The flight over

A while ago I dated a girl up until she left to study abroad in Rome. We said we’d still be friends which lasted for about three emails. She kept a travel blog that over some silly sense of commitment I read it until I realized that it was actually pretty boring  and that I didn’t really care what she had to say anyway.

That is why I’m scared that this travel blog is going to be just as awful at least grammatically, if not for content alone, which is was why I was hesitant to write a blog until several friend’s told me they’d actually read it. I’m pretty sure they were all high at the time, which is probably the best time to agree to read some dyslexic jackass’s travel blog. I can’t blame them for being stoned since I was a little drunk when I agreed to write this blog. So here I am sitting on a plane somewhere in the mid Atlantic wondering if there’s any polite way to tell the two little hysterical bustards to shut the fuck up.  

It’s a combination of their kicking and the three cups of coffee that’s making me just a bit jittery on this twelve hour flight to Tel-Aviv. I left on the eve of Shabbas, or as normal people call it Friday night, a holy time of the week reserved for rest and Talmudic study, where work and travel is explicitly forbidden by God (the Jewish one). So if there is any flight to the holy land that fails this year due to hijackers or mechanical failures it will probably be this one since I’m sure that traveling on Shabbas really tickles the lord pink.

Since its Shabbas there are no Orthodox Jews on this flight, just normal Jews like me. For the most part I like Orthodox Jews even though there always trying to bring those of us who don’t quite love god as much as they do, into their fold through a combination of hospitality, Jewish guilt and free meals. I have two estranged married orthodox cousins living in Jerusalem that I want to try and visit but I’m worried that somehow years of rigorous  rabbinical studying will have given them telepathic powers that would reveal my deepest secret, being that I’m a sinner with little or no remorse for the crimes against god that I’ve committed. So far these crimes include; masturbation, cigarettes, sex with shikasa, sex without shiksas, bacon, shrimp, most of the last several thousand things that I’ve eaten, dressing like a woman, going to a drag show, masturbation, having any sort of physical contact with woman that I’m not related to and then doing most of these things and more during the Sabbath.  

But then I remember that my cousins don’t study Kabalah since most tradiotnal sexts of Orthodox Judiasm forbid studying it before the age of forty. Kabala is sort of like a Jewish spell book studied by a multitude of various contemporary and historical Jewish scholars such as the Bal-Shem-Tov as well as many Hollywood celebrities like Madonna and Ashton Kutcher.  The Bal-Shem-Tov is the mystical founder of the Lubavitch movement (also known as Chasidism),  a sect of orthodox Judaism that emphasizes music, dance and Kabalah. Since Matisyahu is the only Chasidic Jew I know of I can only assume he’s there leader or at least there chief advisor in Reggae based affairs. According to some stuff I read a long time ago Kabalists were able to perform minor miracles like raise the dead and breathe life into big clay monsters that would beat up gentiles that would threaten the Jews of Prague.

To learn more about any of the stuff mentioned feel free to read a book or just be a lazy douche like mor and skim Wikipedia. Well peace out and thanks for reading this. Coming up soon Juri the Dutch guy I met three years ago whose going to be crashing with me.