jewbauchery

[jewbauchery]

Jewbauchery is proud to announce: Purim Masquerade 2013. 

[jewbauchery]

God bless the internet. 

JEWBAUCHERY IS BACK.

[jewbauchery]

The Most Mysterious Mensch

Impossible. Ingenious. Nice Jewish Boy. 

[jewbauchery]

Jewess Alert

Esti Ginzburg

Allow us to happily introduce you to Esti Ginzburg. At twenty one, this Tel Aviv native has been working as an actress and model for thirteen years - since she was eight years old. One might say her career has officially been bat mitzvahed. 

In 2009, she willingly entered into military service in Israel - a move that other models (*cough* BAR RAFAELI *cough*) dodged.

Says the girl herself, "Military service is part of the things I personally believe in." So, effectively, she could kick your ass, and you'd probably thank her for it. 

Esti has been featured in campaigns for Tommy Hilfiger, Burberry and FCUK, and has been in the Sports Illustrated Swimsuit Edition in 2009, 2010 and in this month's issue as well. 

Check out the rest of her gallery here, and please, try to restrain yourself (or she'll have to do it for you).

Serious serious thanks for the heads-up to our favorite Goy, Tim Goessling, of thisLAlife fame, who insists that we include the following byline:

'The greatest blogger on the planet, the destroyer of dames, a mensch in his own right... The one, the only: TPG.' 

Right. Well. Thanks, Tim!

[jewbauchery]

Yeah, we did that.

Google

When you think about the presence that Google has in the world today, it's hard to actually fathom the sheer amount of people doing/thinking/using something Google related. It may just be easier to list the facts:

1) Most visited website on the internet with 7.2 billion daily page views from 620 million users.

2) Most data processed on the internet with 24 petabytes per day -24,000,000,000,000,000 bytes or 1,000 terabytes.

3) Total assets: $40.497 billion dollars.

4) Google is a verb, officially certified by the Oxford English Dictionary in 2006.

5) Google products and Google-owned subsidiaries include YouTube, Google AdWords, Google Chrome, Android OS, Gmail, DoubleClick, Google Earth, Blogger, Orkut, GoogleTalk, AdMob, Postini, Google Buzz and more.

Not too shabby for Larry Page and Sergey Brin, two nice Jewish boys who had a combined age of 47 years old when they created Google in 1996 (they were 24 and 23, respectively). Certainly they could not have expected their creation to completely shape the future of the internet and internet usage, but then again, anyone really trying to formulate a plan for world domination from a garage owes it to themselves to try. Did we mention that these guys take a $1 yearly salary? With the billions each is worth from Google stock, I promise we haven't forgotten that they're Jews.

Without Google, countless millions of people would be helpless on the internet. It would be like the pre-Google days of dial-up America Online (now with 1000 free hours!). Remember how your parents would ask for help to write an electronic mail and wonder how you paid the postage. Attachments? Forget about it. You still had to do a book report reading the actual book and maybe using a 1980's copy of Encyclopedia Brittanica. G-d forbid, you might have actually had to resort to those other mediocre-at-best search engines of the mid to late 1990's, like Dogpile, Excite, Lycos, AltaVista, Mamma or (gasp!) Yahoo. Let's not and say we did.

[jewbauchery]

Our Funny Valentine

Woody Allen

Neurotic. Romantic. Nice Jewish Boy.

[jewbauchery]

Gefilte Fish

Kibbitz & Kvetch is like the Jewbauchery version of Goofus & Gallant. Each entry will take a topic up for debate between your hosts, Matt & Jay, who will discuss the finer points of each side.

Matt: Not many things are more inherently part of a culture than its food. The Japanese have the California Roll. The Italians have pizza. The Mexicans have Taco Bell. The Jews are no different, and today's dish of choice has polarized the Jewish meal discussion for years. Of course, we're talking about the concoction that is Gefilte Fish.

Jay: Bleugh. All yours, dude. I'll take oxygen and water over that unholy creation any day of the week. You wanna know how that got started? Somewhere, in some sub-clause of the Torah, there's a tiny eency weency little song-and-dance about not lettings things go to waste over shabbat. And some enterprising soul, millenia ago, decided that fish was too good to not eat all Shabbat long. So he took the fish, deboned it, GROUND THE BONES UP, wadded the whole thing into some kind of bastardized hamburger patty and sprinkled weird snot goblings on top. You wanna know why we put horseradish on top of gefilte fish? So that we can't taste the gefilte fish. True story.

