The Jews Who Love Christmas: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

I think this is going to become a yearly rant.

You know what really annoys me during the holidays? A fellow Jew who tells me some variation of the following:

Why are you talking about Christmas? You're Jewish!

And to these fellow Jews, I say the following:

F*** YOU!!!

Let me explain Christmas from a Jewish perspective. All Jews love Christmas. Every single one. Even the real orthodox "why are you talking about Christmas blah blah blah" Jews love Christmas. What's not to love? Christmas is about family, friends, presents, snow, trees, vacation and pretty lights. It's a universal holiday and everyone believes in Santa to one degree or another.

Christmas can be a little weird for Jews, however. See, technically it's a holiday for everyone but us. Christmas is technically off limits for Jews. It focuses on a religion that isn't ours, on a tradition that isn't ours, and everyone always throws the "but you have Chanukah" argument in our face.

By the way, let me address the Chanukah argument. Chanukah is nice and all, but it ain't Christmas. We don't get a tree, we don't get lights and you know that whole eight-days-of-presents thing? All the presents are crap.

So it's easy for us to feel a little left out during the Christmas season. So many of us over the years, like myself, have said "to hell with it" and have decided to celebrate Christmas like everyone else. I, for example, have a tree in my house and lights outside.

And here's the funny thing: People who have celebrated Christmas their whole lives have welcomed us Jews with open arms into their traditions. They're cool with us. They get it. They understand that Christmas is, and should be, for everyone. They give us no flack whatsoever.

It's other Jews, however, that make us feel bad about it. It's other Jews who make the snide comments about Jews who celebrate Christmas. It's other Jews who make us feel bad about having a Christmas tree. It's other Jews who act like we're turning our back on them.

And to those Jews, I say this: It's Christmas. And in the spirit of Christmas, embrace the spirit the Christmas and stop making your anti-Christmas comments during Christmas.

Christmas.

Christmas. Christmas. Christmas.

:-)

And now for this week's:

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

A personal SOTA this week (no pictures or links unfortunately). Recently, some friends of mine have been dressing up their cats and dogs in bows and dresses for the holiday season.

One friend of mine even said: "I'm dressing up my kitty so he'll be ready to meet his grandparents!!!"

Which are her parents, in case you were wondering.

These people are freaks.

Freaks. Freaks. Freaks.

:-)

Video Game Store Workers: They Never Change: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

I love video games. Starting in the mid-1980s, where me and my cousin Jeff would play Dragon's Lair, Football and Jungle Hunt on his Atari 5200, video games have been an integral part of my existence all the way through childhood.

Over the past year or so, however, I haven't been playing video games as often. The reason, quite honestly, is time. I don't have as much free time as I used to -- when you're married, you tend to spend more of your free time with your wife and less with your Nintendo Wii, particularly if your wife isn't much of a video game -- and so my video game playing has faded a bit into the background.

But last weekend while doing some holiday shopping, I ventured into one of local Gamestop video stores and realized something. I realized that no matter how much time I spend away from video games, when I venture back into the world, one thing stays the same:

Guys who work at video game shops are absolutely dorks.

Here are the things about video game shop workers that haven't changed over the years:

1) They're all guys. I swear, I don't think I've seen a person with a Y chromosome sell a video game in my 32-plus years on this Earth. The video game worker club remains a men's-only club. Gay guys should take heed: For you folks, this can be a real meat-market.

I'm always trying to help out my homosexual readers. :-)

2) They're all nerds. I hate stereotyping -- I really do. I mean, hell, I'm a nerd in a lot of respects. And there's nothing wrong with nerds. Nerds have a place in this world. But there are people who have nerdish tendencies and then there's people who are nerds. People who laugh in a nasally voice, wear shirts all the way buttoned, are always carrying pens, smile weird, snort.

I'll never forget the time when I walked into a video game store and one of the workers busted out the Don Flamenco dance.

Nerd or just nerdish? Need I even ask?

2) They have their own language. Someone from The Rosetta Stone company seriously needs to come up with a new version for video-game worker speak. I mean, it's literally gibberish to me. Do you have to know the language being hired? Or does the cult teach you as part of your initiation?

Here's a snip-it of a conversation over the weekend:

Worker 1: Are you serial?

Worker 2: Freakin' A!

Worker 1: No slaughter?

Worker 2: Slaughter is so SMB3?

Worker 1: Well, probably like DD2.

(pause)

Worker 2: Are...you...SERIAL????

Um...yeah.

In the end, though, it's nice to see this segment of the workforce remain unchanged as the years go on.

So here's to you, Mr. Video Game Worker.

Dance the Don Flamenco to your heart's content.

:-)

And now for this week's:

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

One of this year's Major League Baseball MVPs, Ryan Braun, has tested positive for performance-enhancing drugs.

And get this: Apparently, he was notified prior to being awarded the MVP award.

Major League Baseball reportedly will not be stripped of the MVP award, although he should If you take PEDs, you've cheated, pure and simple. Braun should be stripped of his award in addition to his 50-game suspension.

The Right Kind Of Organic Foods: A Nevin Barich Blog Experience

Recently, I've been eating more organic products. I know, I know. I'm Mr. Processed Food. But recently while on a trip to the supermarket with my wife Ramona, I was in the frozen food section reaching for my Lean Pockets when Ramona stopped me and -- with pleading eyes -- implored me to at least take a look at the organic frozen products nearby.

So I agreed to at least take a look...

...and 10 minutes later, we were at the cash register with $65 worth of frozen organic food products.

To soften the blow, Ramona handed me $5.

Marriage. :-)

But needless to say, in recent weeks I've been consuming more organic products. Frozen organic pizza. Frozen organic burritos. Frozen organic enchiladas. I haven't had a lean pocket in four months. I'm waiting for one of those "120 day" chips.

So imagine my surprise when I recently came home for the supermarket, showed my wife my recent purchase of organic stuff, and saw a look of disappointment on my face.

"What's wrong?" I asked. "It's all organic."

"Yeah," she replied, but it's not the best kind of organic."

Best kind of organic?

Hold the phone. Since when are there different levels of organic? It's bad enough that I'm spending three times as much to eat more organically, but now I'm being lectured for not buying the right kind of expensive organic products? When I come home with a bagful of organic products -- when I, Nevin Scott Barich, lover of any and all preservatives, buy organic stuff -- I expect heaping amounts of praise! I don't expect...

...not the best kind of organic.

Here's my take: I haven't eaten a lean pocket since the middle of baseball season. Every day for lunch at work, I make myself organic burritos and my coworkers give me their "how long will this last? glances. I can no longer take advantage of 33-cent frozen food sales. With all of that, don't I deserve unlimited, "Nev, you're so amazing for eating more organically" praise? Do I really need to be given a "right kind of organic" lecture?

It makes a man want to fall off the lean pocket bandwagon.

:-)

And now for this week's:

SIGN OF THE APOCALYPSE

Kourtney Kardashian is pregnant again.

And the timing couldn't be better! For Kourtney recently launched a mommy blog,

Oh dear God...