The Cynics Perspective

2006-07-14T10:16:00.000-07:00

What is the heart of the Jewish People?

In the winter of 2005, I enrolled in a Birthright trip with NCSY to experience the most of Israel in the shortest time. Towards the climax of the trip, our guides randomly assigned us into 4 groups of approximately 15. Each group was given an envelope containing several sheets of paper each with a Jewish-related theme printed on them. The terms included words like Shabbos, Israel, Charity, Torah, Beis Hamikdash, Prayer, Yom Kippur, and others. Each group was instructed to place the words in concentric patterns with the innermost term being the thing that the group agrees is at the heart of Judaism.

Something like This:

Being one of the only orthodox members in my group, I knew that my opinions would be shunted by the others. I got into an argument with my group which kind of shows the different ways of thinking between the reactionary orthodox perspective and the reform/conservative liberal perspective. My group which contained many liberals wished to label Israel as the heart of the Jewish people. They reasoned that Israel is the only thing that unites Jews and keeps them glued together regardless of the strength of their religious identification. My opinion was to put Torah as the heart of the Jewish people. I reasoned that although Israel is the only modern unifier of the Jewish people, A) There would be no Jewish people had our ancestors not accepted the Torah B) I believe the only thing keeping Jews from completely assimilating into popular culture and losing their Jewish identities is because of the Jews whose beliefs are still rooted in the Torah. Perhaps I am being ignorant and close-minded; 20 years of growing up with a certain philosophy can do that.

In conclusion, I believe that it’s necessary to differentiate between being a “Jew” and being “Jewish”. A Jew is a yehudi, someone whose mother was a Jew and is considered a Jew by religious law. Someone who is Jewish adopts the ideals of the never changing laws and beliefs of the Jewish people which are rooted in the Torah. Jewish people are the ones who are not embarrassed to behave or dress in the “Jewish” way, complete with yarmulke and tzitzis, sticking to the Mitzvos, or at least most of them, observe all the Jewish holidays, fasts, and the laws that accompany them. Without Jewish people and the Torah which is at the heart of the Jewish people, Israel is simply a stereotypic land of the Jews and not the Jewish Country.

Oh @#%$ Canada!!......

2006-07-11T21:33:00.000-07:00

If you think all countries are created equally...here's something that happened a few years ago:

When my bunk loaded onto the coach bus to embark on a three-day trip to Montreal, I suspected I would be put to the test. As counselor, my responsibilities were about to multiply at least tenfold for the duration of this voyage, but I figured it would be fulfilling and satisfying to actually do some work to earn my paycheck for a change. So I made a mental note to myself to try and enjoy this camp trip; after all, seeing new places and meeting new people is supposed to be exciting…right?

We arrived in Montreal late on the first night of our epic journey. Our first stop, curiously enough at eleven o’clock, was Six Flags Montreal, Canada’s contribution to the Six Flags mega-network. I was less than thrilled with this development but as long as the kids were happy, I was content to lead them around the spacious amusement park. They did not want to go on any rides, and I did not blame them one bit. The infrastructures of most of the rides were rickety at best, and I was glad to take my charges along the “safer” midway.

Before I had left on the trip, family and friends had informed me of an urban legend that Canadians frequently scammed ignorant Americans out of their more valuable currency. I scoffed at their warnings to hold on to my money. I had no intentions of buying anything in Canada other than perhaps minimal food and drink, and I certainly was not going to throw away money for a prize that could easily be purchased in a store for much less than any eventual carnival winner would have to shell out. Even if I did purchase something, I highly doubted that such extortion by the Canadians was possible. I could not have been more wrong even if I tried.

The booth operators were aware that we were a foreign entity. Just by watching how we gaped at every French sign and toyed with our wallets, they knew we were ripe for picking. As the kids in my care spotted and ran towards a particularly well-lit booth with enormous prizes, the operator’s eyes lit up maliciously and he went about setting up three milk bottles and a mock rifle to shoot them down with. The price for this innocent looking game was a dollar, not an American one, but a Canadian one. I sensed at once that we were vulnerable and moving into dangerous territory, but I was not going to give in without a fight.