Matt: True story: being wasteful is a modern Western phenomenon. It's costly, lazy, and adds more Jewish guilt when your mother tells you she's disappointed you didn't finish your vegetables when there are starving people in Africa. Gefilte Fish is not only the epitome of throwing in everything but the kitchen sink, but it's tasty. It's not fried, it's not loaded with sugar, and those "weird snot goblings" on top are vegetables. And don't even begin to let me kibbitz on about horseradish, with or without beets the greatest condiment since Gulden's Spicy Brown.

Jay: I'm not even kidding, man, I have statistical evidence to prove you're wrong. Yes, I've had an aversion to gefilte fish my whole life, so no way did I know how to make it off the top of my head. I did some googling. First I wanted some history:

But that wasn't a fruitful search. Perhaps, like penicillin, or breathalyzers, it was created by accident:

And still nothing. Enraged, I turned to my last resort. JUSTICE:

The numbers speak for themselves. More people are angry about gefilte's very existence than care about where it comes from. And come on! Have you ever actually seen a Gefilte Fish? They're the chicken nuggets of fish product. I'll say it again: bleugh.

Matt: There's something to be said about the Jewish appetizer. It's an enigma of a course that typically appears at any formal Jewish affair. Sure, if it was a non-formal event, you could do the Pigs In Blankets route. But for sit-down meals, you're severely limited in choices. Chopped Liver? I'm a huge fan, but try getting a picky eater to go with that. The only other option is Gefilte Fish. If you want to market it as chicken nuggets of fish, you'd have a healthier version of fish sticks, which even the picky eater can stomach. Gefilte Fish is more than just an appetizer. It's a reminder of our history, where we came from. That little shtetl in Europe where our great-great-great grandfathers became prominent Rabbis and our great-great-great grandmothers still filled our ancestors bellies on a few kopeks, a prayer and a little salt for taste. That combination of sweet, salty and spicy conjures up feelings of family and holidays and what it means to be a Jew. As much as you may dislike it today, you can't argue that it has earned its rightful place at the festive meal.

Jay: FINE. Fine. You got me there. While I find it disgusting and discomforting, I can't help but admit that it is a Jewish tradition. If this was Kibbitz and Kvetch: Jay Likes Gefilte Fish, that shit would be game over. But I guess if we're debating the very existence of - or rather, the merit of the existence of the Gefilte monster — I'll have to concede.

Good taste says no. Tradition says yes. Gefilte Fish: WIN.

Matt: Score this one for a big win for Gefilte Fish. You just made every bubbe proud. Now who's up for a big spoonful of Gold's?

Jay: Bleugh.

[jewbauchery]

What Shabbat Means To Us

OR: How We Learned To Stop Worrying And Love The Kiddush

You might be surprised to learn  -- we shouldn't assume. Rather, we were surprised to learn -- that Shabbat is the most important ritual in Judaism. Derived from the root Shin-Beit-Tav, the Sabbath (an anagram, for Hashem's sake!) is the only Jewish ritual that's actually name-dropped in the Ten Commandments, and we're not just talking about our boy Charlton's star turn. The commandment to remember the sabbath is so important, in fact, that it appears even before the commandment to honor thy mother and father - a commandment so natural, so simple, so undeniably human one wonders why it isn't top of the list, a place held instead by G-d's almost neurotic insistence that he is indeed the Lord, our G-d. But, pray tell: Was G-d not the father of all of us? (Or mother, if you're going to be like that.) 

We digress - but only slightly, and with a distinct lack of digression. 

So what the fuck, then. What's up with this Shabbat business? Ma Nish Ta Na Ha Laila, huh? What makes it so important that, in native Hebrew, it's not just a thing you do, it's the whole damn day - there's no other word for Saturday besides Shabbat. Well, even the most ignorant among us certainly know the traditional trappings - no handling of money, no using electricity, no working, a quick trip to the temple (or four.) Maybe it's just G-d's version of Family Games Night. 

We should preface this business by admitting that we here at Jewbauchery do not keep the sabbath. With all due respect to friends who do, we think our lives would be considerably less interesting (though arguably, considerably more spiritually engaging) if we did. And since our relationship with G-d is our personal matter, we won't really touch on the religious aspects but rather, the heart of it all, the thing we Jews love to tout: 

TRADITION!

