me with regret and disappointment. This ‘relationship’ isn’t about sitting on the windowsill, gazing smilingly at the twinkling stars. Is it? Anyways, even if I do ‘feel’ that aliyah, history has already proven; it won’t last for too long. The next morning I’ll be little Yingele once again. So what’s the point? Connection what. Connection how. Connection where. Connection lost.

Maybe it’s just a feeling that one has when he follows Gods orders. Or it’s just something that makes you yearn for His words. I have no clue what this bond with God is, so I have no indication that I ever felt it. I’m not convinced that I ever did feel this heavenly relationship. I may not know what to dial, or He might not be picking up. I didn’t pay my bills, so maybe He just cut my line off. This Lag Ba’omer I might attempt one more redial. We’ll see who picks up, we'll see how long I stay on the line.

Medinat Mishtarah!

2005-05-17T23:57:00.000+03:00

Demonstrators block a motorized police on a Jerusalem street.

Our entire Police State was totally paralyzed for 5 full hours yesterday afternoon. Hundreds of angry demonstrators blocked all major crossroads throughout the whole country. Police had raised the national alert level to Level 3 -- just one stage below a general state of emergency. The Mizrachnikes and Mitnachalim always tryed getting the frum Chareidim to go out and protest with them. For various reasons - which are so full of the regular filthy politics - they never joined forces. But this time, it was different. There was a secret ingredient filling those busy roads, packed with honking motorists. The secret that will awaken Sharon from his stubborn fantasies. The secret that brought all the Chareidim out of Me'ah Shearim. Yesterday, there was Action.

We where all standing at Knisat Lair. (The main entrance - and exit - to and from Jerusalem) 200 teens already got arrested. Arrested I said? I meant dragged and pulled, cruelly pushed and pressed into the tiny meter by meter cages, that fill the especially designed for Police Buggys. As far as my eyes could reach, I see cars. The traffic seems to be endless. Through the dark smoke we saw the black motor bikes coming towards us. Run! Run! Run! We all sprint away. Five minutes later, we return. A policeman tries dragging a 14 year old girl away. She pushed and screamed. She won.

The road is back open, the cars are literally moving inch by inch. Many wave orange flags through their windows. Yehudi Lo Megaresh Yehudi is echoing through the whole fighting field. Our orange army is getting wild. We all grab the metal barriers and block the street once again. Within seconds the police are chasing us. We run into the buildings, parks and gardens. The black motorbikes are chasing us. Brutally slapping, kicking kids. Young innocent kids, just standing quietly on the pavement and enjoying the action.

It's getting dark. Police are still there. The orange posters, flags and banners are proudly blowing through the air. The chanting starts again. Yehudi Lo Megaresh Yehudi, Yehudi Lo Megaresh Yehudi keeps on being shouted. All of us are singing, screaming and booh'ing. Within minutes the German Horses arrive. They chase us. Heavy geared police, wearing helmets and bullet proof shirts, large wooden clubs in their hands. Horses on horses. Brutally running around wild, slapping and beating everyone they could hit. Nazi, Nazi is now being shouted through the streets. Cat chases mouse, policeman chases kid. The sweat is dripping down our forehead, running like never before. Throwing stones and blocking traffic.

Towards midnight the place starts emptying. We all made our ways back home. 300 of our friends where arrested, and cruelly kept in very difficult conditions. Yet this morning they where all dancing lively and singing happily while entering the Masyahu Jail. They where asked to sign not to participate in any other rally, and they would be let free. Guess how many signed. Exactly, not one.

"One who breaks an unjust law must do so openly, lovingly, and with a willingness to accept the penalty. I submit that an individual who breaks a law that conscience tells him is unjust and who willingly accepts the penalty of imprisonment in order to arouse the conscience of the community over its injustice, is in reality expressing the highest respect for law." Yes, that's Martin Luther King Jr. speaking. Brave prisoners, my hat of to you all!

We have won. Sharon will finally open his stubborn eyes and face the harsh reality; His country will turn upside down, inside out. He'll grab the first possible oppurtunity, and he'll delay the pullout. Delay, forget and cancel. That's the plan. War has been declared, now let the action begin!

Me'ah Filthy She'arim

2005-05-15T15:54:00.000+03:00

Please don't be misled by the exaggerated title. Most of Me'ah Shearim's inhabitants are really nice people. Hasidim, full of kindness, happiness and holiness. The many open guesthouses and all the free-for-all kitchens are just a tiny proof of the tens of non-profit gemachim that are ran by the masterminds of Geulah. It's a real shame I needed to adjust my title just because of a rotten minority.

The sun is boiling hot, yet a nice and calm spring breeze is blowing the papers and dust of the streets. As I walk between all the black-hatted, long peyesd Hasidim with no glasses on (some ultra orthodox men take their glasses off on the street, so not to see anything untsniusdik), I spot the countless large billboards decorating Jerusalem's noisy and busy avenues. For a short moment I stand still, glimpsing at the posters of all shapes and colours. As my innocent brown eyes slowly scan the bold letters, my blood slowly starts to boil.

Between the ridiculous yellow papers advertising a new cure for gas and constipation problems, I am informed by big capitalised oiseyes that there is a new ban doing it's way round town. Amnan Yitzchak is a new hazard for Judaism! His crime: In one of his magnificent public speeches he made a sarcastic comment, making fun of the ridiculous kosher stamped cellphones. There you go. The great Amnan Yitzchak a Shaigetz! He made fun of Kosher Mobiles Inc.

Those pashkevilen, as they are called in Yiddish slang, are very educational. Today they taught me some mussar! You know why Egged Bus Number 2 exploded two years ago? A bus crammed with kids, mamma's and papa's blew up on it's way to the Kotel. Well, according to this Jerushalmi poster, it happened as a punishment for an unacceptable pirtze that is ruining Judaism. That Bus Number 2 wasn't a mehadrin bus. The men didn't sit in the front, separated from the women who sit at the back. Need I say more?

Of to the next poster. Between all the Achareimois-Kedoishim-Emoir Levaya posters, there is a notice from the Vaad Hachinuch. Beware! Take care of your holy kids, they shouldn't participate in the 'impure' parties, that our 'enemies', those 'evil' tsionim are organising on this 'terrible' day. Talking about Yom Hoatsmaout, there was a special Tisha Bav ceremony in a couple of shuls in Jerusalem. These nutters are also the ones responsible for the 'Jews aren't Zionists' campaign. You live in Zion, you're a Zionist. You don't like it? So why don't you just go and pack all your Al Hagule Veal Hatmure books (Satmar book against Zionism) and get the hell out of here!

