Where I've Been

I am sure one person scrolling through here ona semi-regular basis has thought to themselves, where the hell is Air. He's working, so why isn't he blogging.

Well, maybe no one exactly thought that, but you might have.

I have been working very hard at this. Click Here!

Mashiach (A Religious MEME)

I had a disturbing conversation about Mashiach the other day and I was wondering if our fellow bloggers could help me out. Based on what you've read or learned from others, what do you think about Mashiach? Please answer the following questions:

1. How will he arrive?
2. Under what global circumstances will he arrive?
3. Will everyone believe in him?
4. How will we all go to Israel, or will we?
5. Will all our enemies be destroyed?
6. Will a lot of us die in the process?
7. What about revival of the dead?
8. Will we still have to work?
9. When Mashiach (who is human) dies, who will be our leader?
10.Will there be a King of Israel, a Beit HaMikdash, and a Sanhedrin?

Someone told me that Mashiach is a myth, and that my own Mashiach is my Aliyah. Huh? Please help.

I Finally Get It

I have been making fun of my sister for nearly six years for not actually moving out of my parents house when she got married. She flew halfway across the world, and didn't start to pack until the day before her flight. Until now, I would jeer at the Torah tapes still adorning her old shelf, and snicker at her sneakers still being suspended by the shoe holder in MY former closet. "The only evidence of my ever having grown up in that house, is my ten-speed in the garage," I would mock.

Today, I threw out or prepared for garage sale:

Books I read and re-read to my kids
The toilet training seat
My son's first teddy bear
The Johnson's baby lotion I bought 10 years ago and never used
Half of my daughter's blankies
My daughter's first (size 2) shoes
So many other things I have since blocked out.

When you are doing something you really want to do, but it is still incredibly hard, you tend to procrasinate as long as possible to avoid the pain of not saving those things that you don't need, but really wanted to keep forever.

My sister has since made a lovely life for herself and my brother-in-law in England, but her personalized baby wall-hanging is still hanging upstairs in the light blue room at 294. I have no such convenient spot for storing my unneeded and extraneous stuff. And while our family still pokes fun at my sister, I will envy her.

I Believe In Interleague Play...

...two times a year. The All Star game and the World Series.

Tigers Fans Come to Life

I took my kids to Comerica Park last night, to watch the Tigers play the Twins. We were sitting in the Upper Deck, between third base and home plate. Decent seats for watching a game.

It rained on and off all day yesterday, but by the time the game started, the rain had cleared and it was a comfortable 60 degrees.

The Tigers started out slowly, falling behind 3-0 by the time they came to bat in the bottom of the third. The crowd seemed dead, quieted by over a decade of pathetic baseball. Craig Monroe singled to start off the inning, and one out later, he went to second on Curtis Granderson's single. The crowd started to come to life after Placido Polanco got a base hit, which drove in Monroe from second, and brought Pudge to the plate.

But it was a nervous cheer that was coming from the crowd, the kind that of cheer that his been tempered and dulled from lack of use over the years. It was as if the people in the ballpark had forgotten how to root for baseball.

Pudge singled in a second run, cutting the lead to 3-2, and after Ordonéz got out, Guillen walked to load the bases for Chris Shelton.

It seemed that the crowd finally remembered how to cheer for a baseball team. Now, the entire stadium was glued to every pitch. When Kyle Lohse, the Twins pitcher stepped off the mound, the crowd booed. The jeered him when he tossed over to first base, and they jumped up in excitement when Shelton hit a bases-clearing double that gave the Tigers a 5-3 lead.

The rally ended, and the crowd tried to go back to the way it had been before the rally, but from that point on, their was a bit more buzz in the year. There was excitement when Joel Zumaya ran out to the mound to take over in the seventh, and a feeling that he would get out of the bases loaded, no out jam he found himself in after walking the first hitter he faced. When he got Rondell White, the former Tiger, to line into an inning ending double play to Polanco, the crowd erupted again.

Detroiters are watching baseball again.

Must read Blogging

Even though i am not a huge fan of Dov Bear, he had a great post yesterday called Why the J-Blogosphere Matters.

I highly suggest reading it, as he talks about the role blogs play in bringing jewish issues to the forefront, in this case, specifically regarding the 20 million dollar lawsuit brought against Torah Temima in Brooklyn for their role in covering up one of their students alleged sexual abuse of students.

