A beautiful and intelligent woman I met on Facebook tonight asked me about taking an internship with a feminist porn director. What did I think? I replied: "I guess this might be part of your journey… If you have a hobby, doing it for a job will usually change its meaning for you… Do you have close ties with people who would be devastated if you did this?"
In January, my parents moved to Washington D.C. so my dad could organize a defense of his views. I stayed behind at PUC with friends. I was out of my dad’s shadow and I could have a childhood and do all the things normal kids do such as eat candy and talk to girls.
I started listening to pop music, tuning in at night to radio stations KNBR and KFRC.
In the summer of 1980, my father had his ministerial credentials taken away by the church and he moved to Auburn and set up his own non-denominational evangelical Christian foundation Good News Unlimited.
I was outside the warm bosom of the Adventist community for the first time and I felt desolate. My father said we belonged to the invisible church of Jesus Christ but that did not make for much practical community.
I went to a non-Adventist school (Forest Lake Christian School) and was surrounded by sinners who ate meat and did not keep the Sabbath. In my first semester I failed two classes (Algebra and Spanish) and ended up with a D average.
I think it was on the powerful Los Angeles radio station KFI that I heard my first REO Speedwagon songs.
I remember us moving into a new home (7955 Bullard Drive, Newcastle, CA, 95658) in 1981. We had eight acres.
One evening a neighbor had a party in our honor. My ****** wanted to come without a bra but my dad made her go home and change.
It was a little awkward socializing with the un-churched. I did get into one good conversation that night. It was with Bob McKee. He lived about a mile away. He said his son Kevin, my age, liked a band called "REO Firewagon."
I became friends with Kevin and hung out at his house. About the only band that we both liked was REO. The other music that I liked he said his mom listened to (Kenny Rogers, Ann Murray, etc).
During one weekend trip back to PUC, I found out that my old classmate Valerie had the REO Speedwagon album "Hi Infidelity."
Late one Saturday night with the lights out and the record playing, I tangled myself up on the couch with a half dozen of my former SDA classmates. All that human contact! It was glorious. I had never felt so much. I’d never even kissed a girl. Now they were all smushed against me. I was covered in girls. It felt like they were raining down from Heaven.
God, couldn’t you let it linger?
I ran my hands over Holly’s butt. She was wearing those fashionably tight Levi jeans that made me love America. She had long black hair and was absolutely gorgeous. She was way out of my league. I couldn’t believe that she’d let me touch her.
Conquest goes to the bold!
This was the kind of Good News that I could get behind.
For a few minutes, I felt I was outside the loser’s circle.
Then Valerie’s mom came in and turned on the light and we all whooped and screamed and tumbled to the floor laughing.
We kinda cleaned up our act after that and within an hour I was on my way home.
You don’t understand how much touch meant to me. My mom was diagnosed with cancer when I was one. I went on to live with about a dozen different families while she took three years to die. I didn’t get the affection I needed and I’ve been looking for it ever since.
My father hates to be touched. I grew up thinking I hated to be touched too but deep inside I wanted to be touched. When people tried to touch me, I pulled away. I remember in seventh grade I had the most beautiful teacher and I was dying for her to touch me, but whenever she did, I jumped. She eventually stopped touching me. And then I told her to shut up and she wanted me to consider home schooling.
I cooled my mouth and stayed in PUC Elementary.
During the summer at PUC before seventh and eighth grades, I’d gather at the pool in the afternoon with some of my classmates and we’d play keep away games. When the girl you guarded got the ball, you put your arms around her and tried to take it away. I was awkward and more violent than affectionate but it was a licit way to touch. My girl those summers was Jeanie, a chubby blonde. We never kissed. We never did anything. We just comforted each other through awkward years.
She once called my home but my mother put the fear of God into her and she never called again.
I’ll never forget mom racing down the driveway that evening to ask me, "Who’s Jeanie? She just called for you. I told her you can’t talk to girls."
Overcome with embarrassment, I tried to get out of that conversation as quickly as I could but mom was persistent.
I felt like a right wally when I went to school that Monday and tried to explain to Jeanie about my parents.
I remember my brother got a girlfriend when he was this age and my dad marched to the girl’s home and broken up the relationship.
I became normal by touching girls. When my parents ran short of money, I enthusiastically moved to public school in tenth grade — Placer High School in Auburn.
When I was a Junior, Alice, a freshman, was my first kiss.
It took place in the school newspaper room (I was the News Editor, she was just a cub reporter). She stuck her tongue down my throat and I felt like I was drowning in saliva.
