Posts Tagged ‘2011’

When I first started this blog, I simply was looking for a way to express myself, perhaps find a few readers or cause a laugh now and again. As time went on it became important to me to convey my feelings as I underwent a transformation from a religious teen, to a rationally thinking young adult. It was at that point, perhaps after I wrote the post Get With the Program in the summer of 2010, that I began to feel a need to explain my viewpoint. At that point I’d gone from someone confused about what means something to them, to someone who knows what doesn’t and what does. In any argument, the idea is always to convince others of your viewpoint, not to prove them wrong.

We don’t care about his viewpoint, only that he care about ours. I noticed at some point that whenever I spoke to someone religious about religion, unlike that of a typical argument, I’d walk away frustrated. I felt that I was talking to someone, who instead of believing he was right but respecting that I believed in my argument as strongly as he believed in his, I instead felt belittled for my beliefs. Many blog posts after followed, in which I spoke about the normal life, and tried to convey in a broad sense that the life I chose to live was normal, very much fulfilling and in no means foolish.

“And here I begin to feel irrationally angry with her. I believe YU is a vital organ of the Orthodox Jewish community and to publish such a guilt-ridden, neurotic article in one of their publications perpetuates a toxic culture for the whole of it. It’s irresponsible. When she writes about her shame and YU students respond in kind, I see it becoming that much harder for me, and others who have chosen a path other than that of Orthodox Judaism, to be taken seriously in our choices, to be thought of as mature adults making decisions based on well-thought out ideological differences, and thus, it makes it harder for us to maintain healthy relationships with our families and friends, because they think we’re on some kind of Rumspringa-style bender and need to be brought back into the fold.

So I want to make this clear to you, brothers and sisters (in the college-student-camaraderie sense, at the very least) – this is not what it means to leave Orthodox Judaism. This is what happens when we perpetually shut down discussions about alternative paths and alternative lifestyles. We are forced to communicate in these tragic half-truths in anonymous posts. I have lost friends because of my choices and I don’t believe that had to happen. It leaves a terrible taste in my mouth about the Orthodox world that I do not want to be there. Though I experienced some closed mindedness in my Orthodox upbringing, I have no illusions that those kinds of people are exclusive to Orthodox Jewry. I do believe they are not the majority there. I believe that the people who showed me friendship, love, and acceptance all my life did so not because I was a Jew, but because they were good people, good friends, and so was I.”

This article was a response to the original article published in The Beacon, YU’s newpaper, which made waves in the Jewish community. I felt that noone quite expressed so succinctly the ideas and feelings I had in regards to the misunderstanding between myself and many religious people.

I showed someone, a religious relative of mine from LA, and the response was something between a murmur of acknowledgement that the above excerpt isn’t foolish, I disagree with what you’ve showed me. When confronted with something so blatantly saying what they feel, and a perfect response to how we feel as mature adults, what else is there to say? And so I thank the writer of that article, whoever she may be, for enlightening others, and helping clarify myself.

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This is a short film I acted in and co-directed. Feedback much appreciated.

I love subways. Put two native New Yorkers in an enclosed space, virtually take away their cell phones, and interesting shit happens. That’s why i love the subway. Something about looking out at the Lower Manhattan skyline and the Brooklyn bridge through grimy, scratched-up windows of a rickety subway car on a hot summers day has tempers and perhaps hormones flying.

Trust me on that last one.

A few weeks ago, while coming back from work, which is no longer in DUMBO, I walk onto a train car and sit down next to…a cute girl. No I wasn’t creeping; it was the only empty seat. Or one of the last 50 empty seats.

Whatever.

Some dude walks up to me, leans over and softly whispers in my ear “Can you help me out, perhaps spare 50 cents?” Now THAT’S creepy. I didn’t give him the money.

Needless to say, she overheard and thus began our conversation about NY, homeless people and jobs. Subject of nationality came up, I asked her if she was black, and she said no, she’s white, and Jewish. I should’ve known. Anyway we’re talking about whatever two people talk about on a subway, which is usually meaningless banter, except by now she knows my background; the average white guy doesn’t know names of girls seminaries in Israel unless he’s been there, done that.

Been there. Done that. Get it?

Nah I kid, the worst (best?) that I did in Israel was get drunk with friends. And without. And not much more. Long story, wrong forum.

