When i die I’m going to leave everything to you

Magic Trick - Hilary and Bill in A Bakery

The attorney and his wife

An attorney arrived home late, after a very tough day trying to get a stay of execution for his Client.
His last minute plea for clemency had failed and he was feeling tired and depressed.

As soon as he walked through the door at home, his wife started on him,

"What time of night to be getting home is this?
Where have you been?
Your dinner is cold and I'm not reheating it".

And on and on ... and on and on she ranted ..............

Too shattered to play his usual role in this familiar ritual, he poured himself a shot of whisky and headed off for a long hot soak in the bath, pursued by the predictable sarcastic remarks as he dragged himself up the stairs.

While he was in the bath, the phone rang. The wife answered and was told that her husband's client, James Wright, had been granted a stay of execution after all. Wright would not be hanged tonight.

Finally realising what a terrible day he must have had, she decided to go upstairs and give him the good news.

As she opened the bathroom door, she was greeted by the sight of her husband,
bent over naked, drying his legs and feet.

'They're not hanging Wright tonight,' she said.

He whirled around and screamed, 'FOR THE LOVE OF GOD WOMAN, DON'T YOU EVER STOP?!'

Not all old men are Stupid!

A balding, white haired man walked into a jewelery store in

a local mall this past Friday evening with a beautiful much younger gal at his side.

He told the jeweller he was looking for a special ring for his girlfriend. The jeweler looked through his stock and brought out a $5,000 ring.

The man said, 'No, I'd like to see something more special.'

At that statement, the jeweler went to his special stock and brought another ring over.

'Here's a stunning ring at only $40,000' the jeweler said. 

The lady's eyes sparkled and her whole body trembled with excitement.

The old man seeing this said, 'We'll take it.'

The jeweler asked how payment would be made and the man stated, 'by check.  I know you need to make sure my check is good, so I'll write it now and you can call the bank Monday to verify the funds and I'll pick up the ring Monday afternoon.'

On Monday morning, the jeweler angrily phoned the old man and said 'There was only $25 in your account.'

'I know, said the old man, But let me tell you about my GREAT WEEKEND!

Oh my G-d

And then the fight began

For the love of Israel and being a good Jew (serious)

No, I am not an observant Jew, although Judaism and Jewishness are the backbone of my life. I am now an Israeli. I have been a passionate Zionist ever since I was 13 and on Yom Kippur 1973, Israel was attacked by Syria and Egypt. That was the year that Israel’s survival trumped the holiest of holy days. I was a leader in the Zionist Youth movement in Rhodesia and South Africa for 14 years. I worked for two years with one goal in mind – to buy a plane ticket to Israel. I have been living in Israel since 1982, because my heart is whole in the place that is the heart of my heritage. I have built with my comrades a kibbutz settlement in the Galil in Israel, literally from rocks and mud to a thriving community. I have served in the Israeli Army as a combat infantry commander, including a stint in Lebanon during the First Lebanon War. I have captured a terrorist. I have been shot at by both terrorists and Jewish settlers while in the army. I have had a Molotov cocktail thrown at my jeep. I have volunteered to wade into a minefield in order to save a man who had his foot blown off by a landmine. I have witnessed five of my comrades blown up by an artillery shell that fell barely 100m from where I lay. 

My love for Israel is deep and unconditional. That love is not just love of the land, but love of the people. Every time there is a terrorist attack, I am overwhelmed with a sadness so deep that my throat constricts and my heart becomes heavy, as if the victim was a member of my own family – and he or she was, my Jewish family. I am not observant in the classical sense, but everything I do and believe is dictated by the values and teachings of Judaism and the Torah. Actions speak louder than words. I believe that I have done more for the future of Judaism and Israel, as the epicenter of our faith than any of the self-righteous, self-serving Jews who judge me and call me a hater of Israel, while at the same time some their fellow Orthodox believers are using political extortion to ensure that their sons don’t serve in the army to protect Israel. Meanwhile I and my sons have willingly placed our lives on the line to ensure Israel’s survival, expressing our love for our homeland in the most essential way. Not lip service, but military service. Not bluster and prayers, but blood and sweat. Not by praying to God to protect Israel but by physically protecting Israel, helping God keep his promise.

The Israel I love is not its borders. It is not just its settlements. It is the character of the society in which we live. It is being able to look at our collective selves in the mirror with clear eyes and a clear conscience. Where our love for Israel, is not shadowed by hate of the other. Where we put our children’s future ahead of our lust for revenge, or oppressing our adversary. A good Jew is a good person, not a good person only to other Jews. The Torah has more teachings of how to be kind and decent and respectful of others, especially the stranger, than it has teachings of self-interest, conquest, revenge and violence. This is my Torah. One I can be proud of. And, as Hannuka approaches, let us concentrate not just on the victory of the Maccabim over the Greeks, but of the LIGHT, the Temple light, which has illuminated our existence eternally, a light not only of our faith, but a light unto nations, and a light unto ourselves. To do that today, we must fight hate, prejudice and fear, intolerance and the closed minded edicts of expedient religious leaders. We must look beyond ourselves. I am a Jew. I am a liberal. #IamTTH.