Radio Kol Chai, the Orthodox radio station that broadcasts solely hasidic music, is according to the Badatz, and I quote "Worse than any missionary group, this hazardous and evil radio is turning our next generation into chiloinim". Okaaaayyyy. I don't listen to Kol Chai anymore. The Rabbis banned it. Now I enjoy Radio Jerusalem 101.

Oh well, that's part of being back. I thank the Lord that I'm not part of their messed up crowd. Maybe it's not such a bad idea afterall, to take my glasses off when walking through a Jerusalem boulevard.

A Mile at a Time.

2005-05-05T23:47:00.000+03:00

Holidays are over and the vacation is coming towards a sunny end. I just came home from the traveling agency and got my ticket back to Ben Gurion. The three month long summer zman is less then a week away. Before I'll be able to scream 'Help' I'll already be in Israel, boiling hot and covered in sweat. Back to Israeli teenage life, back to the noisy streets packed with crammed Egged busses and smoking pressure cookers driving white Skoda cabs. Back to Malchei Yisrael, Geula and the Kotel Plaza, and lehavdil Burgers Bar, Sbarro and El Gaucho.

It wasn't raining when Noah built his ark, I got to plan ahead. There are a couple of options to pick from on the wonderful yet confusing, bitter-sweet menu called life.

For this zman's new resolution, I can return to the temimusdige path. The path I so blindly, yet so nicely used to follow just a couple of years ago. I could start sitting on those wooden benches in the beis medrash, sitting by an open gemoro all day long. No faking; just simple, real and genuine learning. I'll start putting tefilin on every single morning, and I'll start praying with a minyan. Praying nicely, at normal times. Not like the 3 minute afternoon shacharis I'm so used to. No more town, no more girls and no more movies. Goodbye internet, goodbye MTV. I wont hang out in town any more, I wont party with the old gang any longer.

On the other hand, how much I preach and cry about it only being a tiny dot away, I still haven't yet managed to convince myself entirely. One voice in my young head tells me to stop, the other innocently whispers "Yingele, just go ahead". I don't think I want to leave the internet, say goodbye to the girls and hand in my cellphone. Yet.

So should I get onto that plane with a prepared mission of partying my head off all summer? Should I decide, here and now, to have a blast this zman? I can continue - not learning properly, not praying and not changing. I can continue to go where I want, do what I want and dress how I want. I can take every day like it's my last - in the goyshe sense.

But, will all this running be worth it? If I'll just follow my desires, without thought, without a pinch of responsibility... Will it have the snowball effect? Will I be so blind and drunk from our worldly pleasures, I wont have a second to think about me, myself, I and my life? My mind wont be mine anymore, my self-control would be gone. I will feel totally lost. I will be totally lost. Besides, it's not right for me to put my lugagge on that belt, with the mental image of drugs, sex and rock 'n' roll.

The more I think about it, the scarier it becomes. Sometimes I feel like I'm being dragged down, totally confused - living life in a wild and powerfull whirlpool. I think I'll just use Dominic Toretto's wise words. I live my life a quarter mile at a time, nothing else matters, for those ten seconds or less, I'm free.

The Ridiculous Measuring Stick.

2005-04-27T19:08:00.000+03:00

I know it's long past the Purim season, but I was ever so bored Pesach afternoon, I was actually going through the large pile of Mishpacha magazines. In the Purim edition I came across some rubbish article entitled 'Purim Rav Customs' (or something in that area). How much I tried, I couldn't ignore these burning words piercing through my young mind. Here goes:

"In Ponevezh, there's no official Purim event in the yeshiva at all. There's no Purim Rav, and no band on Purim night. This is the only yeshiva where there's no band in the beis medresh on any day of the year: not Purim, not hakofos sheniyus, not even for a simchas beis hashoevah. The only day when singing and dancing is allowed in the beis medrash of ponevezh is on Simchas Torah. The abstention from music is so sweeping in Ponevezh that even the shabbos zmiros are prohibited, aside from one ancient tune.

The reason stems from a famous discourse of the Mashgiach Harav ---- ztz'l: "We must ensure that the standard of the bachurim in yeshiva should be set only by their learning capabilities. Therefore, we cannot give expression to boys who know how to sing. The only measuring stick for quality in Ponevezh is a boy's ability to learn."

This, dear boys and girls, is yet another reason why so many yeshivaboys run out of those Yeshiva walls. Under the black Borsalino, often hides a depressed neshomele. Depressed, down and lonely neshomele. he is down because he isn't acknowledged by many of the other boys. Besides his few mates he stands alone. All alone. Not everyone has a fast brain, yet only those gifted are to be recognised?! Well, if that's what the Rabbi thinks, fine with me. But please don't come and blame those who don't follow the yellow brick road.

This, dear boys and girls, is the reason why so many teens who work, are labeled second class. When they reach marriageable age, their problems start. Life becomes tough... Why? What have they miss done? Won't they be able to love and take care of your daughter as good, if not better, as the sit-and-learn yeshiva boy? Has middos then got the exact value of naught pence? Learning, learning and some more learning. No middos, no kindness, nothing. What is a boy who knows shas by heart, if that heart is one of stone? Using ponevezh's 'only measuring stick' a delivery boy with a heart of gold is gornisht mit nisht. But, that's just what I think and, after all, I'm nothing but a little Yingele.

Oh well, cest la vie, and I can't change it. Hershey Park, Tiferes Shloime or wherever you all are, hope you are all enjoying every second.

The Positive Dot.

2005-04-20T22:46:00.000+03:00

The dark pavements are loaded with overstuffed garbage bags, the old sheimos has been brought to shul, and the paper-covered cupboards have been stocked up with a lifetime supply of kosher-for-passover nosh, crisps and chocolate. You can't find any trace of chamets in the entire house, and the matzas have just been picked up from the matzas bakery. As a yeshivaboy I remember one of the mashgichim getting up, walking humbly (?) towards the large wooden shtender and delivering this speach:

All breads, bagels, cookies and pretzels aren't to be eaten during these 7 holy days. Your double whopper will have to be enjoyed between two hard and crispy matzas. The difference between matza and chamets is very small. Actually, they only differ by a small dot. The Hebrew word matza is spelled mem, tsadik, ches. Chamets is spelled with a mem, tsadik and a hey. The dissimularity is just a small dot. One single dot changes the matzah into chamets, the good into evil. Bochurim! One can change from a true ben torah into the biggest ausvurf, resulting from a dot. You all should never be too sure of yourselves. thinking that you will be good forever. Work, work and keep on working, or you will stray and fall back. Fall behind, into the bottomless pit. Once you are so deep down, all hope is most definately lost. Boys, watch out and take care! One small sin can change you all from holy matzah into bad chomets, forever. Every step that you take, think it over first. One wrong step and you might be totally lost. You are all a bunch of fools, exchanging life with death, and that just for a plain dot. Remember the power of a single sin.

