A WONDERFUL LADIES' ROOM OF THE MIND

Sometimes a reader leaves jewels in my comments field. Usually this is either e-kvetcher, or the something-or-other amphibian. There are not so many commenters now as there used to be when I was still an angry young man writing about Jewish things or Israel, or sneering poisonously at the Dutch (my own people) or other Europeans (who are beyond the pale).
The Dutch ALWAYS sneer at other Europeans. The reason being that they are close enough to be familiar with our marvelous culture, so close in fact as to be able to observe our splendid example of how it is done, yet out of sheer perversion they refuse to be just like us, albeit necessarily a little bit more humble as would befit them.
I've never been able to figure that one out.
Maybe they're just a little stupid.

Now, as a Dutchman, I am superior entirely to most other Dutchman. Because my folks came over in the 1630s and settled New Amsterdam, in consequence of which I bear none of the stigma and guilt that adheres to the fatherland Dutch, whose horrendous colonial depravities passed my tribe by entirely.

Neener neener neener, bitches.


Anyhow, the reader.

New comments.

Valhala wrote:

"Dear most munificent BotH,

Please, I pray thee, approve my comment for posting, for thou art merciful and gracious.

Be also kind to thy humble commenter, and bestow me with a post as response to my comment, preferably a LONG post.

How can I possibly thank you for such a favor? Thine honor is all in duty."

[End quote]

That was at 5:55 PM, while I was in Marin County babysitting the cigar smokers. It's a tough job, but somebody has to do it. Works best if you enjoy a pipe filled with a blend composed of Latakia (around forty two percent), Turkish (Smyrna, more or less 20%), and aged Virginia leaf (altogether 36%). The balance of this mezcla is a mystery, and none of your business.

He or she had earlier (10:31 AM) written the following:

"My grandfather's name was Kerchy. I think he was a Jewish. Are you an Israelite? I know all about the Jewish! Bagels and lox are a big mitzvah to eat on Rosh Hoodesh. That makes me feel all farklempt all over!

Momma rarely, and never around the kids, used profanity. But when she did use it, it was always funny. Like -- what happened was -- we were in some crazy place, like Lake Taho. And we went into the ladies' room, and there was an old drunk lady in there, and it's just, like, you know, the sequined straps, one of those dames, and she said: "Oh Judy, you're terrific. The rainbow, you gotta always remember the rainbow." Then she went into one of the stalls; the lady knocked on the door. She said: "Yes?" She said: "Judy, never forget the rainbow. God has helped me through so many crisises and..." Well momma came back. Then she went up to her -- the lady went up to mom, and said: "I'd just like to say hello." And momma looked said and her and said: "hi". Which made me start thinking... Now, she went on and on and on about the rainbow, and about this and that, and dear little girl, and on and on and on. And as we were going out, she had on this incredible feathered boa, which someone had given her as a present, which was way too big for her, because she was tiny: she came up to here [just below the shoulder] on me. And the last thing that this lady said, again, was: "Don't forget the rainbow, Judy." And momma turned, and threw the boa around herself, and said: "How can I forget the rainbow? I've got rainbows up my ass." "

[End quote.]

That is an interesting submit.
Indicative of something.


FEATHERS UP THE WAZZOO!

It may surprise you to know that while I have often been in the ladies room, and not infrequently had occasion to ponce with feather boas (long story), there has never been a time when I visited the ladies room with a feather boa. And having read Valhala's account, I now feel an emptiness.
There is so much I haven't accomplished.

Years ago, when a friend visited Israel, he thought he saw me in the vicinity of Kikar Safra, exiting a store that sold inks and qlaf (קלף). This is NOT the same friend who brought the matter of the rainbow-hued tefillin straps to my attention ("there is no merit to the mitzvah if you accidentally tie yourself up because you can't remember which lash goes where - the Macrameier Rebbe accidentally hanged himself because he was not paying attention, zichrono nebech levracha"), NOR the friend who commented favourably on my Hello Kitty kippah.

In actual fact I have never been anywhere near Kikar Safra. It is easier to visit the ladies room than Kikar Safra, which is walking distance from the church of the holy seapuker.

The shortest route: head south towards HaGan Ha Leumi, turn left at Shlomo Ha Melech, and go right at Ha Sha'ir Ha Khadash.
Then follow one of the religious nuts.

If you are wearing a feathered boa, you will fit right in.

Just tell people it's al pi minhag.

Très catholique.


IF, and I say if, I ever have occasion to read the Shir Ha Shirim Asher LiShlomo from qlaf (קלף), you may rest assured that a rainbow feathered boa will most certainly be part of the picture.

I am resolved to before I die get a rain-boa.

It is emmes geshmak.

Tasty.


AFTERWORD

Why has a resplendent male specimen such as myself visited the ladies' room? No, it wasn't because I was searching for the Legendary Lost Date (probably about five foot two inches tall, black hair, and a lovely kissy face with spectacles), nor because I was in drag, but because I could.
After Savage Kitten and I broke up five years ago, I would hide out at the office downtown on Saturdays and Sundays, where it was quiet and peaceful, and I could plonk away at the computer or imagine that there were little forest creatures scurrying about. Often I was the only one there, and the ladies' room was closest to my desk.

There is no couch in the ladies' room. Nor a grand piano, or any of the other amenities that men fondly imagine. Not all ladies' rooms have those. The handsome turbaned Moorish servant with flavoured soaps and fluffy towels is also absent, and there is no wide screen teevee.
Honestly, why does anyone even go to the ladies' room?
They should visit the men's room instead.

It's not just standing room only.

You can sit.





==========================================================================
NOTE: Readers may contact me directly:
LETTER BOX.
All correspondence will be kept in confidence.
==========================================================================