Whose your daddy?

10 fun facts

Jewish ladies chatting at bridge

Four Jewish ladies are playing Bridge in a house in Hendon. 
Bette sighs and says, "Oy..." 
Freda nods, sighs, and says, "Oy vey!" 
Kitty says, "Oy veys meer!" 
Charlotte chimes in: "Enough talk about the children already. Let's get back to the game."

Eve’s little secret

Eve’s little secret! 

My Joints Are stiff!

Venture Capital in Australia: Haim Savan - an entrepreneur that I admire

Venture Capital in Australia: Haim Savan - an entrepreneur that I admire: I listened to a great podcast today with Haim Savan  https://www.npr.org/podcasts/510313/how-i-built-this The Narrative As a refugee growin...

Innovation in Australia: Sapiens - where are we heading? a bit seroious for a joky blog

Innovation in Australia: Sapiens - where are we heading?: Interview with Noah Harari on his book Sapiens  Interview with Noah Harari on his book Homo Deus Learning how to reengineer our ...

Forgiveness Should Not Create Fear

Interesting Drosh by YY Jacobson

G’mar Hatima Tov - may you be sealed in the Back ok of Life

During the ten days from Rosh Hashanah through Yom Kippur, known as the “Ten days of Teshuvah,” we recite each morning one of the most beautiful and moving chapters of Psalms, ch. 130. It contains a most enigmatic verse, which is repeated many times during the prayers of Selichot, Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur.

כִּי עִמְּךָ הַסְּלִיחָה לְמַעַן תִּוָּרֵא.

“But you offer forgiveness, so that we might learn to fear you.”

The logic is counterintuitive. People who offer forgiveness are less feared, not more feared. If I know that you are the “forgiving type,” I fear you less, not more. What then does King David mean “But you offer forgiveness, so that we might learn to fear you?”

A Tale of Two Bank Managers

Rabbi Schnuer Zalman of Liadi (1745-1812), known as the Alter Rebbe, the Baal HaTanya, explained it with a metaphor from the world of economics.[1] The entire metaphor is his; the specific example is mine.

It is 2006. The real estate market is booming. You took a 100 million dollar loan from the bank to renovate a massive complex in Manhattan which you will sell and earn a profit of 50 million. Not bad for a nice Jewish boy who is ADD and a college drop out. All of a sudden, the market collapses, you can’t sell your condos, and you are left with a major debt. You meet with the bank manager. He declares: We want the entire debt paid up—the 100 million with all the interest, as per the schedule we agreed upon. On the 15th your first payment of 1.5 million is due.

You go home, and you know in your mind, there is no ways you can do this. Even if you were to stand on your head for a month, you simply cannot come up with this money. So what do you do? Mentally you give up. You ignore the monthly invoices, notices, summons, and warnings. You get your house off your name, you push off the hearings till 2033, and you go for a good massage. You tell your wife, the guy is crazy, and you don’t even think of it anymore. There is nothing better you can do.

But suppose another scenario: The bank manager says, okay, we all got hit badly. We are all in a big mess. We all need to bite the bullet. You were wiped out; we were also wiped out. Let’s work this out fairly and lovingly. How about, we cut the loan by 30 percent. We remove all interest. Let’s make this work for both of us. I need you to work with me. What would be a feasible schedule of payment?

Ah, now you get scared... Now you need to go home and you need to figure it out. Now you need to come up with some money. He is being such a mentch, you can’t betray him. You need to show up with payment.

This, says the Alter Rebbe, is the meaning of the verse, “But you offer forgiveness, so that we might learn to fear you.” If G-d demanded full compensation for all our mistakes, if He demanded that we pay up in full, with interest, then we would not fear Him; we would give up on Him.

It is like the child who can never please their parent. Whatever he does, it is never enough, and every mistake is highlighted. At some point, such children give up completely. “If I have no hope of ever getting it right, why try? If I will always be criticized, why bother?” The child, in a mixture of cynicism, rebellion, pain, and despair, just severs the relationship.

“But you offer forgiveness, so that we might learn to fear you,” King David says. G-d forgives. He never asks us to be perfect, only to be accountable. He asks of us to meet Him half way. He tells each of us on Yom Kipur: I want to make this work for YOU. I want you to live the most meaningful, beautiful, successful, powerful and happy life you can. I yearn for you to help Me make your life the ultimate success story.

Now we really have to go into our hearts and mend our mistakes, fix our wrongs and resolve to live a purer and holier future.

“But you offer forgiveness, so that we might learn to fear you.”

[1] Quoted by his grandson, Rabbi Menachem Mendelof Lubavitch, the Tzemach Tzedek (1789-1866) in Tehilim Yahel Or chapter 130. The metaphor is further explained in Maamar Ki Eimcha Haslicha 5709 (1949); Maamar Ani Ledodi 5729 (1969).

Vibing with Dani

Unetanneh Tokef - Brett Kaye (HD)

Chim Chiminee

Luigi’s new shoes

So Old! But funny. My father used to tell this joke

 

 

Luigi walks to work 20 blocks every day, and passes a shoe store twice every day.