Welcome to a new feature here at Jewbauchery: Tales From The Vault. Effectively, it's story-telling time down at the Jewbauchery campfire.

Jay here, with a personal story bound to tickle your fancy (Or your ivories. Or your ovaries. Welp. I'm sure I'll tickle something.)

I lived in my father's house for the first twenty two years of my life - an arguable figure, considering I was living in the dorms at Brandeis University for the latter four. All the same, Waltham, MA, the gray chain-link city Brandeis calls home, is a mere eleven minutes away from Wayland, the small town in which I was raised. Even then, during college, I would often slip away from the bustling dormitories and back to my father's house for a traditional Friday night Shabbat dinner. Mom would make roast chicken or brisket or (on a particularly adventurous and short-lived streak of flair) chicken-pot-pie or something, and we'd tear off some challah and we'd catch each other up on our weeks gone by. 

And every Friday of my life - like beautiful clockwork - once we'd told the jokes and (as I grew older) finished our first scotches and shot the proverbial shit - we would eventually gather around the table, and allow ourselves to grow quiet (reverent, even) as my father slowly filled the silver goblet with the good stuff, that wine we kept in the glass bottle decanter in the dining room. 

He'd wait until we were silent, and then once more like clockwork, clear his throat and dive right in. 

Vayihi-erev, vayihi-voker. Yom ha-shishi, vaikhulu ha-shamayim ve-ha'aretz ve-khol tzeva'am. 

Even now, typing these awful transliterations by sense memory, I can hear my father's voice, hear his pauses. I know the words he breathes between. He can blaze through the entire first paragraph in one single breath and it is a stunning sight to behold. It's like watching a trapeze artist teeter --- and then continue!

And then, a breath! A single, powerful, drawn-from-the-diaphragm, full-to-the-brim breath, the kind of breath that G-d intended when he created the air we breathe. An archetypal breath. The ultimate breath. I could live in the space this breath created, there at our table, almost always - my mother, my brother and I, lost in the space my father's breath had created, eyes down, waiting, waiting, waiting with bated breath for him to continue. 

And then, when we stopped believing he could keep inhaling, and then he kept inhaling anyway, and then! and then! BOOM! He raises the glass and the crowd goes wild! Good lord, I think it is, it's -- it's -- the blessing over the wine! But no, he's not done, not by a long shot - another breath? FUCK NO. Onwards! Upwards! Lightning speed Hebrew tumbling out of his mouth, fully formed, like a pasta maker or that crazy machine that prints whole roads. 

Blessed are you, lord, king of the universe, who made us holy with his commandments and favored us, and gave us His holy Sabbath, in love and favor, to be our heritage, as a reminder of the Creation. 

That's straight out of Torah, yo. This moment, repeated (52*22, carry the 4...) 1,144 times over the course of my childhood -- my father, my mother, my brother and I, lost in the spell my father's words would cast -- receiving this as my heritage, in the presence of my creators, in the presence of THE CREATOR HIM(HER)(IT)SELF, LADIES AND GENTLEMEN! 

Holy, holy, holy, still on the same breath! Tumbling and diving and tap-dancing through the words, the red wine in the silver glass throwing the light around the room, the chicken crisping in the oven, the challah, so close, so tantalizing, and in this quiet moment, this peaceful eternity, we swoop and we dive and ---- and--- 

 ------------------- AMEN! WE EXPLODE! And there's the chicken, and potatoes, and (as I grew older) more scotch! And more food! And more! And Mom, this is delicious, thank you, and so, Dad, how was your week? 

Shabbat is the day of rest. That's not true. I call bullshit on that. Has G-d ever been to Los Angeles? Tonight I'm going out. That's a fact. It's been a fact ever since I learned what 'going out' was all about. I'm going out tomorrow, too. I'm not going to rock the Havdallah, I'm (probably) not going to temple. That's not my Shabbat.

Shabbat, for me, takes place over the almost precisely forty-nine seconds it has taken my father to recite the kiddush for twenty five years of my life. 

And then it's done. And once we've remembered the sabbath and kept it holy, I'm thankful that I am able, in one fluid motion, to honor my mother and father.

