You liked her as NY Senator, you loved her as Secretary of State, you’ll go bonkers adoring her as the 45th president of these United States. And if, like yours truly, you answered no on all of the above, well, get ready for four more years of the same merciless pain…

In an item headlined The Eight-Minute Tribute Video That Convinced David Remnick Hillary Clinton Is Running For President, BuzzFeed’s Ruby Cramer introduces the eight-minute tribute video to Secretary of State Hillary Clinton which convinced the DC bleacher crowd she’s absolutely running for president come 2016.

The video is studded with international stars, including Boss Obama and the man who used to be Tony Blair, complete with a “soaring Bruno Mars soundtrack” and the uplifting slogan: “I just have an instinct that the best is yet to come.”

I just have the instinct to go under my bed and stay there until 2020.

Benjamin Netanyahu says on this video: “I’ve just had the opportunity to work with her to achieve a ceasefire between Israel and Hamas. Hillary Clinton is a strong and determined leader…She knows how to get the job done.”

Is this the new bonne tonne, to insert the word “just” in your sentence, just for the hell of it?

Salam Fayyad, Prime Minister of Palestinian National Authority says there: “You know when Hillary’s in the room. She is highly personable. She’s real.”

Sounds like something Bill Clinton never managed, that “you know when she’s in the room” thing. Could have proven useful.

Madeleine Albright says: “She has a laugh that is completely infectious.”

A must quality for a president, if you ask me.

– Ms. President, what started that whole murder thing in Benghazi?

– Ha ha ha ha…

Finally, this is what President Obama says on the vid: “Through it all, I’ve relied on the shining qualities that have defined your life. Your conviction, your optimism, your belief that America can and must be a force for good in the world… I’ll say it again — you’ve been one of the best secretaries of state in American history. And finally, Hillary, a lot’s been said about our relationship, and here’s what I know: you haven’t just been one of my closest partners — you’ve become a great friend. I’m so grateful for your grace, you humor, your friendship.”

It’s in the bag…

President Barack Obama and former Massachusetts Gov. Mitt Romney are pictured in the Oval Office, Nov. 29, 2012.

What does one say on such an occasion?

“Would you care for some dog?”

“Yes, it was actually Kenya. Now I’ll have to kill you.”

“Wanna’ see some amazing Area 51 photos?”

“Why don’t you buy yourself an island and become their president?”

“We were looking for a good nuclear waste dump and, guess what, Utah’s name came up.”

“I could really use your clout in negotiating with the Republicans…”

That last one would probably sting the worst. Unlike senator McCain, who kept his day job back in 2008, Romney is just going to have to retire with nothing to his name other than $300 million, give or take.

And he doesn’t even drink or smoke. I can’t believe only 30% of the Jews voted for him. What’s wrong with you, people?

Meanwhile, President Obama will be preparing to go after Netanyahu for the expansion of Jerusalem all the way to Maale Adumim, virtually scrapping the idea of a contiguous Palestinian state.

“Care for some dog?”

I quit my full-time job eight months ago without another one to fall back on. In hindsight, it wasn’t one of my better decisions, but it was time for me to move forward. I was in a position that never quite suited me – like an ill-fitting pair of shoes that’s one size too small and rubs across the toes. Sure, a nagging thought called a recession cropped up from time-to-time before I resigned, but I was confident I would only be on the market for a few weeks, max. Armed with a new LinkedIn profile and a heaping dose of faith, I bid farewell to my boss and colleagues of six years to embark on my new journey.

The job hunt went well at first, until I realized my journey had taken me down a metaphorical six-lane highway, ejected me from the car, and thrown me down an embankment. I lay among the debris, moaning. I managed to crawl back up, only to lie down in the middle of the highway as traffic barreled down on me. And I stayed there – unemployed – for months. I began arguing with God. “How could you do this to me?” I howled. “I’m a good person. I don’t deserve this.” I was greeted with silence.

Echoes of the poem “Footprints” ran through my mind: “You promised me Lord that if I followed you, you would walk with me always. But I have noticed that during the most trying periods of my life there have only been one set of footprints in the sand. Why, when I needed you most, have you not been there for me?” More silence.

I rolled over on the now jam-packed highway to confirm that my super-hero cape –emblazoned with the word “righteous” on the back – was still firmly affixed to my neck. It was. I could not make any sense as to why God had not yet sent me a rental car to get me back on my journey. I reasoned perhaps He was waiting for some additional prayers. “Fine,” I thought. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Please God,” I began. “Please send me a new job. I have always been a good servant to You. I am honest and ethical and I call my mother almost every day.” Silence. I needed a different tack. “The emotional and financial toll of my unemployment on my family is heartbreaking,” I pleaded. “They shouldn’t suffer because You haven’t sent me a new job.”

There was an angry silence – but this time, it was mine.