 

Each day he stops and looks in the window, to admire the Armani leather shoes.

 

He wants those shoes so much ….. it's all he can think about.

 

After about 2 months he saves the price of the shoes, $300 and purchases them.

 

Every Friday night the Italian community holds a dance in the church basement.

 

Luigi seizes this opportunity to wear his new Armani leather shoes, for the first time.

He asks Sophia to dance, and as they dance he asks her, 'Sophia, do you wear red panties tonight?'

Startled, Sophia replies.  'Yes, Luigi , I do wear red panties tonight, but how do you know?

Luigi answers. 'I see the reflection in my new $300 Armani leather shoes.  How do you like them?

Next he asks Rosa to dance, and after a few minutes he asks, ' Rosa , do you wear white panties tonight?

 

Rosa answers.  'Yes, Luigi , I do, but how do you know that?

He replies. 'I see the reflection in my new $300 Armani leather shoes. How do you like them?

 

Now as the evening is almost over, and the last song is being played, Luigi asks Carmela to dance.

 

Midway through the dance his face turns red.

He states, 'Carmela, be stilla my heart, please, please tell me you wear no panties tonight,

 

Please, please, tella me this true!

Carmela smiles coyly, and answers, 'Yes Luigi , I wear no panties tonight..'

Luigi gasps.  'Thanka god ... I thought I had a CRACK in my $300 Armani leather shoes!'

Lateral thinking

Leaving a bag at Gauteng station - this is Africa - Trevor Noah - hilarious

Double positive

 "In English," the professor said, "A double negative forms a positive. In some languages, though, such as Russian, a double negative is still a negative. However, there is no language where a double positive can form a negative."

 

A student in the back of the room yells out, "Yeah, right."

Lokshen

For several years, a man was having an affair with a Jewish woman.

One night, she confided to him that she was pregnant.

Not wanting to ruin his reputation or his marriage, he said he would 

pay her a large sum of money if she would go to Israel to secretly have 

the child.

If she stayed in Israel to raise the child, he would also provide child 

support until the child turned 18.

She agreed, but asked how he would know when the baby was born..

To keep it discreet, he told her to simply mail him a post card, and

write 'Lokshen' on the back. He would then arrange for the child support to begin.

One day, about 9 months later, he came home to his confused wife.

'Honey, she said, 'you received a very strange post card today.'

'Oh, just give it to me and I'll explain it later,' he said. The wife obeyed and watched as her husband read the card, turned white, and fainted.

On the card was written:

Lokshen, Lokshen, Lokshen

One with kneidlach, two without.

Send extra soup.

Good shabbos all

The Cloud

A great explanation by Kitty Flanagan 

England Croatia and France

South African Innovation for the BRAai

No need for an accountant

Mans condition is stable

Ozzy man reviews Gymnastics

Flippy spinny shit

266419

A Jewish guy in a London hotel calls the operator and asks, in broken English with a heavy Lithuanian-Yiddish accent, for the number: *"266419"*

A short time later, there's a knock on the door. When he opens, he sees two beautiful and sexy girls who ask him:

"Are you the guy who ordered *"two shikses for one night?"*

Pole at an optometrist

Polish immigrant goes to spec-savers . 

Optometrist asks if he can read the 7th line on the chart 

CXWYZXCCVC

Pole says read that ?  ........... He is my cousin 

Marriage and Marijuana

In Canada, the government, in its eternal wisdom, recently passed two laws. 

They are:

1. Legalized gay marriage

2. Legalized marijuana 

Legalizing gay marriage and marijuana at the same time now makes perfect Biblical sense. 

Leviticus 20:13 says: "If a man lies with another man they should be stoned.” Apparently we just hadn't interpreted it correctly before!

😜😊

Gerald’s update on South Africa

 

Jeffrey Zetler was murdered on his farm while we were sitting in the rugby box on Saturday afternoon watching the test at Newlands. Stabbed six times. He died in his chair in his office as thugs in balaclavas attacked him at the gate of his farm and then dragged him to his office in an attempt to steal money. Another violent robbery gone wrong and a family man, an icon in the Stellenbosch farming community and a friend to all of us, is gone. We are devastated. He was one of us. The chairman of the local Jewish Community and all round nice guy, who headed-up the huge farming business that the Zetler brothers took over & built up magnificently from their late Dad. Famous for their strawberries and those most photographed scarecrows in the world, strategically placed among the fields on their Mooiberge farm, the business has developed into an enormous success that includes retail, wholesale and export. We will miss the calm, deliberate man who was a support to so many.  His staff of a thousand tell that he treated them like a father treats his children. They were at his funeral in big numbers.

The humble, humble family man is no more.

We are devastated at another senseless killing. Crime is out of control. The police are asking the public for leads in this case. They are pathetic!

  

I am angry that this is what SA has become. We are all scared. Alarms, fences and continuous check-up phone calls have become our way of life. Yet another indictment at the parlous state of affairs that the ANC have allowed to develop. I am sad. No, I am angry.

