Tradition!

Remember in the movie Fiddler on the Roof when Topol as Tevye was stomping about the place bellowing about TRA-DISH-UN?  This is the time of year when traditions are returned to with happiness, feelings of security and, sometimes, overwhelming dread.

Some traditions are great.  My family and I recently saw the Trans-Siberian Orchestra perform in Portland , Oregon and were completely blown away as usual. 

It’s tradition. 

The first half of the TSO show is their Christmas show. 

Always. 

Always the same story, same music, same everything. 

And the reason it never changes is because it doesn’t have to.  It’s perfect.  It’s just like Beatles music that was done right the first time. I can’t stand Beatles’ covers.

But you never get tired of TSO doing the same Christmas show every year like you never get tired of Oreos tasting like Oreos.  No one with a lick of sense in his or her head would ever complain that every Oreo tastes the same.  If you’re devout, like me, you get down on your knees and thank the good Lord for making every Oreo a clone.

Now they claim the chocolate wafers used in Oreos were invented by John D. Unger and the Oreo cookie itself was perfected by William A. Turnier.  But it wouldn’t surprise me one bit if a woman was involved.

Imagine if you will that Mrs. Turnier was having The Troubles.  The Troubles in Northern Ireland were nothing compared to The Troubles every woman goes through each and every month. 

Now, Mr. Turnier, bless his heart, wanted to appease his spouse and so he presented to her a single Mr. Unger’s chocolate wafer with crème on it.

Mrs. Turnier would naturally reply in her most feminine holler possible, “ONE wafer?  You bring me ONE wafer with crème on it?  You pinhead!  What were you thinking?  Slap another wafer on it, dumbass, and make it a chocolate sandwich!  Duh!”

And then Mr. Turnier did so and because of the Oreo cookie, men everywhere have been allowed to live.

Some traditions are changing such as the role of women in today’s American armed services.  While other countries have had integrated militaries for years, the United States is still playing catch-up.  But the one tradition that should never change is to have an all-female platoon or squad or unit or scrum or whatever they call a group.

It is widely known that when women are housed together they all get on the same cycle.  I don’t know why and if I were you; I wouldn’t ask, but, they do. 

If we had a war and we sent an all-women brigade into battle on a certain day, there would not be a soul left standing and then, we couldn’t have a war sequel and Lord knows how much some people just looooove those war sequels.

Even if, after the scrimmage, anyone was still alive, it would probably be two or more women bashing each other on the head with those ugly Army boots they make them wear because, if for no other reason, they’re just really annoyed about wearing ugly shoes.  The uniform they give our soldiers are a reasonable cause for irritation anyway.  What did they do: draw a capital “M” on the most unsightly material ever made, cut it out and call it pants?  For the love of God, man; would it kill you to style it up a bit?

Maybe that’s what all the fighting is really about: lack of fashion. 

I say we send a pair of Reeboks running shoes to every person who promises to do their very best to not be a suicide bomber.  They would then run home to show off their snappy footwear and the rest of us could get back to business.

Which is eating Oreos while listening to TSO.