Now here is my version;

Kids, the difference between chamets, symbolising evil and matza, symbolising good, is just a small dot! Even though our young hands are dirty with sin, even though it seems that all hope is indeed lost, don't worry. Don't worry, all we need is a small dot. Even though we feel like a piece of chamets, please remember; the nice and good matzah is just a tiny dot away. We have strayed, wa have been there, we have done that. We where lost, lost in the dark woods of this mad, mad world. We where drunk, drunk with the pleasures of this sick, sick world. Remember! It isn't in high heavens, it isn't accros the long ocean. It is just a mere dot. Even though we sunk, still let us swim back up, a dot at a time. There is always hope, there is never a too late. Please, please don't forget, a dot can change us from chamets into matzah. The good person we all want to be, is afterall, only a dot a way.

Hope you have a nice and inspiring Yom Tov.

Family Portrait

2005-04-18T11:56:00.000+03:00

In our family portrait we look pretty happy, We look pretty normal, let's go back to that. In our family portrait we look pretty happy, Let's play pretend, act like it goes naturally.

It's early Friday night, shul just finished and the seven of us are sitting by the nicely laid shabbos table. Fresh golden challos, tasty gefilte fish and the silver 12 branched candlestick are rested on the perfectly white tablecloth. Daddy dressed in full Shabbos garb, Mummy's white tichel covering her light blond hair. Together we all sing Sholom Aleichem, welcoming the Shabbos angels to our lovely home. Daddy makes kiddush, we wash our hands and let the meal start.

With the meal on it's way, so too start the... Yes, those feared for fights. Daddy screaming, and Mummy answering back. The f-word and the b-words flying freely around. Arguing about this, and arguing about that. This is wrong, that is wrong. Momma please stop cryin, I can’t stand the sound, Your pain is painful and its tearin' me down, I hear glasses breakin as I sit up in my bed I told dad you didn’t mean those nasty things you said. This is all your fault, and that is yours. Why is this like this, and why is that like that. Yelling, screaming and fighting. Fighting about the most silly and unimportant things. Ok, maybe not that small, but certainly not worth the fights, neither the tears... Daddy please stop yellin, I can’t stand the sound, Make mama stop cryin, cuz I need you around. My mama she loves you, no matter what she says its true, I know that she hurts you, but remember I love you, too.

Insulting in-laws, and angry at neighbours. Daddy yells, Mummy answers angrily back. The kids just add water to the burning oil, by sticking up for him and then for her. By answering chutspedik back, they just worsen the pain. Adding salt to the open wounds. Why can't they just sit still and be silent? Why can't they just be quiet and ignore? "Yes, you are right. I understand." are alien to their soft lips... On the other hand, what can one expect from 7 to 15 year olds? Young innocent kids; I shouldn't criticise. You fight about money, bout me and my brother, And this I come home to, this is my shelter. It ain’t easy growin up in World War III, Never knowin what love could be, you’ll see.

Between the fights, my dossier keeps coming up. They remind me little Yingele's dark history. His mistakes, his blunders and the trouble he had caused. How much he wasted, how bad he had become. The past seven years flash through their eyes. Maybe they are all right after all... Maybe I am the one to be blamed. Maybe it is all my fault, I ruined this family. Our house used to be the most loving, calm home. It changed. It changed when I started mucking up in high school... Since then, it has never been the same. Am I the one who made my father into that person? Am I the one who put my parents through all the suffering? Am I the one guilty for the pain, for the tears? I can't take the pain, I can't take the guilt... I ran away today, ran from the noise, ran away. Don’t wanna go back to that place, but don’t have no choice, no way.

Can we work it out? Can we be a family? I promise I’ll be better, Mommy I’ll do anything. Can we work it out? Can we be a family? I promise I’ll be better. I’ll be so much better, I’ll do everything right. I’ll be your little boy forever, I promise I'll change.

the Yingelech.

2005-04-15T15:40:00.000+03:00

Ladies and Gentleman. Welcome to todays special lesson: Yeshivaboys Uncovered! Sitting around in the Beis Medrash, I noticed something really unique! I realised how many different species God created. All variations, look-a-likes and imitations of the, once original, Mr. Macho. My little and innocent brown eyes spotted a whole bunch of them; the Rebbelech, Frummer-Than-You fakers and bluffers, Frummy-Krummies, Shgotzim, Kofrim and Yingelech. Let's take an adventerous and exciting tour. Let us explore this nice, and sometimes not so nice, boychick-world out there.

Well, we'll start our ride with the group I call the Rebbelech. This group, besides being a tiny minority, is most probably a dying species. During my wonderful career posing as a yeshiva boy, and in the countless yeshivas I popped in - and eventually popped out- I have only met a couple of them. The Rebbelech are the nice, real chassidim. Emmesdike yidden; no bluff, no bullshit. They know what's right, they know what's wrong. They don't care what others think, what others do. They trust in God wholeheartedly, they serve Him with great warmth and love. A young, but real and honest Rebbelle.

Yuck! I just spotted a faker. These disgusting Frummer-Than-You fakers can usually be spotted by their unique way of praying. They shokel their brains out, look like they are having a boxing match with God. Moving their brain boxes here there and everywhere. They frown and squeeze their eyes tightly. Then they peep to see if their pain is worth the gain. Can anyone see me? Wonder how their praying-act would look like when they are alone in their bedrooms...

Frummy-Krummies. No sheitels, no mobile phone and no strawberries. Whatever. It's all in the name, so let me stop right here.

This nasty bunch are most definitely the majority. They are pure bullshit-yidden. As long as they chap sherayim and dip themselves everyday, (And if he happens to be Litvish, insert; As long as he kvetches a Rashbo...) they are all guaranteed a VIP pass straight to heaven. Anyone who doesn't dress, look or think as crooked as they do, is a complete and worthless ausvurf. They wont talk to you. Don't blame them, just be a little don lekaf zechus; they are embarrassed to stand next to such a billige menuval.

It's the 'God loves me, hates you' philosophy. This cult is a very Orthodox and strickt stream, descending directly from the Frummer-Than-You sect. These are people with no heart, no middos and no honesty. To keep it plain and simple: they are full of bull. In my Websters they are listed under the Shgotzim. Definition of a shaigetz: low, fake and cold. Well here you have them.