Here is the link.
http://dovbear.blogspot.com/2006/05/why-j-blogosphere-matters.html

If you read further into his blog, you can find the New York Magazine article which wrote the story about the abuse.

Lag B'Omer meme

Still Wonderin tagged me, asking for my Lag B'Omer theme song, which I assume means the song I listened to to start my Lag B'Omer off. I don't know the name of the song, but it is by Reva L'Sheva, and I think it is called B'Nishama.

Even though I rarely listen to jewish music, for some reason I really like this song. It starts out with Alpayim Shana Ani Noded, for 2,000 years we have wandered, and I think I am connecting to this song because of our upcoming Aliyah.

I don't think you understand

Can you understand what its like to grow up loving a baseball team. Growing up and seeing that team begin a season so dominate, that the race for the AL East was over before the end of April. And then, three years later, watch as that team finished one of the most dramamtic comebacks in baseball history to win the AL East in 1987. And then wait. Can you understand what it is like to watch, season after losing season, giving up hope. Watching your team marginalized. When it should be a proud franchise like the Yankees, Red Sox, and Dodgers. Do you know that the Tigers were a charter member of the American League. That despite their claims of poverty and complain about trying to remain competitive, that Detroit is one of the largest markets in the US. certainly bigger than Minnisota. And Kansas City. The cities that they are lumped together with whenever the talk af big market and small market teams get brought up.

There was Sparky, refusing to manage scab players in the lockout. And then the strike in 1994. And then, for over ten yars, nothing happened in Detroit. Their was hope, springing occasionally. When they moved into the ballpark, replacing the beloved but impractical Tiger Stadium for Comerica Park. And it was going to be a big year. Bobby HIgginson and Jeff Weaver and Rob Fick and a host of others who were going to bring the team back to respectability. And still, nothing happened.

We wondered, forget about September, would the Tigers ever play a meaningful game in May. Buddy Bell and Phil Garner and Alan Tramell and others tried and failed to manage this team. But the talent was empty, the minor leagues were dead, and the Tigers were a team that were never mentioned nationally after the preseason predictions predicted they would finish 5th in the AL Central.

And they finished under 500 for eleven years in a row.

In a town that has a baseball soul.

A soul that was nearly destroyed, by Hockeytown and Piston success. Since the last Tiger playoff team, the Pistons have gone to the finals four times, and won it three times. The Wings won three stanley cup in four visits to the finals. The Lions have won more playoff games since 1987 than the Tigers. And that is saying something since the Lions have won one playoff game since winning the championship in 1957.

But that soul has survived somehow, and finally, it is being reawakened. We turn on the TV to watch the Tigers, or the radio, and listen, expecting the Tigers to pull off another win. A sweep in Cleveland? It had been 16 years since that happened before last week. Ten games over 500. You have to go back to 1993 to find the last Tiger team was was ten games over 500. My son who will turn ten this summer has never seen the Tigers win more than 78 games in a season.

It is so refreshing. The night the Wings were eliminated by Edmonton, I didn't care. The Tigers won that night. Baseball is back, and they are doing it the old fashioned way. Strong starting pitchng and timely hits. Mike Maroth, who lost 21 games in a single season is 5-2. Jeremy Bonderman, the projected savior of the team, is pitching well, also 5-2. Even Justin Verlander, the Rookie who throws the ball in the high 90s, but is smart enough to get hitters out on 78 mph pitches, is surpassing expectations with his start.

37 games into this season, one quarter of the done, and the Tigers, the joke of the American League for the past decade, have the second best record in all of baseball. Better than the Red Sox. The Yankees. The Cardinals. Behind only division-rival Chicago by half a game.

Yes, their schedule will get tougher in the next month, when they play NY, Boston, Chicago and St Louis, but this time, when peole go to the ballpark or turn on their TVs and radios, they'll be expecting a close game, where the Tigers are competing and winning against the league's best teams.

I don't know if the Tigers can maintain their winning ways all season long. I don't know if they will be another joke come September. But I know this. I am enjoying every Tigers Game, its a refreshing blast of the kind of baseball i grew up with. It's good to be back in the Major Leagues again.

Getting Closer

We finally have an aliyah date from Nefesh B'Nefesh. We are going to be moving on July 5, on NBN's first flight of the summer. That's less than eight weeks away.