My campers were about to exchange their money for the native currency when I asked the operator, just as maliciously, what the rate of exchange was (I had been warned by friends beforehand that he would lie and I was ready to counter his nonsense with actual facts). To my pleasant surprise, he gave me the accurate rate of one U.S. dollar for every two Canadian dollars. To my not so pleasant surprise, he told me that park regulations required a minimum of twenty-five dollars in order for personnel to exchange it correctly; anything less would be matched dollar for dollar. I implored my campers to abstain from playing this ridiculous game and to conserve their funds for more important expenditures. Alas, my words went unheeded. In no more than ten minutes, all of my campers’ money had dwindled to almost nothing. The payout for all of this was one miniature stuffed animal, hardly what I would call a productive evening. We returned to the bus depleted in cash and morale. The urban legend had been true after all.

The second and third days of our wonderful trip contained more of what transpired the first night: exorbitant prices for ordinarily cheap items together with insulting smirks and remarks against us. When we finally pulled back into camp at the end of the long trek, I was exasperated by the constant harassing we had been put through. Yes, I certainly did earn my paycheck that summer.

This whole experience taught me a lesson of great significance. Not everyone will take too kindly to you simply because you assume people everywhere will respect you and your given situation. Americans feel that everyone looks up to them as the paragon of excellence they revere and respect. This is not the case and I feel that it is a good reality check to remind people that they are not all-powerful and can sometimes be gypped like everyone else. The Six Flags Montreal staff was aware of this and I congratulate them on a successful heist. Oh, and there is one other thing I learned from this whole episode. The next time you go to Canada, bring along a real rifle.

Discrimination in the US Mint

2006-06-29T17:27:00.000-07:00

In a world flowing with shiny minted currency, one would expect that people embrace the idea of receiving change on the dollar for merchandise. You can them save up your coins for future expenditures. However, all is not well along the coinage front as there exists a raging battle amongs clashing members within the social stratifications of our minty community. The fierce battle revolves over which coins be considered superior to others and has evolved into a full out social class struggle. At the top of the order lie the quarters, the elite nobles of the coinage society. Their value is overstated. Don't believe me? Try getting change of a dollar in quarters from a cashier. These pimped up elites aren't the brightest of coins, but display their wealth lavishly. Next up are the bourgeoise of our coinage society, the dime. Often scoffed for their diminutive stature, the dime still represent 10% of total contribution to their high 1 & only. Next up are the serfs, the nickels. Finally, we have the slaves, the pennies.

Pennies are naturally inferior to the other coins in a number of ways. First up is that they have a different color.This makes the penny open prey to high-school bullies, media biases, and attacks from the Arian supremacy of the infamous quartes. Some form of mutation occured with the pennies' primordial ancestors causing their shell to become a dull bronze color. Aside from their dark color, they are also despised by society. Really now, who likes getting back pennies for change? Some people leave them on the cashiers desk, others chuck them on the floor, and others look to rid themselves of their pennies by chucking them in charity boxes (a win-win). It's ironic that the penny-slave bears the face of the man who's attributed with ending slavery in America.

One cannot help but feal bad for these oppressed people. Because of their past and current social struggles, many pennies are forced to live in the slums, are involved in gangs, and are always being penny pinched. Rape is rampant amongst the pennies. Pennies have been forced to come up with slogans such as "Bronze is Beautiful" in order to maintain an already weakened karma.

Being a strong right wing conservative, my solution to this penny crisis may seem a bit liberal. What we can do is bring our little friends to the melting pot of the world, not NY, rather a 900 degree Celsius burning furnace, and produce the "mullato" or "biracial coin" who will be silvery-bronze. This will end racial prejudice against the penny and especially the man who reprsents them. Furthermore, we should pass Affirmative Action laws requiring that 20% of a stores sales require them to shell out pennies, forcing pennies to becom part of our social lives. Coins have the same EEOC rights as every other coin and discriminating against the penny should not be tolerated. Embrace the penny fellow Americans! Money is Money and always will be (negating the effects of inflation in which pennies will definitely be hurt most).