  

In his column, this week Max du Preez tells of the uselessness of the ANC as governors. The wastage in the ANC-run institutions is immense and now they want to take land away (from whites) for nothing. The war-cry of the EFF, now propagated by the ANC as though they were always the one's to call for it is: Expropriation (mostly, of farm land) without compensation.

(Four white farmers were murdered this weekend in SA. This is intimidation of the harshest kind. Afriforum has been on about how many white farmers are being killed, for years now.)

Du Preez gives many examples of ANC disastrous management, but the story he tells this week is merely one example of what is going on here. He writes about the Great Kei municipality where after years of maladministration the corruption is totally crippling. Here the council hasn't paid its workers (almost everyone black) in two months, but the elected councillors receive not only their full salaries but all their perks as well. The council is completely dominated by the ANC who received far more than 70% of the votes in the last election.

Du Preez then goes on to discuss the wastage at Eskom and SAA but I won't go there. Those figures are so big that they are meaningless to me.

  

Making news this whole week, and most of last week, too, has been the Health Minister’s push for a National Health Insurance (NHI) scheme. It won't work. I went for my annual medical check-up early in the week and my physician, a very bright guy, who sometimes shares his views with me, sat across his desk discussing this very matter. Everyone is talking about it. While discussing this new governmental plan that will cost not millions, but billions, that SA just doesn't have, Graham said that it would fly. He clarified that as I looked up sharply at him, saying that all the doctors in this country will fly right out of here if that ever became practice.

Both Graham and I read the Daily Maverick and I know that many of you do, too and there have been several starkly damning articles on the folly of this potential scheme that has no financial top limit. It can only lead to a total disaster for this country, that is in any case almost completely bankrupt as I write.

 

A crook and a liar, who has been convicted of fraud and corruption, has been elected by the ANC as the new head of the committee dealing with crime and corruption. This is not one of my jokes. He is Tony Yengeni and are you surprised? The ANC justify this selection by saying that he did his time. Did he? He got a lenient four-year sentence and spent all of four months in jail before he was miraculously released to drive around in a Maserati, no less. That is how well the ANC look after their own. It is a highly offensive but emblematic appointment.

  

A little bit of good news is that some of the people elevated into top positions by Accused No 1, now fired or suspended by Cyril Ramaphosa, are slowly being gotten rid of. Yet proper consequences have not yet been seen.

One such top appointee, Tom Moyane, was almost certainly appointed as head of SARS to see that no-one went after either the Guptas or Accused No 1. The revenue services were world class under Pravin Gordhan, in the day, but under Moyane it became a total disaster like so many other institutions here that have fallen into the gutter. Listening devices and cameras were planted all over the offices at SARS after Tom Moyane was appointed.

This week Moyane is the Sunday Times’ Mampara of the Week. The commission of enquiry into SARS, now sitting, is hearing evidence how this caught-out liar spread such fear into the staff who were world class operators, that they one-by-one all left the institution. Their places are now filled with mamparas willing to do their boss’s wants. He broke the entire system.

To explain what a total mampara Moyane is; he was offered a very generous package settlement to go by Ramaphosa when he became President four months ago, but he opposed that with a court application, hence this commission of enquiry.

 

Gordhan has had a “go” at Moyane, but it has been quite gentle. There may be worse to come.  What we are hearing at the enquiry is mostly what we already know. Will there be consequences now? Cyril is not accused of anything and will not interfere to save Moyane, like his predecessor would.  These commissions are good news indeed.

 

Some good news as far as I am concerned is that the noose is tightening around Dudu Myeni. That girlfriend of Accused No 1 who was so utterly useless as Chairperson of SAA for so many years while we all watched at how she was destroying our national airline, is being brought to book, at last. This week two of her henchmen at SAA were found guilty of gross negligence in their role in the BnP Capital fundraising scheme. The net is surely closing in on her.

  

Also good news, very good news, is that Mercedes Benz is investing R10 billion to make the new C-class vehicles here in the Eastern Cape, to export around the world. The factory in East London is to be furthered expanded, and there is reason to believe the AMG engines will also be manufactured in SA. This is part of CR’s $100 billion 5-year investment plan.

  

The DA lost its case to have Patricia de Lille expelled from the party. This makes de Lille look like a hero and I am sorry about that. She is aloof, doesn't answer emails and thinks she is always right. Why doesn't she explain the sms she sent? This judgement is being taken on appeal......but the DA have already lost this battle. They handled this whole matter so badly. Sympathy went to de Lille instead of to the party. They need much better PR. The DA needs to get onto TV and onto the radio and it needs to be showing what it is doing for the people. It needs to project positivity.

 

The Eskom salary dispute has net been settled yet. To quote a wag “there is no light at the end of this tunnel” yet. Are we in for more load-shedding?

 

What is disturbing is how anti-Israel and anti-Semitic SA has become.

To gauge the partiality in SA the story of Shashi Naidoo, a young model, is a story is worth telling. This young girl after a ’do’ said on her twitter page something very complimentary about Israel. Then the world came down on her. She received everything from death threats to losing her business sponsorships. So she ”changed her mind” and agreed to go to Gaza to ”see for herself”.