That small chevre that give up everything, family, garb and belief; The Kofrim. They are sometimes so smart, yet they still believe in big-bangs, multi-million-year evolution, we-descend-from-monkeys Darwin theory etc etc. Naah; they don't really believe in all that crap. This is how Shlomo explains it, and I couldn't of done it any better. 'I think Orthosceptics don't want to believe. They are not looking for proof of the existence of Hashem, they are looking for an easy way out. Their education is not missing proof, it might be missing the the love of Torah, Mitzvos and Avodas Hashem that should have been an essential part of their upbringing.' Exactly.

Last, and most definitely not least here we are. We believe. Allot. We try to be good, we try to grow and become a mentsh. We fail, we fall, but we try to get back up. We take two steps on that long long ladder, and we fall one back down. We say what others only think, and we do what others only want. We don't care what others might say, what others might do. The Shgotsim is what we are usually called. We live our lives. day by day, yet we know what's right, we know what's wrong. Even if we stumble and fall in Yiddishkeit, we still aim to be human. Little Yingele is part of this crowd. I call us, the Yingelech.

Perfectly Square or Perfectly Warped

2005-04-11T16:44:00.000+03:00

New Square - I'm sure you all have heard of this lovely little shtetl 35 miles north of New York City. Actually, New Square is pretty famous. It's wellknown for these three things; the birthplace of countless drop-outs, the holiest village on this planet and home to the talking fish. Did I say holy? Now, I didn't exactly mean holy. Let me refrase it: the disconnected village.

The large welcome board one will spot as his four-wheeler enters this little ghetto boldly reads a ban on swimming costumes, short sleeves and short skirts aka untsniusdike clothing. The streets are separated, men and women. Mister needs to walk on the left side while Miss is pushing the stroller on the right. Most stores have separate hours; men shop on one time of the day, women on the other. Besides the few cleaners and a couple of exceptions, New Square is almost Goyim-free. So there aren't too many yobbo's terrorizing those calm streets at 1 am. A whole town with not a single not-so-kosher advertisement board. Not a single newspaper-kiosk. You want a Playboy? Enjoy your 55 minutes ride till the next little Esso-shop. Playboy? Sorry, I meant a New York Times, my mistake. You all get the picture? It's a really really kosher town, no Hugo Boss posters, no ADSL-connections and no New York Times... Holy with a capital H.

Yet, many of the New Square Yingelech and Meidelech are partying their heads off. The drop-out rate in Skvere Shtetl is unbelievable. Every family has atleast one kid, cousin or nephew who went off. Gone off to discover that forbidden world.

Some kids out there are deprived. A silly example; little kids who hardly get nosh and candy at home. Have you ever seen what happens when they do get hold of a Bissli-bag? They fress it up like they haven't eaten for a month. In the Golden Times our cousins used to come and play by us. I call it Golden - we still had a tv at home. All our schoolfriends and young family always where dying to come and play by us. We where the social hit in town! They came, didn't take off their coates, kept their mouth shut all the time and glued themselves to the screen. They didn't move an inch! Just imagine a sunny Sunday afternoon with a whole bunch of shy kiddies sitting on the hard floor like zombies, staring at that stupid screen... Sad. Very sad.

At the back of my harddisk I remember some story our melamed in cheider told us. King Solomon, if I'm not mistaken, wanted to kill some naughty soldier. The Smart and Mighty King didn't have anything to accuse him with, so he thought of a smart and sly plan. He ordered onto that particular soldier, that he may not pass the ancient walls of Jerusalem. He may not leave Jerusalem once, or else. "Or else what?" protested the courageous soldier. "Or else you will be hanged", came the strickt reply. For one to spend all of his life in Jerusalem is possible. It might not be easy at some moments, but it is nevertheless possible. For one to stay in Jerusalem with the knowledge that he may not leave, is simply impossible. You have guessed it; the soldier left Jerusalem and the King had him hanged.

Why be so tight and strict with kids? Hasn't history proven the opposite? Have we then not learned from our mistakes? Give kids some freedom, give them some space and let them breath. Keep up the pressure, and see what it does. Will your kids be able to stand up to it, or will they buckle and warp under the stress? (last paragraph © 2005 Frummer)

Home Sweet Home

2005-04-07T11:32:00.000+03:00

Saturday night I’ll be comfortably (?) sitting in a Boeing 747, as Pesach will be spent back at our humble abode, partying with all the family. It's full house; Daddy, Mummy, brothers, sisters, cute nieces and sweet nephews. How much fun! Pesach at our quarters is really enjoyable. Hearing all the little kids sing the Ma Manishtana making parents all proud, everyone standing on chairs, fighting who will say which Dvar Torah. Those famous “Hey! I wanted to say that one, it’s not fair!” sentences rumbling all the way through the long dining room. The bickering about who shook the table, who caused the wine to spill. Oh, and let us not forget the exciting Afikoman-War. Last year my 4 year old sister hid the stolen Afikoman in the Chometzdike Microwave. Now she's five, i wonder what other creative ideas she has in stock for us.

I'm sure you all agree – being home is really nice. You arrive in the shtetl; finally back home. Brother or Sister come pick you up and drive back to your own house, back to your own room. You sleep in your warm and cozy bed, surrounded with those brick walls you where brought up by. Eating different food, having a different day plan. It’s really nice having a break from the regular routine. Three weeks of living a different life; seeing other people, strolling through other streets and having a complete different schedule. Being home – hanging out with my younger brothers, biking with sisters and visiting family and friends. Sounds rather nice and happy, doesn’t it?

Well... Here is the other, not so bright, side of the coin. On the family portrait we all seem so happy. How it’s all going now, I wonder… I haven’t been home for the past 5 month. Latest update was Mummy being under allot of stress lately. Hoping that there won’t be too many fights in the next month… Now, I can’t disappoint my parents, can I? So, needless to say, little Yingele will have to drag himself out of bed very early every single morning. Davening will have to take a full hour of shokeling and all. He will have to watch his tongue, eyes and ears. MTV, see you and hear you in a month. He will need to take care – nothing should accidentally slip out of his mouth. He needs to remember – don’t answer back, don’t scream and don’t fight.

A faker. That is who I always hated and that is what I always feared turning into. And here I am, being the biggest faker of all. A liar, that is what I am. Pretending to pray nicely and faking to learn… Performing the perfect tsadikel play... I can’t fake, I won’t fake. I’m going to need to stand in front of that prayer book a long sixty minutes and I’ll need to sit in front of a Gemara every single day. If I’m already doing it, at least let it be slightly real. I won’t just lazily move my lips and mumble the words. I will try and have a little concentration, concentrate on the meaning of some words. I’m saying it, so let me say it properly.

