Новости за 20.06.2018

Yiddish Fiddler on the Roof has hit the ground running.

Earlier this month was the first rehearsal of the National Yiddish Theatre Folksbiene’s upcoming production. After over 700 actors auditioned, the cast of 26 was finally assembled, and the excitement was palpable— for those who were fully awake.

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Following what sounded like a lost Mel Brooks script, President Trump announced Monday plans to create a “space force.” Here, finally, is a way to keep the idle ranks of the American military occupied now that they have secured world peace, with a mission to establish U.S. supremacy in the galaxy and beyond. The announcement, in a speech to the National Space Council, built on plans unveiled in May at a ceremony for the West Point football team.

Among us Jews, we say things we wouldn’t say on the outside. It’s family, it’s mishpochah, so we don’t have to watch our tongue. But there are lines we won’t cross. And for some of us, “JAP” is that line.

Among us Jews, we say things we wouldn’t say on the outside. It’s family, it’s mishpochah, so we don’t have to watch our tongue. You wouldn’t catch one of us saying “That show is really Jewy” while waiting for an appointment at the neighborhood salon, wouldn’t hear us saying, “That actor? Yeah, he’s a big old Jew” in line at Panera. But talking to each other? Most anything goes. We might even drop the occasional “Yid” or “Heeb”—affectionately, of course.

The Carp in the Bathtub is the greatest work of children’s literature ever written about gefilte fish. Originally published in 1972, it tells the story of a daring quest to rescue a fish before it is gefilted. Barbara Cohen’s story, set in 1930s Flatbush, is atmospheric and funny and deliciously illustrated by Joan Halpern in wavy-lined, stripe-y, pointillist, slightly psychedelic black-and-white style. The plot: Every year before Passover, Mama brings home a fresh carp to live in the tub for a week... Читать дальше...

“The real question is: Did God create man or did man create God?” —Me, dropping what I believed to be a real bombshell during my bar mitzvah speech.

At the supremely uncool hour of 5:30 p.m., bartenders at Bavel are steadily mixing craft cocktails with names like the Zivah and Nebuchadnezzar. Custom wood banquettes and every other table indoors and on the covered patio will be occupied shortly after 6:00. And it’s not because Bavel attracts an after-work, happy-hour scene—downtown Los Angeles’ office towers are clustered a couple miles west of the booming Arts District. People are making a serious effort to be here. Unsurprising, given that in the almost five years since California-born... Читать дальше...

Somewhere on my computer there’s a folder no one is ever supposed to click on. Everyone has one. You know, the one labeled VEGAN RECIPES. Mine is just pictures of Yentl-era Mandy Patinkin in all his Ashkenazi bear glory. That beard. That smile. That gorgeous head of hair. Swoon. And yet. Even the promise of present-day, Homeland-era Mandy Patinkin presenting an award to my dear friend (and legendary Ashkenazi bear in training) Daniel Kahn at the recent Yiddish Under the Stars concert in Central... Читать дальше...

Earlier today, an Israeli court held a hearing in the case of two Jewish suspects accused of firebombing the home of a Palestinian family in 2015, killing 18-month-old Ali Saad Dawabsha and his parents, Riham and Saad. According to a report in The Times of Israel, as the victims’ relatives walked into the courthouse, a gaggle of about two dozen Jewish protestors started taunting them, chanting “Where’s Ali? There’s no more Ali. Ali was burned. Ali’s on the grill.”

The opening titles of the new film The Catcher Was a Spy set the scene in 1938, when the Nazis tapped physician Werner Heisenberg to build an atomic bomb. “In response, the U.S. government sent a Jewish baseball player to assassinate him,” reads the subsequent cue card.