The Party Begins at Greektown

It is lunch time, and I am spending more time in front of the Roulette table. As I reach the table, an older man has just won $210, and when betting resumes on the next hand, he places all of his chips, the $210 plus the $100 or so that he had in front of him, on the roulette board. He puts his green chips on all 38 numbers. Some numbers have more chips, others less.

The croupier waves his hand, and all betting stops. I watch the ball, but none of the players do. They wait for the croupier to place the glass piece on a number, to see if they have won. In reality, this makes sense, as most players have bet on many numbers, and would not be able to tell if they won by watching the wheel alone.

The ball lands on double zero. There are two green chips in the square. The man, hwho has placed over $300 worth of chips on the board, has won $70. He cashes in his chips, and walks away from the table.

A young guy takes his place at the table. He is wearing a navy-blue polo shirt. He looks to be my age, with a full head of hair. He pulls out two black $100 chips from his pocket, and asks for $5 chips. Two spins later, he is reaching for another black chip. He gets another 20 $5 chips, and puts them on 7, 10 and 11. The wheel stops on 12. He takes out another black chip from his pocket, and asks for his chips in quarters. The croupier gives him four $25 chips. One each goes on 7, 10 and 11. The fourth one he plays with. Putting on Black, then pulling it off, before finally deciding to put it back on black, and then pulling it away just before the Croupier waves his hand. .

He loses again.

Over the course of four spins of the wheel he has lost $375. He reaches back into his pocket, and pulls out two more black chips.

Quarters, he says again.

He gets eight $25 chips, giving him nine chips in front of him. He places one each on 7, 10 and 11.

He loses again.

He takes three more chips, and places them on 7, 10 and 11.

As he waits for other players to place their bets, he stands and walks around, in a circle. he reminds me of Poker players I have watched on TV, when they have gone all in, and are waiting for a miracle card on the river. On TV, sometimes they get the miracle card, sometimes they don't. But luck is not with this guy today.

The ball lands on 24. He has three chips left, $75 worth, plus whatever other black chips he may have had in his pocket, but from his body language, I am getting the sense that he has just blown his rent money.

I wait for him to bet the last $75, but he walks away from the table. In just a few minutes he has burned through over $500, and i wonder if he is walking somewhere else to parley his $75 into a big score.

No TV Update

I haven't watched any TV since Sunday an I'm going a little nuts without my Weather Channel. Not to mention no music because of Sefirah, and no internet at home. Back to the 19th century.

Kudos to Air who turned off the game last night to play me a game instead.

Phil 4:13

Last night, we went to watch a few Detroit Lions take on the Fraternal Order of Police, in a charity basketball game to raise money for the police department. We went last year and had a good time, and we expected to have a good time as well. They usually have second tier players at these kind of events, so it was surprising to see Josh McCown there, along with Scottie Vines, Dominic Raiola, Casey Fitzsimmons, and Corey Schlessinger.

McCown was entertaining the crowd with all kinds of dunks, as was Scottie Vines. Schlessinger was friendly to the kids in the crowd, and both my boys got to go out on the court and shoot free throws when the Lions got fouled. At one point they let a few kids play with the players, and everyone had a good time.

During halftime, the players were all available for signing autographs. The crowd was small at the Oak Park High gym, and the kids got through autographs from all five lions players within about 15 minutes.

I noticed McCown signed his autograph, and wrote Phil 4:13 next to his name. Curious what this meant, I searched online and found it quickly. And, as a public service message, in case any of you are ever wondering what it says in Phil 4:13, I am including it here.

"I can do everything through him who gives me strength."

Not a bad message, although I don't care much for the new testament source.

Great TV Turnoff - Huh?

My oldest came over to me yesterday afternoon asking me what I thought about the great TV turnoff. The turnoff encourages students to stop watching TV for two weeks. I think their tagline is turn off TV, turn on life. I think he told Veev that he wasn't sure if he shoudl do it, snd she directed him to me, to ask for advice.

We looked at the prize list. It wasn't great. And it wasn't gauaranteed. Just entry into a rafffle with other kids turning off the TV. And the grand prize, a $150 bike, is with kids from other schools in other states as well.

Then we looked at what is going to be on TV for the next two weeks. Basketball playoffs, hockey playoffs (even without the wings) and baseball games.

