Okay, I admit it! I’m still sold on the Positive Value of Kvetching, a trait We Jews have used with great success for over 3500 years. I’ve no doubt that “letting it out” has kept us sane, and contributed vastly to our sense of humor.
Need proof? From just one little kvetch, sitcoms get syndicated, and funny films earn more than the GNP of Kazakhstan. Would Seinfeld, Frasier, or Everybody Loves Raymond get past the pilot without the “Kvetch-Factor?”
There are a few rules in The Art of the Kvetch.
Now, there are a few rules in The Art of the Kvetch.
First, if you have a partner, pick a KT (Kvetch Time). Face it … you and I know that the scattered, constant kvetch lands either like: a) a piece lemon in your eye; b) an extra poppy seed on your challah. So stop with the scattering which will only annoy, or they wouldn’t listen anyway. Better to pick a time when your partner agrees to get “kvetched!” Simply say: “Darling, can I kvetch from 6pm to 6:15?” (If you live alone, do what you want.)
Next, keep it tight. “Oy, that dry cleaner ruined my best blouse. When I asked for compensation, I got bupkes!! It’s on the receipt in fine print “Shmuklers Cleaning: not responsible for damage.” What chutzpah!” Now, this is a good, worthy kvetch with a point! Plus it can be said in under 15 minutes. Had this same woman, also added: “It was your mother’s brisket that caused the stain!” she’d have gone into OK (Over-Kvetching)! Save his mother for tomorrow night!
Each of us has our very own style and list of personal “kvetchables.” Not all of mine are yours and vice versa. That said, I’ve created another list of more personal kvetches, which may or may not be yours. But do feel free to vent!
FIVE MORE OF MY FAVORITE KVETCHABLES
“Matzo-Poi?” “Tsimmes-Taco?” When was the last time you heard a person say: “Oy, I’m dying for a Kung pao-Knish?”(And that includes women pregnant with their fifth child.) Yet, millions of humans are racing to “Fuse.” Why? Because, like the horrid chipotle and pesto, it’s “trendy” and makes even the biggest yutz feel like a food maven. Feh to Fusion! If I feel like “gefilte,” I don’t want it “Thai-ed” up.” And for the record, We Jews created sensible fusion years ago: we call it “leftovers.”
Oy Vey PJ
Halevai! We can now wear our PJs anywhere, from shlepping to the market or on the red carpet! You can sleep in pajama jeans, then dash to a meeting without the aggravation of actually changing. Is this a nifty fashion trend or what? “The Lazy Shmatte.” (The perfect one-size fits no one product makes even the models look like shlumps.) Could this be a slippery slope? Today Pajama jeans, tomorrow … “Just step out of a shower and Go! In our Indoor-Outdoor … Travel Towel.” Personally I prefer Elaine’s (Seinfeld) Urban Sombrero!
Remedy & Redress
COMMERCIAL: PICTURE OF HAPPY COUPLE DANCING THROUGH THE FLOWERS – RASH FREE. SWEET LADY, VOICE SAYING: “Having a rash is heart-breaking. Even a tiny rash can make you feel irritable, itchy, and embarrassed. There’s no need to suffer in silent agony. Talk to your doctor about “Tenera!” -- the one-stop cure for rashes.” Then, the drug company will issue “Warnings” written for Oompa Loopas that scroll faster than the roadrunner.
“Tenera” is not for everyone. May cause chest pain, stroke, liver failure, depression, suicide, sudden heart attack and birth defects in unborn male children. Hives and psoriasis have also been reported.
NEXT COMMERICIAL: MALE ANNOUNCER, DEADPAN VOICE SAYING:
“Have you or a loved one suffered: stroke, liver failure, depression, suicide, sudden heart attack and birth defects in unborn male children after taking “Tenara?” Call us! The Sue A. Lot Law Group and we may get you the compensation you deserve.”
Of course they all fail to mention the happy couple got the rash from dancing in poison ivy in the first place.
I’ve yet to meet a person who is leaving from Gate 1A.
My personal kvetch list for airports runs into payload weight. So, following my rule not to “okay” you, I’ve settled on one that even predates Terrorist Security: Gates! No matter where I’m going, it’s always from Gate 57B, which is usually in a neighboring City. I’ve yet to meet a person who is leaving from Gate 1A. That’s because there are no Gates 1-56. Just signs to two busses, three 100 feet escalators, and a tram. I’m sure this is a massive plot to amuse bored airline employees: “Hey Artie … she thinks it’s the first gate. C’mere and look at her running. She tripped on the moving ramp! Now her bag spilled! Alice, JimBib, Charlmaine … quick, bring the pizza!” They’re so hysterical watching us shlep on State of the Art Security screens, they’re too busy to build State of the Art gates within 10 miles of the ticket counter.
T’s & Z’s:
First it was those hideous Bumper Stickers, e.g.: “I’m a Harvard Mom,” “Staten Island is for Lovers,” “I’m Such a Diva!” “Free Tibet,” and the imponderable, “Got Milk?” Hmmm. What can we call people who need to billboard themselves on their rear? Now, I have to read a person! All of a sudden everyone’s wearing “themselves” on their T-shirts: “The Voices ‘R Back,” “Zombie Hunter,” “I Wonder What It’s Like to be a Cheese.” Is this clever or what? Now I have two things to kvetch over:
- Having to schlep out my reading glasses, and
- Pretend these snoozers should write for Jon Stewart.
Have a favorite Kvetchable? Share mamalas! It’s kvetchably healthy!