Mah Nishtana

Simon Says!

2007-05-16T14:30:00.001-04:00

So I went to Israel for Lag B’omer.

Wow what an experience!

It all started at the airport.

We were a group of friends and since some of us were flying business class we all checked in at the VIP counter together, about 11 minutes after getting to Newark Int’l Airport we were standing with boarding passes in hand, rolling-carry-on-bags, and about 2 hours ‘till boarding.

I stepped outside for a smoke, and was amazed at the scene that was unfolding; seems that while we were being VIP’ed the rest of the crowed had started to show up.

There were Jews from every walk of life running about in a complete frenzy! Cars were honking, multi-hued suitcases and shopping bags all over the place, babies crying, cops yelling, and of course that infamous war-cry that follows me every time I travel on ElAl, “MINCHA!”

We finally get to the gate after browsing through the duty free shop, and being subjugated to a body search compliments of a very grouchy homeland-security guard, who was quite exasperated, I guess she didn’t have much experience dealing with a large amount of people that treat US customs control as if it were a clothing store in Boro Park. I mean the “handling” that was going on there,, “whatya mean I can’t take this water with me on the plane?!? I neeeeed it!! ,,, “OK, I’ll leave the water, but I really need this bottle of Snapple, ok?!?

I finally get through customs cringing at the way some people were behaving, and sit down with a book and wait for them to start boarding the passengers, ahhhhh my vacation has started! Pure bliss! I take a deep appreciative breath, and suddenly notice a peculiar, yet familiar scent. Tuna!

Yep, the mathematics are simple, three hundred heimishe folks on a plane, equals at least 650 tuna sandwiches, and since there was still time ‘till boarding, and there was nothing else to do, it was chow time!

I get on the plane, pop a sleeping pill, buckle up, and hope to wake up just in time for landing, BUT that’s not the case. It seems that my fellow passengers had other plans for me.

The stewardesses were begging the people to sit down, but the people had other more important things to take care of: seating arrangements!

Now, I knew that I was flying with a bunch of friends, so when I booked my tickets I told the travel agent to seat us together, it’s quite simple, seems the rest of the plane forgot to mention that to their agents, and a lively game of musical chairs was going on to the tune of the cabin crews pleas for them to sit down.

One rather obnoxious refused to sit in the middle seat, and after being threatened with a seat of his own in a jail cell someplace he finally sat down….. Right behind me!

The grumbling was louder than the engines that had just fired up,,,, “chutzpah!, what a chutzpah!” “I paid good money for this ticket; I should have the seat of my choice!” “A bunch of anti-Semites!” I was amazed at how self-centered some people can be.

After a few minor incidents we finally take off, and dinner is served.

The aisles of an airplane are not really wide, and those little carts with the food that they push through them, are made to fit exactly, I guess the Boeing engineers never took into account what pre-flight tuna sandwiches can do to a heimish crowd, so as the crew was attempting to serve dinner, throngs of people were trying to get up and down those aisles, and were amazed when the steward told them to go back to their seat. The dude in back of me was no different, he jumps out into the aisle, oblivious to the fact that he had just slammed his elbow into my shoulder and started pushing his way towards the front of the aircraft, “but I need to visit my friend over there” he shouted when the steward politely asked him to sit back down.

Again I cringed.

The glatt meal they served was not really to my liking, so I asked the steward for some of the regular ElAl pita with some regular chumos,, I mean I am going to Israel after all, might as well get my G.I. system used to the culture!

Yum! Warm pita, spicy chumos, I am about to a big bite, when… poke…poke…poke…. It’s Mr. Dude from the seat in back of me. “Errr, yungerman,, you know it’s none of my business, but that stuff your eating is not kosher!” I try to enjoy my meal and ignore him but he is persistent, “really, you shouldn’t eat it”. I continue to ignore him and try to continue eating, when he reaches out over my head, grabs my tray, and says, “are you listening to me?!?”

My friend sitting next to me had enough, he grabbed Dude’s hand almost crushing his fingers and with a very polite “mind you own !@#$ing business” sent him crashing back into his seat. Well there went my relaxing dinner, and the sleeping pill was starting to kick in, so I figured, OK I’ll just sleep ‘till landing.

The lights in the cabin go off, a peaceful quite fills the air and the guys in their hat and jackets enjoy the in-house movies,, I finally drift off to sleep.

Somewhere over Europe the stirring starts. First it’s just one or two, but soon people are milling about, there is a new program on the agenda. “Shachris!”

In my drug induced coma, I notice the action, but am sufficiently sluggish to ignore it, that is until Mr. Dude makes it his duty to make sure he has a minyan.

At that point I just gave up.

The rest of the flight was a nightmare with me still being dazed from the sleeping pill, the crew trying to serve breakfast, and the minyonim finishing up with a very excited oilim bursting into a spontaneous and very “hartzig” Bar-Yochooey.

I just wanted to get into my hotel and have some peace and quite!

The plane finally lands, and after much pushing and shoving we finally get off.

By now I am hot, sweaty, probably smelly, and grouchy; you get the picture, and guess who meets us as we step off the plane? The other half of our group that was flying on the upper deck.

They looked cool, relaxed, rubbing their sleepy eyes; I just stood there staring at them, “what?” asked my friend Yanki, “is there a problem?” I assume a very sweet and overly friendly voice and ask him, “so how was your flight?” “Oh! Great!” “It was quite, the martinis were great, the food delicious, and I just woke up from a 6 hour nap.”

He ducked as I threw my carry-on-wheely at him.

Suffice to say, three minutes later I was on the phone, Amex card in hand, and yes, I flew back business, it was great!

Imus Have Missed That...

2007-04-13T11:32:00.001-04:00

The land of the free, and the home of the brave!

I always thought that meant free to do as one chooses within reason.

Last I checked freedom of speech was part of that g-d given right that we strive so hard to bring to the rest of the world.

Radio talk shows personify the freedom of speech that is such an integral part of our society. If the media is not allowed to report as they see fit, who will keep the government in check? After all it is the public that ultimately decides who stays, and who goes in the arena of politics, and the media is the tool that keeps the public informed.

To incite violence, is wrong yes, but to voice an opinion? What’s wrong with that?

Who is the one that is to decide where freedom of speech begins, and where it ends? For that matter, who is the one to decide where any freedom begins and ends?

One Size Fits All...