And when the time comes that I have a family of my own - and even before then, whenever I'm so lucky as to deliver the kiddush on a Friday night, any time, any where, I'll hear my father's voice in my ears, and that, for me, will be my sabbath. 

Good shabbos, friends, make this one count. 

[jewbauchery]

Yeah, we did that.

Jeans

There's few things more classic than blue jeans. Dependable, durable - a perfect standby. They go great with an old t-shirt, a sweater or a dress shirt and blazer. They are worn around the world by people from all different cultural backgrounds. And we wouldn't be wearing these beloved fashion items if it wasn't for the Jews. Between two of them, they would revolutionize American clothing. One of them in particular is a guy who's name is known throughout the world -- Levi Strauss.

In 1872, Levi Strauss, a dry goods merchant who had been selling a version of denim jeans to miners in California since the 1850's and Jacob Davis, a Jewish tailor who purchased denim and other fabrics from Strauss joined forces. Together on May 20, 1873, they applied for a patent on copper rivets to strengthen the pockets and other stress points on denim work pants. Thus the modern day jeans were born.

Things have obviously changed a lot since 1873. Early blue jeans cost $1 - $2. Today, in upper-middle class areas, teenage Jewish girls are harassing their lawyer/doctor/CEO daddies for the newest $300 Seven jeans, most likely paired with $150 fur-lined footwear, aka "the unofficial Jewish American Princess uniform". Whereas jeans used to be for men working in industrial industries who needed strength and durability in their work attire, now they are sold pre-washed, acid washed, ripped, bleached and worn by moms. Even the Canadians have their own claim to denim fame, the Canadian Tuxedo.

Next time you grab a pair of your favorite jeans, don't forget to tip your yarmulke to the greatest Jewish addition to fashion before Ralph Liftshitz.

BONUS: For more information on the unofficial Jewish American Princess uniform, check out this music video we found in the Jewbauchery vault from our favorite Jewish musical comedy duo Mesch & Cod:

[jewbauchery]

Glad You Could Join Us...

We can be very persuasive.

Over the years, many shiksas have fallen prey to our devilish charm, our sparkling dark eyes and our cheek-pinching bubbes. Not that we can blame them. Let's take a quick look at some of our favorite former shiksas:

1) Elizabeth Banks

If you didn't tell us she wasn't Jewish from birth, we'd never know. Her mother worked in a bank. She graduated magna cum laude from UPenn. She's spent most of her professional career hanging out with Judd Apatow and Seth Rogen. Can't make this stuff up! She converted to Judaism upon marrying her college boyfriend that she started dating day one of freshman year, sportswriter and producer Max Handelman.

2) Isla Fisher

The Australian-raised actress converted to Judaism for her devout longtime partner, this guy. Apparently, Baron Cohen is pretty observant. Enough so that their wedding was originally postponed because her Torah studies went slower than expected. If she's a Stage 5 Clinger, Ali G's nothing short of a Stage 6 Stickler.

3) Ivanka Trump

It boggles our minds that she somehow came from this. Whatever happened there, it was nothing short of a miracle. In advance of her wedding to observant Jew, real-estate mogul and New York Observer publisher Jared Kushner, she converted to Judaism to honor her future husband. I would say lucky guy, but considering he was already worth multi-millions in his mid-20's, he doesn't need it.

4) Marilyn Monroe

According to TheDailyBeast.com, "Hollywood’s most famous blonde was born into a family of Christian Scientists. After falling in love with Jewish playwright Arthur Miller, she made an unusual request to have a rabbi preside over their wedding and converted in 1956." You learn something new every day. Now we wonder if she ever sang "Happy Birthday, Rabbi Greenbaum".

God bless freedom of religion and Jewish men with convoluted principles.

[jewbauchery]

Classic Cool Convert

Sammy Davis, Jr. 

Smooth. Showstopper. Nice Jewish Boy.

[jewbauchery]

Tattoos

Kibbitz & Kvetch is like the Jewbauchery version of Goofus & Gallant. Each entry will take a topic up for debate between your hosts, Matt & Jay, who will discuss the finer points of each side.

Jay: For those who don't know, Matt and I are your hosts here at Jewbauchery. Our topic today is (duh) tattoos. Matt has tattoos, I do not.

Matt: I have one. But it's awesome.