I just wish that at home all will indeed be fine. No fights, no screams and no tears. I will try my best and will behave my best. I’ll try to make my parents proud of their Yingele... My fingers are crossed, and hoping that home, indeed, is a sweet home…

Go to Hell.

2005-04-03T01:01:00.000+03:00

Ring ring. My brother-in-law gets a surprise phone call. It's our lovely uncle from Kiryat Sefer on the line. Yes, that holy little place called Kiryat Sefer; home to the Frummie-Krummies. Okay, to make a long story short, Mr. NiceGuy informs my brother that he should tie me to a leash. My uncle claims that some guy spotted little Yingele in Town, wearing red jogging and talking to a girl. Waaaah! Lil' rebel that I am. And stupid snitch that he is.

Uncle, since when has it become your business what color trousers I wear? I understand, you surely mean it for my good. Don't you, huh? All snitchers are wonderful, good-hearted people. They always mean well. Dear Uncle, moichel toives! I don't need, neither want your stupid favors! Who do you think you're bullshitting? Maybe you think that there's one tiny braincell in anyone's head thinking that you meant it only for my good? I don't think so... If you would indeed only have my goodness in mind, if the only reason you snitched on me was just because you love me. Then why didn't you come to me, my dear Uncle? I (usually) don't bite. Maybe, just maybe, you think that my Brother can help me more than I can help myself... After all, he is the one taking care of me.

Well, dear Uncle. have you then forgotten; A person is his best teacher. I am the first one who can help myself. My life depends solely and entirely on me. Yingele, and Yingele alone is responsible for his actions. His good actions... and his bad ones. So please, next time, if what you want is helping me, just come straight to the perpetrator of the crime. Me.

We are all nothing but creatures. Creatures of emotion, creatures bustling with prejudices and motivated by pride and vanity. Our subconscious needs that feeling of importance that we so deeply crave for. John D. Rockefeller received his feeling of importance by donating millions to charities around the globe. One of the most notorious criminals at the heart of gangland Chicago, Al Capone, received his portion of importance through all his illegal activities. And you, dear Uncle, you feed your Pride by snitching. You get your feeling of importance by telling others what to do.

My uncle isn't a mean person. I have no doubt; he loves me. I do not know how much, but surely he doesn't hate me. He isn't trailing me and he isn't trying to get me into any trouble. My uncle is only human. But please, I beg you. I don't need any more trouble. Telling me that I am wrong behind my back, only causes resentment. Only causes rebelliousness. The instant I first heard that he called, I got so angry, I was ready to run down to Town and play the little rebel. Then I stopped. I thought. No, I will not alter any second of my life because of him. I am not going to break any rules, just because of him. He isn't worth it. They aren't worth it.

My uncle is a jerk. All snitchers are jerks. But I have learned. I will not ruin my life just because of them. I will not give into them. Yingele is still young, but one day he will be ever so strong. And to you, dear Snitchers world wide. Please, just leave me alone and go to hell...

A Whole Year Purim.

2005-03-29T18:34:00.000+02:00

Now wouldn't that be a blast, celebrating Purim 365 days a year. I don't mean literally celebrate. The Megilla, MiShloach Manot and the Gifts to the Poor will still be kept exclusively for that one day. Oh, and Ad De Lo Yoda will also be reserved for Adar the 15th. We don't want to burden Twersky's Alcoholics Anonymous help center too much and you'll have something nice to look forward to.

Purim's joy, ecstasy and freedom, that's what we should celebrate a gantz johr. The cheerfulness we all run around with on those short twenty four hours. Where is it the whole year? Purim (most normal people) don't get angry. We all have patience, we don't rush, we don't care. Compared to any other Sunday afternoon, on Purim we don't get antagonized as quickly, knowing that it's, after all, a blissful day. The other guy is anyway drunk, so what's the point yelling?

Freedom and carelessness. Imagine that wonderful feeling of freedom. Being able to do whatever, whenever and wherever you like. No need to worry a split second about what others might say, what others might think. Being able to wear whatever you fancy, without thinking how others will judge you. Wake up in the morning and decide to wear those red-Aladdin-hats, just go ahead and wear it. Life would be so much simpler, so much nicer.

Everyone would just live their own life. Not trying to imitate anyone, not trying to pretend being someone else. Everybody wouldn't pretend being Somebody, and would just be Nobody but Themselves. Now that would be so much fun! A whole world fakers-free. Thinking of it, I might establish a new sect; the Purimholics.

Tantz!!

2005-03-24T12:46:00.000+02:00

Fellow Bloggers! It's Purim!! Get on your feet and start dancing! Shehechiyonu Vekimonu Vehigiyonu Lazman Haze. We are all great, we have all what we crave for, all our needs our given to us. All on a golden platter. We have the Strongest and Only Power loving us who helps us with every single baby-step that we take, He makes sure that we have all that is good for us. Why worry when we have our Master worrying for us? Vehaboiteach Bashem, Afilu Rosho, Chessed Yesoiveveno.

Let us forget all those foolish Rabbis, Yeshivas, Bluffers, Crooks and Liars. Forget about the banned strawberries, banned wigs and kosher cellphones. Should we get all confused and worked up because of them? Should we mess our lovely lives up, just because of them? Naaaah, they aren't worth it. Trust me! This world is so so mad, we can never fix it anyways.

We are healthy, we are well! We are holy and we are pure! Let's rejoice! A splendid life we live, empty of worries, clear of problems. Let us remember those smart words; "Hevel Havolim, Hakol Hevel." Let us stop worrying about all of our difficulties, all of life's bumps. Instead, let's all start spending more time with the things that really matter. The things that really are important, yet we still tend to forget about them. Those things that really matter. Life, family and your children.

Let us all rejoice! Forget about the world and have the time of your life! Don't think about anything and anyone unimportant, just be yourself, and live it up! Have a Happy Happy Purim, and may the happiness and joy continue the whole year, all years till 120.

Diamond in the Rough

2005-03-21T14:30:00.000+02:00

You were born an original, don't die a copy. What a famous saying. But what's the original and what's the copy? Who is the real me, and who is the real you?

A simple Jew was once travelling on a journey. He arrived at a certain town near nightfall, and desperately sought lodgings at the town inn. To his dismay, he learned that there was no room in the inn since a group of soldiers were staying there. He pleaded until the innkeeper let him stay in the room of the General, who was away for the night, on condition that he leave at the crack of dawn. Awakened by the innkeeper while it was still dark outside, the rushed, weary-eyed traveller mistakenly wore one of the Generals uniforms and left. Seeing his military-clad reflection in one of the store windows the simple Jew exclaimed, "That foolish inn keeper woke up the General instead of me!"