2007-01-11T10:02:00.000-05:00

There is a notion out there that when it comes to “heimishe” education, one size fits all. That what supposedly worked in Europe in the 1800’s will work here in America in today’s day and age.

I have to admit it’s not easy for me to write about this as I am a graduate of this corrupt system, but here goes.

Let’s take the quintessential Yoli as my example.

Yoli is seventeen years old, he lives in Monroe, or Williamsburg, or Boro-Park, or Flatbush, you get the picture. He knows that he should be up and alert at 7:00am sitting in yeshiva with a gemora, the problem is, HE IS NOT INTERESTED!!

Nuchem is a 22 year old bucher, he lives in approximately the same place that Yoli does, he has finished the yeshiva circuit, has been three zmanim is Israel, and is now expected to firmly plant himself into a reputable kollel at least ‘till the shadchan can find him a girl that suits his parents. (I know this is a post in itself). Here is the problem; he has no interest in sitting and learning any longer. He understands that money is tight, and he wants to go get a job, after all a “balabatishe” wedding is far from cheap, and the Italian furniture that you “simply must get” costs more than what some people put down for a house…..

Avrumi is fourteen years old, he has been through elementary school, and now finds himself standing at the threshold of a reputable Yeshiva Kitana, the little talk his dad had with him the other night, not in unkind tones, still rings in his ears,, “I paid them $50,000 to accept you,, make sure you make me proud!” Avrumi desperately wants to make his parents and teachers proud, but is it his fault that letters just get jumbled in front off his eyes? His intelligence is very high, his athletic abilities superb, he is popular, and ehrlich, for some odd reason he just can’t read very well……

Shimon is a happily married young man, he is 19 years old, his wife is only a few months older then he is, and their daughter is 2 months old, he has got it all, or so he was told. As a bucher he was considered “the best” he had finished shaas, was good natured, got along with everybody, good looks, he was a “catch”. His wife was G.O., head of chesed, director of dance for the school production, head counselor, and Hebrew valedictorian, a perfect shidduch! So what has got Shimon so worried? His lovely wife decided that she would like to stay home with the new baby, but the rent and utilities need to be paid, and the wife really did want to go to Florida this winter. It was then that Shimon realized that his job qualifications were not that great, nor were the opportunities so readily available, what to do, what to do.....

What we have in today’s society, both chasidish and litvish, is a failing education system. Our students are not learning right from wrong, but rather mine is better than yours. Where minds should be stimulated to promote creative thinking, they are being chained by the incompetence of educators that were hired to their positions due to “connections” as apposed to qualifications.

I could go on, but I don’t think it’s necessary, I trust you got the point, what are your thoughts

In Our Times

2007-01-04T14:37:00.000-05:00

A friend of mine E-mailed me this article, it is from the New York Times. I thought about editing it but decided against that. I think the contrasts speak for themselves. See ya at the comments field! CC

In the third century, the rabbis who put together the Talmud instructed fathers to teach their sons to swim. It’s safe to say that most American Jews aren’t familiar with this directive, whether or not they take their kids to the lake or the pool. But one morning this past summer, a group of mostly non-Jewish parents puzzled over its meaning in a classroom at the Carolina Day School, a nonsectarian private school in Asheville, N.C.

These mothers and fathers were accidental students of Judaism. They had come together because they often felt flattened by achieving the modern ideal of successful children. They were seeking relief in a weeklong course based on the book “The Blessing of a Skinned Knee: Using Jewish Teachings to Raise Self-Reliant Children,” by a Los Angeles clinical psychologist named Wendy Mogel.

Genevieve Fortuna, a 58-year-old former preschool teacher who has been teaching classes on raising children for 30 years, wrote the Talmudic quote about swimming in blue marker on the classroom’s white board. The half-dozen or so parents, dressed in summer-casual shorts and sandals, looked up at her from their seats around two child’s-height tables. Fortuna opened her copy of Mogel’s book. “Jewish wisdom holds that our children don’t belong to us,” she read. “They are both a loan and a gift from God, and the gift has strings attached. Our job is to raise our children to leave us. The children’s job is to find their own path in life. If they stay carefully protected in the nest of the family, children will become weak and fearful or feel too comfortable to want to leave.”

“This is the most difficult part for me,” said Marie-Louise Murphy, a mother of three. “My husband is really protective of our girls. Even more so now that they’re older, because it’s such a critical period for them.” Her 14-year-old daughter is eager to baby-sit, Murphy explained, but her husband “is having the hardest time with it.”

Increasingly, not being involved in every aspect of a child’s life and letting children take risks that used to be a matter of course feels like an act of negligence to many parents. To resist the forces of judgment, internal and external, the parents in Asheville were in search of what every countercultural movement needs — a manifesto. Wendy Mogel’s book may seem an unlikely one, with its reliance not only on the Bible but also on the Talmud and other intricate rabbinic texts. Published in 2001 with a print run of 5,000 and little publicity, it went largely unreviewed, and bookstores often shelved it with their bar-mitzvah fare. Yet five years later, “Blessing” has sold about 120,000 copies at a pace of more than 20,000 a year. It’s the kind of book that has influence beyond its sales figures.

Principals press it into the hands of mothers, who read it and then buy it in bulk to give away as baby presents. If you have children of a certain age, chances are that someone you know will own a copy or have lent one away.

Strikingly, Mogel’s book is being used as a text for classes and discussion groups that take place not in Jewish settings but in churches or schools like Carolina Day. Mogel, who gives about a speech a month, has been a keynote speaker at the annual meetings of the National Association of Independent Schools, which represents 1,300 private schools, and the American Camp Association, an umbrella group for 2,600 summer camps and youth groups. This fall, the National Association of Episcopal Schools will give her top billing. Mogel’s diagnosis of the ills of middle- and upper-class modern American child-rearing — that children too often don’t learn to take care of themselves — resonates with the educators who deal with these families every day. In thinking about this issue, Mogel finds her psychological training useful but insufficient and turns her audience’s attention to the laws and teachings of old Jewish texts.

Wendy Mogel wasn’t to the religious manner born. Her grandfather was the president of his Orthodox synagogue in Brighton Beach, N.Y. But her father fell away from strict observance, and her mother never knew it — “she was as close to a shiksa as he could get,” Mogel says. Mogel was raised to know the difference between cherrystone and littleneck clams, not to follow the Jewish proscription against eating shellfish.