Jay: So awesome it counts double. Plus aren't you planning on getting another?

Matt: At some undetermined point in the future, I would like to get another one. However, unlike many drunk/stupid/dared idiots out there, I will wait until I know exactly what I want and where I want it and then ask myself many months later if I still agree. If/when I do, I'll get ink number two.

Jay: True story: for the better part of two years, I wanted to get a certain brand's logo tattooed on my wrist. Spoiler alert: it was booze. I flip flopped for a while but didn't get it — for exactly that reason. Funny though it may have been, I would have regretted my decision down the line.

Matt: Smart mensch.

Jay: Past the obvious fuck-what-was-I-thinking, and even the straight-up religious aspects (which I get conflicting reports about) like any good Jewish boy I'd have to consider my parents' opinion. They have as much claim to my own body as I do - they did make it, after all. If I came home for Thanksgiving with ink on my skin, my parents would have heart attacks, die, and then roll over in their graves.

Matt: I can't argue that even the most inked Jew hasn't felt the pangs of Jewish guilt. Shit, I've felt my mother's guilt across the country just from considering buying a non-Hebrew National hot dog. But as Jews, we all relish our self-expression. It ignited a fire during the Jewish diaspora art movement and it keeps every yenta's mouth moving. When was the last time you had a heated conversation with a Jew and they didn't get their point across? Tattoos are just the permanent (unless you're rich) ink version of the same thing.

Jay: Right, but (and I hate to fall back on stereotype here) points change and Jews are frugal — if you stop liking that french quote so much, or you no longer care about cassette tapes, or so on and so forth — you're stuck having that opinion, manifested on the flesh, for the rest of your natural life — or until you mangelina up and get it zapped.

Matt: Yeah, yeah, I get it. Your body is a temple. Whatever. The whole concept of your body is a temple is cool with me. Most temples have some really cool sculptures and artwork on the inside and outside. Why shouldn't my temple be allowed to enjoy the same thing?

Jay: Yeah but what happens when your temple is destroyed and the Romans steal your oil and, uh, candles burn for like 8 nights, um, and Mordechai, um. Triangle hats? What are we talking about again?

Matt: Hamentaschen tattoos? File that under the "I had way too much schnapps at Purim" argument.

Jay: Is there a consensus to arrive at here? Is there a right or wrong answer? Tradition says no. Expression says yes. Jew Tattoos - DRAW.

Matt: I think that the answer is that if you really feel like getting a tattoo, think long and hard. Then wait another 6 months of thinking long and hard. If you still want it, get it, but don't hide it from your parents. And make sure it doesn't say "chow mein slut" as opposed to the chinese character for virility.

[jewbauchery]

Yeah, we did that.

The Pyramids

It's kind of ironic how the ancient Egyptians who once enslaved our people for our labor and the fact that we had the Big Guy on our side versus their Anubis (the god of the dead who had the head of a jackal) are now they themselves fighting for their freedom. As free Jews who savor the privilege of independence, we acknowledge the struggle our forefathers went through to reclaim our freedom and steadfastly support our former taskmasters in their push for the same.

That being said, there are unfortunately stories of looters and rioters wreaking havoc in, around and on the pyramids. Let's make this clear. My great-to-the-nth-power grandfather built those behemoths with nothing but his bare hands and raw back (unless you blasphemers believe that the aliens built them). He toiled in the scorching desert sun for 210 years, making bricks from straw and receiving lashes from taut whips when he did not complete his work at the torrid pace set for him. We can assure you he didn't look this good when he did it, either. Once is enough! We're not going to rebuild them. Don't fuck this up, freedom fighters -- and best of luck.

[jewbauchery]

Good Shabbos?

More like GREAT Shabbos.

Brazenly stolen from the archives over at Next Shabbat New York, we bring you:

2 oz Stoli

1.5 oz Kedem concord grape juice

1/2 oz lime juice

Club soda

Add first three ingredients to a mixing glass, shake with ice and strain up into a chilled martini glass or serve on the rocks if desired. Top with club soda and garnish with a grape or lime wedge.

Pro-tip: if you make these yourself at home, you can successfully keep such common Shabbatisms such as handling money, driving an automobile, using electricity, speaking clearly and making responsible decisions. Plus, we're Jews: Think of the savings!

Shabbat Shalom, from the good folks here at Jewbauchery. Don't work too hard, folks.

