Another Jewlicious Public Service Announcementâ„¢
As another week slowly gives way with the setting of the sun to the blissful repose of Shabbat, I find myself thinking of Israel, my beloved land. And so, being meditatively disposed as I am, I feel the need to use my journalistic platform to deliver a heartfelt message to the land and to its people on this Shabbat eve. I begin with a simple picture:
I don’t expect my Israeli readers to recognize what is pictured above, as it is apparently foreign to Israeli society. But hear me out. It’s called a “shopping basket.” It can be used in a grocery store to place purchased goods in when one is planning on buying too much to carry by hand but too little to justify the use of an entire shopping cart. It comes in especially handy on Fridays, when every single man, woman, child and dog in Israel and their entire extended family from Queens go to the grocery store, creating a scene of mass urban warfare that makes Grozny look like Des Moines. Now, bear with me…the use of shopping baskets frees up significant space that would be normally occupied by homicidal little babushkas slamming down too-narrow aisles with entire carts to hold their three rutabagas and loaf of bread. It would mean the lines for the register wouldn’t extend all the way back to the meat counter, out the back door, down the street, around the corner, to a small village in northern India (it turns out that young Israelis aren’t really vacationing in the Far East, they’re just in line). And (here Michael pulls out the trump card) Americans use them. America is cooooool, isn’t it? Yeah…you want to be like Americans, don’tcha? Come onnnnnnn…
Well. Anyway. Now that I’ve finished my Friday shopping, I’m going to go lie down and nurse my post-traumatic stress syndrome. Shabbat friggin’ shalom.