Holy Water and a Close Shave

HOLY WATER
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Every day I walk down Bedford Avenue on my way back from the subway station. I'm always dumbfounded by this poster I see that reads "Kaballah Energy Drink." Apparently this is yet another in a long line of energy drinks, riding on the coattails of such beverages as Red Bull, etc. Now, for those not so well versed in Jewish mysticism (which, in the age of Madonna, is probably impossible), Kabbalah is:

"a doctrine of esoteric knowledge concerning God, God's creation of the universe and the laws of nature, and the path by which adult religious Jews can learn these secrets. . .Kabbalah teaches that every Hebrew letter, word, number, and accent of the Hebrew Bible contains a hidden sense; and it teaches the methods of interpretation for ascertaining these meanings."

And so, imagine my surprise to see this advertisement. At first, I'm thinking that perhaps this is a joke. This is, after all, Brooklyn, and it seems that tongue-in-cheek comments on Judaism (by Jews) are the norm in this neighborhood. Take, for example, this sign that one sees upon leaving Brooklyn via the Williamsburg Bridge:



After months of passing this Kaballah sign in a bodega window, I finally decided to go in and see if the stuff actually exists. And guess what? It does. I bought myself a can, although I have yet to try it, so I can't give any indication of how the stuff tastes. It must be good, though, since it's infused with "kaballah water." What Kabbalah Water is, I have yet to understand. Perhaps I'll have to taste the stuff first. Maybe I'll be enlightened...(better than growing wussy wings)



What I can't stop but think is: What's next? I mean, we've got Rap Snacks, we've got the Kaballah Energy Drink. Perhaps we'll see this in stores next:



OTHER NEWS! -- THE CLOSE SHAVE
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I've been really into neighborhood barbers lately. After months and months of refusing to cut my hair (I looked like a homeless vet), I finally got a haircut about a month ago in Little Italy (in the Bronx). The experience was so interesting and fun that I've decided to keep on repeating it--hopefully changing barbers each time.

This time, I hit a neighborhood joint run by Dominicans. I've always been amazed by Dominican haircuts. What's incredible is that, even after my suburban eyes figure that a haircut is long done, these guys seem to keep working for at least another half-hour. They do all sorts of things that to me seem confusing and fascinating. They use weird roller brushes and straight razors and a whole bunch of other equipment that completely confounds me.

Usually when I'm confronted with any options that involve weird tools, I bow out, preferring to stay within my boundaries. This time, however, I chose to give my hair (what's left of it) up to fate and let the barber decide. And strike me down if this man did not pull out all sorts of razors and implements of destruction and "sharpen up the borders" and whanot. And, surprisingly enough, I love it! It's the greatest head shaving I've ever had--clean and shaped and just perfect...

The only sad thing about the whole thing is that nobody seems to tell a difference. Nobody can even tell that I got a haircut, let alone recognize the cut for the perfection that it emobodies. This man worked like a master on my head, and nobody even notices! What a bunch of sad crap...

And so I leave some photos here to show off my straight lined cut. Maybe nobody can tell--but when I look in the mirror, I like what I see. I like my sharp lines, I like my razor sharp edges, I like my newly cleaned cheeks....And that's all that counts...