That was it. All bets were off. I was fuming. I had no choice but to officially declare war on God. I would not speak to Him unless spoken to – and since that seemed rather unlikely given the chilly reception I had been receiving – I decided from that moment forward, we would maintain separate lives and living quarters. I stopped davening. I stopped hoping. I cursed my fate and my belief system, angry at being punished. I began an accounting of all the things that had gone wrong in my life and found God sorely lacking. But I was not ready to admit defeat. I would not let God off the hook for abandoning me in my time of need.

And from the rubble that was now my life, a calm voice – one of reason – suddenly emerged. “You can’t lie down across a six-lane highway and expect to be saved,” God said. “But the cape,” I said, my voice trailing off. “What about the cape? Did you see it? I’m a righteous individual, a good person,” I argued. “I know I haven’t given much to charity lately, but what do you expect when you refuse to send me a new job?”

“Roll over,” God said. I did. “The other side,” God instructed. And there it was on my cape. “Self” was inscribed just before the word “righteous.”

I was embarrassed. There it was for all to see – like the Scarlet Letter. I had been self-righteous and pompous and I had to own my mistakes. “I sinned against you,” I told God. “I failed in my journey of faith.”

Israeli soldiers were packing up their gear as they leave their staging area near the Gaza border, on the first day of the ceasefire, Friday, November 22, 2012.

This morning the Likud is holding its primaries, to select a list of candidates for the Knesset. I sincerely hope that at least those Likud members who live down south will let their leader, Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, know what they think about the shameful way he sold them out.

Netanyahu kicked the can down the street, gaining a few months of quiet, after which it is obvious that these same soldiers will be called back to do the job of suppressing the Hamas violence. But the new ceasefire agreement will make it just a little bit harder for them to do the job.

Thank you, Mr. Prime Minister. We could do much better.

Dear Abba,

Thanks you for your letters. And for writing them in English. I don’t understand all the words, but one of my friends, Johnny, the “chayal boded” from America who spent a few Shabbat with us because he doesn’t have any family in Israel, he translates for me what I don’t know. He likes your letters too. We all call him “Stallone” because of his heavy American accent, and because he’s so eager to go into action to “wipe out the Apaches” as he calls the Hamas. All day long, he badgers the commanders, wanting to know what’s holding things up. He’s like the spring on an Uzi, ready to fire. All of us are.

I’m writing in Hebrew because it would take me all day to write an SMS in English. Sorry I was so groggy when you phoned me this morning. I didn’t get much sleep last night because of the flies. We’re stationed on the edge of the Negev and the flies here are ferocious. I don’t know what’s worse, the grad missiles over Beer Sheva or the flies. Maybe Hashem is sending them to get us out of our sleeping bags and into action. I wish He would send them to Bibi and Barak, so they’d give the orders already. What are they waiting for?

We have a lot of free time here while we’re waiting for the green light to go into Aza, and we talk about the things you have written, in our own way, but let me assure that the moral is extremely high – everyone wants to go in. As you know, we only have another two more months before we finish our service and everyone is happy that we finally have a chance to do something important for the country.

If you were here, you’d think we were off to a wedding, the spirit and joy is so great. Among the soldiers there isn’t any indecision or argument like there is in the media. I don’t listen to the radio anymore because of the talk all day long about whether it’s worthwhile or not to send troops into Aza. This is a war isn’t it? The Hamas is making a joke out of Israel and we have to teach them a lesson. Not everyone here is religious but everyone feels the honor of Israel is at stake. If you ask me, it’s more than regular patriotism. Even soldiers who never studied Torah understand that this is a war of good over evil, and everyone is ready to go into battle with “Shema Yisrael” on their lips. Not surprisingly, minyans are packed.

If we don’t get the orders to go into Gaza, every soldier is going to be very disappointed. I can’t speak about the reservists who have been called up, but our guys are counting the seconds until we get the OK. No one is afraid. Every one of our commandos is like 10 Rambos. Guys aren’t worried about dying. The opposite – they’re dying to get into action.

We learned in Lebanon that we can’t defeat the enemy with our Air Force alone. What’s the point of a truce that will last for three weeks until Hamas fires more rockets at Israel? Why not finish the job once and for all? My unit has been training for almost three years how to wage combat in populated areas. We’re ready. We all know what the dangers are. That’s what our training is all about. We’re not here against our will. We want to do the job. Not just to kill Arabs to pay them back for all the Israelis they’ve killed without any distinction. We want to destroy the Hamas and the Jihad because we all know it’s the right thing to do.

I sense the country is behind us – certainly the people of the south, and now in Tel Aviv. In a way it’s good that finally they hear the sirens there too, instead of just watching the missile attacks on TV.

I invited Yonaton to be with us the first Shabbat we’re free. I know it’s all right with you and Ema. Give her my love and tell her not to worry – even though I know that she’ll worry all the same. Right now, I’m fine, but if this waiting game continues, I may need more socks, and I forgot the cream against foot allergies, so if you decide to drive down, bring them with you. Ema knows where everything is. I’m pretty sure the roads to our base are still open.