An alternative opening post for this blog

2006-06-24T19:43:00.000-07:00

It's unfortunate that the things we are naturally good at sometimes fail to manifest themselves when we consciously try to tap into the right reserves. For example, a person who is funny by nature may suddenly seem eccentric and unfunny when that person tries too hard to be funny. Blogging is more or less the same. For some, blogging is natural. These people just tap on the keyboard and brilliant prose scribbles itself across the screen. However, when writing chapter 1 of the blog, the talented blogger may suddenly draw a blank and be at a loss for how to start.

Here is an example of a poor attempt to open a blog. It is eccentric, weird, nonsensical, and absurd. I hope you enjoy it as much as I do.

Ok, so apparently this site is one of the more popular blog-sites. Being a powerblogger for the past hour or so, I find that blogging fills me with uncompareable sensations. I literally feel like a drug addict sniffing talcum and not knowing why I'm doing it. I know it's stupid, and that people around me will think of me different. How different is that from blogging? Here I am writing senslessly to a sleeping audience knowing that those who know me will not assosciate myself with my writing because my fingers aren't as witty as spur of the moment assininity; It makes me wonder why talcum doesn't come in different flavors. . . oh wait it does - keeping faithful to the analogy, I get to choose different templates for how to present my blogs. Maybe the idea is stupid, but millions think otherwise. Will this be some short lived project? Probably until I find better ways to sniff talcum.

An old poem I wrote about a snotty Cuny Honors student

2006-06-23T07:21:00.000-07:00

Those of you who know me are well aware of my feuds with several CUNY Hoors students. My rants, many of which are inappropriate for this site, became the centerpiece for constructive cafeteria gossip.

The following poem was written as a response to a letter that was writtento the head of the biology department, by a CUNY Honors Student, alerting him that a fellow Honors student was cheating in certain classes. This Honors studen who was "tattled" on was accused of boasting how well she did on an exam because she had photographs of a test ahead of time. Remember, these people represent the "elite" of Brooklyn College.

This poem is like 2yrs old. . .

Ode to a Cuny Honors student

Oh, most esteemed of peers,
And most humble of instructor’s delights,
How thy efforts so valiantly appear;
While your actions reflect the darkest nights.

To those who become victims of your cajoling,
Your manipulative psyche do they hear.
For the precipice are you nearing,
And it is you whom your colleagues cannot bear.

As your head floats higher you vile cavalier,
Your motives clear as air,
With a supercilious head raised and full of bloody hair,
All who have witnessed your shame wish your neck on a chandelier.

You lie to those who have invested their trust,
You carry out the actions of a guttersnipe.
To be better than rest is your lust,
Rendering your usefulness as tripe.

Hypocrisy is the key for your success,
It is deceptive means for which you try impress.
Even the most level headed do you press,
While entrancing yourself with disdainful stress.

School is not your site of education,
It is the site of your domicile.
For there is no destination,
Better for the dispersion of your guile.

The Reverse Conjecture Effect

2006-06-15T21:21:00.000-07:00

Some people call it pessimism, others consider it a form of humility, I call it the reverse conjecture effect because it sounds cool and real, almost text-bookish. I use "reverse conjecture effect" to describe the subjective presentiment of poor performance on evaluative tasks. This effect accurately describes the feeling of impending failure haunting a person who's performance has just been evaluated. Why is it, after pouring hours of hard work into studying for an exam or rehearsing for a performance, some people perceive that their performance was weak? These people end up doing real well when they receive the results of their evaluations and the fear of performing abysmal can probably be considered irrational.(I'm talking about the sincere person not the person who bickers to get attention and have people tell them how great they are when they know they performed well)

I'm only blogging this because I am deeply troubled by an evaluation that I just underwent. I have been haunted by similar sensations in the past yet received satisfactory evaluation perfomance scores. I am hopeful for positive results again but I am currently overcome with the trepidation of receiving a negative evaluation on a public performance task. What bites most is that the circumstances in which I was being judged were rather unique regardless of the fact that I knew I was being evaluated on my performance. It's funny how when we wish to display our capabilities, people never witness our prime, rather they only see how we warm up for the grand display. It shatters one's initial motivation to achieve.