At Middlebury College in Vermont, Mogel majored in art history. She spent the summers as a counselor at a camp for emotionally disturbed children, working alongside her husband to be, Michael Tolkin. After marrying, the couple eventually moved to Los Angeles. Tolkin’s father wrote for the TV series “All in the Family.” Tolkin entered the family business; his best-known movie is “The Player,” directed by Robert Altman and based on a novel Tolkin wrote. The sequel, published recently, bears the mark of spousal influence: it creates a world of Hollywood sharks let loose on the process of high-powered private-school admissions.

Mogel has lived in Hollywood for almost 30 years now, and she is of it without being captive to it. At 55, her style is part girlish, part granny. Her hair is unbleached and her skin un-Botoxed; on the night I visited her, she wore a white T-shirt, a pink flowered skirt and low-heeled green sandals. Her voice is commandingly deep and throaty, except when she’s excited and lets out a thrilled squeal. (“Me too!” she squeaked when I confessed my poor sense of direction.) Mogel did her doctorate work at the Wright Institute in Los Angeles — “very alternative, Marxist-Feminist,” she says — and interned at the “totally mainstream” Cedars-Sinai Medical Center.

Mogel got her license as a clinical psychologist in 1985. She opened a dual practice, doing therapy for children and families and also testing for disorders and disabilities, like dyslexia and attention-deficit disorder. For 15 years, the work was fulfilling. The hard part of Mogel’s life lay elsewhere; she and Tolkin struggled for several years to have a child and went through many miscarriages, including the loss of a premature baby born on the way to the hospital. None of this hardship moved Mogel toward religion. When she was 35, Mogel gave birth to a girl, Susanna, and four years later, to a second daughter, Emma.

Am I My Brothers Keeper....?

2006-12-11T18:46:00.000-05:00

OK that’s it.

I was going to ignore the whole thing, but I checked Drudge as I usually do, and there it was staring me in the face!

I mean if Drudge thinks it’s important enough to link-to on his site, who am I to ignore it?

I am talking about ElAl and Shabbos observances or the lack thereof.

Let’s take it from the top.

We have a “medina” called Israel. Before I go on I should mention that I am an avid Zionist, not in the Ben-Gurion/Herzel sense but I do strongly believe in the land of Israel, and its right to exist.

So this wonderful country (and I really do love the place) with it’s tremendous attitude, and love for all of mankind has an airline. Actually more than one, but were talking about one specific carrier called ElAl.

ElAl’s slogan is “Feel at home anywhere in the world” and they truly do go above and beyond. From the moment you get in line to check in you’re greeted by that signature attitude that only an Israeli has. I love it, as soon as that young woman snaps, “are you sure you packed your bags yourself?” I feel right at home.

Sure there are those that require the posh dignified check-in of British Airways, or the bland American Continental, or even the suave Lufthansa, but I prefer the warm and friendly (cough) environment of ElAl.

OK, so it seems that they flew on Shabbos to make up for flights that were missed due to a strike. “Nu voos is azoy geferlach?” I asked my friend Moshe yesterday, “they had a “heskim” not to fly on Shabbos” was his staunch reply, “and they broke their word.”

OK, Iych her. They said that they wouldn’t fly on shabbos, they had a dire circumstance and they flew.

I don’t see what the big deal is.

If we are talking about Chilul Hashem, the fact that such a tumult was raised is only amplifying that Chilul, is it not?

Yes they flew on Shabbos, no it was not business as usual, and that would have been that, but instead we have a massive Chillul Hashem going on, and who is at fault? ElAl, or the kuchleflech that are stirring the pot?

We are not talking about a mom-and-pop shop here, were talking about an international Airline that made a decision to fly stranded passengers home.

On a side note, I was reading the English Hamodia this shabbos, and right on the front page was the whole story, including a paragraph about a fellow that had bought a bunch of tickets for a wedding, and was told by his poisik to accept the financial loss that would incur, and order new tickets with a different airline.

That raised my temper quite a bit; I don’t think I need to explain why.

Anyway, is it my business whether or not somebody else is michalel shabbos? And if he insists on continuing am I obligated to ruin him financially?

ElAl is not the only one, there is the classic example of Egged, a bus company that operates on Shabbos, yet we don’t see mass boycotting of the bus service do we?

Before you step into your favorite local taxi do you ask him if he drives on shabbos?

These are but two examples, I think the esteemed rabbis should get back to the problems that are at hand, such as ,,,,,,, well whatever problems there are, and leave ElAl alone.

There I feel better already!

A Personal Story

2006-12-05T14:56:00.000-05:00

Not so long ago my grandmother was diagnosed with Alzheimer’s disease. At first I didn’t notice it but as time went on it became very apparent.

Instead of going to visit her, and dealing with it, I chose to withdraw.
I used to go up and spend some time with her at least twice a week, now months had gone by and I was just ignoring the whole thing..

Last night I finally pulled together the courage to go up and see her.

As simple words could not describe what I felt, I figured I would try this way of communication.

A throne rocks to and fro, and a queen sits therein,
The day is about to end, or perhaps about to begin?

The minor things in life surround her, in marble and oak,
As time slowly begins to lash her with its black velvet cloak.

Eyes that were always filled with wisdom, with warmth, and with care,
Are clouded by the shadows of what once was, by the images of yesteryear.

As I approach her I look happy, confident and sure,
Kneeling before her I yearn for the eyes that once shone so pure.

Recognition had ceased just a few months ago,
Yet her blank look tore through me, it just hurt so.

Her face was towards me as she continued to stare,
“Do you know me?” she asked hesitantly, it was too much for me to bear.

I kiss her hand as I turned to leave, saying I’ll be back very soon,
What happened next broke me, she started humming her tune.

A melody that has been sung by mothers throughout the years,
Accomplished what nothing else could, those notes released the tears.

She continued to hum, not even knowing I was there,
and tears poured from the depths of my heart it seemed so unfair.

I cried for the good times we shared and for the bad as well,
I just wasn’t ready to let go yet, there was so much more to tell.

She finished her song, and started to speak,
I strained to listen; her voice was just so weak.

“My parents come to visit me” she said, her face growing sad,
“My mothers name I am able to remember, but not my dad.”

You look so much like my father she said, but I just can’t remember his name,
I know it I told my grandmother, I am called by the same.

Thanks, But No Thanks.

2006-11-21T20:01:00.000-05:00

It was a clear, cold, quite night, the moon shone pure silver over farmer Yanki’s barn.

