It's a MAD World

A bit on the nose, but funny and appropriate nonetheless.

iSurprise

I never expected to listen to so little music on my iPod.

I naturally assumed that I'd dump a few day’s worth of CDs to the MP3 player and join the throngs of New Yorkers sadly disconnected from nature and each other due to being tethered to two tiny white cords implanted in their ears. And I have.

But what I never saw coming was how the lion's share of my iPod time would be spent in the thrall of various podcasts.

With anywhere from half an hour to 45 minutes to and from school or work, I have plenty of time to finish a show or dig deep into some of my favorite programs. From "This American Life" to "Wait, Wait, Don't Tell Me," "Battlestar Galactica commentary" to "Filmspotting," "Ask a Ninja" to “Renewing Your Mind,” I'm the guy on the subway with a huge smile on his face, scaring all his train-mates.

One of these days I may go back to listening to music, but for now I’m happy to be one of the pod people.

I Should Have Been There

This weekend, thousands of anti-war protestors descended on the Pentagon to protest this, the fourth anniversary of the war in Iraq. I was in D.C. for the latter half of last week, spending Spring Break with my wife.

I knew the protest was going on. While we sat on the Metro heading for a visit to National Geographic’s headquarters and a Library of Congress tour, the protestors, schlepping signs and placards, occupied the seats beside us.

I had an impulse to drop my plans and join them. But I didn’t. Why not? Cowardice? For the rest of that day and the days that followed, I’ve regretted that decision.

They are certainly my ideological brethren and I would have been proud to raise my voice beside theirs. I’ve never participated in a protest march before. There is something about it, something primally American.

I should have been there. Next time I will be.

Obama Takes on Big Sister!

Check out this fantastic ad that takes Ridley Scott's seminal Mac commercial from 1984 and puts a very 2008 spin on it.

A Cut Above the Rest

I skipped out on church this weekend to become a Jew.














My cousin, Monica, who converted to Judaism in order to marry her Israeli boyfriend, Haim, back in college, gave birth to an absolutely gorgeous baby boy exactly one week ago today.































In Jewish tradition, the child's name is not revealed until a week after it is born. In the case of a boy, it is revealed during the Bris or the circumcision ceremony, a ritual designed by God in the Old Testament to show a man set apart for Himself.

Stephanie and I were honored to be invited to the temple to observe the ceremony this morning.














The Bris was both a beautiful and an agonizing ceremony, all the more so because, unlike the women who had to sit in the back, I had a front row seat for an event I’m certainly glad I can’t remember.

After the circumcision itself, for which the baby was remarkably strong, he was held before the congregation and the name said amongst a blessing…

May I present Avner Jacob.














Mazal Tov!














Avner and the "Number One Son," big-brother Ezra spend some time getting to know each other.

Head Shot

Why is it that every time I get in front of a camera, assured of larger-than-life projection, something always manages to go wrong?

For instance, a few years ago, while living in Sicily, I was an extra in the Academy Award nominated film, Malena. I was involved in two scenes, both of which involved the camera swinging right past my face. It was guaranteed. I was going to be famous. And yet...behold the omnipotent power of the editor:

Here I am in the Jeep. Can you pick me out? Yeah, me neither.














And here I am in a later scene in which I marched right past one of the main characters and the camera. Unfortunately, those guys in the shadow at the very back--yep, that's me and that's as close as I got.














So last night, when my friend Liz and I attended "The Late Show with David Letterman" and we were given special tickets ensuring we were in the very front of the theater where the camera couldn’t help but see us, I thought the curse was broken.

That was until somebody decided to throw a silly WKRP ad up on the screen right as the camera settled on us.














Oh wait, that's not entirely true. Here I am...














...with my clapping hands in front of my face.

For crying out loud.