Where do migraines come from?

2006-06-14T22:28:00.000-07:00

32 million Americans suffer from migraine headaches (source:the first couple of results that popped up in google). Migraines are those awful pounding headaches that make you want to squeeze your temples in desperation to temporary allay the throbbing pulsating pain from those raging blood vessels thanks to gate-control theory. Causes of migraines range from blood-flow theory to stomach indigestion.

I think I know better than these credible experts with their fancy degrees and life committed research. I believe migraines are the product of our daily interaction with the products of fresh competetition afforded to us by capitalism. Fact is when the brain is forced to work on top of the regularly occuring stresses, you get bad headaches. I believe that the extraneous choices we are forced to make regularly, feeds the fire of migraine headaches by causing unnecessary stress and anxiety, and capitalism affords us these extraneous choices. I've listed some of these common basic choices in order of when they occur in a person's daily life:

crest or colgate
charmin or scott's
low fat, skim, or regular milk
Kellogs or Post
Daily News or New York Post (i'm stupid, i don't like the times)
White shirt or blue shirt
Black pants or Blue pants
Black shoes or brown shoes (forget brands)
Sunoco or Mobil
Dunkin Donuts or Starbuks (slliiiice rreeady)
Workee or sleepee
urinal or stall
Energizer or Duracell
Pick up the phone or pick-up-and-slam
is that a fly on the monitor or a spec of dirt

the list is endless and every person has their own special needs, particularly at getting-dressed-time (ahem...insert guilty species here ____), it's no wonder that capitalistic modern societies suffer higher rates of migraines headaches than our third world lil buddies. Even in this fragile state of intense pain, one must ultimately choose between Tylenol or Advil.

disclaimer: I love capitalism, america, and everything revolving them. This post is intended to entertain only. This post is not intended to diagnose or treat any disease (although it may very well do so). Unless you're a tard, don't contact a doctor before reading........wow i'm bored

A license to walk!?

2006-05-31T16:39:00.000-07:00

It happens everyday. The sunrise, the birds chirping, the air conditioner humming, the fresh breeze that greets you as you walk out of the house, the fresh scent of cut grass, and that jackass in front of you who has to walk in middle of the sidewalk not letting you, the late-waker who's in a rush to catch a buss because you have a final in 30 minutes, pass. You try to go around the person by walking on the ledge of the sidewalk but people coming the other way are retorting to such last ditch efforts. Finally, you're forced to walk up to the person, in a non-chalant domineering fashion only to have grandma clutch her wallet and move away.

The street is not the only place this happens. In fact, any place where there are people, there are space-wasters. There are the zig-zag walkers, the cell phone talkers, the semi-circle arch walkers, and the where-the-hell-am-I-oh-I-know-where-I-am-I-think-hmm-yes-
i-should-move-to-the-side-because-i-just-want-to-piss-
people-off-so-i-will-move-around-for-no-reason walkers. It is no wonder depression and aggression are at an all time high. With so many poor walkers around, "Gait-Rage" has become all to common. From this observation it is rather obvious that it is driving which comes natural, and it's walking that people should need a license for.

Fear not America for I have designed a mechanism to rectify this troubling predicament. I present you with

the double yellow lines.

Initially designed to keep cars traveiling in opposite directions from crossing into the opposite lane, the double yellow line is the only solution to keep our toddlers away of the DMV for another 15 years. Imagine the horror should walking licenses be enforced. "Daddy, why can't I get a car? Look how nicely I walk, I've been doing it for so many years." With double yellow lines placed on sidewalks, resteraunts, office buildings, schools, and other places where people walk, and the creation of multi-laned walkways for traditionally congested streets (a signaling method will be in place to prevent rear-ending people), walking traffic will be eased and worldwide depression and agression will fall.