A quite rustle could be heard as the turkeys started congregating towards the barn. Imported wheel-barrels were double parked outside, and the excitement could be felt in the air.

It was the annual meeting of the turkey knokers who had come from all over to mull over, and contemplate what could be done to stop these American influences that were spreading throughout the farms especially this goyishe minhag, this absolute narishkeit of Thanksgiving and of course what to do with the never ending problem of today’s youth, and all other subsequent issues.

I mean how many times must we explain that a turkey is supposed to act like a decent turkey “fin diy haym”, not like todays crazy feigalach? An elderly turkey was saying.

And the housing it was ridiculous! A little coop in the middle of the farm was going for a kings ransom! Yenta Turkey exclaimed while trying to get into her gloriously expensive feather coat.

Education! Our young ones need to be able to provide for a family! Shouted one turkey, while adjusting the “shmooz” magnet on his late model, but slightly dented wheel-barrel with New Jersey plates that he really didn’t need “davkeh”, it was just mamesh a mitziyeh, and yeah my shver took out a second mortgage to pay for it. I mean not every one is made for kollel!

These self important turkeys knew what to do, they had the answers to all of the problems the turkey community faced around the world, and every year they came to Farmer Yanki’s barn for this important “asiyfeh”

Farmer and Mrs. Yanki were away at the Agudah Convention, they had gotten free tickets as they did every year from the milk distributors, and were more then happy to go. The topics really didn’t matter as long as somebody else was milking the cows, and gathering the eggs, they were happy. Little did they know that back at the farm the chickens, or in this case the turkeys were running the coop.

There were round table discussions, square table discussions, late night tea parties, early morning daf yomi parties, the program was designed to keep every turkey busy from Thursday night till Sunday afternoon.

One of the important topics was politics. Was the president really a friend of the turkeys? Avadeh he issued a presidential pardon, but was it real? I mean how can we know if the Turkeys really did get let off the hook? (so to speak)
Have they ever been interviewed by Nachum Seagull? Have we ever heard anything from them? Might it all just be bull chips, (excuse my Hungarian) maybe they get the pardon, but were then shipped directly to Perdue!

The discussions went on and on.

Sunday came along, the turkey chasan warbled his final note, the feather coat struggle ensued once again and the wheel-barrels were warming up as they said their goodbyes.

Contently they hit the dirt road back to their little farms, “another great weekend”, Yenta turkey gobbled to Mr. Turkey on the way home to five-farms. “We discussed all the terrible problems that plague our community, we bashed American culture, solutions? Oh it’s the thought that counts; the main thing is we make an effort.”

And with a sagely nod of Mr. Turkey’s head, this story ends.

We have the privilege of living in a country that has allowed us the freedoms to do basically as we choose.

We are not persecuted, we have section 8 and food stamps, and don’t forget the per child tax credit, what could be better?

We live in a country were we are not only enabled, but encouraged to go to self-importating meetings, to discuss the various issues, or non-issues, to further our causes, our rights, our collective voice.

A little bit of appreciation to the flag that waves gently yet firmly at any hint of oppression, or degradation in my opinion is to be commended.

This Thursday is Thanksgiving, what are your thoughts?

Believe It or Not

2006-11-20T21:13:00.000-05:00

This post is a response to Mr. Shtreimel on his blog, A Hassid and a Heretic. It was too long to post in the comments, so I figured I would post it here.

I really should begin by saying that I am far from an expert on this topic, everything I write I have either read over the years, or have come to that paticular conclusion on my own.

I am open to other opinions and comments as I like to think of myself as a student of life, I try to learn from everything.

Well here goes nothing,

This argument as to who or what created the world, and yes that includes the universe and beyond, is as old as time itself.

I will attempt to argue the two primary theories that have arisen. I will try to bring “proof” for both of them, and I will conclude by telling you my personal beliefs. Understand this, what I believe is what I have researched and thought through extensively and decided that it has a lot of validity. It does not make it TRUE.

Evolution :

Simply put it means to change, to adapt to surroundings, to bend to whatever environment introduced into and be heavily influenced by such. Essentially it is based on “the survival of the fittest” or what some scientists would refer to as “natural selection”.

Let me explain:

Almost every living being has what is called a Phenotype and a Genotype. A phenotype generally refers to the outer appearance of the specific being, and the Genotype usually refers to the inner “genetics” or DNA makeup of that being.

Let’s take a human for example; the phenotype is directly dependant on the genotype map. The simplest way to understand this is to look at the difference between males and females.

The male characteristics are mapped out in the “Y” chromosome. The female’s characteristics are derived from the “X” chromosome. Hence the phenotypical male’s chromosome analysis will result in a genotype of “XY” with “Y” being the determinant factor of male. While a phenotypical female’s result will be “XX” and in this case it is the absence of “Y” that determines the female appearance.

Now just as the genotype can produce an extremely drastic difference such as the difference between testicles and ovaries, so to does it play a role in every single one of our phenotypical appearance. Therefore every subtle difference that exists whether it is significant enough for us to notice or not are directly caused by a specific gene.

When we reproduce a random process called meiosis takes place. In brief it is the fusion of genetic material, or for our purpose data, of the mother and the father. Hence the child derives traits in every aspect, characteristically, predispositionally, emotionally, and physically from both genetic donors, this data creates a new genetic map, that in turn dictates the phenotypical outlook of that person.

Very small and subtle outward appearances might not be noticed, but if we look at the general population as a whole these subtle changes are very significant. For example the Chinese eye, or the Irish chin, or yes even the Jewish nose.

Over time these subtle differences, plus any mutations that have taken place would, when comparing the great-grandfather to the greatest-grand son, create two very different beings with genetic makeup’s that merely shadow one the other with no substantial likenesses.

In layman’s terms, the grandfather could be an ape-like creature with minimal intelligence while the grandson could be scratching his head while reading this, and the direct cause of these differences?

Evolution.

The genes have changed over a huge amount of time with the stronger ones surviving, while the weaker ones were diminished into oblivion.

My proof to this is very simple.

The medical community today has been dealing with a kind of evolution that is not taking millions of years, but rather years and months, and the environment is not the universe but rather something as simple as a petri dish, the evolution of germs, or pathogens. Let’s take a simple single celled organism called Enterococcus. It has evolved over some time to resist even the most advanced medications. Medicine labeled the new organism VRE vancomycin resistant Enterococcus. It resists the most advanced antibiotic treatment to the point of, the patient being treated with the antibiotic, and the germ surviving.