The very best letter to an editor that I have read in a long, long time was the letter that Monessa Shapiro sent to the Sunday Times. It was the headline letter this weekend and I have sent it on to some. I add it here for you to read:



I do not often come across too many pro-Israel cartoons here but yesterday I opened a Jeremy Nel email and I found this Jerm classic:



 

The city council has scrapped ideas of getting a desalination barge to supplement water supply in our city. The recent rains have brought some relief but we are not yet out of the woods and water-savings are to be continued until we are sure that we have enough water in our dams to guarantee full water supply for next summer.

This coming weekend and several days thereafter will see me on the touring with The Famous Tour on the road, walking with my historical tour of the Cape in the city as well as touring generally with two overseas groups and the forecast for rain, rain, and more rain may well spoil my touring-week to some extent. But I am really not complaining.

  

The highlight of the weekend was being at Newlands for what was (probably) the last test match played at that hallowed venue. It very much seems as if test rugby at Newlands will soon become a thing of the past. The rugby union is in financial trouble and the much nicer and more modern facility awaits in Green Point, at the stadium that was built for the Soccer World Cup in 2010.

The test against England was a bruising affair on a wet and miserable day. But such days are so very welcome here and in spite of the weather Michael and I were wonderfully treated by Dennis, that character of note. We had a great experience and I sat in the box with Dennis and his pals and Michael was on the grandstand.

In the match, we were out-muscled in this final test by a very determined English team. Our coach said, after the match, that the Springboks were terrible and that he had learnt a lot. I hope so.  The England team saved face and went home having beaten the team that had twice beaten them this month.

Bruce managed another goodish round on Monday evening.

  

As always, love to all,

Gerald

Better Out Than In

South Africa’s 2018 Ze-bra awards

Italian Funeral - with man and his dog

A Jewish man was leaving a convenience store with his espresso when he noticed a most unusual Italian funeral procession approaching the nearby cemetery.  A black hearse was followed by a second black hearse about 50 feet behind the first one.  Behind the second hearse was a solitary Italian man walking a dog on a leash.  Behind him, a short distance back, were about 200 men walking in single file.

The Jewish man couldn't stand the curiosity.  He respectfully approached the Italian man walking the dog and said: "I am so sorry for your loss, and this may be a bad time to disturb you, but I've never seen an Italian funeral like this.  Whose funeral, is it?"

"My wife's."

''What happened to her?"

"She yelled at me and my dog attacked and killed her."

He inquired further, "But who is in the second hearse?"

“My mother-in-law. She came to help my wife and the dog turned on her and killed her also."

It was a very poignant and touching moment of Jewish and Italian brotherhood.  Silence passed between the two men.

The Jewish man then asked "Can I borrow the dog?"

The Italian man replied, "Get in line."

Learning to read and write your Cells and DNA to heal thyself

How do the trillions of cells that make up your body stay in touch? Apparently The same way we used to: 

sending notes through the post.

Learning how to read and write “letters” and post them through our intra-body postal system running through our blood, could give us early warning about cancer and Alzheimer’s and potentially finding a cure!!

What we need to do is to work out how to read the mail,  says University of Sydney associate professor Wojciech Chrzanowski, and understand our bodies at a cellular level.

This is how the Prof says it works :- 

All the cells in our body are constantly producing tiny bubbles which the body (or something) fills with a cocktail of DNA and other molecules and are sent into the bloodstream. 

These cells are called extracellular vesicles 

These Cells have special receptors to read the data in the bubbles. The data lets cells send messages to each other. 

Those messages can tell our body what to do.

Professor Chrzanowski is particularly interested in the Stem cells that heal damaged tissue – without physically touching the damage. 

He theorises they are sending out tiny bubbles filled with DNA. When the damaged cell receives the bubble, it follows the DNA instructions and heals itself.

Professor Chrzanowski and teams at the CSIRO are trying to decipher and potentially write or code those messages. 

Imagining being able to inject these regenerating cells into patients with cancer or autoimmune conditions.

It’s like force-feeding the body a message that says: heal thyself.

Want to win a Nobel prize? 

All we need to do is work out how to read the mail.

“You could envisage this cellular system as a post office system – a letter is sent from one cell to another. And the letters contain programs for the cells to run,” says University of Sydney associate professor Wojciech Chrzanowski.

We still don’t quite know how the system works – “If we can figure that out, we’ll probably win a Nobel, to be honest,” says Professor Chrzanowski – but here’s how the leading theory goes

HOw we are trying to solve the puzzle 

This is how Professor Chrzanowski and doctoral candidate Sally Yunsun Kimthey have been learning to read these letters .....

The pair warmed a group of extracellular vesicles with a laser, and then measured their vibrations using a tiny needle about 100,000 times thinner than a human hair.

Hot molecules vibrate at different rates depending on what they are made of. By measuring the vibration, the team could tell exactly what was in each bubble.

It was like reading someone else’s mail without ever opening it.

“This is going to be a pretty important development,” says Professor Andrew Hill, president of the International Society for Extracellular Vesicles.