When I recovered, I figured that any girl who’d put her tongue down my throat would be willing to do anything, so I started pawing at her furiously. While kissing me violently, she fought my hands away from her tender parts.
I was so shocked and embarrassed, so afraid that I had been a lousy kisser, that I couldn’t talk to her for the rest of high school.
She later became mayor.
My next girl was also a freshman. She was blonde, my first blonde, and she had a tight body.
It was a Saturday night at Dr. Zane Kime’s house in the winter of 1982. Saturday nights are glorious times for Seventh-Day Adventists because you are no longer under law but under grace. I met her at the party and we went up to the loft with her fat friend and we talked.
I must’ve been charismatic that night because it only took about half an hour of conversation before my fumbly advances led to her leaning in and kissing me. She had the sweetest lip gloss and she let her kisses linger. I was direct and forceful, thinking about penetrating her mouth with my tongue, but she slowed me down, took control, and showed me the joys of gliding.
She glided her lips over mine. She pressed her lips into mine. She sucked on my lips and then explored the inside of my mouth with her tongue. She didn’t just stick it right in. She knew that underneath my masculine swagger, I needed to be romanced.
I loved the lingering feel of her lips gliding over mine. Glide, glide, glide. Suck. Gentle bite. Glide, glide, glide. Her tongue nips in and curls around my mouth, eventually meeting mine and letting me suck her deep. Then out she comes and glides her lips over mine.
This is Heaven!
All I had to do was follow her lead and after about an hour of kissing, I was good for life. I would never get any complaints in this department.
At school on Monday, I started telling people about what I did. I said my girl didn’t have the most beautiful face — it was scarred with acne — but she had a hot bod and she knew how to kiss.
My comments got back to her, but she laughed and made out with me again anyway.
One day she joined my friends in a game of touch football. I was the quarterback this time and she was my receiver.
We never got into a relationship. I didn’t ask her for her phone number and I didn’t write her letters.
I have no idea what happened to her. We saw each other about three times and that was it.
Before I learned to kiss, I had my time on the couch at Valerie’s house one Saturday night in 1981. My friends were all over me. We were all smushed together listening to Hi Infidelity and dreaming about sexual sin. We could lie on top of each other without being emotionally vulnerable. We were just rough-housing but in the tender way that Adventist kids had. It wasn’t a scary one-on-one encounter, it was more of a group hug.
The music rocked. It promised adult treats. We were growing up and we were happy. We were all alone and it was dark and we could gently sense each other and giggle about it. We accepted each other. There were no adults. There was no authority. There was no rejection. We were one.
I was so happy. I had my arms full of what I wanted most.
Holly, I wanted to keep on loving you, but life forced me to take it on the run.
On the album Hi Infidelity, the last song ("I Wish You Were There") was my favorite.
I know a place where you can go
When you’re flyin high or layin low
And I’ve got the time
I’ve got plenty to spare
I’ve got the time, and I’ve got the place
I just wish you were there
I’ve got the will (yeah) to have you around
Whether you’re up, or whether you’re down
And I know the way
To make you shine
I’ve got the will, and I’ve got the way
I just wish you were there
I hear it is a very sexual place. A great place to get into trouble. Sure, there are lots of classes and spirituality, but it’s the sex that sticks in my mind.
Some innocent girl is enjoying the hot tub and the next thing she knows some stranger is going down on her and she’s liking it.
Esalen. The word itself summons up tantalizing visions of adventure, of unexplored frontiers, of human possibilities yet to be realized. There is the wonder of the place itself, 120 acres of fertile land carved out between mountain and ocean, blessed by a cascading canyon stream and hot mineral springs gushing out of a seaside cliff. There is the delicate and subtle Big Sur air of a late afternoon in May, the midnight mist of July, the drenching February rain. There are October nights so clear the Milky Way can light your walk along the darkened garden path. And always there is the sound of the sea.
It’s Saturday night. Where is she? Does she have cheating on her mind? Is she between another girls’ thighs?
I hate waiting for my calls to be returned. I feel unloved. As every minute ticks by, I feel less important. If I was a big shot, my calls would be returned right away. If she depended on me, she’d return my call right away. But she does not depend on me. I depend on her. Do I? Oh, God forbid.
I am a manly man, no? I am strong and independent. I blaze my own trail on this here blog. I’m not dependent on this woman. I do not need her. I’m not clingy, God forbid. I don’t chase her. Or do I? How much do I chase her? I give her lots of room, right?