So here we have a simple “being” that has adapted itself by reproducing the genes that are strong enough to withstand the antibiotic, and in doing so have created a “grandson” that can survive in an environment that the “grandfather” would not have.

The germ was forced to evolve in order to exist, so too any other species must have evolved to have any continuity.

Creation :

This word is not at all easy to understand, as is the entire theory itself. Simply because the word represents something that appears out of nothingness, producing something when nothing was there before, a particle of matter that appears in a complete void.

It is very difficult to understand this as none of us have been in a void where everything ceases to exist, or has never existed.

There are many branches of this theory, the simplest being belief. A person is taught that G-d created the universe, he believes it, and that’s that.

The second perhaps more scientific thread is the idea of Intelligent Design.

Within the parameters of this theory there lie many different channels and pathways. I will try to explain some of the significant ones.

Primarily there is the design argument, or what could be referred to as the Teleological Argument. What this argument states basically is that the universe is way to intricate to have just occurred. In other words every design must have a designer, that lace curtain in your window could not have knitted itself. The complicated watch on your wrist is proof of a talented watch maker is it not? Just as a master watchmaker or weaver is required to create a simple masterpiece, and we understand that as a given, so too the universe MUST have been created by a master creator, a higher being.

A different vein of thought could be that of Mr. Newton’s second Law of Motion which states that; every action creates an equal but opposite reaction. Hence if the reaction was the universe there had to have been an action, and the action must have been caused by a creator otherwise we would be tracking actions back to time and beyond.

Good ‘ole Aristotle just complicates matters even more as he states that there has to be a “primer” to have started, and to keep the motion of the galaxies.

Yet another train of thought is that there are too many species that have “so called evolved” and yet they cease to exist, (think dinosaurs) eventually there would have to be a decline in the quality of these species,” UNLESS” a superior being makes the decisions for the actual processes of reproduction and in turn directly influences them.

And then there is this little matter of well, Matter.

Matter is used as a proof to creation.

I will try to explain Matter in the simplest terms that I can think of. Matter comprises everything, be it solid, liquid or gaseous, as long as it occupies space, or time, it is made up of matter.
The one catch is that matter can not be created out of nothing, there is an argument that states that it must be possible to create matter as we see that it exists, but modern science has yet been able to create matter out of void or vacuum, or to explain how it came into existence. By this I mean with experimental properties that are documentable.

Hence if something exists it must have been created as matter cannot under any circumstance create itself.

My Own Personal Belief :

This topic has been bothering me for a very long time. I have struggled to understand both sides of the coin, and I would be lying if I told you that after much debate and discussion I finally understood them.

Both sides present a very valid argument.

We clearly see evolution as we see how people adapt to different environments and their physical beings actually change, or morph, or mutate to aid in the adaptation that is required for survival.

On the other hand I do look at the watch on my wrist and wonder could this possibly have evolved?

I don’t mean these two examples specifically, but I hope you get my point.

My answer to all this was a kind of hybrid between the two theories.

Firstly I should mention that I do believe in G-d, I do believe in miracles, and I do believe that I can not possibly understand everything.

This having been said my believes run along the following lines.

G-d created the world, and yes the dinosaur fossils are 3 million years old, they were created 299,999,995 years old! Yes the tree has rings which represent millions of years; it was simply created with all those rings. Sure cells can evolve; they were created with the ability to do so!

There are many comparisons but all of them can be put to this formula.

I am not saying that this hybrid of mine is right or wrong, I really don’t know enough to authenticate, or dismiss it with any authority, I will say this; it works for me.

Get In the Spirit

2006-11-13T18:44:00.000-05:00

Wine, whiskey, scotch, bourbon, vodka, gin, rum, cognac, beer, et al have never meant much to me. I mean what kind of masochist do you have to be to actually drink a nasty-vile-tasting liquid that burns like fire on the way down?

Oh sure I have been to many a Kiddush and made a L’chaim on the standard fare, but I have never understood why people go all agog over these bitter brews. “Green Label is better then Blue label”, “Coors haaa,, you call that beer?? Heineken is the only real beer” are comments that I routinely hear all my friends sprout with a knowing look in their eye. A bunch of nuts was always my opinion; I mean do I go around saying that Listerine is better then Scope? They are both horrid!

That was all before my Sommelier’ial education.

I can now say with a complete and educated confidence, they’re all a bunch of nuts!

Here is how I ended up slurping wine at a, “wine tasting”, in a very fancy store in Manhattan getting “educated” on the finer points of grape juice.

The other week I was having dinner at a very nice restaurant in Manhattan with two non jewish clients, great guys, and terrific business men but with a weakness for the grape. Now normal people would order an entrée, and then perhaps pair it with a wine or other beverage. Not these wine junkies. First they studied the wine menu, and then they pared their main dish to match the wine. Not wanting to look like a total ignoramus I agreed with everything they said, “yeah sure, the “cab” sounds great”. Little did I know they were not referring to the obnoxious yellow automobile.

Our waiter arrives with the bottle, and begins to parade it around the table for everyone to see. I look at him, look at the bottle, “um yeah, sure this is great”. With a flourish worthy of a royal court he opens the bottle and pours about half-an-ounce of the red stuff into my glass. Ok I think, he is trying to save me money, great, it was logical , less in a glass means the bottle lasts longer, which means I only pay 86$ once, or so I thought.

So I am sitting there waiting for him to put the bottle down and go away, but nope, he is just standing there and staring at me. A few very uncomfortable seconds go by, and my client goes, “so Chaim, are you gonna try it?” Ohhh, so that’s what this ceremony was all about, I take a sip of the wine, try hard to fight my gag-reflex, and sputter “delicious, absolutely delicious” the waiter beams and proceeds to empty the bottle into our glasses.

There went my hopes for a less expensive dinner.

My guests pick up their glasses, swirl the wine around, the legs they were looking for had nothing to do with what I thought it did, sniffed at something they called a bouquet, which I had always thought was what I spent money on erev shabbos, and finally tasted the wine. Eye’s closed in ecstasy, or was it intense concentration they gargled it around in their mouths, sorta like I would mouthwash, swallowed, and complimented my choice.

Sitting at the table right next to us was a bunch of Chasidim having some kind of party for one of their friends. The restaurant itself was not a very quite place, and they were not speaking in muted tones to say the least, so inevitably we were able to listen in on their conversation.