Long lost Cuzzin

From my friend Paul Mirbach (PEM)

I was a young boy in Bulawayo, when a man walked into my father's photographic shop. He asked for Boris Mirbach, my grandfather, who had died a few months previously. My father introduced himself and told the man that my grandfather had passed - and the man burst into tears. 

His name was Irving. He walked with a limp. Irving was a few years older than my father and as it turned out, my father's second cousin, the son of one of my grandfather's sisters, who had remained in Kovno, Lithuania.

One day, while sipping his gin in my father's study, he told me his story. They lived in a two storey house in Kovno, when one day the SS came to the street and banged on the door, until they broke it down. He was in the attic, playing. While they were rounding up all the Jews in the street, he opened the attic window and crept out onto the roof, to the back of the house, and jumped. He broke his leg in the fall, but he managed to drag himself away and finally made his way to a forest.

After the War, he made his way to America, believing that his entire family had perished in the Holocaust. He started a successful clothing business, and one day once he had made enough money, he decided to travel the world, to look for survivors of his family. He found none, until he came to Rhodesia, following a lead he had picked up somewhere. 

My father was the first family he had seen in in thirty years! From his visit, he learned that my late grandfather had a sister who survived Auschwitz, who lived in New York - where he lived, and he didn't even know. Her name was Sonia.

I will never forget that story. I will also never forget what he said afterwards. He said to me, sipping his drink, "Paul, the thing about gin is you never know when you're drunk, until it creeps up behind you and knocks on your door".

Dedicated to Irving and all families who found long lost relatives, years after being torn apart in the Holocaust.

The Pesach story according to Johnny

Nine-year-old Joey finished Hebrew school and hopped into his mom's car for the drive home. "What did you learn today?" she asked. 

"Well, Mom, our teacher told us how G‑d sent Moses behind enemy lines on a rescue mission to lead the Israelites out of Egypt. When he got to the Red Sea, he had his engineers build a pontoon bridge and all the people walked across safely. Then he used his walkie-talkie to radio headquarters for reinforcements. They sent bombers to blow up the bridge and all the Israelites were saved." 

"Now, Joey, is that really what your teacher taught you?" His mother asked.

"Well, no, Mom. But if I told it the way the teacher did, you'd never believe it

Man goes to a dentist

Man and wife came rushing in to the dentist..... 

he said that he needed a tooth extracted urgently...!!! 

Man said to hurry as he’s got a golf game at 10 and didn’t want to wait for the anaesthetic to come into effect - no gas, no Novocain  - no time..... just extract in the quickest possible time. 

Dentist said - it will be really painful .... 

Man said no problem ... it’s an important game! 

Dentist said - “you’re a man with balls .... Show me the tooth that needs to be extracted....”

Man says .... “Honey, show the dentist what tooth you want extracted “ 

The talking duck

A duck walks into a pub and and asks for  a pint of beer and a ham sandwich.
 
The barman looks at him and says, "Hang on! You're a duck."
  
"I see your eyes are working," replies the duck.
  
"And you can talk!" Exclaims the barman.
  
"I see your ears are working, too," Says the duck. 

"Now if you don't mind, can I have my beer and my sandwich please?"
  
"Certainly, sorry about that," Says the barman as he pulls the duck's pint.

"It's just we don't get many ducks in this pub.. What are you doing round this way?"
 
"I'm working on the building site across the road," Explains the duck. 

"I'm a plasterer."
  
The flabbergasted barman cannot believe the duck and wants to learn more, but takes the hint when the duck pulls out a newspaper from his bag and proceeds to read it.
  
So, the duck reads his paper, drinks his beer, eats his sandwich, bids the barman good day and leaves.
  
The same thing happens for two weeks.
 
Then one day the circus comes to town.
  
The ringmaster comes into the pub for a pint and the barman says to him

"You're with the circus, aren't you? Well, I know this duck that could be just brilliant in your circus. He talks, drinks beer, eats sandwiches, reads the newspaper and everything!"
  
"Sounds marvellous,"says the ringmaster, handing over his business card. 

"Get him to give me a call."
  
So the next day when the duck comes into the pub the barman says, "Hey Mr. Duck, I reckon I can line you up with a top job, paying really good money."
  
"I'm always looking for the next job," Says the duck.

"Where is it?"
 
"At the circus," Says the barman.
  
"The circus?" Repeats the duck.
  
"That's right," Replies the barman.
  
"The circus?" The duck asks again.

“With the big tent?" "Yeah," the barman replies.
  
"With all the animals who live in cages, and performers who live in caravans?" says the duck.
  
"Of course," the barman replies.
  
"And the tent has canvas sides and a big canvas roof with a hole in the middle?" persists the duck.
  
"That's right!" says the barman.
 
The duck shakes his head in amazement, and says ..... ........

 

"What the f**k would they want with a plasterer??!"

