Jew in the Face and Longer Each Day

One of my exes is going in for his second nose job next week. Like all of his siblings and cousins, he received his first one as a high school graduation present from his Jewish grandmother. The first one was done by a hack doctor in Long Island City during the second Reagan Administration. We're both half Jewish, though my lineage is paternal and his is maternal, so I've been told by several other exes that I'm a fake half Jew. Regardless, this ex said his main attraction to me in the beginning was that I had such a Jewish face and features, except that my nose was so clearly from the French lineage of my mother. Looking at photos from two, three generations and further back of ancestors in Quebec and eventually Normandy, I can see the same nose. So he's probably right. I don't exactly love my nose, but I don't obsess about it the way I do my other flawed body parts.

He, like 85% of my exes, was born in 1968. Three of them have had some form of surgical facial transformation and are a good decade my juniors. Thus I am sure that I am desperately overdue. When I was in my 20s, I was dating a guy who said that if he had all the money in the world, there would be two things he'd want to do to transform his appearance. I shocked him by saying that there were 78 things I'd want to change. I'm so old now, I don't know that I'd even bother with such futile procedures. And it might take the Jew out of my face.

Since last week's purchase of The Jazz Singer, I've been continually obsessed by Jolson and other Jewish entertainers that died or were popular years before I was born. One of the great revelations in The Jazz Singer is that Jolson swung his hips much more than Elvis did three decades later. I'm sure seeing someone so ethnic doing that really scared them in Peoria. More than Jolson, I adore Eddie Cantor. There is something so intentionally obnoxious and unstoppable about him. Whoopee (1930) is one of my favorite musicals, nothing beats a two-strip Technicolor musical about a Jew in black face out west. I love his version of Everybody Loves My Baby even more than Nina Simone's.

And just look at Eddie's face above and then glance at my profile. Couldn't he pass for my great-grandpa?

I've been re-watching the opening minutes and extras of Peter Jackson's King Kong (2005) . Things got really boring once they left the Hoovervilles in Central Park. However, they did have Jolson singing I'm Sittin' on Top of the World during the opening credits. Too bad they didn't let Kong sing some Eddie Cantor songs during his stage act. He certainly could pass for my uncle Chester, a burly Jew in black face.

Enough?

As the political question of the past week or so seems to be whether or not Obama is "black enough," leading one to wonder if the media has run short of enough creativity to come up with any real question, I am reminded of a little incident on my flight from Guatemala City to Houston on Sunday. Sitting next to a lovely 30ish South Asian bloke who spoke a Chicago-style English, he grew increasingly angry as the goateed flight attendant spoke to me in a Texas twang and to him in bumbling second grade Spanish. When, as he passed out immigration papers and mumbled to my seat-mate "Son Americano?" he got a reply of "Yeah, third generation, pal!" as a response. So, is it racist to even question Obama's "blackness" or roots in the true African American experience or to even suggest that he will be less worthy of a candidate seems to be a bit self-defeating. Is Hillary Clinton feminist enough? Probably not? Is John Edwards "southern enough?" Probably not, but we'll still get stuck with him as the likely running mate (as either first or second banana depending on how ready the Dems that the U.S. is even a slightly progressive candidate. Sadly, the chances of a moderately progressive candidate being a viable winner will hinge on when or if the "war" will "end." Under the terms it was declared, it will take a few more centuries to even think there could be a victory. And the U.S. would certianly not be the winner. To think that the lives of working class 18-35 year olds will be the collateral damage is the reality of the commodities this country is willing to use to play cards in the 21st century. If JunkThief tends to be glib at times, it is no doubt the numbness of the country he currently lives in. No wonder he considered ripping up his passport last week. And, yes, I am actually willing to get up enough energy to campaign for Obama if such a scenario is remotely possible.