ANNOUNCEMENT: Sage Feldemeyer MOVED her Blog

Sage's Move to Word Press

Greetings my lovely readers,

I have moved my blog to Word Press. You can now be find my wonderful and terrific blog posts at
www.sagefeledemeyer.com.  And don't forget to sign-up for email on the new site; God forbid--you don't want to miss a post. 

Until my next post...
A very big hug,
Sage Feldemeyer

www.sagefeldemeyer.com

Democrats, 5 Reason to Vote in 2010: (Drek vs. Super-Duper Drek)

Vote Democrats:  Drek vs. Super-Duper Drek

“I feel frustrated, fed-up and resigned.  It’s all farchadat—the country is lost—it’s hopeless. Politicians—on both sides of the aisle are tainted and corrupt so why should I bother to vote?”  I hear it all the time.  I’m sympathetic—to a point.

•  Not voting option:  that makes my potatoes boil—not to mention my blood
•   Democrat's have a choice:  (D) Drek or (R) Super-Duper-Drek

Liz: Recalculate Your Relationship with Your Mother!

Unhappy Liz:  Recalculate Your Relationship with Your Mother

Sage as GPS Counselor

The sun is shining as I sit comfortably on the dashboard of Liz’s fancy, shmancy Prius. I lost weight, so I take up less room on the dash; I’m quite a looker, if I say so myself. 

Liz, the driver, is anxious.  She’s poking me as she tries to program her destination—fidgety fingers mean she drank too much coffee. 

The first words out of her mouth--”Shit, shit, shit, I hate you, GPS!”  I don’t take it personally; I hear it all of the time.  When someone is having a problem programming their destination, they hate me.  Go figua?

Liz’s fidgeting starts to annoy me; it’s time to intervene.  “Maidala,” I say, “Take your time—a deep breath will help you focus; you could program me, and we’ll both be the better for it.” 

'Cousin' Elena Kagan: Does She Resemble Aunt Hannah or Uncle Al?

Supreme Court Justice Elena Kagan: Do you think she looks like my Aunt Hannah?

SETTING:  Sage’s Phone Conversation with Longtime Friend, Dora

“Wonderful, exciting—unheard of,” Dora’s description on watching her distant cousin, Elena Kagan, take her place on the Supreme Court.  “My uncle Dudye, Elena’s great-grandfather would be so proud,” she sighs. Remember, Sagie—Dudye, fled the Cossacks and wound up in Philly.”

Sage:  “Yeah, what a success story, Dorala—from the Shtetls of Russia to the Supreme Court!”

Dora:  “Right, Sage—but I have to tell you—I’m sitting here driving myself crazy wondering who Elena looks like.  Does she look like Aunt Hannah or does she look like Uncle Al—I just can’t decide."

Addicted to AWESOME? Try Sage's AWESOME Elimination Diet--It's FREE!

AWESOME:  WORD ELIMINATION DIET

Last week I overheard—actually I was eavesdropping— a casual conversation among a bunch of 20 something’s.   I heard the word AWESOME two thousand times—OK, maybe it was a thousand times, but who’s counting?

·         “Oh, that song is soooo AWESOME!”

·         “WOW:  you look AWESOME!”

·         “How are you?”   Response: “I’m AWESOME!”

·         “That movie was AWESOME!”

·         “I can’t believe how AWESOME your new dress is!”

Sneezing uncontrollably, I was having an AWESOME allergic reaction. I felt light-headed—a type of brain fog that usually only sets in after you’ve eaten a box of cookies. 

Senator McConnell’s Soaring Deficit is Replaced by a Heart with Empathy Valves

Human Heart with 'Empathy' Valves

I’m on a Mitvah Mission. I am about to deliver a unique gift to Senate Minority Leader, Mitch McConnell.  I’m grateful that the Senator sandwiched me in between a meeting with a coal company executive and a lobbyist for BP.

“Mr. Senator--what a pleasure to meet you,” I greet him, “you’ve been such a motivation for me and so many others—you can’t imagine.  More than once, your actions have moved me to tears; in fact, your recent voting record had me crying for days.”

• A vote against strong financial regulation
• Not permitting a vote for Obama’s judicial appointees 
•   Holding up a vote for the extension of unemployment benefits 
•   Killing Climate Change legislation

The Town: A Jewish Movie Review

Ben Affleck, The Town

Its movie night: Sam, Michael, Hannah, Rose and me are about to see The Town.  It’s gotten terrific reviews; we are excited; we promise to only talk through half of the movie—a real sacrifice. Hannah and Rose get their buttered popcorn, and we are set to watch the movie.  

When the movie ends, we stand outside the theater to conduct our ritual: The Jewish Movie Review. “Nu…what do ya think kids,” I start the conversation?

Forget Starbucks---Who Needs All These Coffee Choices

Cafe Americano by Lara 604

I am visiting a swanky, new coffee house in my neighborhood; a ‘Coffee Concierge’, named Seth greets me at the door.  There looks to be 200 types of coffee drinks; I cancel my plans for the morning—reading the menu will take two hours.  

The coffee menu looks like a multiple choice test: blend, strength, roast, country of origin, etc. Maybe this is an application for citizenship—who knows?