To make sure people adhere to the laws of walking, law enforcement will use brutality, tear gas, riot gear equipment, and summonses. Points will be tagged to peoples social security numbers with greater offenses constituting a greater amount of points. When an individual reaches their max, they must be leashed and guided by a walker, and must take a written as well as practical walking test. Society needs this my friends. Too much has been lost becuase of impromptu walkers. Walking is a priveledge not a right. Let's fix our society for the benefit of all mankind.

Brooklyn College - I will surely miss thee!

2006-05-26T12:06:00.002-07:00

Brooklyn College, you have been my home for the last 3 years. It is you who brought forth my fullest potential. After sitting with my cousin on the phone for an hour coming up with my first schedule of Fall 2003: English 1, Core 4, Core 2.2, and Eco 10.1 - I was on my way to become a nice yeshivish accountant. After a term of next to 0 effort and discovering just how boring Whitehead is (yes, I'm stereotyping a building), I began pondering about my furure as an accountant. I recall dreaming about starting my own firm, then growing that firm to fame, then branching out and making lots of money. It did not take long for me to realize this profession was not for me.

I reconsidered my major and where I wanted to go with my education. I was always attracted to the sciences as a kid, reading many scientific encyclopedias and science things; was always fond of chemistry as well. Despite my Grandmother's and Father's protests to my medical pursuits, that I'm going to screw up my life taking the premed courses by slaughtering my GPA, my mom encouraged me to choose whatever path I wanted most for myself.

Spring 2004: Marie Fiarello, the pre-health advisor at the time, sets me up with Chem 1, Bio 17, Precalculus, and Psy 1.1. It was this term where I learnt that many of the science professors would be self-righteous pricks -- always smiling at you and willing to help -- yet alway making sure not to test on what they teach. Despite their Ivy League degrees, some professors still feel the only way to show off their smartness is to make the class feel dumb. Any professor can fail a class in this manner. Fortunately this would only serve to enhance my friends and my own understanding of science far more than the understanding of science by students in other universities. Despite running A's in all my classes throughout this term, I got a stomach illness in time for final exams (Shavuos can do that) and did not receive grades reflective of my capabilities. Score 1point for daddy.

Fall 2004-Fall 2005: From the moment I was contemplating medicine, I spoke to many doctors about their profession and my ambitiousness in pursuing a medical career went downhill from there. The biggest complaint doctors had was that insurance companies don't let them practice medicine. The doctors had to work their tails off to get their license, they pumped lots of money into their clinics, and now they are being bullied by the insurance companies who are telling them how they should practice medicine. The doctors also complained that they're not making as much money as they used because of this. Many doctors urged me to understand what I'm getting myself into because life as a doctor isn't as grand as it's cracked up to be. Tv sitcoms do not depict the medical profession as it truly is. So I decided to become an EMT to see medicine through their eyes and to work a shift at a local hospital.

This time period included a revelation in the form of an EMT hospital rotation that Medicine was not for me. Upon entering Brookdale hospital for my ER shift, I am greeted by a naked man with a 5 inch stab wound howling in pain while hooked up to many machines. The doctors insert a pad to measure the depth of the wound and the whole thing was disturbing. I walk around to the other wards in the hospital getting the same feeling everywhere I visited. A brief trip to the bathroom was all i needed to raise my spirits. I was greeted by these cute kids who looked up in admiration at me in my white coat and said "Have a good day DOCTOR." While that did make the rest of my day go faster I conculded after that 8 hour shift that medicine was not for me. I began looking into dentistry. After interning for a whole summer, reading several literatures, and interviewing many dentists -- who strongly encouraged their field-- I was set on going to dental school.

