A couple weeks back all those smart kids at Jewlicious had a very interesting conversation about “What Is Jewish Identity?” that will surely spark something in you, when you have a chunk o’ time to read it. Meanwhile, this vid might be considered the “little bus” version…

For those of us who can only answer the question of Jewish identity with a Star of David tattoo, a shellfish-scarfing Jewish spouse and two Pentateuch-named children who beg for Santa, these kinds of discussions inspire a religious/spiritual/cultural headache. I know compared to anyone remotely observant, I’m at best an ignoramous; at worst, and infidel. I can list a hundred more instances of how I am a subpar Jew — lighting candles on Friday night and driving the soccer team for pepperoni pizza on Saturday, choosing sleep over Hebrew school on Sunday mornings even though my children do not know any other Jewish kids — yet each paradox could not exist if not for the defining fact of our Jewishness.

When I was single, the only holiday I ever celebrated was Yom Kippur, but I never would have considered marrying someone who wasn’t Jewish. I grew up in a large Reform community that left no spiritual impression on me, yet I sing my children Hebrew lullabies from my summer camp days. I think the gay folk of Jerusalem should stomp down Ben Yehuda in rainbow tzitit and leather chap tefillin carrying a giant middle finger pointing at Mea Shearim. I’m the kind of Jew who will never be blessed by the OU or buried in a Jewish cemetery (if we’re still perpetuating that myth,) but I don’t eat pig and I’d prefer to be buried in a sack in a nice spot in the woods, anyway.

Honestly, I’ve learned more about Judaism researching this blog for the past two and half years that I ever learned from any rabbi or Jewish institution. God bless the Internet for giving free access to information no synagogue ever made available to me without dues I couldn’t afford.

I’m a “bad” Jew because don’t feel compelled to daven in Hebrew at shul save on the High Holidays, but am I a “good” Jew because I have taught my kids the prayers I do know? Bad or good, still a Jew, always been a Jew, always will be.

So I’m finally beginning to understand — I must stop worrying how other people define my Jewish identity and simply own it. And of course, teach my aleph-bet chanting, gospel-singing children to the same.

SomethingJewishUK reports Prince Charles has adopted the elderly Jews of Krakow as a special cause.

Is this like buying a wing at the school because your kid trashed the flowerbeds?

Hat tip to Bangitout for this clip of Borat (a character that has subsumed his creator, Sacha Baron Cohen, to the point of obscurity) chatting with Alan Colmes. Instead of his usual reptilian visage, Colmes almost looks human when he laughs. Funnier still is Borat’s claim that it was the Jews who killed the dinosaurs (around 4:00.)

While I may be the only Jew who hasn’t seen the movie yet (surprisingly, tiny islands off the coast of Georgia don’t have movie theaters,) I’ve already heard it’s brilliant. Perhaps you’d like to babysit?

More for the book pile: In an interview with SF columnist David Ian Miller, former biker chick/punk rocker/athiest Robin Chotzinoff talks about her new book, her mid-life conversion to the Tribe and whether Kinky Friedman is good for the Jews.

I think subconsciously I really enjoy guilt, because I’m constantly doing stupid things to incur it. Like throwing away my mother-in-law’s favorite corroded plastic placemats and telling her the dog ate them. And blocking off an afternoon to make healthy muffins for classroom snack and spending it blogging instead, then making everyone late for school the next day because I had to buy cupcakes at Kroger.

Oh, yeah, and missing the deadline for registering to vote in Georgia.

I wish I had an amusing story about how it was all some hick-ass bureaucrat’s fault, but it only has to do with moving across the country and still not having a permanent address or a vaild driver’s license. In retrospect, maybe I shouldn’t have tossed my California absentee ballots when they were forwarded to us. I could have made it more of a priority and found out that I should have started the registration process more than six weeks in advance of the election, gotten a notarized affadavit signed by my in-laws that we’re occupying their house and stood in the appropriate lines at the correct state buildings with my two-year-old biting at my heels. Sadly, pettier details than my constitutional rights overwhelmed me.

So no, I will not be sporting my little sticker today. I feel really awful about it, because I know you’re disappointed that the Yenta could let such an important civic duty slide by, or you just think I’m an a-hole. But I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t admit that just because I have guilt over not casting a vote doesn’t mean I’m convinced it would have actually counted.

Bless all of you who made it to the polls today, you good citizens and your stickers; double blessings to those volunteering there; free triple lattes to all the well-meaning idiots standing on street corners wavings signs for the candidates who have promised to represent liberty, justice and fair taxes. Please, God, may my absence in this election not be the one thing that could have steered America away from its turbo-charged, handbasket-held trajectory towards hell.