105 year we ltd with sage advice

Bulawayo Musings - Aleh Uv’neh

PAUL MIRBACH

PEM captures the essence of growing up in Bulawayo and Habonim

Republished courtesy of The Rome’s Of Israel 

http://blogs.timesofisrael.com/aleh-uvneh/#.Wpm88l-cuhE.facebook

Paul, Arik and I left Bulawayo at 15 (overnight) for Capetown in 1976 - after a law was made forcing boys to sign up for the army at 16.

What does a young boy living in a small town in Southern Africa do on a lazy Sunday morning in the late 1960’s? He gets dressed up in a blue shirt, khaki shorts, a blue and white scarf rolled up with a leather toggle and goes off to the shul complex to be with other young Jewish boys. That was Habonim in Bulawayo, when I was ten. Little was I to know that from those Sunday morning meetings this youth movement would have such a profound influence on my life.

My elder brother, Nick, started going a couple of years before me, and I would remember watching in fascination as he would get dressed in the uniform. I could not imagine what he did there “at Habonim” but it always intrigued me. What I could not understand, although at the time I couldn’t put it into words, was why after an entire week wearing school uniform, would you want to also wear a uniform on a Sunday, your day off? But, he seemed to do it without objection, and that was enough for me to want to do it as well. So, it was with barely concealed excitement that I waited to go to my first meeting.

I loved it. Our madrichim were young and friendly and most of my friends from school were there. It was a fun mixture of learning about knots and learning about Israel, but mostly it was the social group that I liked. They tried to teach us Hatikva. I got the tune pretty quick but the words were a mystery. I found myself mimicking sounds which I later learned was gibberish, but nobody corrected me. A couple of years later, I got the words right, but the meaning of the lyrics continued to evade me. What I do remember, was that we would stand in a triangle at the end of every meeting and our madrich would say, “Aleh uvneh” and we would shout back “Aloh Na’ale”. I thought it was a kind of a password, and I felt a sort of pride to be a part of it. As we progressed in years, we started talking about Judaism and Israel more and did less “stuff”, but by that time, I was hooked. That was also where I met my first Israeli. He was a Shaliach. He spoke funny, but everyone looked up to him with a kind of awe, so I did too.

The highlight, every year, was “Big Camp” – three weeks spent by the sea, with Habonim members from all over South Africa. Imagine a thousand young Jewish teenagers gathered together to build a mini society for three weeks. Just thinking about it again and I feel a twinge of nostalgia. In all, I went to nine camps. Each one more addictive than the last. For those of us living in Rhodesia, the two day train ride down to the Cape was just as much fun as the camp itself. We would pile into the compartments together and pass the time singing songs and playing cards, getting to know new faces, who would later become dear friends. The guitar players ruled the roost and Nick, my talented brother and his friends, held court in his compartment. The corridor was jammed with people, pushing to get closer to the music. We would listen and join in the chorus, while we rocked to the clicketty clack of the wheels on the tracks. I remember standing in the corridor with barely any place to move while they played “Locomotive breath”, and thinking how appropriate as we sang along, feeling the vibrations below us and watched the plumes of smoke in the air. The sense of anticlimax when we pulled into the station, was quickly overcome by the excitement to get to the campsite and reunite with friends whom we had not seen for an entire year. Oh, how I miss those moments of anticipation and reunion.

I had my first crush on a madricha at Machaneh. Her name was Joanne and I was inafatuated with her. Whenever we broke off into discussion groups, I would feel a pang of disappointment when I was allocated to another group. But, when I was lucky enough to be in her “sicha”, most of the time I found myself stealing glances at her, marveling at how she sat, her exquisite posture and the way she led the discussion. I think it was her presence which made me take an interest in the subject of discussion, just to impress her. At least, that was how it started.

How can I describe the experiences at Machaneh adequately? The feeling of togetherness and friendship was intoxicating. “The group” took on a life of its own and I yearned to be a part of it. As we grew older, the discussions became more serious as we delved deeper into issues of Zionism and social justice, Socialism and Judaism. It was a living, thriving educational experience which we went through together, forming bonds to the movement, its ideology and each other, into a oneness that for three weeks became my entire universe. It usually took me about a week to recover after machaneh. I pined and yearned for that feeling of us all together. I missed friends and the atmosphere terribly. I would spend hours lying on my bed, remembering people and experiences with a nostalgia so intense, that sometimes tears welled up in my eyes. I resolved to go to the next one almost immediately after the last one finished.

My relationship with Habonim deepened dramatically when I was sixteen. As the situation in Rhodesia went from bad to dire, the Rhodesian government passed a law requiring all young men aged sixteen to register for the army. Acutely aware of the inevitable outcome of the war, and the impossible situation of serving in an army fighting against a cause which I believed was right, while at the same time having to deal with terrible antisemitism among my “comrades”, I grabbed at the opportunity to leave Rhodesia to finish my studies in Cape Town. The thing about small town life for one growing up there, is that the sense of security, of everyone knowing everyone keeps you blissfully naïve. Suddenly I found myself left to my own devices in a big city, not knowing anyone and with no one to rely on emotionally. Except for Habonim. Habonim was my safety net. It became my support system. I cannot exaggerate the role the movement had in the development of my character in those initial two years away and how it enveloped me in a cocoon of warmth and security. I’m not even sure that people knew that they did that, and that is what is so special about that. The Shlichim in Cape Town, the amazing Yossi Lior and Michael Lanir became sort of surrogate parents. Whenever I needed someone to talk to, they listened. When I needed advice, they gave it. Their help and guidance helped me through so many periods of despair and self-doubt that people grappling with their self-confidence and identity go through. I owe them so much. While at University, and as a madrich myself, I delved deeper into its ideology and became committed to “the cause”. From about thirteen I knew I wanted to live in Israel, but Habonim gave me purpose and direction.