These terms at Brooklyn College would either make or break my ambitions in pursuing a career in dentistry with respect to grades in science courses. To my father's disbelief (and much of my own to that matter) I kicked ass in the remaining pre-med sciences, especially the most dreaded pre-med course: Chem 51 with Howell (thanks Chesky and Salim). I ended my pre-med courses with a science GPA of 3.7, an overall GPA of 3.9, and an extremely competetive score on the DAT. All that was left was the dental school applications and interviews.

Spring 2006: My last term in college was realtively slow-paced with the absence of the intense science course. It was a term to get better aquainted with the friends I've made over the years. .

What I'm going to miss:
1. All the fake friends I've made over the years
2. The real friends I've made over the years
3. Being used by the jewish girls (not used, more like bloodsucked)
4. ssssslliiiiice rrrreeady
5. sleeping
6. The Caf and it's wonderfully mismatching color chairs
7. The La Guardia talking room
8. The old racist security guard
9. Ingersoll
10. Howell
11. Erez and Except Saturday
12. Hilel
13. The Quad
14. Yeshiva being 3 blocks away
15. Websims
16. My dorky looking picture on my ID card (Dovid, totally not Matt LeBlanc)
17. Hackysack
18. Playfighting with specific people
19. The sexual harrassment blurb in the back of the schedule of classes
20. Being sexually harrassed because if a girl does it to a guy it's ok
21. Eating out after school
22. B11
23. To the death battles of student governments (go my little progressives at PhD)
24. BC-Wifi during class
25. Class?
26. pre-med
27. Huuuuge curves (in class, not people)
28. Wearing jeans (beginning and end in BC)
29. Cores
30. Everything else

It's been a great 3 years.

Last Day of Finals

2006-05-26T11:53:00.000-07:00

Thursday morning, I get up 5:30AM to finish studying for my Core 9 final- the last final I will ever take in Brooklyn College. The wonderful schedule coordinator and I schemed the section codes prior to the release of the schedule of classes to make sure that my last final will end bright and early 10AM! Mom was her regular sweet self giving me the car keys so that I can get to school by 7:00Am and finish studying before the final at 8AM.

I get to BC , feeling happy for myself after getting a spot in the middle of E.24th. I'm thinking HA! where's everyone gonna park since there's alternate side on Thursday cutting the number of parking spots in half. I found out shortly thereafter that alrernate side was canceled for religious observances (i'd still like to know which religion) and I was the only sucker at school at 7Am without a spot on Bedford Ave or E. 25 (still moping).

I get to the college gates at 7:10A only to learn that the main gates don't open until 7:30 (yay). So I have to walk around the campus to enter the library caf through whitehead. It's 7:15A, I enter whitehead behind 2 jewish girls, the guard flirts with the girls a bit so I figure he's a nice guy. I flash my ID, bid him good morning, I'm halfway into the library caf when he puts a nasty face on and asks me to show my ID again. If only my hair were longer. . .

At 7:30, I get bored studying so I walk around the campus and run up and down stairs in Ingersoll for my daily workout. I chat with some people before the test about vacation plans and stuf. 8AM test time. Test was super easy. Finish after 40 minutes, bid my professors a happy summer and return home. It dawns on me as I enter my house that BC is to become a thing of my past. To contemplate this further I go to sleep until 4pm. Wake up later for an end of term party at hilel followed by 2 hours of pool; a satisfying climax to a memorable 3 years.

Who needs a Model A with a rumble seat when you can get an Infiniti FX? and a bit on World War 2

2006-05-21T21:13:00.000-07:00

It doesn't take a genius to know how advanced automobiles have become since their debut in 1908, or does it? Back then, cars still had leather seats, ran on fuel, heck they even had headlamps. Do we really need the GPS, window wipers, cd-players, power steering, and moonroofs? Ok we do, but as long as we're called modern, let's keep our products modern.

I was inspired to write this as my dad was driving me to school the other day. He drives an Infiniti FX, an expensive piece of trashy Seabiscuit with leather seats (IRONY!)-- in black-- with a GPS. Sitting in an FX can turn one's posterior to roast terrier in just 30 minutes! Heaven forbid there's an ant on the road, don't run it over with an FX, it's gonna shoot your head to the roof. On the plus side, there's no rigor mortis of the tush which is common in cars with good shocks, so sitting in one place for too long won't leave you sore and dry. But please, even my Avalon is more comfortable!