They had all finished ordering, when the waiter innocently asked if they would like some wine with their dinner. Their conversation stopped short as their heads snapped to attention, the waiter almost dropped the 12$ bottle of flat-water in surprise. It was as if he had just asked if any of them would like to buy a private jet... Each face around the table acquired a very sagely look. Eyeglasses dropped to the tips of noses, faces intently studying the wine menu, you could tell the decision weighted heavily upon their learned shoulders.

I shared an amused glance with the people around my table. Their ears perked up as they awaited the verdict from the wise sages next door. After much debate the council decided on a bottle and in ringing tones the elder amongst them gave his verdict. “Chardonnay.” My dinner guests snorted into their wine glasses, and choked from laughter into their napkins. Our fine neighbors were oblivious to their reaction.

The waiter regained his composure, kept his calm, and asked if they were “absolutely sure”. The look they gave him could have flash frozen vodka, and off he scurried to fetch the fermented juice of their choice.

Now I do understand that there is a “culture” of drunks, errr I mean people that enjoy these adult beverages and even spend loads of time and money on their alcoholic addiction,,, errrr I mean hobby. A perfect example would have been my two clients. They spend more time and money picking and purchasing a single bottle of wine, then a Chusid spends on his esrog.

After my table-mates managed to control themselves I asked what was so funny. Their answer was a look of disbelief “Chaim, you order red with meat, and white with fish.” “Of course,” I said with a knowing air, “so what was so funny?” “Chaim” he said, as if to a slightly backwards two year old, “chardonnay is a white wine”. Their hysterics knew no bounds. My secret was out I was an am haaretz when it came to wine.

No longer pretending to enjoy wine, I ordered my usual, a glass of orange juice, and no ice.

After duly teasing me, the made it their mission to educate me in the “art” of wine, and a two hour lesson ensued, all on my Amex card of course.

Dinner was great, I was able to say that the orange juice I was drinking had a very “smooth taste, and clean palate, with a slightly acidic finish” , business successfully accomplished, guests happily tipsy, next door neighbors loudly singing happy birthday as the “birthday boy” kept desperately trying to prove that his birthday was not for another six months. It was indeed a successful night out.

The next morning I walk into my office and see an overnight FedEx envelope on my desk. That’s funny I thought, I wasn’t expecting anything, as I pick it up I recognized the return address it was from the two guys I had to dinner the night before. I opened it up and out tumbled two tickets to a kosher wine tasting event in a very fancy store in Manhattan.

I was gonna feed them to my shredder when my cell phone rang. “Chaim Chusid” I said, “Hey Chaim, It’s Peter...” one of the guy’s from last night, “Hi Peter, what up.” “Did you get the invitations to tonight?” “Yes, but I don’t know….” “Great” he interrupts me “we’ll see you there, oh and bring a friend!” a click told me that any protest would fall on deaf ears, or a disconnected line.

I called my wife and asked her if she was interested in joining me, she was less than delighted, but did have a good suggestion, call your friend Mendy, he would love to go.

And so Mendy and I went. We watched grown men in fancy suites take a sip of wine, and then spit it out into a special garbage can. At 80$ a bottle I wasn’t spitting anything out, and became rather “happy” very quick. My two associates were delighted to introduce me to their buddies, who kept on suggesting other bottles to taste, at that point my memories of that night get foggy, but I do remember having a great time watching these “cultured” professionals spitting out mouthfuls of wine, sorta like my 2 year old does with food she dislikes.

To those of you that can tell me the difference between a Chardonnay and a Shiraz, I say L’chaim, to the rest of you I say, good for you! You have the courage to go against the flow! It sometimes takes the innocence of a child, or what we think is a childish question to convince the world that the emperor is indeed not wearing clothes, and that they, the whole world, are fools.

On life’s journeys the paths we take are influenced by many factors. Whether we are true to the cause, or rebellious, whether we wear a shtraimel or a little kipa, seldom do we sit back and actually think about what is right or wrong, true or false. How many times have we gotten caught up in a zealous frenzy thinking that our goals are just and in the end it turned out we had erred?

Just because the world likes wine or whiskey, does that mean that I need to drink it?

Your vote counts!!!! (For what?)

2006-11-09T12:36:00.000-05:00

The other day was Election Day; long live the tradition that is the backbone of every Democracy!

Being a sound American Chusid, I was all hyped to fulfill my civic duties.
After work I drove straight to the voting place, found parking a block away, and marched purposefully through the rain (no umbrella) to “choose” my next representative.

My shoes made squeaky noises as I trod on the freshly waxed floors, my targets were three little old ladies with blue hair sitting at a rickety desk looking very important.
“What’s you name, honey” asks one of them. “Chaim Chusid” I bark, back straight, looking her right in the eye. She looks through her register, “ok sweetheart go to line 123”. I resist the urge to salute, turn on my heel and walk towards the line she indicated.

I got into line, and started putting on my gartel, thinking about an appropriate “hininie michon” to say, when a very annoyed voice grumbled “Hold it right there sonny, I need to make sure your signature matches before you get on that there line!”
I looked down towards the voice, and there was a very sweet looking African-American female octogenarian about 4 feet tall, furiously waving a be-ringed finger at me.
At first I was at a loss for words, how did so small a thing create so big a sound? “Well, don’t just stand there, we have to match your signature, my desk is over there.” Obediently I followed her to her desk.

“Hmmmm,,, Kaim, Kaim,” she murmured as she ran her finger down the list, “nope no Kaim’s at the address you gave me” “But that’s my signature right there!” I protested, pointing to my name with the signature next to it. “That’s Tshaim, not Kaim,” she said with highly suspicious overtones.
After a lengthy explanation, and showing her my drivers license she agreed that Kaim and Tshaim and Chaim are indeed one and the same, and issued me a flimsy little piece of paper, which in turn granted me the privilege to get back into the line.

Back in line, my gartel firmly fastened, I am next to vote. As the lady in front of me goes into the booth, and the lever gets pulled I can’t help thinking about how funny it is that the world’s most advanced super power uses such an archaic method to choose its leaders. With all the computer advancements we develop you would think that someone would think about computerizing the system, after all the image of an average man going into a booth to pick his leader is the epitome of what America stands for. It’s a little odd that the image should contain machinery that has been around since the early 1900’s. A bit of an oxymoron but anyway I was the next one to vote.
I hand the lady my paper, get into the booth, click the thingies, B’dafkeh don’t vote for Hillary, (because I can) yank the lever, mission accomplished!