Give my love to everyone.

Noam

I forgot to ask on the phone – how are Saba and Safta in Ashkelon?

The Palestinians are creative, I’ll give you that. Take a look at what was fired at Israel yesterday. Nothing really unusual – another kassem rocket…oh wait…

Those are charity boxes – commonly attached to poles in Jerusalem, Bnei Brak and other cities. The Palestinians actually stole a street pole (charity boxes included) to fire at Israel. They are a creative bunch. My guess is that charity within did its job and protected Israel’s residents from harm.

Visit A Soldier’s Mother.

The taxi driver was old and rather shriveled, with a crop of white hair fringing his head.

Ah, I recognize this one, I thought with relief, hurrying to open the door. If I recall correctly, he knows Lakewood. You would think that a taxi driver, being that his/her job is, well, driving, and being that the town they are driving in is, well, Lakewood…Well, I would tend to think that knowing how to drive around Lakewood would somehow come along with the job; if not before, then at least afterwards. The reality, unfortunately, is that I am usually forced to keep a sharp lookout for turns in the opposite direction of which I am supposed to be going.

This time I lay back in relief and closed my eyes. Maybe I could catch a quick power nap before my appointment.

The car jolted to a stop and my eyes popped open. Oh, it was this corner. I had to admit that even I was often caught off guard by the intersection’s unusual traffic patterns, so I would have to forgive even a veteran driver for this one. Cars were coming and going busily to and from all directions, and mistakes were almost inevitable here. When it was quiet you could get away with it, but…

“Why is it,” the gravelly voice of the driver reached me, “that this town goes crazy every day at two o’clock?”

I couldn’t believe my ears. “You’re from Lakewood, right?”

“Seventy years in Lakewood,” came the gravelly response.

“Seventy years in Lakewood, and no one ever told you what happens here at two o’clock every day?” A taxi driver, for heaven’s sake?

“Nope.”

Wow, was this a teaching opportunity. A historic moment. I mentally rubbed my hands in glee and attacked my subject with gusto.

“You know the yeshiva, right?” I wasn’t taking anything for granted, but the guy wasn’t blind. Well, I would assume not.

“Yep. But it’s back there.” He motioned vaguely towards the center of town.

“Right. But this town, it revolves around the yeshiva. And, you know what the yeshiva’s schedule is?”

“Nope.”

“Well, they start between nine thirty and ten in the morning. And they get out between 1:45 and 2:00 in the afternoon!” I nearly crowed with triumph. A seventy (well, almost) year old mystery, solved by yours truly!! “So at two o’clock, until four o’clock, when everyone is back in yeshiva this town is on wheels!!!”

I was about to launch into a description of babysitting schedules, moms at work, and dads with strollers, when another gravelly comment cut me short.

“I was here before the rabbi came here.” Well. Maybe bein hasdarim was different in those days, then. Talk about time warp.

“I used to drive him to Brooklyn.”

I nearly jumped out of my seatbelt. Well, I wasn’t wearing a seatbelt, to be honest. But if I had been…

“You drove Rabbi Kotler? To Brooklyn??”

“Yep.” He said this in the same tone of voice he would have used to tell me that the price of eggs was down, or that the real estate market was nonexistent, or that his neighbor had died.

“They should interview you for The Voice!” I exclaimed excitedly. “What’s your name?”

“Ed Skinner.”

I was on it. Reporter on the scent. “Ok, I gotta hear this. So, did you ever talk to him?”

“Well, yeah. Not much. About prices, and where we were going…”

I tried to pump as much as I could. Apparently, Rav Aharon had often had to go into Brooklyn, I imagine for simchos, fund raising, etc. Mr. Ed Skinner, who had then worked for a limousine service, had had the distinct honor of being the driver called upon to convey the rosh yeshiva to his destination.

“Was a good price in those days, too,” he added.

Unfortunately, I could not tease out any more juicy tidbits of information. I was hoping for a Genuine Gadol Story. If it existed in the memory of Ed Skinner, however, it was not making itself known to me. Still, I couldn’t get over it. I felt like I was touching history.

“He was the man, you know,” I tried to impress upon the driver. “He created this town. I mean, not the town, but the Jewish community. He was a holy man, and a brilliant man.

They say the flight went down, because it was too cold,
The weather had been changing, but i was never told,
Now I’m alone and I’m freezing, at the bottom of the sea,
There only was one parachute, and it wasn’t for me,
You always kept it, hidden in your heart,
A secret escape, you held since the start,
And i remember the start, the plane took off so strong,
Using skill and determination, to overcome when things went wrong,
But later you stopped driving, and the job was left to me,
With no co-captain at the helm, the plane fell to the sea,
Now I’m freezing, at the bottom of the ocean floor,
My heart begins to slow, and i am almost sure,
That a part of me is dying, a part nourished and grown,
Sitting here in silence, just getting used to being alone….