Brookwrite

This is your chai

In the beginning, there was a question.

It was a warm, sunny, summer Shabbat morning, when an unsuspecting woman was approached in a synagogue parking lot, and asked the question that would launch a thousand quips.

"Do you think you know four Rabbis who would prefer people sleeping through the sermon, rather than talking during it?" She said, "probably." From that came the headline, "Rabbis prefer sleeping during sermon."

In that first fateful column, eighteen years ago, her innocuous "probably" was the basis of the scientific assertion that four out of five rabbis prefer sleeping during a sermon. From where came the fifth rabbi? Simple: When was the last time five rabbis agreed on anything? Thus, four out of five.

The journalistic integrity and investigative skills demonstrated there could have easily led to a prestigious career today in covering the Middle East for most major news outlets. But instead, this column labored every month (except for the ones that were missed), and sometimes twice monthly, to bring almost several laughs to its almost several readers.

It rode the sound waves of The Southern Shofar though, despite contractual stipulation, never rode in the seat behind a Southern Chauffeur. It then spoke in its own Deep South Jewish Voice, before settling in to Southern Jewish Life's hind end -- unless you read the magazine right to left, which does not make most of the news today make more, or less, sense.

Over the years, this column presented the wisdom of the recently-discovered, long-lost Mishnah tractate Bava Gump which, among other things, teaches how shrimp can be kosher.

The column retold the legendary adventures of the beloved young kabbalist, Harry Plotzer, and his adventures with The Sanhedrin's Stone, through The Chamber of Shpielkis, and with The Prisoner of Ashkenaz and The Gabbai of Fire, though not yet getting to The Deadly Challahs.

Occasionally there were guests, such as the recurring one due to a hare-brained rabbinical typo, Ask the Rabbit, as well as Gurb the Caveman Rabbi, and the occasional special report from The Oynion.

Explored were calendar anomalies and events, real and surreal, such as Thanksnukah, Mezuzapalooza, Kol Nidre the 13th, Purover, Chrisnukah, Yomtober, and the pirated Rosh Hashaarrrnah and Day of Aarrrtonement.

The chorus of "Bubbe's Been Run Over By a Reindeer" was sung, the Rebbe at the Bat got his bell rung, and the Grinch who hated Jew-ville had his hatred unstrung.

In case it wasn't apparent, this is the 18th anniversary of this space not being for rent. In honor of this Chai anniversary, it would seem appropriate to toast it with some chai tea.

Except that chai tea has baffled rabbinic scholars for hundreds of seconds. ("Should we have seconds? Is one cup enough? Let's drink on it.") After all, chai is not pronounced like Chai, though a cup of chai makes it easier to pronounce Chai. And some say that chai has properties that help to extend one's life, one's Chai.

And what is chai tea's relationship to Thai Iced Tea? Is there such a thing as Thai Chai Tea? If there is, are its effects best described as tai chi for the digestive system?

These are questions to ponder during this High Holy Day season, though perhaps not late afternoon on Yom Kippur. This column recommends doing so during the president's fundraising plea. You've heard it all before, including the introductory joke.

Some might say it's appropriate to commemorate eighteen years of this column so close to the Day of Atonement. With that in mind, this column asks the forgiveness of everyone who has never read it -- it's not their fault. They're merely to blame.

So, sip your chai in comfort. Despite court orders to the contrary, this octodecennial celebration is not an end, but a new beginning. May this column be inscribed in the Book of Life. Not only because that would mean finally appearing in multiple publications, but also because the columnist would have to live so long, too.

Rest assured that if anything funny happens in the next eighteen years, it's possible that you'll both read about it here first. Next tea in Jerusalem.

Doug Brook is a writer in Silicon Valley who has continually baffled scientists by, since August 1996, aging even more than his jokes -- impossible as that seems. For past columns, other writings, and more, visit http://brookwrite.com/. For exclusive online content, follow facebook.com/the.beholders.eye.