Today I atoned for my sins in a theatre.  The E-walk theatre… which sounds like the Ewok Theatre, watching a movie that was more war than stars.  40 year Old Virgin.  I kept hoping it would become funny.  It didn’t really.  There were parts where I wanted to laugh but just couldn’t.  Everything felt forced, like convincing myself to go to shul on the holiest of days.  I don’t like being strong-armed into atonement.  I suppose, though, in relationships I strong-arm too often.  I guilt.  I become the Jewish mother without the bad food.  No one ever looks forward to a Jewish holiday.  You know why?  Aside from the fried latkes, there is no reason for Jew food.  Okay, brisket, mostly because it’s a conduit for ketchup.  Slap it on rye (seedless), and it’s all good.  (Okay, Flanken… which is basically short ribs with a really scary name… is a good time.  I concede).  Though it’s nothing like fish night for the Italians on Christmas Eve.  Now that is a celebration to atone for.