Weighing those two factors against each other, and being that he asked me what I thought he shold do, I told him he should keep on watching TV.

I don't think Veev was really excited when she heard me say that. So we got out the sheet that was sent home with kids about the TV turnoff. The sheet talked about how many murders children would miss on TV by not watching for two weeks, how many inappropriate other things they would be safe from for those two weeks.

But the truth is, we monitor what the kids watch. And my oldest is not interested in watching TV that doesn't feature a ball and competition.

So I told him that it was up to him, but that I didn't think the program was for kids like him. It is for kids who sit watching 5 hours of TV a day. He comes home from school, does homework, goes outside and plays hockey or baseball, comes in for dinner, tries to go back out for more ball playing, and then, wants to watch some sports for an hour before going to bed. And as far as I can tell, that's not half bad.

The Great TV Turnoff

When I introduced the school-wide program today, "Turn off TV, Turn on Life" to my fourth-grade class, I had the answers to their questions prepared. Yes, you can still play on the computer. Yes, you can still play XBOX, Playstation and Nintendo. No, you cannot watch movies in a theater, or on TV, or on the computer. Yes, I know the Pistons are in the playoffs, and that our very own Tigers are doing great. So listen to the radio.

The student who resisted the most was my own boy. He said simply, "I'm not doing this, Mom."

I did have other students, however, who asked if they would be disqualified if they walked into a room where a TV was on. One student told me her parents make her leave the room when they want to watch the Sopranos. Whew! Thank God for that!

I wonder if I would be up to the challenge. I go to sleep lulled by the sound and the flickering lights of Nick at Nite. Then again, I do fall asleep earlier and even sweeter on Friday night when there is no TV to watch.

Maybe Air and I should be shining examples to our kids this week and next, and try it too.

Back to Greektown

On my walk back from Comerica Park today I decided to cut through the Casino. It isn't really a short cut, but like I said a few days ago, I like watching people gamble. This time, I was walking through the slot machine area when i noticed an old guy sitting at the dollar slots. I had already passed a woman sitting at the quarter slots with over 600 credits waiting to eaten by the machine, but this guy seemed more interesting.

He was wearing a non-descript blue baseball cap, and had about $44 dollars in the machine when I started to walk past him. I stopped, and watched. He was betting $2 at a time, and losing his money at a furious pace. Within a minute, he had gone through the $44, and was feeding the slot machine some more. Two more twenty dollar bills went into the machine, and a minute later, he had torn through it.

Stand up, I thought to myself. Walk away. But this guy wasn't going to let the machine take him. He pulled another two twenties out of his billfold, fed it to the machine, and played some more. This time, he had some luck, and after a few wins, was up to about $90.

Cash out, I wanted to tell him. Cash out, and be glad that you didn't lose everything today. But he could not here my silent screams, and five minutes later, he was back in his billfold.

This time, he pulled out a single twenty, and fed the hungry machine once more. Still betting $2 at a time, he went through the twenty within seconds. Finally, after spending over $100 in the slots, he stood up.

Time to go home, I thought, and watched him walk away. I wanted to follow him, and ask him the one question that had been burning in my mind since I started watching him play. How much did he need to win before he would stand up from the slots without burning through all his money. Was there a magic number, or was he there to play until he had gone through all the money in his billfold.

I watched him round the corner, and decided to see where he had gone. I didn't want him to see me, I didn't want him to think i had been following him. So I walked over to the spot I had last seen the man, rounding a corner.

There he was, sitting down at the slot machine. Still at the dollar slots. Just hoping to find a luckier seat.

Note to Canadians, Eh

Especially to those outside the CBC viewing area.

In case you were concerned that your national sport does not have enough moveis dedicated to showcasing the sport, CBC played Men With Brooms on Saturday night, the emotional drama of a small town and their curling team taking on a really slick looking curling team.

And of course, the Men with Brooms beat the slick team and gave hope to their small town.

Beautiful, really. Eh.

A Day at the Park

Most days I walk to Comerica Park during lunch. It is a close walk, and gets me outside doing a little exercise. Today, the Tigers are playing the Angels, with a 1 PM start, and you can see the game from outside the stadium, so I had a later lunch than usual, and walked over to the park, wondering if I would be able to get close enough to the gate to watch. I got there about five minutes before the game started, and was standing around, when a guy walks by and offers me a free ticket. I take the ticket, and go inside.