We often judge people by how they appear and by what they do. We judge ourselves by how we appear and by what we do. Others judge us in the same way. Tending to forget who and what we really are. Behaving under the” influence" of my surroundings. It isn't the real me hanging out with girls, it isn't the real me watching movies.

Deep deep inside of us, we are all holy, pure and sweet. We just act under the anxiety of our emotions, rather than a true, inner desire to do wrong. So even though we all sinned so much, we hurted pur Father so much, never is it too late to change. It is never to late to polish the diamond in the rough.

The Rebbe Reb Zushe of Hanipoli's holy eyes never saw a complete evil angel. Not one dark devil is fully built. Every Mitsvah that we make, creates a good angel. Every aveiroh, a dark one. According to the completeness of the Mitsva, so too is the wholeness of the Malach. If the mitsva is complete, the angel is complete. No sin has ever been made with a total devotion to the evil, wrong and bad. Even while A Jew is sinning, his pure soul is feeling bad. Deep deep inside all his layers of Gashmius, his Pintele Yid is regretting it. No complete sin, hence no complete angel.

This year Purim, when I will spot a witch, ogre or phantom, I will remember my lesson. It's not an ugly monster carying that basket full of goodies, but a happy and innocent kid. So too, little Yingele, in the end, deep within, he is fine and blessed.

Heavenly Father

2005-03-16T16:44:00.000+02:00

Our corrupt and messed up government, run by Mr. Corrupto himself wants to 'disengage'. Mr. Corrupto aka Mr. Dictator aka Arik Sharon wants to uproot all the Jewish settlements in Yesha. He wants to uproot graves. Graves of kids, in front of their crying mothers. The expulsion of Jews. The expulsion of our siblings.

Those yellow bulldozers smashing Shuls and Yeshivas, while leaving the stunning villas for our fellow cousins to inhabit. Our cousins who love us so much. Imagine Muhammed, the brother of the killer who shot your baby son, is going to live in your house. The house you so carefully built. Each brick carefully placed with so much strength, effort and love. Imagine evil Achmed sleeping in your warm and cosy bed. The same bed your little kids used to run to, frightened by Kassam rockets screeching over their heads. Imagine Ibrahim taking over your dad's lovely greenhouses. Just imagine...

Peace? Now? Never. How foolish it is to believe that this uprooting will bring peace. We have given them everything. We have received nothing. You give a finger, they want a hand. You give a hand, they give you bombs. Besides, it is a well known, yet silenced fact; the disengagement plan will only harm our security and safety. 52 settlements will be the next target for the Palestinians and their deadly missiles. That's without mentioning the Chabadske Rebbes holy words "Giving back land, Pikuach Nefoshos Mamesh".

Our once-upon-a-time hero warrior is leaving us in the bitter cold. Sharon used to be the most far-right person in our country. The most esteemed and respected somebody. He even sent us, encouraged us and pushed us to go and live in those same settlements.Back then he was The Man. Now... Pphhh.

Rabbi Sholom Dovber Volpe spoke with an Israeli policeman who completed a course that prepared him for the Disengagement. Long version of the scary conversation. Short version: What the cruel Nazis didn't do, the barbarous Mishteres Hatsiyonim will finish. OK, I exaggerated, but please do read this. Trust me, it's frightening...

Is it any coincidence that Sharon came up with the Disengagement plan idea the same week the Court blew the lid of his family's fraudulent history? Family Sharon. A twisted family, a corrupt family. A minor factor; the High Court is in leftist hands. You give those left ati-semites what they want, they leave you alone.

The Court isn't the only left crowd out there. So are most of the Israeli media. They all can't stop speaking about the aggressive, violent and wild settlers. How come the media couldn't catch one single shot of does hostile troublemakers? Not a single violent settler.

Rallies, protests and assemblies haven't moved the stubborn donkey an inch. He lost against his own Likud referendum. Not once, but twice. Yet he stays immovable like a corpse: you can hit him, you can knock him to pieces, but you cannot convince him.

Thursday the Knesset is voting on passing the State Budget. If it doesn't pass, we will be in the ballet-boxes this June. Sharon's dictatorship will fall, together with his Amoleik-style wicked plan. Goodbye Sharon, goodbye Juden-rein Gaza.

The Chief Rabbis, Sfardic, Ashkenazic, Mizrachnik and yes, even some single Chassdishe Rebbes (Rebbe, I take my hat off to you) have declared tomorrow, Thursday the 6th of Adar, as a National Day of Fast and Prayer. Our pretty Queen Esther gathered all men, women and kids to pray to our Father in Heaven. He turned Haman's wicked decree to a joy-full one. From a frightened ending, to a happy and blissful life.

This Purim will be a happy happy one! Once again we will have defeated the enemies of our God, Religion, Land and Heritage. יה"ר שהוא שעשה ניסים לאבותינו בימים ההם, הוא יעשה עמנו ניסים וחסדים בזמן

הזה. אמן אמן סלע ועד

Bechadrei HaBloggers

2005-03-15T01:02:00.000+02:00

GGreen left us. He got burnt . Anyone knows what's happening with him? A new blogger, living on a sharp knife, has joined us. Any coinsidence?

Pravda has been dirtying his hands with some FrumTeensMonkeys. Der Alter is trying to make us all sad. C'mon, mishenichnas ador marbim besimcho!! Anyone know what happened to the so called frum one? Poor girl... The Admor HaShaigetz is pravering a rebisteve. Doing it his vay. He even pravers a Melave Malke with stories and all. Shaigetz, are you giving out Knobbel too? The yiddishe mamme decided she will start blogging all about the lovely people she stares at. TheGirl is still sleeping. Can someone please wake her up! Girlie, we miss you!

Frummer wants a BlogRabbi. ReelRabbi to the rescue! Lazer is continuing to send out his beams! Enlighten us, oh great Lazer! Blogger sucks. Commenting system slow, down and all messed up. Oh, Yoidy Lashem Chasdoi, a new Yiddish blogger is shining on our velt.

Bas Torah is all busy with sex, sex and some more sex. The idiots at the Yated have become musicians. And last but most definately not least; Gilgul, welcome to our gedolim-lovers club!

Rabbi Vs. Rebbetzin

2005-03-13T21:56:00.000+02:00

Last night, as I was sitting on the comfortable chairs in the Ramada lobby with my parents, waiting for the stupid fries, I remembered a mid-night discussion we once had in our Yeshiva dorm. I had something stuck in my throat, so let me cough it out. Here goes.