Back to this girl. I’m talking to her, and I’m staring at her. Now I can’t figure out why, I mean I know she’s cute, but I’m looking at her because something about her is familiar. [insert creep horror movie soundtrack here]

She gets a text from Jonathan. Ya I saw her screen. How else would I know? It was at that moment that I looked at her, and almost in what seemed to me slow motion, I said you’re dating Jonathan So-and-so! [Inner wheels in my brain screech to a halt. That’s my dudes girl here. Whoa. Backtrack, reboot. Whoops?]

Silence.

“Your name is Leona, or Leora…Kaplan”

“Yes, my names Leora Kaplan!”

“Ya, your boyfriend, who’s a friend of mine, (whom I only met twice in my life…) has your face as his profile picture.”

Now I’m really not the Facebook stalker type. I don’t recognize people before I meet them. That’s some Inception shit right there.

(Although I just yesterday recognized someone I’d seen briefly, by putting her first name and the person who mentioned her first name together with memories of a certain Racheli who’d been dating an English friend of mine two years ago…maybe I have a knack for names. I should be a private investigator.)

But hey, it’s NYC. It’s the subway.

We spent the next 10 stops marveling over how in a city of 9 million people, I bump into the one person that I don’t know, and recognize.

Oh, and both of you, “Leora and Jonathan”, next time you come to my neighborhood I’ll get a few friends together and we’ll all reminisce about the old times. Whatever old times you want.

“Stand clear of the closing doors please. The next stop is 34th Street.”

Encounters 3, 4 and 5 will be combined into one post. Stay tuned later this week.

There was once a blog. That blogger released too much sensitive info of girls he fucked, so he shut it down. Luckily it was all copied beforehand, so we can all read his writings of genius here at solomonreborn.wordpress.com

This post expresses everything wrong, and by default kinda awesome, about American girls. One of the best posts I have ever read. I included the comments. be sure to read comment #3.

Drive Thru Boyfriends

Posted on March 21, 2011 by Dalrock

Fall 2010 by Solomon II

“Welcome to McFling’s.  My name is Solomon II.  May I take your order?”

“Uh, yes.  I’ll have the three months of meaningless sex from the Boyfriend Lite menu, add extra self respect.  Hold the judgment and consequences please.

“I’m sorry; we’re all out of self respect.  Would you like to add a side of rationalization for only $1 more?”

“Yeah.  That’s fine.  Super size it please.”

“Thank you.  Please pull up to the window for your total.”

There she is driving down the road of life at her own pace.  She’s young, independent, beautiful and has all the time in the world.  When she’s horny, she swings into the closest drive thru and places her order.  She does the same thing when she’s sad, lonely, happy, up, down, in, out, excited, needy, afraid, strong, weak, depressed, moody, joyful, exhilarated, stressed, etc. Any and every reason is valid because she’s being “true to herself”. Every three months on average she swings into McFling’s and orders up the best looking or most exciting thing on the menu (because she’s sooo selective).  There’s also a couple of late night snack runs thrown in there for good measure, but not as many as some other girls, so you have no right to judge her.  She’s young and her metabolism is firing on all cylinders, so now is the time for her to gorge herself with no consequences.

At the age of 27, she starts to notice that her steady diet of junk food relationships isn’t as satisfying as it once was.  Sure the bright lights, flashy signs, fast service and cheap satisfaction made for great fun, but now she’s starving for wholesome affection and beginning to show signs of emotional malnutrition.  There has to be something better out there.  Something more substantive.

All of a sudden she decides to make a change.  No more drive thru boyfriends.  Certainly everyone understands that her junk food relationship binge wasn’t her fault since it’s the bulk of what society offers.  It’s our culture.  These greasy high calorie drive thru boyfriend establishments are on every corner, advertised on every channel, glamorized in the media, and no one really told her how bad they could be for her health.  It’s society’s fault.  It’s the franchise’s fault. All the girls she knows are doing it, so how could she possibly be expected to know any better?

So now she wants steak, and by God she’s convinced that she deserves it from a five star restaurant.

She takes a shower hoping the stench of her decade long habit of frequenting McFling’s won’t be as noticeable.  She may not know how to act properly at the new fancy steakhouse she’s going to try tonight, but it’s ok.  Men always give her a pass on her behavior since she’s beautiful and an easy lay adventurous.

When she’s all done getting ready and is confident that she can look and act like the type of girl who has been eating healthy all along, she heads out for the best steakhouse in town.  Why not the best?  She deserves it, and her friend Michelle ate there last week (and she’s totally not even pretty).