So I called her motzi Shabbos. 6pm. That was almost two hours ago.
It’s Saturday night. What is she doing?
Why does she always wait until after Shabbat before she calls?
I told her that it was important to me that we spend Yom Kippur together. And then she does not call until I am at Kol Nidre.
Damn, at least I’m getting a blog post out of it.
I’m going to take the man’s role in this relationship. Therefore, I should make peace with being the pursuer. But it’s been almost a year now. I read that these things switch. First one party is the pursuer but if this role doesn’t switch then the relationship is doomed. One party can’t do all the pursuing until the end of time?
I judge my importance to people by how long they take to return my calls. I think this is a fair and accurate perception.
So how important am I to her? I am medium. She rarely goes a day without returning my call. At least I’ll get an email.
She told me that email was not an appropriate way to return her call, but email is the way she often returns my call.
What did that bloke Big say in Sex and they City? She can reach me whenever she wants, but I can’t reach her.
Well, that’s because she has a real job. I don’t have a real job. I have a patchwork of inadequate jobs and every month I’m falling further behind financially.
Rabbi Cohen’s conversions are accepted everywhere in the Jewish world. They will typically cost about $5,000 each.
His other services cost similarly.
Rabbi Gavriel Cohen emails: “Dear Sir: Please some corrections – if you calculate classes and fees of any beth din they come out to be between $3000 and $5000 which most of the time we come out charging less than either amount when the candidate is advanced in commitment and knowledge. We have done for free and minimal amounts for many of our services depending on the situation.”
Check out these photos of Rabbi Cohen with various great rabbis, including the Lubavitcher rebbe.
Rabbi Cohen is from Morocco and he learned in Lakewood.
Rabbi Samuel Ohana in the San Fernando Valley has a small Sephardic Beit Din. He also does Orthodox conversions to Judaism which are accepted by Israel’s chief rabbis.
Rabbi Ohana taught Israel’s Chief Sephardic Rabbi Shlomo Amar in Morocco. He was his rebbe.
Rabbi Ohana hates to promote himself so his Beit Din stays small.
No matter what anyone does, no matter what the RCC does, they can’t shake Rabbi Ohana’s connection with Shlomo Amar. He’s connected.
Rabbi Elchanan Tauber has a Beit Din in Los Angeles.
Rabbi Avraham Teichman of Agudath Yisrael makes most of his money from issuing national hashgacha (kashrut certification). He’ll typically clear $10,000 per factory. Putting hashgacha on a local restaurant such as Pico Kosher Deli (under RCC supervision) earns about $200 a month.
The delicacy about the religion in question — condescending, politically correct and deadly — is nothing new. A week after the first (1993) World Trade Center attack, the same New York Times ran the following front-page headline about the arrest of one Mohammed Salameh: "Jersey City Man Is Charged in Bombing of Trade Center."
Ah yes, those Jersey men — so resentful of New York, so prone to violence.
SYDNEY, Australia (JTA) — A Jewish businessman accused of defrauding investors of $1.7 billion reportedly has left his home in Sydney fearing for his safety.
South African-born Barry Tannenbaum has “relocated to what he perceives to be a safer location,” his lawyer, Darryl Ackerman, said Tuesday in an interview with Bloomberg, adding that his client was not fleeing prosecution.
South African authorities issued an arrest warrant for Tannenbaum last month along with his Swiss-based associate Dean Rees, who also is implicated in the Ponzi scheme. The scheme is believed to have duped about 800 investors in several countries who allegedly were promised returns of up to 200 percent.
Tannenbaum, whose assets also have been frozen in South Africa, denied the “wild allegations” as “conjecture and speculation” when the alleged scheme was revealed in June.
The Sydney Morning Herald tracked him down to Sydney’s North Shore, where he had been living with his family for several years. His children attended the local Jewish school and Tannenbaum had been a member of an Orthodox synagogue.
Tannenbaum, who comes from a family of well-known philanthropists in South Africa, is pictured on the Lubavitch.org Web site holding a Torah scroll he helped donate to a Chabad house in South Africa in 2006.
Israel’s chief rabbis have traditionally divided up their duties — one would handle Beit Din (Jewish law court handling conversions, divorces, business disputes etc) stuff and the other would handle everything else including kashrut (Jewish dietary laws). Then, every five years, they’d switch roles.
As the Ashkenazi Chief Rabbi, Yona Metzger, is not qualified, Israel’s Sephardic Chief Rabbi, Shlomo Amar, has handled all Beit Din matters since 2002.