There was a long table full of screeching sem girls. They where all having their time of their lives. A sem night-off to the fancy restaurant, what more could they wish for? Oh, I just forgot a minor detail. Between the giggling 18 year olds I spotted one, dressed in a black hat. With a beard!? Oh, he is the Rabbi. That's how you call them in Sem, Rabbis right?

Now. Leis Maan Depalig that the Rabbis in Sem aren't the Holy of the Holyest Sweetest of the Sweetest, right? I mean, when was the last time you saw a Sem-Rabbi between the Gedolim-pics in Hamodia's center? Huh? These Sem-Rabbis are normal human beings. They aren't Kedoishim, Malochim Elyonim neither. You think he is Ausgearbet? You think he has all his wants and desires fixed up, Betachlis Hashleimus? If so, could I please have his address, I would love to bring him a kvittel! Oh, and maybe he could be my nephews Sandek, this coming Monday morning. (Mazal Tov, only Simchas!)

Now please explain me; how can a Frum Rabbi sit in front of 25 girls all day, speak to those girls all day, educate does girls all day, and not be oiver any lav? I guess they know some trick of the trade. Maybe they can teach it to me, I would love to have the word girl washed out of my mind... I do not have scenes of rape and subduction flying thru my young head at this particular moment. Chas vesholom, the Rosh HaSem surely isn't that bad. But... What was the name of the Heavenly Tanna who got punished when he asked a women for directions? Ok, you are right, God does judge Tsaddikim differently. But still; can he treat Rachel, the petite gorgeous blonde in the same way as he treats Shlomptse? How can he be a fair and erlecher Rabbi, I wonder...

So you might say; it's for chinuch so he has a hetter for all his aveirelech. Eeeum, no. What's wrong having a female teacher and educator? They wont have all the difficulties and problems the male might have inside those high Sem walls. Now forget about Judaism a second. Don't females understand females better than males do? Us males need to read books about the differences between Mars and Venus, but Venus understands Venus. And if males can educate better, why aren't they solely males in Sem. Who needs the other females?!

So how for heavens sake can a Frum male educate Jewish teenage girls? He has such a hard job. He may not have any negieus, he may not flirt, he may not stare, he may not have any cassual chit-chat talk, etc etc. How the hell does he manage?

Now, if I would be right, all the Gedolim would be busy with it. That's not the case. They have more important things, like strawberrys, cell-phones and sience books. I guess they think it's ok. Right? Our Gedolim are no Ketanim, they know what they are doing (Read: banning). So I am wrong. Most definately wrong, I am nothing but a little Yingele. Or am I right? Huh?

Make me want!

2005-03-10T14:29:00.000+02:00

This post is dedicated to my lovely sister and in memory of the fight I so tragically lost last night.

Dearest sister,

I am terribly sorry. Shamefully I must admit, I was totally wrong last night. My behaviour was completely and utterly disgusting.
As I was lying sleeplessly in bed I was trying to recapture the past half hour. How could I behave in such away? Particularly to someone so kind, someone who gives me the world…?Sister, I am sorry. Please forgive me, I am so sorry.

But… some things you should know about me: I don’t like being told stuff. I can’t stand it when someone orders and bosses me around. No one likes being told what to do. It hurts our feeling of self-importance that we so much crave.

There is only one way under high heaven to get anybody to do anything. Just one approach. Make the other person want to do it. Remember there is no other way.

Of course I can make someone want to give me his watch by poking a revolver into his ribs. Of course I can get a short lasting effect (if any), by using negative criticism and forcing.

I know that you care for me and love me, but please, still show it to me. If you just would ask me nicely and friendly to shut down the computer. If you would be reasonable and give me another 10 minutes. If you would make me want to shut it down, you would have gained much more, wouldn’t you? Next time you don’t want me to hang out and next time you want me to go to sleep, please try and make me want to do it… It’s very hard indeed and takes allot of thinking, but please try your best. We only do things if we want to.

Please try and bear in mind; I am still only a young Yingele...

Truthfully yours,

the Yingele

Rejoice oh Rabbis, Rejoice!

2005-03-07T14:01:00.000+02:00

Finally finally they have found a way how to keep our young and wild generation pure and holy. Mazal Tov! A new cell-phone has just been born. Mobile phones with SMS and GPRS disabled, now that is undoubtedly Kosher. C’mon, it’ll even boast a stamp! We welcome you, holy Kosher Phone, to our grand community.

My lord! Is that what our Rabbis are worried about? SMS and mobile internet?! When was the last time you received a text similar to this one:

Hi! I wanna talk 2 u my hun. Call *44555 now, Im waitin 4 u! xxxx Jennifer

Rabbis seem to be receiving them so often. Why are they so worried that someone actually might dial *44555? Well I have never received such a text. I wonder why… I guess I never accidentally subscribed to any service… My loss. In this closed up society of ours you may be a liar, a hypocrite, a crook and a swindler but you may not possess a cellular phone. You twist? No problem. You have internet on your phone? Shaigetz Arois!

Rabbis, instead of wasting your precious time, instead of assuring phones, science books and ‘open-minded thinking’ in general, why not try and fix up your own messed up community? Why stand up for those abusers, why let your community look like it looks? Have you than forgotten the basics: Thou shalt not steal. Thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's house, thou shalt not covet thy neighbour's wife.
But I guess that’s part of your corruptness. Part of your blindness.

Mehadrin shops, Mehadrin busses and now Mehadrin phones. What’s next? Mehadrin sidewalks?

I do not want to revive the Slifkin account, but when was the last time you saw Rav Eliashiv sticking up for an Agunah? When was the last time Rabbi Michel Yehuda Lefkovitz stack up for an abused girl in his community?

But on the other hand, reading a book on science, animals and Torah is intolerable. An Agunah with 6 kids? Naaah, that’s not that important, is it?

Oh well, that’s just my opinion. At the end of the day I'm only a little Yingele...

Rosh Yeshiva. The sacred job.

2005-03-03T17:33:00.000+02:00

Yeah right! Please forgive my dark sarcasm but Yeshivas are everything but Lesheim Shomayim, for God’s sake. At the age of 14 I got thrown out of one of them myself. It’s still a popular Litvish Israeli Yeshiva. Well, to make a long story short, I spoke to a girl quite frequent. A ‘friend’ found out, became jealous and went and did the nastiest thing one can do. He snitched to the Rosh. For three nights I didn’t sleep. Three days I didn’t eat. I didn’t know what to do. On that dreadful morning the Rosh called me in and asked me why I talk to girls. Me being a naive 14 year old, just thought I would tell him the truth and that him, being such a nice and holy man sure would understand. How wrong I was. Packed my bags, called a cab and ran straight off to catch my ElAl flight.