The seat was in the first row in right field, the sun was shining, the wind was cool, in other words, a perfect day for baseball. I stayed for about an hour, watching until the Angels led 3-1. I liked watching Verlander pitch. He did give up a few homeruns, but he was pitching well, mixing his speeds, and fooling a lot of hitters.

I thought about staying until the end of the game, trust me, I didn't think amyone would notice if I wasn't here, but I decided to do the right thing, and left in the middle of the fifth inning. Not a bad way to spend the work day.

Bless On It

It is 1986. I am in eighth grade at Yeshivah Gedolah of Detroit. There was a problem with our seventh grade year, some might even call it a complete waste of time, and parents have pressured Yeshiva Gedolah to take our class in, and save us from our elementary school.

In retrospect, it might not have been the best move, but at this point, who really cares.

The important thing is I am in eighth grade, and Shlock Rock's first tape has just come out. And of course, it has been banned by the powers that be who run our yeshiva. Too goyish, they say. It is clear they have either listened to the tape, or heard a report from someone who listened to the tape, because they find two songs so offensive, they can barely speak.

A song about the Abarbanel, which celebrates the Abarbanel, and a song called Bless On It, which encourages brachot.

The Abarbanel song, they feared, would lead students to have less respect for the Abarbanel, although when I think about it, I wonder how they could have any sefer with the Abarbanel in it, being as he actually had a job and went to work.

The Bless On It song, though, waas the real problem, because somewhere in the lyrics, it said Thank you Lord, You're a Real Cool Cat, and hey man bless this day, or something to that affect. Calling the Lord a Real Cool Cat was clearly a no-no in Yeshiva Gedolah of Greater Detroit.

So last night, as I was sitting at Akiva Hebrew Day School, listening during sefirah to Shlock Rock as I celebrated Yom HaAtzmaut, I hoped that they would play Bless On It.

You know, just for the irony of it all.

But they didn't. Maybe next time.

Carumba

A friend of mine emailed me that he had tickets for tonight's Piston's game for only $20. I wanted to go, but the game starts at 6, and my oldest, who would do anything to go to the game, is supposed to sing in the choir with Shlock Rock tonight at his school's Yom HaAtzmaut thing. And I don't want to go without him.

So I had to pass.

That sucks.

Tears

Well, I mistakingly thought that Air's announcement didn't affect our oldest son. I said, "See? He's growing up. He can take it." Air wasn't too sure and told me not count my chickens.

During class today, I was speaking about Lashon Hara and how it compares to killing. My son raised his hand and, with tears in his eyes, asked, "Is it Lashon Hara to blame a goalie who messed up a two-nothing lead in a playoff game?"

I told him it isn't nice to speak ill of anybody, even if you don't know him, and to judge everyone favorably. We don't know the circumstances of anyone's game and we shouldn't judge anyone unless we have been in their exact situation.

"And," I said, "they didn't have Yzerman."

Award Winning Writer

I got a call today from the International Association of Business Communicators letting me know that the 484 page manual that I spent the last year writing has won an award. I won't find out if we won first, second or third place until the dinner, which takes place on June 22.

Lunch Time at Greektown

Rain is falling in Detroit. Since starting my new job, I have been walking during my lunch break, usually past Ford Field and over to Comerica Park. The rain is not that heavy, but the prospect of getting soaked and then sitting in wet clothing does not appeal to me. Instead, I walk across the street to Greektown Casino.

I am not much of a gambler, yet I find myself walking into the Casino for a few minutes almost everyday. I watch the people gambling as I cut through the building on my way back from my lunchtime walk.

Today I have more time. My entire lunch break is still ahead of me as I walk past the security guard onto the Casino floor. I stroll through the slot machine area, watching seniors stare blankly ahead of them, pressing the button and watching the electronic symbols fly by the screen. There is no clanking sound of money falling into the tray. Winners rarely cash out, they continue playing, adding their winnings into the money they have already deposited into the machine. Trying to parley their winning into a bigger score.

They are hooked up, almost on life support. Different-colored coils attach players to their machines, as they earn Club Greektown points, hoping to score a comped meal or drink as they pass the time away.

No one is smiling. Few people are talking. Hostesses with tits that are larger than life walk by, asking players if they want drinks. Despite their medically enhanced bust size, no one gives them a second look, and they walk away from the slots area, over to the tables where they have a better chance of catching someone's eye between hands.

