The Rebbetzin’s Husband presents HH #178
Blogging is to oneself
Conversation in our house yesterday:
Friend of Hubby: How do you say ‘to blog’ in Hebrew? Is it “l’blohg” or “l’baleyg”?
Hubby: L’hitbaleyg.
(Explanation: L’hitbaleyg is a verb construction in Hebrew called hitpael. Hitpael is a verb in which one does something to oneself, such as l’hitlabesh is to get oneself dressed. So since blogging is often about oneself, it fits).
Why humor suffers in translation
Marx Brothers line:
Soup and rice. Soup and rice. Soup-rice, soup-rice, surprise.
Translation into Hebrew:
Marak v’orez. Marak v’orez. Marak-orez, marak-orez, Hafta’ah!
Really funny: Benji tries to woo Israeli women
My mother, z”l, was born in Leningrad in 1924 and came to this country when she was five. So although she was very American, she still had some Russian tastes. Here’s one of the jokes she used to tell:
Q. What’s the difference between a Russian comedy and a Russian tragedy?
A. In a Russian tragedy, everybody dies. In a Russian comedy, everybody dies, but they all die laughing.
My friend Elinka has a punchy sense of humor. Do you think you’re nice and calm? Or are you really stressed? Check out this post and take the test. If you don’t read Russian, you can scroll down to the translation in the comments.
And then there’s this clever post, about how she’s giving up reading. Because it’s dangerous.
Eema? Eema, are you listening?
I’m telling about a solar flashlight for the deep dark woods.
No response from Eema.
Tries again: Eema? Get it? A solar flashlight in the deep dark woods!
Eema finally pays some attention. How’s it going to work in the deep dark woods? she asks.
A *SOLAR* flashlight. Get it?
Oh, says Eema.
Another one from my son:
OPEN 24 - 7
Now closed.
Last week my daughter came home one day and told me about a king. She said she learned all about a king named Arthur who lived a long time ago.
“Oh, like in the Sword and the Stone?” I asked her.
She gave me a blank look.
“Was he a little boy who grew up to be a king?” I continued.
“No,” she replied.
“Did you learn about a magician named Merlin?”
“Merlin?” This sounded interesting to her, but not familiar.
“He lived a long time ago. He was really nice to people. There was a place where white people couldn’t drink from the same water fountain as black people, and they couldn’t go to playgrounds together. They couldn’t do anything together.”
“Oh!” I exclaimed. Martha, I thought. She means Martha. When my son was in first grade he came home and told us all about Martha Luther King. Same time of year.
“Can we go to where he gave his big speech? In front of a lot of people?”
“You mean Washington? We went there when you were a baby. We can go there again some time.”
Happy Martin Luther King Day.