A lovely tale, here is my question:

We make an effort to go and vote, but do we accomplish anything?

I understand the argument that people in a neighborhood, be it chasidish or not, need to vote so that the candidates will take their requests seriously, but does it really make a difference?

At the end of the month will my taxes be lower? Will my kids have a better school? Will I be able to smoke in a restaurant or bowling alley?

Does it really matter who wins???

Brother, Can You Spare A Kugel ?!?

2006-11-05T23:37:00.000-05:00

Just a quick thought,

I went to daven maariv at Shomer Shabbos tonight, and I was finding it very difficult to concentrate.

The aromas wavering about were not very appealing.

Now I am all for helping people, really I am.

Rides to Lakewood, or Seattle Washington are a wonderful thing, all the other great services that this beis hamedrish offers are truly phenomenal, but a soup kitchen in the middle of a shul? What started out as a coffee station might have gone a bit too far.

The menu consists of ancient potato kugel, aged cholent, antique bakery goods, pizza that has seen better days and leftovers from approximately 89% of the simcha halls in Boro Park etc. etc. (to name but a few items)

The sanitary conditions of these gastronomical delights (?!) are not even the issue, it just strikes me as a bit odd to see people milling about balancing plates of food, while others are trying to daven.

Some might say that this is the epitome of “avodah” helping others even though it might cause you some inconvenience, (in my case unsavory scents, and characters) but on the other hand, there might be a proper place and “setting” for this kind of chesed, and I wonder if a shul is that place.

What thinks you?

Car and Driver

2006-11-01T15:57:00.000-05:00

My alarm clock rang at 6:30 this morning, as usual.
My wife growled “shut that thing off!” at 6:45, as usual.
Showered, got dressed, turned on the coffer maker, and looked for my car keys, out of the house at 7:15, as usual.
Get to me car and see a fresh dent on the bumper, as usual.
Clench my teeth in frustration, do some quick in-through-the-nose, out-through-the-mouth breathing. I get into the car, take a long slurp of coffee, I am ready to navigate through the inevitable traffic, as usual.

We Chasidim tend to drive fully loaded, top-of-the-line high performance sedans. (Or mini vans, or SUV’s, etc. etc.) Now there is nothing wrong with wanting to drive a nice comfortable car, the problem I have is with the drivers.

You would think that with such snazzy cars their driving would be up to par with what you come to expect from somebody that is paying as much a month for his car as he is his mortgage, namely:
Hands on the wheel at the ten and two position.
Seat belt fastened securely.
Headset firmly attached to skull.
Courteous and friendly disposition.
A little Vivaldi in the background,,, I think you catch my drift.

Had you thought that that was the case you would have been very wrong.

Have you ever been chauffeured in a 25 MPH zone at 72 MPH in a giant Infinity truck, by a driver that is on the phone (no headset), programming his Nav system, and steering with his knees, all the while checking his rearview mirror for any cops?
Let me tell you it is an experience.

A stop sign takes on a whole new meaning, instead of stop, and look to see if there are any cars coming. There is now an amendment to this law. Stop and check on the car in back of you, if his car has more power then yours, you better watch it because he will try to scoot around you.

Is it me or do they teach all new drivers to park-by ear. The process is basically back into a spot ‘till you feel, and preferably hear a solid thump. Pull forward ‘till you experience the same “thump”. Repeat while turning the wheel in any direction until you achieve desired results, which usually is a perfect park about 2 feet away from the curb, and everyone’s bumper has a lovely souvenir of your parking adventure.

Double parking is the norm, if you don’t practice it, they think your nuts.

Stopping in the middle of the street to let your mother in law come to the car and load it up with the carriage you left there last shabbos? Perfectly normal. The line of cars three blocks long in the back of you can wait the “2 seconds” it takes.
Don’t get me wrong, there are a lot of good decent drivers out there as well…… I think……hello?.............Anyone?

Bleaching (the) Geula

2006-10-26T13:21:00.000-04:00

Many is the time I have shopped in Geula on a Friday afternoon and heard the announcements beseeching the “sons and daughters of Israel not to create an immodest environment”.

I personally have never had problem with that.

I am sure that the people that are behind this announcement are sincere, and in my opinion it just added to the experience that is “erev shabbos” in Yerushalayim.

Every once in a while you get a nut job that starts screaming and carrying on , but nobody gets hurt, his rantings get him the desired attention and life moves on.

Being a person that tries to understand others I tend to try and think about what motivates them.

I have seen garbage being burned on street corners, and thought, well it needed to go somewhere.
I have seen cops being attacked, and thought, well violence is never the answer, but who started this.
I have seen a lot of things that I disagreed with but as long as nobody got hurt, I was able to somewhat excuse it in my mind.

The truth is I think that all parties involved enjoy it.

The media gets “sensational” headlines, the youth’s get a chance to vent, and the Fire Department gets a chance to do something besides “shesh-besh”.

However, I do draw the line at their latest innovation. Bleach.

It seems that the Chevreh Hatznius, or whatever it is they call themselves, have been patrolling the neighborhood, and are spraying bleach on whomever finds disfavor in their eyes.
If the colors on the dress or coat are not to their liking, they will simply bleach it.

Now if they want to open a Laundromat and offer a bleaching service, I would be all for it, but to damage other people’s property, and perhaps even cause serious injury, just because the color scheme was not to their liking, uh uh, no excuse.

Of course the question can be asked; "what are these guys doing on the street searching out “immodest” women". But I don’t suppose the answer; “they just happened to be there with a water gun full of Sodium Hypochlorite” would suffice.

Discriminate, Nah.., Never!

2006-10-26T10:57:00.000-04:00

I happen to work at a place that is owned by a fellow chusid who has a very interesting outlook on the prospect of “discrimination”. Ask him outright if he is prejudice, or discriminates, the answer will be an indigent “NO, NEVER”, and that might even be the case but when it comes to a fellow yid…. The story changes a bit.

The office employs a few frum employees, several Mexicans, and one or two Muslims. All are treated more or less the same, except the Frum employees.

Let me explain. Mohammad one of my co-workers has just finished fasting l'kuvid Ramadan. He was at work every day, did his job well, all was good. Now I don't know hilchos Ramadan very well, but I suppose that on the last day of this very hungry month there will be a holiday and Mohammad will call in sick, or request a vacation day etc. etc. no? Well I asked him that question and he said “Chaim, I work hard, no need vacation, I be here tomorrow”

“OK”

The next morning I get to the office, Mohammad is not there, I ask the secretary if he took the day off, not looking up from her breakfast she replies “Avadeh!! He did.”