With all the undeserved self confidence in the world and an advanced case of juvenile egocentrism, she pulls into the parking lot of the steakhouse.  She notices there are dozens of people standing in line.  She doesn’t understand.  The stupid bitch at the hostess desk asked her if she had a reservation.  A reservation?!  How rude!  She has a vagina and that’s always been sufficient before, so what gives?  It seems the steakhouse is completely booked for months.

Now she’s pissed off.  How could the upscale steakhouse refuse to seat her?  So what if she showed up right at prime dinner time (27 years old o’clock) and demanded the best seat in the house.  She deserves it.  She’s waited so long for it… well, not really, but in theory anyway.  She always knew the steakhouse was there, she just never took the time to plan ahead for reservations.  It’s not her fault.

As she drives away, she realizes she has another problem.  She’s still hungry.  She pulls in to yet another McFling’s, this time disgusted to be there.  But she’s changed, so she decides to try something different.

“Welcome to McFling’s.  My name is Solomon II.  May I take your order?”

“Uh, yes.  I’ll have the steak please.”

“We don’t serve steak.  Show me your tits.”

“I’m not like that anymore.  Steak please.”

“I can offer you the three months of meaningless sex from the Boyfriend Lite menu, and pretend to hold the judgment and consequences if you’d like.”

“Steak please.”

“Bitch, would you like me to serve you the three months of meaningless sex from the Boyfriend Lite menu, pretend to hold the judgment and consequences, and just *tell you* it’s steak?”

“Steak please.”

“Fine.  Please pull up to the first window.  I’ll have your total and a treat for your hamster.”

This cycle continues until she turns 30 and realizes that she’ll never get in to the steakhouse.  She’s waited much too long to make reservations, so she settles for a Beta male who takes her to Chili’s on 2 for 1 night in his minivan.  Hey, it’s not the steakhouse she deserves, but it’s better than that asshole Solomon II at the drive thru boyfriend joint.  At least Chili’s has real silverware.

That night she stumbles upon a blog with a post entitled “Drive Thru Boyfriends” and gets righteously annoyed.  That’s not her at all.  That was never her intention.  She’s different, special, and unique.  What gives the author the right to assume that he knows her or can determine what she’s been through in her AMAZING life?  He doesn’t know her story.  He doesn’t know her heart.  He can’t judge her actions based on what other girls do simply because she did the same things and ended up in the same situation they did.  He can’t tell her what kind of person she is, or what her fate will be.  She’s different than the rest.  She’s strong, independent and wise beyond her years.

In her rage she hits the road again, confused by what has happened to her and angry that she didn’t get what she deserved out of life.  With her Beta boyfriend wondering where the hell she is, she drives past the steakhouse which is closed for the night.  Blinded by fury and driven by emotion, she decides to make yet another change.  A real and meaningful change this time.  This time she’ll get it right and enjoy what she deserves for being an amazing woman.  Her rationalization hamster helps out with navigation and leads her to a brand new place.  Somewhere she’s never been.  This is it!  This is what she needs.  This time she’s confident she’ll get what she deserves.

And she does.

“Welcome to McFling’s.  My name is Solomon II.  May I take your order?”

“Steak, please…”

Suggested Reading: Commitment as a Form of Female Investment by Dalrock.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

About Solomon II
As iron sharpeneth iron, so one man sharpeneth another. Proverbs 27:17

One blogger likes this post.
Dalrock

16 Responses to Drive Thru Boyfriends

  1.  Penguin says:

    The last couple of posts are great. You’re on fire!

  2.  HappilyMarriedButJustGotLucky says:

    Agree with Penguin. Quite creative and enjoyable!

  3.  Days of Broken Arrows says:

    …and then one day she turned 42. And she realized few people wanted to serve her McBurgers anymore. The steak had never really come her way, but McBurgers always came easy. Now even that was hard to come by. So she went driving into the night until it became morning.

    Sunday morning.

    That’s when she found the mega-church, or the McChurch. She also found McJesus in the McPastor’s McSermons which weren’t really from scripture, but a McReading of the scripture to appeal to the McPeople who filled the McChurch. The Dr. Phil platitudes of the McPreacher allowed her to feel self-righteous and pass judgment on everyone else. Sure, she might have screwed anything that walked, but now she was a McVirgin. Surely, she was a cut above those sinners who didn’t find the McWord, wasn’t she?

    Male attention had ceased, but it came around again when she began posting McPlatitudes on her Facebook page. Things like “If God brings you to it, then God will get you through it.” Now guys were practically high five-ing her online, since that was what they thought they were supposed to do, knowing nothing better in their empty American McLives of football’n’McJesus. And she began responding to people with “God loves you!” Instead of a simple “Bye!” or “Hello!” That got attention. Her breasts were sagging, but her HolyMcSpirit was high. It also made it easier to block out the cries she heard of all the McBabies she never did have (or the ones that wound up washed in pieces in the McDoctor’s drain).