Rabbi Amar initially was beholden to Rabbi Ovadiah Yosef (comparatively accomodationist for an Orthodox rabbi) and Rabbi Elyashiv (chareidi) but these days he sides more with Rabbi Elyashiv.
When the conversion controversy erupted, Rabbi Omar initially said he would not accept RCA (the rabbinical arm of the Orthodox Union) conversions.
So the RCA sent a representative to R. Amar to make a deal.
You’d think they’d send someone prestigious like Chicago’s Gedaliah Dov Schwartz. Nope. Instead they sent a comparative pisher, Basil Herring, who got rolled.
Basil Herring is about 45. Gedalia Schwartz is about 85.
Rabbi Schwartz could’ve walked in the room and said, "You’re wrong. I know what I’m doing with these conversions. You need to back down."
Basil Herring had no such prestige. He went and surrendered. So now Rabbi Amar can decide which RCA conversions he accepts.
If you allow people who are not competent to handle conversions, you are not helping. If you do not allow competent people to handle conversions in their town, you are not helping.
Helping with what?
With the influx of about a million Russians in the early 1990s, Israel was flooded with people who were not Jewish. There needed to be a comparatively easy way for these people to become Jewish. Rabbi Haim Druckman took on the problem upon the assignment of his superior rabbi in the early 1980s.
Rabbi Schwartz wanted to take this meeting with Rabbi Amar but Basil Herring insisted on going himself.
Sioux Falls, S.D. A jury has convicted Sholom Rubashkin of 86 federal charges for his part in a massive fraud scheme at his former meat plant, Agriprocessors Inc., in Postville.
Jurors declared Rubashkin guilty of bank fraud, making false statements to a bank, wire fraud, mail fraud, and money laundering and aiding of abetting.
The jury found him not guilty of five counts of violating a law requiring payment of livestock providers within 24 hours.
Rubashkin’s attorney, Guy Cook, said they will appeal the decision.
Rubashkin, 50, was immediately taken into custody. As he was led out of the courtroom, he blew a kiss to his family and well-wishers.
A decision will be made Nov. 18 on whether Rubashkin can post bail. A sentencing date was not set.
Rubashkin had been offered a plea deal by federal prosecutors prior to the start of the trial, but told supporters that he would not accept because he was innocent, a close family friend told The Des Moines Register today.
The Rabbi Shea Hecht, chairman of the National Committee for Furtherance of Jewish Education, said Rubashkin’s supporters urged him to take the offer, which would have included prison time.
But the Rubashkin meat plant in Postville, had "moral problems" with the proposal and insisted that he had done nothing illegal, Hecht said.
The plea-deal conversation took place during a meeting with Rubashkin and his lawyers in Crown Heights, a Brooklyn, N.Y., neighborhood and Rubashkin family stronghold, Hecht said.
Hecht said it happened shortly before Yom Kippur, a major Jewish holiday, which this year began at sunset on Sept. 27. Hecht said Rubashkin’s legal expenses – paid by a Brooklyn-based defense committee, of which he is a member – have already exceeded $1 million.
Cook declined to comment about the plea-deal.
Prosecutors alleged during the trial that Rubashkin falsified sales records to defraud the plant’s St. Louis-based lender. The fake invoices and shipping papers created the illusion of sales that had never happened, and allowed Rubashkin to borrow more out of a $35 million credit line.
Rubashkin also allegedly diverted customer payments into the wrong bank account, when the money should have gone directly to lender. Prosecution witnesses testified that Rubashkin used the money for personal expenses and to keep the plant running.
The five-man, seven-woman jury began deliberations on the case Monday afternoon after a nearly month-long trial with more than 60 witnesses and reams of financial documents. They continued deliberations on Tuesday, had Wednesday off in observance of Veterans Day, returning on Thursday. The jury returned to the courtroom at about 4:40 p.m. Thursday.
Rubashkin still faces 72 immigration-related federal charges as well as state allegations that he violated child labor laws. The federal immigration trial is set to begin in December in Sioux Falls.
Agriprocessors Inc. was the site of a May 2008 immigration raid that led to the arrest of 389 immigrant workers. Rubashkin was first charged in late October 2008, but insisted that he was innocent.
Yisroel Pensack: Eighty-six is the numerical equivalent (gematria) of Elokim, the name of G-d denoting His attribute of judgment.
"This guy knows all the gossip, the ins and outs, the lashon hara of the Orthodox world. He’s an [expert] in... all the inner workings of the Orthodox world." (Rabbi Aaron Rakeffet-Rothkoff)