Perhaps the most valuable attribute that Habonim gave me however, was that it taught me to think critically and not to be afraid to think differently to others. For example, at a meeting one Friday night, a member of the leadership, whose opinion was well respected, equated making Aliya to anywhere other than to kibbutz as “second class”. I was incensed. “How arrogant”? I thought. There is a difference, I thought, between giving ideological guidance and judging people, and he crossed the line. I went straight home and wrote a scathing article for the movement’s weekly paper, criticizing him and his fellow “Aliya garin” members for their arrogance. I questioned their ability to lead, if they were intolerant of others’ thoughts and beliefs. When it came to signing the letter I lost my nerve. So I signed it with my initials P.E.M. I suppose you could say the article caused ripples. For about two weeks, people went round asking who was this PEM guy. I was found out, eventually and was summoned to a meeting with the “ba-Koach” (city head) and the shaliach. With my stomach churning and fearing that I was about to lose my safety net, I went to the meeting. As I entered Yossi’s office, my article was lying on his desk. “Did you write this?” he asked. With a tremulous voice and a dry mouth, I admitted to writing the article, fully expecting to be told to leave Habonim. He nodded his head and then said, “How would you like to be editor of our paper”? Tears filled my eyes with relief and emotion. And, that’s how I got my nickname.

Ironically, after that, I became enamored with the idea of kibbutz. At first I imagined it was a sort of perpetuation of the kind of community and togetherness of Machaneh which I loved, and that is what drew me to it. Later as I learned more about socialism and the allure of making a difference as a Zionist, my resolve to live out my ideals strengthened.

In 1982, together with my own “Aliya garin”, I made Aliya to kibbutz Tuval, in the Galilee. It is my home, which I built together with my committed friends and comrades. Now, after 37 years, it is my little corner of Paradise. No, kibbutz is not a perpetuation of Machaneh and I have moved to the community section, no longer a member of the kibbutz, but I still love it and the community life. And I have Habonim to thank – for this and so much more.

Why Jews Get Ahead

Joke borrowed from Jeff Jacobson with thanks .

Bill Gates (about as Goyish as anybody can be) advertised for a new chairman of Microsoft Europe.  5000 candidates show up at the job screening.  They are assembled in a large room.  Among them is Maurice Cohen, a French Jew, a small, bearded, bespeckled man.

 

Bill Gates thanks the candidates for coming but asks all those who are not familiar with the JAVA programming language to leave; 2000 people rise and leave the room.  Maurice Cohen says to himself, "I do not know this language but what have I got to lose if I stay?  I'll give it a try".

 

Bill Gates then asks all those who have no experience of managing teams of more than 100 people to leave. Another 2000 people go. Maurice Cohen says to himself, "I have never managed anybody but myself but what have I got to lose if I stay? What can happen to me?”

Then Bill Gates asks all candidates who do not have outstanding academic qualifications to rise and leave; 500 people remove themselves. Maurice Cohen says to himself, "I left school at 15 but what have I got to lose if I stay? So he stays in the room.

Lastly, Bill Gates asks all of the candidates who do not speak the Serbo-Croat language to rise and leave; 498 people rise and leave the room. Maurice Cohen says himself, "I do not speak Serbo-Croat but what the hell! Have I got anything to lose?"

He finds himself alone with one other candidate. Everyone else has gone.

Bill Gates joins them and says: "Apparently you are the only two candidates who know JAVA, have managed large teams of employees, have advanced PhD degrees, and who can speak Serbo-Croatian. I'd like to hear you converse with one another in Serbo-Croatian."

Calmly Maurice turns to the other candidate and says to him: "Baruch ata Adonai."

The other candidate answers: "Elohénu melech ha'olam."

Making the best of a situation

A Jewish man and his wife are having dinner at a very fine restaurant when an absolutely stunning young woman comes over to their table, gives the husband a long kiss and says to him, "I'll see you later".

"Who the hell was that?" says the wife.

"That was my mistress." says the husband.

"I want a divorce!" says the wife, "This is the last straw! I've had enough."

The husband says, "Alright! You'll get your divorce, but just remember this: There will be no more Winters in Barbados, no more summers in Tuscany, 

no more shopping trips to Paris, no more Mercedes in the garage, and no more Yacht Club, no more Harrods Diamond Card, etc. etc. 

But the decision is yours!"

Just then a friend of the husband enters the restaurant with a gorgeous young woman on his arm.

"Who's that woman with Moishe?" says the wife.

"That's his mistress", says the husband.

"His mistress you say? says the wife: "Ours is much prettier.".