Election Day kiddush

Jameel has expressed reservations about Gidon Sa'ar's new bill that would dock a day's pay from anybody who doesn't vote on election day. Jameel is not so comfortable with punishing non-voters, and neither am I.

There are other, more creative ways to address the problem of declining voter attendance, however: We can try using a carrot instead of a stick. How about providing free food at the polling stations? Of course, that would require funding for the food, so we've got to find a way to come up with the money. Well, how about we have the political parties provide the free food, out of their campaign budgets? They can each set up refreshment tents near the polling stations. Election day would become just like a big shul kiddush -- everyone will want to come. In fact, each party should recruit a sponsor for their Election Day "kiddush": Morris Talansky can sponsor the "kiddush" for Kadima, Ronald Lauder can sponsor it for the Likud, Octav Botner's estate for Labor...


Imagine: You could get hamin at the Shas booth, kugel at the UTJ booth, humus at the Arab parties, borsht by Lieberman, geriatric food at Gil, and sushi at Meretz. (If the Third Way was still around, I'm sure they'd serve bread in a pita, and Shinui would offer a spread of shrimp and lobster.) Kadima can offer free drinks from their mini-bars, and they'll probably promise the most "fun" food to eat (but everyone who does will develop an upset stomach by the time they get home...).

So how about it? It's a sure-fire way to boost election attendance. (Unless, of course, Jameel is serving waffles at the Muqata that day.)


Wherever I am, my blog turns towards Eretz Yisrael טובה הארץ מאד מאד

A Kasamba Guest Post: Grab and Move

(Coming out of retirement for a special guest-posting...it's Kasamba!)

There are many things in the world I just loooove and very few I detest.

Buffets are one of them.

By buffet, I mean what some of you would call smorgasbord. You know, where huge mountains of food are lavishly displayed, inviting one to help themselves.

It is the ‘helping of oneself’ that I take umbrage to.

Put it this way, if I am invited out, I want to be served, thank you very much.

Maybe it’s because I am just not a hunter-gatherer.

I don’t like standing holding a plate in my hand waiting for my turn for some underpaid waiter to dole out some rations my way. It makes me feel too much like Oliver Twist.

(Tiny voice)‘Please sir, may I have some more?’

I watch those women who rush to the buffet table only to bring platters full of every type of food for their family, while their husbands and kids sit like Pashas. I admire them, I truly do. They remind me of little ants scurrying around shlepping fare larger than themselves for the benefit of the generously proportioned, therefore more immobile ants.

My husband, Boruch Hashem doesn’t mind serving himself at these types of shindigs because he loves buffets. This is just another example of how opposites attract. He actually finds food tastes better when eaten while standing up balancing grub on a paper plate. I have essentially tested him on this. What I found was really, truly, well… disturbing to say the least. One Shabbos, I dished out chulent in a plastic bowl with a plastic spoon to husband while he was standing and got all the kids to crowd him into a corner.

He said it was the best chulent I ever made.

I rest my case.



But to me, it doesn’t matter whether it’s a Kiddush, wedding smorgasbord or hotel buffet, I find them equally as frustrating. Nothing is ever really hot and you never know how many eons everything was left out of the fridge for, or who touched what and how. Then there is the etiquette involved. You know, how people are supposed to behave. The problem is the protocol involved seems to be as well known as the Coca-Cola recipe or the whereabouts of Jimmy Hoffas body. But, for Heavens sake how difficult is it for people to understand that as soon as they take their food, they must MOVE AWAY FROM THE TABLE. Unfortunately, most people do not. They stand proprietarily next to the table trying to figure out what the sauce covered lump is or enjoying a discourse with their mates while the rest of us look longingly at food we can never reach.

Oh, just to own my own bullhorn…

And then there are the little ones; the ones dependant on us big people for sustenance. Well, when they are invited to partake of a buffet, they are counted as a number and paid for but they end up eating four slices of red pepper and three slices of cucumber. I felt so happy when my little one goes for seconds. I feel like at least the Baal Simcha is getting thirty cents more value for his money. But then you take them home and the notion kicks in; they are now hungry and start to cry about starvation. Starvation? I still don’t understand why it is that when my kids see plates piled high with a small countries natural produce it puts them off their food. It doesn’t put me off mine. Not even gastroenteritis puts me off my food. I’m made of tough stuff. However, you have to appreciate the wonderful irony; the very same parents that encourage their kids to finish everything on their plates because people are starving in Bangladesh are the same parents who, at a buffet, will encourage those same kids to pile their plates like pagan offerings. All because it’s there.

In my forty years of partaking from these feasts, I have never heard anyone request that the remainder be shipped off as foreign aid.

It’s never really necessary anyhow, because there is always at least one woman who piles loads of the food on offer into her handbag. To have perhaps, ‘for later’.

Now, if you’ll excuse me, I hear there is a table laden with fresh waffles at the Muquata compound.

Therefore, I’m telling you all, respectfully and in a most dignified manner, to make way… pronto; when it comes to buffets, I fight dirty.

Mazal Tov Muquata members!



Wherever I am, my blog turns towards Eretz Yisrael