I tell Seth that I get a horrible case of shpilkes before taking tests; he asks if the word shpilkes is a foreign language or a disease; “Neither Silly, it’s Yiddish,” I happily reply.

John Boehner: What Happens if the Man with the Orange Punim becomes Speaker

Congressman John Boehner golfing by Keith Allison

I am navigating Al and his brother Mark to their destination, a conference aptly named Fifteen Ways to Insult Your Brother; Al is behind the wheel. The brothers are passionate communicators—screaming, yelling and cursing; they adore each other; they agree on nothing.  

Giving directions to the brothers is no picnic; I turn up my volume, but I still can’t hear my navigation; I tune into their conversation.

The topic of discussion is the November election; Mark worries that Congressman Boehner, The Man with the Orange Punim, will become Speaker if Democrats don’t bother to vote.  Al would like to see Democrats lose; he doesn’t want his taxes raised; he hates government spending, and he’s a fan of tea parties.

Blogaphiliacs: Sage and Arianna Discuss All Things Blog.....

Arianna Huffington at a Podium by Pete Wright

I’m meeting with fellow ‘Blogaphiliac’ Arianna Huffington in her lovely home. Of course, she wants to discuss Blogs—hers in particular.  I’m so up for the conversation; I have to contain my excitement.

Arianna gives me a tour of her home. Expensive tsatkes adorn her spacious living room.  “Do you think she purchased them with her blog income,” a question I’m dying to ask?

My eyes focus on a table full of photos across the room; the photos feature my host gazing lovingly at objects I can’t make out; I assume the ‘objects’ are family members.

“Arianna” I ask, “they must be photos of you with your lovely daughters—you all look so happy!"

“No, no Sage,” Arianna interrupts, “they’re photos of me with My Darling Blog, The Huffington Post; I only pose with My Blog, dear.”  “Well, Your Blog suits you,” I declare—“so radiant you both are!”

I’m Verklempt! Navigating Paul ‘Revere’ Krugman

Paul (Revere) Krugman's Book, by Bernard Goldbach

'Sage' Character as GPS

I’m verklempt!  I am navigating economist and New York Times columnist, Paul ‘Revere’ Krugman to a conference in Philadelphia; he’s set to deliver an uplifting speech on America’s imminent economic collapse; the ‘Revere’ is a tribute to his warnings to policy makers; sadly, the gunifs don’t listen.

 My task is to get Mr. Fablunged out of Jersey.  “Paul, snap out of it and make a damned U-turn if you want to get to Philly on time,” I say in a gentle tone.  He abides, and we’re on our way.

 Obamala’s proposed mini-stimulus package is the topic of our conversation; “Feh!” he declares and delivers his greatest hits. “Sage, fifty billion dollars won’t create enough jobs; the tax cuts for research and development are idiotic; we’re like Japan in the 90’s—only worse; unemployment will continue to skyrocket—deflation is around the corner.”

Yom Kippur: Mr. Twitterwitz Texts God using a Forgiveness App

(Mr. Twitterwitz) Texting App

Last week was Yom Kippor—the holiest day on the Jewish calendar.  Off to Shul I went. 

Once in Shul, I found an uncomfortable seat; I readied myself for soul searching and a growling stomach.  The synagogue was full of young people. “How exciting to be amongst a new generation of Atoners,” I mused.

Eyes closed—deep in reflection, my heart was torn apart; I needed forgiveness in a bad way: the righteous rage and resentment I’ve kept 'company' with was fighting to keep its place in my heart.

"I’m not sure I’m ready to say good-bye to my 'company'," I told God; "these emotions feel like a normal response to chaloshes times; and to top it off, my son Mendel never introduced me to his new love, Hershel; don't ask--don't tell--doesn't he know I'm against that?"

Mr. President--Obamala: CLONE Elizabeth Warren!

Obamala with 'Sage' on Air Force One

I’m on Air Force One with Obamala—what a Macher I am!  I received an invitation to meet with the President last week. That’s good because I didn’t want to show up unannounced; my manners are impeccable.

Obamala is a big fan of my blog; most surprising, he loves Yiddish—who knew!   Let me tell you—Air Force One is no United Economy flight; such leg room, I’ve never seen—a michaya!

Obamala and I drink tea and nosh on potato knishes; I ask the President questions about his family and life on 1600 Pennsylvania Ave—that’s his address— I hope he doesn’t mind that I am sharing it with all of you.  

“Sir how’s the Mishpocheh,” I ask?  Michelle, Malia and Sashala are fine, he tells me.  “Mr. Obamala, President, Sir….Mrs. Potus is so gorgeous; those shamttehs she wears—Oy—they must cost a fortune; she always looks like a million bucks!” The President thanks me for my kind words and sips his tea. 

Drek, Shmeck, Mr Beck: That Mishuggeneh from Fox

Glenn Beck in Uniform

I am taking my 91-year old Aunt Sylvia and her friend Sara out for errands.  Her mind is sharp, but her hearing is not so hot; she’s always mixing up names.  She keeps mentioning, 'that Mishuggeneh, Mr. Shmeck'.  I have no idea who she's talking about.

"Sagla," says Aunt Sylvia, "Mr. Shmeck has a TV program where he talks nonsense, writes on a blackboard and cries at the drop of a hat;  you remember, he had a big Megilah in Vashington; he sat on Mr. Lincoln’s lap!"