    Like all TRUE stories, this one has a moral.

    Women who use sex in their twenties to get power and fulfillment use religion in their forties when the sex well runs dry. Of course, it’s all McPower — not the real thing, but a low-budget simulation.

  4.  Solomon II says:

    @Days: Beautifully done, and so true. As the son of a Baptist Minister, I can confirm 100%. Church is the last refuge of many a whore. That’s why I laugh when men say they want to go to church to meet a good girl.

    @ Penguin and Happily: Thanks! I really appreciate your feedback.

  5.  finndistan says:

    That was one of the best ways the concept has been written about.

    Btw,

    It is not just wanting to eat steak at a restaurant, it is also wanting the restaurant to pay them for eating the steak; and even pay for the open tabs of the past McFlings.

    And due all the additives (i.e. sodium glutamate, sweeteners, preservatives…) , the taste buds are almost dead, so the steak will never taste like a pumped um McFling with cream on top.

  6.  Solomon II says:

    @finndistan: It’s amazing how this analogy could go on and on forever and still hold true.

  7. Pingback: Commitment as a form of female investment. | Dalrock
  8.  Thag Jones says:

    He can’t judge her actions based on what other girls do simply because she did the same things and ended up in the same situation they did.

    I lol’d. That’s a good one!

  9.  dalrock says:

    “We don’t serve steak. Show me your tits.”

    One of the funniest things I’ve read in a long, long time!

    Thanks for your link back and putting me on your blogroll! I’ve added you to mine as well not so much out of reciprocation, but because I want to be able to read your latest posts easily. I’ve only read your most recent four posts, but I’m hooked.

    One question though, who is Darlock? :)

    [Damn it. Give me a sec.]

  10. Pingback: Linkage is Good for You: You Know What the Pattern Is Edition
  11.  Bronckin’ Buckeye says:

    Is this the customer you’re talking about?

    http://40daysandengaged.tumblr.com/

    It’s a must read.

    “Flirting with the laws of attraction. As single (and choosy) girls ——— and —– have decided to put their beliefs in the Law of Attraction to the test to attract the men of their dreams…. We will be wearing engagement rings for 40 days to send signals to the universe that we have found what we are looking for. By doing this we are hoping that in response to those signals we are sending out we will actually receive what we are looking for.
    We will be following some rules through this experiment.
    1. The ring must be worn during every public outting
    2. If a possible “love interest” questions the ring and asks if we are engaged we must answer “Yes, to myself.”
    3. No dating (or similar extra curricular activities) during the 40 day period.
    4. We must go “out” and socialize at least once per weekend
    *Rules are subject to change at our discretion*”

    [S2 Says: Christ, man. Women are fucking delusional. I should quit picking on them and start a foundation or something.]

  12.  Squared says:

    Hey Solomon, just found your blog earlier today. I’ve gone back in your archives and have read about a dozen of your posts already, and I find myself short of superlatives. Absolutely brilliant stuff all around. You definitely have what it takes to become the new king of this part of the blogosphere.

    I’ll be checking this one regularly, keep it up!

  13.  Steve says:

    Funny shit bro.

Which DVD Should We, Uh, Rent?

Posted: July 29, 2011 in TV
Tags: , , , , ,

A new movie is coming to the theaters this weekend, perhaps it is the summer blockbuster, perhaps just a film you’ve been pining to go see ever since the ad caught your attention while driving down the highway. Or maybe its the TV show with the hot chick whose every on-screen appearance has had you glued to the screen.

Something came up, and u missed it.

The time came to be sitting in front of the glowing screen lights, devouring that bag of chips along with your beer, or if you’re a girl, cuddling up with your teddy bear and girlfriends all soft and cozy and comfy on that couch and—ANYWAY, you didn’t get up and drive to the local theater. You were too busy. So you have to wait weeks, even months sometimes before that DVD can come out. Then you can rent the movie from Blockbuster, or if your feeling stingy you can wait an extra day and borrow your friends copy.

Oh, wait you just stream on hulu? Damn, someone should tell the film studios, maybe they don’t know we don’t need the DVD.