The next month was hell. Hell? What am I talking about. A living nightmare. Parents worried sick. Where will you be next zman? What Yeshiva will accept you? How can our ‘tsaddikel’ commit such a low act? How did he have the guts to speak to a girl? Oh, and last but surely not least; what will all our friends and family say? How can I show my face on the ghetto streets? It was a bigger punishment for my parents than for me. About the snitch; he thinks he did it all letoivosoch, for my good. Only because I’m his friend, so he worries for me. He thinks he has a nice share in the World to come. He thinks he’ll get all 72 virgins. Well Mr. Snitch, sorry to brake the news to you but the coals are burning hot!

From than on my life was upside down, inside out. I learned the rules... so now I was able to break them. And some mistakes are too much fun to only make once, especially if you have nothing else to loose. But now all is fine ;-) sort of. It was a long and adventurous rollercoaster ride till here. I am nowhere near as good as I was than. Nowhere near as good as if he just would of taken me for that walk. Oh well, a Rabbi has to do what a Rabbi has to do, but I am still on that roller-coaster.

Now imagine if the Rosh would just set off for a walk and explain me why it’s not good for my holy neshomele. If he would just make me not want to speak to those Venusians, wouldn’t he of gained much more? Much much more indeed.

But… All the community, all the askonim, all the fundraisers would hear that the holy Rabbi has a guy still in his yeshiva that went out with a girl and that at the young age of fourteen! He is still in Yeshiva!? Now that would be a disgrace. You can’t imagine the humiliation and shame this Rabbi would need to go through; His yeshiva would lose its great reputation, Heaven Forbid. ‘We only produce genuine Benei-Torah.’ And now no more? I don’t think so.

Now how many kids do you know that are/where temporarily on the streets? They didn’t discover much Jiras Shomajim in Zollys and on Ben Yehuda, did they? So what good did it do?

A small yeshiva in Tel Aviv just closed. The Rosh (a Litvak) just locked up and simply left the boys strolling Diezengof. Two of these boys used to be ‘normal’ yeshiva boys, now one is suicidal and the other on drugs. Sad world? Naaah, I know another Chassidishe Rebbe who used to run a Yeshiva of the same kind. Due to the financial supporter’s bankruptcy, he was forced to close down. He didn’t close up until the day that every single boy was settled in a fine and respectful yeshiva. Only than did he lock the doors. But I guess that’s the difference between Chassidim and Litvaks.

Now why, for heavens sake, should the Rosh and Mashgiach bother to slog and help all those boys that have bumped into the normal teenage difficulties? Should he bother to fix them up? Should he bother to polish the diamond in the rough? He would need to sit and talk to the boy. He would need to learn with the boy. We would need to invest into this boy. Precious time. Much too precious to waste on stam a ‘‎yeshiva boy’ isn’t it? Why toil and struggle if you can do it so much easier. C’mon. It’s a lot easier just to toss him. Goodbye Diamond, have a nice life.

Now if you will ask him why he is ruining your life; having a mobile isn’t a reason good enough, is it? Then, let me prepare you to the answer you are most likely to get; “My dear bochurel, I mean it purely for your good. I’m crying over this. It is so so hard for me to chuck you. But I mean it solely for your good. You will be able to shtaig much better in a different Yeshiva. You don’t understand? Well when you will be a Mashgiach with my 50 years of experience you will understand it clearly.” Or a version very close to it.

Since he really cares for you, I would suggest asking him to find you an appropriate Yeshiva where you will be able to shtaig much better indeed. Good luck ;-) Nine out of ten he’ll advice you to ask someone else. Your father, perhaps? Someone who knows you better.
He agrees that he doesn’t really know you. Getting to know all his talmidim?! What an absurd and stupid way to waste his precious time on.

Why so they mostly push down Bochurim? Where is the positive encouragement? Where is the praise and kind words? Where is their love and care? Why can’t they care about the boys? They care. About one thing, themselves. They need to have a easy life. So why struggle to shine up the boys? Their Yeshiva needs to have a good name. What’s the point being a Rosh of a Yeshiva with problems? There’s no big honor and no big money with that. Besides, it makes his life more complicated. So he has decided; he needs the finest Yeshiva. Those are easier to run, right?

All boys need to be great. If not, they are ousted.

A long long time ago, the Rosh Yeshivas used to be a role model for their students. Something to look up to. “One day I want to be like him” they used to whisper in their heads. Now you have a Rosh to know what not to do and a Mashgiach to show you what will happen to you if you continue bumming.

And that guy, who only cares about his name. The name of his Yeshiva. The money he makes. The Frak he is so proudly wearing. That is the guy we are supposed to look up at. The guy we are supposed to learn of. Eeeeum, no thanks.

The Kotsker used to say that just before Moshiach will come, the Rabbis will be riding a horse and carriage on shabbos, and his supporters will just be running after him. Moshiach, you are near. Extremely near.

No. Just say no.

2005-03-01T18:05:00.000+02:00

Just hanged up from Avi. An eighteen year old ex-yeshivaboy currently looking for a place to settle. Where he can really settle. I asked him how his shabbos in his Dirah was. Here is the sad conversation;

Yingele: Hey Avi! How was Shabbos?
Avi: Yeah, was nice.
Yingele: Where did you eat? By your Rabbi again?
Avi: Naaah. Had some friends over. Ate with them. Yingele, do you remember my two chassidish friends who came friday along with us to Blockbusters? Well they where at my place.
Yingele: And they behaved? Or did they watch the DVDs?
Avi: They watched and smoked. But I behaved. I didn't smoke, neither watch with them on shabbos.
Yingele: (Almost faints) How could you give them your DVD-player and let them use it on Shabbos?
Avi: I don't know...

My heart is crying to both of you. A. How can two beketches smoke and watch dvd's on Shabbos? And B. Avi, my dear friend, why can't you be strong? Why can't you just say NO. Two letters: NO. As a kid I remember seeing 'Say no to drugs' printed on those colourfull Laffy Taffy wrappers. I never understood. Why do they need to tell people to say no? Why don't they just print 'Drugs Kills' etc like they have on yene-machle-sticks boxes? Now I understood. We need to brain-wash ourselves over and over again to be strong and just to say no! No to drugs. No to bad friends. No to anything self-destructive. Brothers, sisters, please don't let these two letters ruin the beautiful life G-d has prepared for you. Just say NO.

To be honest, I must admit that I wrote this post with only one in mind; yingele. It's about time I start picking up my courage, standing firm and saying no.