I laughed to myself, and made a mental note to tease him about it the next day.

The next morning Mohammad comes stumbling into the office chewing on a mouthful of Tums. I grin as he gives me a look, and says “I have stomach problems yesterday, no able to come into work”. That’s OK I tell him, I hope you feel better.

I was a bit surprised when he went into the boss’s office to request a vacation day added to his paycheck. The policy is that vacation must be scheduled one month in advance, so when he got the day approved, I thought, good for him, he worked hard, and I guess he deserved a day of wild and frenzied gorging.

I happened to be in the boss’s office as he was reviewing the payroll, and he makes a point of telling me that he approved Mohammad’s vacation day off, even though it was not requested accordingly, and that I should learn from his highly tolerant business practices.

"Ya, ya, he is a goy, one should not make a chillul hashem, always remember that."

I am a bit surprised at the newly found generosity of my boss, and tell myself, see never judge others, here you thought he made Scrooge look like the most charitable man on earth, and you were wrong.

Mohammad gets his pay, all is good.

As I stroll back to my little office I can't help but notice the difference in responses from my boss when Mohammad asked for a day off due to his religious concerns and a conversation I had with him two weeks ago about taking off a day for Hashana Rabba.

Boss: (in a strict tone of voice) "Chaim, I see you are requesting a day off next week, you know the policy."

Chaim: (in a very meek tone) "Yes I know, but I just thought about it, and since it's Friday anyway, and I am scheduled to be in all of Chol Hamoed, I was hoping that you could approve it"

Boss: "Nope, sorry I can't approve it, a company rule is a company rule, and I can't break it. It would not look good to the other workers. You can take the day off, but with no pay"

Walking through the cubicles back to my office I blurted out "Ess is nisht gerecht" and as my fellow workers fixed me with concerned stares, no doubt questioning my sanity, I turned red as chrain, and quickly ducked into the safety of my office.

Here is a fellow chusid that would bend a company policy so as not to cause a "chillul hashem", yet would deny me the same courtesy, because it would not cause a "chillul hashem"?

I ended up taking the day off, with no pay, and had a lovely time, but it still bothered me.

I wish I could say it was an isolated incident, but when Yosi’s sister got married, and he came in late the next day, the noise that was going on in the boss’s chamber was nothing like the time he excused Maria for coming late for the same reason.

I believe that charity begins at home. Equality does not mean taking advantage of a person that “you think” will understand and sympathizing with a person that might not.

Wrecking the Religion!

2006-10-23T19:10:00.000-04:00

A little bit about me.

I am a Chassidic guy, mid-twenties, that has the good fortune (?!) to be around all kinds of different, and interesting people. These wonderful people in turn, like to ask different and interesting questions!

For some odd reason people expect me to have the answers to what are sometimes the most mundane religious questions.

Why is it that a beard and peyos = instant rabbi?

As an “open-minded” fellow I sometimes have answers and other times am just as perplexed as the questioner is.

So when the answer to any given question is “oh, you have a point, I never thought about that” and their lower mandible drops, as they stare in googley-eyed disbelief, I chuckle to myself and move on.

I enjoy it, it makes life more interesting.

The other day I am standing outside enjoying a smoke, when one of my neighbors, Mark, who happens to be jewish, a YU grad back in 1965, but very far from frum, saunters over for a chat.
Past experience with this fine fellow teaches me that this will be a very “interesting” conversation with many religious overtones.

As he comes towards me I hear him muttering to himself rather audibly, “wrecking the religion, all you guys do is wreck the religion” I take one last puff, and mentally prepare myself for his newest onslaught.

“Chaim” he growls, as I open my mouth to say hi, “supposing I was to invite you to a nice restaurant for dinner, would you come?”

Knowing that any answer with this guy is wrong I decide to play it nice. “Sure Mark, as long as it’s kosher why not.” Before the answer has time to even leave my lips, He continues. “And if the waiter opens a bottle of wine that is not mevushal, and pours you a glass, would you drink it?”
Aha, so that’s the question, and here I was having visions of a complimentary night out.

“Ummm, no Mark I would not drink it” I replied as my shaky fingers fish in my pocket for a cigarette that I suddenly desperately needed.

“Aha, a bunch of fakes, phony’s, and frauds” he shouts jubilantly, with a knowing look. “And if the wine was mevushal?” he asks in an overly-sweet voice. “Ummm, I would drink it???” I ask hesitantly, thinking to my self that a bottle of wine was not a bad idea right now.

“Wrecking the religion, wrecking the religion” he shouts with his fist in the air.

The cigarette crumbles between my trembling fingers as I try to understand what was so wrong with my answer.

After a while I got the whole story.

Turns out that Mark had gone to a simcha of some-sort and there was an expensive bottle of wine on the table. Mark asked the waiter for a corkscrew, opened the bottle, and poured himself a glass. Two seconds later a chusid (that dresses just like me) passed by and grabbed the bottle off the table, sloshing half its contents onto the clean white tablecloth he reads the label. With a very Sherlockian “aha” he started running to the nearest sink, where he promptly poured it down the drain, all the time muttering to himself feverishly “yoy, er hut minasich geven diy van”. The fellow was chasidish. The bottle of wine was evidently not, it was not mevushal.

Mark being who he was continued to drink his glass of wine, while drumming his fingers on the purple blotched tablecloth. When he asked the fellow for an explanation, the answer he got was that the bottle was not mevushal, he was not jewish, and since he touched the bottle, it was forbidden for any jew to drink the wine. And so, to prevent any jew from drinking it by accident, this well-meaning fellow had immediately disposed of it.

Mark, once again being who he was, went and checked out what kind of mevushal was actually taking place in today’s commercial wineries. I need not tell you that “flash-pasteurization” was not something that he considered cooked (mevushal) at all.

“Ha” scoffed Mark, as he finished the story, “flash a light at some wine and suddenly it is mevushal”. Muttering once again about wrecking religions, he turned around and marched back to his house.

And as I said, “hey your right, good point” to his retreating back, I started thinking, does a flash of light make anything kosher? What are the standards today with the “better” hashgachas? Is there a big difference between say, the company that “answers to a higher authority” and any of the so called “better” hashgachas?

I certainly hope so.