Coversity Episode 10

Posted: July 22, 2011 in TV
Tags: , , , , , , ,

Hey guys, I don’t post  a link to every episode of the show I’m on, because that’s just shameless self promoting…but this one is by far the best yet…so enjoy!

http://www.vbctv.com/index.php?option=com_zoo&task=item&item_id=1332&Itemid=1370

I was recently thinking about how cell phones, texting and technology in general has cheapened our existence, lessened the importance of a gesture, ruined the meaning of romance. In contrast to the world of film, where every action must be properly blocked, every word understoood, listened to, and respected. Evey moment of silence valued, every second of utmost importance. Every element of your surrounding set up to make the most of that moment in time, preserving it forever on film.

The scene is set in rural America somewhere. The year is 1979. The set lit with a musty afternoon light. A young college student returns home for a bit of R&R after the death of his long time girlfriend Emily. He was a quarterback, she, a cheerleader. He walks into the room, drops his duffelbag on his bed. A poster of Farah Fawcett hangs on the wall. He turns to peer out the window, at the children playing innocently up the road, noticing the simplicity of their world, wishing things could be different, when he notices a picture on his dresser. Brushing off the dust, it’s a picture of him and Emily. It was right after they met, in senior year of high school. They’d had a fight, each said hurtful things, she finally storming out in tears. Realizing the stupidity of their argument he’d asked her roommate what her favorite flowers were, gone to her house, gotten past her Dad, and given her the flowers. She threw them on the floor chasing him out of the house. Before she slammed the door on him, he apologized, told her he loved her and if she can get past their differences, she should meet him a the Shane O’Leary Memorial Field behind their school the next evening at 7, otherwise she should never see him again.

She showed up.

Today, in 2011, that scene would’ve been interrupted with some annoying sorority friend of hers telling her what to do via text. Even worse, it couldn’t have happened, because nothing is certain. Everything would’ve been arranged through texting, and either party could’ve do continue

sometimes, change can be a good thing

Traditions can sometimes be nice. Rules helpful. Both meant to be broken. Some were never meant to be made in the first place. Such as:

1. Poking.

I’m referring to Facebook poking of course. The other type of poking should be avoided at all costs. (Even if it means showering without soap.) I mean, if you’re too shy to message that girl you haven’t spoken to in a while, you think poking her will help? It’s like typing a “period” when a girl hasn’t texted back, so she’ll see you texted her. Then you pass it off as an accident. Lame. C’mon we know you do that.

Bottom line: It’s old, pointless, and should definitely go!

2. “Please listen closely as our menu options have changed.” 

I don’t call you that often. And even if I did, I certainly wouldn’t memorize (more…)

When Did Woohoo! Become a Word?

Posted: February 28, 2011 in Random
Tags: , , , , ,

Your local WaMu Bank Teller

I remember the day quite vividly. I was walking past a WaMu Bank and noticed a sign announcing what mustv’e been good news. The sign read something like “WOOHOO! Get $200 when signing up for a WaMu account today!”.

Wait.

Did they just say WOOHOO!?

My potential financial institution, the people responsible for safeguarding my finances, saying WOOHOO! like some skinny drunkard with tattered shorts running down the alleyway, cracked beer bottle in his hand, yelling WOOHOO! I knocked that guy in the bar out but good!

Besides, what’s the logic of signing up to get $200? I should sign up with a bunch of adult-children who will surely make paper airplanes out of my money, because they hide behind a colorful sign and a cheap suit they bought at Goodwill?

Not that I have anything against Goodwill.

At all.

I’m sure they do wonderful things for the children of Africa.

Or is that the Red Cross?

Oh, and did I mention, the WaMU sign had a bird on it. A little yellow BIRD. Now HOW is a bird going to convince me to sign away my life to WaMu?

Besides who the hell decided to give a bank a nickname??

My nephew gets a nickname. My dog gets a nickname.

It’s cute.

My BANK does not need a nickname. I do NOT want my bank sounding cute.

I shudder thinking about the marketing team meeting that went into the development of the WOOHOO! I imagine some guy, definitely in a crumpled suit, possibly having not showered that morning after having slept on the couch all night because his wife kicked him out. Which brings me to another point about who gives her the right to do so. It’s probably his house anyway, she should just stay in the kitchen making sammiches all day. But that’s another story.

Back to our meeting. So Mr. Crumples suit, yawning, gets up in front of 10 people, probably all interns, and blurts out the phrase his one year old son was making all night long –  WOO-HOO!

So the young interns, being over eager and burning to succeed in the glamorous world of the WaMu tellers, write down on their note pads “WOOHOO!”

And then Mr. Crumpled Suit farts and promptly falls asleep.