I follow the big-breasted woman over to the roulette wheel. Six players, each playing different colored chips, are playing Roulette. Some sit, but most stand, and no talks, other than to direct the Croupier to place their chips on numbers that are out of reach.

The croupier waves his hand across the table. There are hundreds of dollars worth of chips on the table, and no one is smiling. The ball comes to rest, and most of the chips are cleared from the table. No one has placed a bet on 5, although one man who has been betting two squares in the 2 for 1 at the bottom wins a few chips.

Bets are placed again, and again, it lands on number 5. Again, no one wins. Chips are all over the table now, and a man wins on 17. He is payed 35 to 1, and pockets the $100 dollar chip, playing with the rest. He has not smiled. The man is large, easily over 300 pounds, and over 6 feet tall. He is wearing a red sweatshirt, and within two spins of the roulette wheel, he has blown through his stack of chips, and changed the $100 chip he had pocketed so he can continue to play.

Hundreds of dollars have been exchanged for tips from new players approaching the table, and hundreds of dollars worth of chips have been cleared from the playing surface. The large man in the red sweatshirt has ten dollars on 00, and wins, with a payout of over $300. Again, he pockets the black $100 chips, and continues to play. I see the big breasted girl walking by again. Someone has ordered a drink, but walked away before she could return with it. She stands around for a minute and he returns, shoving a stack of chips into her tip basket that is on her tray.

I walk away from the roulette table, to where they are playing Blackjack. Like everywhere else in the Casino, no one smiling. Not the man who gets a Blackjack on the second hand that I watch, or the new people who walk past me to sit at the table, or the older man who slowly lights a cigarette as he receives a 4 from the dealer. It is a $15 minimum table, and the chips are moving in one direction, to the dealer. Finally, the dealer busts, and she pays everyone their bets.

My lunch break is over, and I walk out of the Casino. Like every other day that I walk through the Casino, I walk out with the same amount of money I have walked in with. The rain is falling harder now, and I am glad that I did not try to walk over to Comerica Park. The casino was much more entertaining.

Israel at School

From Nursery through High School and beyond, I attended Yeshivas that did not even mention Yom HaAtzmaut or Yom HaZikaron. Until I spent a year in Israel, post high school, I was barely aware that these days existed on any calendar, or that there was any controversy surrounding these days.

In High School, I remember that there were a few classmates of mine who felt that we should say Hallel on Yom HaAtzmaut, but not knowing anything about it, and not being one to want to add more things to say during davening, I didn't pay much attention.

Now, I send my kids to a school that tells celebrates Yom HaAtzmaut with a BBQ, concert, and Hallel. Israel is very much a part of their education, and their education is probably a factor in our moving to Israel. However, I can't say I am comfortable with a concert during Sefirah on Yom Haatzmaut.

There were many factors involved in choosing the school my kids attend, but Israel was one of the factors. And it came down to a choice. Did we want to pick a school where Israel was non-existant in the classroom, or pick a school where Israel played a major role in the kids' education. And even though I am not always comfortable with the way they express support for Israel, I think we made the right choice for our kids.

I'd rather they get too much of Israel education and culture than none at all.

Excited

I know it is only May 1, but the Tigers have the second best record in the American League. I took the boys to the game yesterday afternoon, and we watched as the Tigers won easily, 6-0.

The kids got free baseball cards, a free poster, and got to run the bases after the game.

The only thing that pissed me off was Leyland pulling Rogers after the eighth inning. Rogers had a two hit shut out going, and the game was pretty far out of reach. Why not let Rogers finish what he started?

It's Calling Me

10:47 AM - I have managed to put the Burger Buddy that sits in my bag out of my mind for the past two hours. This is not an easy task. The Burger Buddy is the pinnacle of Burgerness, and not eating it for breakfast took an act of extreme willfulness.

But now it is in my mind, and not disappearing.

I got ahold of the Burger Buddy last night, shortly after one, when Veev returned from her sojourn to Ken's Diner. Along the way, she also looked at appliances that have 220V power cords, things we will need after we move.

But the highlight of her trip, I am sure, was Ken's.

To help build my character, I will postpone the eating of the Burger Buddy until at least 11. After that, all bets are off.