So daddy now wants to get a new car. He's persnickety in that it must be an all wheel drive and a sedan, no more SUV's. Unfortunately, there aren't too many "good" mid-range all wheel drive sedans. Ah! but there are! Except that they are German made. Audi, Mercedes, and BMW all make top of the line spectacular all wheel drive sedans but daddy's against it because he feels that it's inappropriate to buy a German car because of the horrible exploitation of Jews by the German automobile industries during World War 2.

Apparently many Boro Park Chasidim don't feel the same. Mercedes' have particularly high depreciation values so getting one used is fairly cheap. Perhaps those Chasidim who drive German cars feel that time is a cure or that since they weren't directly affected by the German's World War 2 atrocities, that it's ok. Perhaps they just don't fear the resentment of their communities.

I believe popular resentment is the only thing preventing Jews from purchasing German vehicles. Fact is Germany doesn't need Jewish money for their cars, the rest of the world has already been convinced that German auto's are of superb quality. Nothing can forgive these industries for their crimes against humanity in World War 2, including using Jewish slave labor, Jewish hair for seats, and other forms of forced labor and dehumanization.

If Jewish consumers are going to be inconvenienced in buying a car because of abstaining from the 'better' german models, then, in a sense, the German's are still making our lives hard because they are the source of communal resentment. I'm not promoting the purchasing of German cars, it's just my cynical perspective.

Men and a 3 letter word that starts with S

2006-05-21T20:31:00.000-07:00

Without having a better idea for how to open this blog, this incident was the first to come to mind as I was doing a certain chore while registering my blog name (which by the way, was given to me by a very dear friend of mine who summed my personality in 2 words when he was light-headed).

I was sitting at a table with my usual Caf buddies in the Brooklyn College cafeteria, aka the Jewish social hub of BC -- secondary to the La Guardia reading room on the 2nd floor of the library -- passively listening to the usual hubbub of repetetive themes which, after creating a special crevice in my Wernicke's area, often go ignored. Between picking at my poor excuse for lunch (slice rrrready!) my man antennas picked up a conversation about what men look for in women.

Now, you have to understand something about me before going further. I am no typical man. I am Super shopper, designer wearing, pays too much for crap clothes because Saks had it, likes fancy uncomfortable footwear, man. The previous day, I purchased 2 pairs of Versace sock at $12 a pair (what a BARGAIN!). So walking to school beaming with my fancy Versace socks, with a medussa head at the top, making sure they're not pulled all the way up for everyone to behold that majestic goddess head and her lullful essence; I strategically positioned my feet on the cafeteria floor for all to get a glance at the splendid paragon of all men's hosiery.

So between glacning from my lunch to my socks, I haphazardly payed attention to that particular part of the conversation in which a male and female were arguing about what one looks for in the other gender. After making his point that all women look for in men is money for shopping, the topic had turned as to what men seek in relationships. My friend turns to the women and says "Look, I'll be honest with you, and I'm not afraid to admit it or be blunt about it . The one thing a guy wants from a woman is a 3 letter word that begins with S. . ." To which I piped in, in despearation for not being noticed--"Sox." Good sox is crucial for stable relationships for if the pants and shoes are not bridged together harmoniously, then what is to keep the man and woman together?

Sox are a complex complement to anyone's wardrobe. Coming in a variety of cottons, wools, synthetics, and rubber with patterns ranging from stripes, dots, textures, swirls, argyles, diamonds and checks, it is no wonder why men seek a woman who does good sox. Hence, this crucial role of sox now puts a new spin on why interrmarriage is despised. Just as wearing socks that are a shade darker than the shoe is blasphemous, so too are the analgous implications of intermarriage. Besides being forbidden by religion, it just doesn't look good. Sox are definitely an underrated staple of our lives -- speaking of which; I just finished folding mine and have to put them away.