[jewbauchery]

Shiksappeal

What is it about Jewish men that non-Jewish women love?

Kiddush cup refills.

When a Jewish man dates a non-Jewish woman (a 'shiksa', if you will), the burden of guilt usually - and appropriately - falls on the man. Why is he dating outside of the faith? What, he's too good for Jewish girls? Does he want his parents to have a heart attack? What is his problem?

Allow us here at Jewbauchery to pose a retort: What's up, sexy heathens? Where are all you shiksas coming from? What is it about brown hair and big noses that you love so much? Don't you know our grandmothers are contractually obligated to hate you from the outset? Why do you find us so intriguing, so engaging, so positively irresistible? 

Is it the chase of locking one of us up before her single Jewish friends who complain about their failed JDates? The mouthwatering allure of a brisket dinner the first time she meets her future mother-in-law? Perhaps it's the realization that the core Jewish ideals - strong family, importance of education, financial stability, talkativeness - are exactly what a goyish girl needs?

Needless to say, there's simply no right or wrong answer. In the end, our fellow Yids can appreciate the beauty of all women, whether they are black, brown, yellow or purple (Attention: purple women - please seek medical attention, you're doing something wrong). This topic is one that women have been asking themselves for a long time, and that Jewish men have been secretly high-fiving about for slightly longer. 

 There have even been books published on the topic, a personal favorite being "Boy Vey!: The Shiksa's Guide to Dating Jewish Men" by Kristina Grish. Let's be honest, there's a lot of things that stand out about men of the tribe. There's the fact that they like to travel in packs, the comfort that they'll pick up the tab on a first date, the knowledge that they went to a good school. If that didn't get you, maybe the chest hair will. It worked for this guy, that's why they called him The Bear Jew. And look, we've got lawyers, we've got doctors, we've got accountants -- think of the savings! 

To some of them, dating Jewish guys can be tough. So to the lovely Jewish women of the greater Los Angeles area and beyond, we at Jewbauchery have but four simple words for you: Step up your game. Claim what has rightfully been yours since those Roman soldiers ransacked our temple to find what made those Babylonian shiksas rock our circumcised jocks so hard. Hurry up while you're at it, or there's gonna be a lot more Asian girls taking your place at your nearest Harvard singles mixer.

[jewbauchery]

The Original Kings of the West

Meyer Lansky & Bugsy Siegel

Visionaries. Thugs. Nice Jewish Boys.

[jewbauchery]

An Introduction

Jews get a bad rap. 

In pop culture, we're often depicted as nerdy. Awkward. Stingy. Bad with women. Meek. Nervous. Jittery, even. Rich. Lazy. Sloppy. Easy. Weak. 

We're not those Jews. 

Of 'the Jew', Mark Twain once wrote:

"He has made a marvelous fight in this world, in all the ages; and had done it with his hands tied behind him…. The Egyptian, the Babylonian, and the Persian rose… The Greek and the Roman followed; and made a vast noise, and they are gone… The Jew saw them all, beat them all… All other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?"

And that motherfucker wrote Tom Sawyer! 

The truth is, more often than not, we got our first handjobs from girls named Rachel or Sarah. At summer camp. When we were 11. 

We hustled kids out of their chocolate during Hanukkah dreidel matches. We did it again during college - but this time, it was their money, and the game was poker.

We can talk our way into trouble, and once we're there, talk our way back out again. We could talk our way into a free scotch - a few of them, for that matter. We could probably talk you into a taxi, and back to our apartment, and out of that dress. 

We talk fast. It's what we do. We are young. Hungry. Climbing fast and shouting loud and drinking hard. And for fuck's sake, living. 

Other powers may come and go, but we will do as our forefathers have done: put up a marvelous fight, even with our hands tied. And we will remain. And in this way, we will earn our immortality.

Did we get this way to counter stereotype? To advance in our chosen fields? To get laid? Did we get this way because the other way - any other way - would just be fucking boring? 

Who knows. Who cares. We have places to be. 

One way or another, we've found our way here, to Los Angeles, to seek our fortunes in a city where everyone's seeking their fortunes. We've headed out West to seek gold in them hills. You get to watch us take it for our own.

We lead lives of proud Jewbauchery, and you - all of you - are cordially invited to join us for the ride.