MY URBAN KVETCH

Connecting to Community & Comfort: My ELITalks on-Air

I've been writing for decades now - on everything from pop culture to single life to grief - so what have I learned about writing and vulnerability, authenticity and the power of personal narrative? 

Last week I did an ELI Talks on Air - a conversation with See3's Lisa Colton about my writing and connections to community - covering a flashback to my Jewish Week singles days, how I feel about clicking "publish," and what kinds of grief communities have been helpful to me (shoutouts to Modern Loss & The Dinner Party around 17 minutes in). Plus a preview of the content for my book-in-progress, "Nothing Helps (But This Might Help): A Guide to Loss and What Comes After." (And yes, I cry a little. But that's ok. Because I also invented a new Google Glass style product.)

Other highlights from the conversation (full video embedded below):

• At the 8:20 mark, we talk the role of authenticity in connecting to people online, in person and in writing;
• Around 30 minutes in, we field a question about why synagogues have such trouble engaging singles;
• We talk the post-shiva grief role of community and the connections between individuals and their Jewish community around 33 minutes in;
• About 36 minutes in, I talk about the silence that follows the flurry of comforting activity of the funeral and shiva;
• Does the processing of all of this online and in writing impede the process of moving on? We talk about this around the 40-minute mark.
• 42:00 or so has one of my favorite lines, if I do say so myself: "If someone hates you and thinks you're a racist, they'll tell you, but if they really enjoy your piece, you might not hear about it. That's the sad truth of being a writer."
• At the 43 minute mark, I literally use the phrase "drop the mic and leave."
• At 44:15, Lisa and I talk about the concept of Facebook as a living memorial that's perhaps more meaningful than leaving a rock on the gravestone, which gave me the chance to talk about Dave Burnett, z"l, and his Facebook wall.

Thanks to ELI Talks for hosting me - tune into elitalks.org weekly for live conversations with interesting people, and check out their produced TED-style talks at elitalks.org or on their YouTube channel.

Related articles

The One That Saves Me - in memory of Dave Burnett, z"l

Comforting a mourner: Shiva wimps and heroes

Dating the Seder Way (2013)

(Esther's note: This piece is a 2013 version of "Dating the Seder Way," which appeared in the NY Jewish Week, April 22, 2005. Wishing us all a happy and liberated Passover, and that we continue to make strides toward personal and relationship redemption.) 

Dating the Seder Way
by Esther D. Kustanowitz

 

Amy and Sheldon on a date (via http://www.openthefridge.net/blog/2012/10/1/big-bang-theory-recap-the-date-night-variable.html)

 

Why is this date different from all other dates? On a first date with someone new, that’s what we’re thinking. As we try to make emotional bricks without straw, a good date is the harbinger of a heartfelt hope that we will live to see relationship redemption. And just like any ritual, the courtship process has its own order.

Kadesh: You set aside a time and place to meet. The first beverage arrives; the alcohol warms you, liberating you from the oppression of routine. Both parties begin to relax.

Urchatz: Before eating a morsel, someone excuses himself (or herself) to the washroom. This provides both parties with a moment of solitude and a chance to assess the initial chemistry. If necessary (“I just got a call and something suddenly came up”), it’s also an opportunity for an early if not particularly graceful exit.

Karpas: During hors d’oeuvres, you realize this is someone you wouldn’t mind spending a few more minutes with. You’re not that hungry, but you “could eat something” – some flat crackers, maybe.

Yachatz: You begin to share anecdotes about your lives. If you’re lucky, this ends up a 50-50 give-and-take, and no one can discern which half of the conversation is bigger.

Magid: Now you’re into the main narrative: the substance of your date. As you tell your stories, you find resonance in the experiences of someone who, moments before, was a stranger at a strange table. You have discovered which of the Four Children you are out with.

The Wise Child attentively asks, “What do you do? Do you like it? How’d you get into that?” The Wicked Child asks, “What redeeming quality is there in that kind of career?” Because he cannot see redemption in your choices, you may smack him about the teeth, for he will not be redeemed. The Simple Child asks, “Why are we here?” and you answer him simply, and perhaps a little sadly that the conversation must remain so superficial. And the fourth child, who doesn’t even know enough to ask, relies completely on you to provide conversation, which you do politely before you open the door for your inevitable exit.

But tonight you’re lucky: you’re out with a Wise Child, whose questions inspire you and engender conversation that flows like the Nile. You bond over past professional servitude and shed the emotional shackles of relationships past. You begin to feel as if you personally experienced your partner’s suffering and feel acutely grateful that you have both been redeemed. You’re so absorbed in your study of each other that you barely notice when the waiter approaches and says, “Rabotai, it’s time to order dinner.” You drink more wine, toasting to tomorrow.

Rahtzah: This time the retreat to the washroom is more functional. In this moment alone, you wonder if your date is checking voice mail, looking for a pillar of smoke or fire to lead him away from you and toward freedom, even if it involves exile in a relationship wilderness.

Motzi Matzah: You return to the table, relieved to find that your date hasn’t made a personal exodus from the restaurant and instead has taken the liberty of ordering dinner.

Maror: There is sadness in your companion’s eyes. As more is revealed about past relationships, you taste the bitterness as if the experience had been your own.

Korech: You temper the bitter tales of loves lost with layers of humor and substance that reduce the bite, you conversation retains its pungency, but as you regain a sense of stability, your eyes water less.

Shulchan Orech: Dinner is served; you point out the pesto in your date’s teeth, while your companion kindly points your napkin in the direction of the tomato sauce you missed around your mouth. The wine flows like conversation, and the conversation flows like wine.

Tzafun: Dessert finds you searching for nuance and meaning in the developing relationship. If only you could find that elusive piece of unleavened feeling, you feel certain that you would win some sort of prize. Sharing the last tastes of the meal together, you smile at each other, your hunger more than sated.

Barech and Hallel: You utter silent benedictions: you are grateful for the food, the wine, the conversation and the company, and you mentally praise the person who orchestrated the setup. Neither of you needs additional intoxication, but since the bottle’s almost empty, you share the last of the wine.

Nirtzah: The order of the evening has concluded much as it began, leaving you to process your thoughts about, and memories of, the preceding hours. Simultaneously relieved and regretful, you try to treasure the moment without considering its potential spiritual impact. You’re aware that following the same script with the same people sometimes yields a different result – still, you wouldn’t mind doing it all again.

With the evening ended, you part ways. But as you kiss the night (and maybe even your date) goodbye, you make a wish for yourself that the emotionally connected experience you had tonight will be one you will merit to repeat, if not this year in New York or Los Angeles, then maybe next year in Jerusalem. 

The JDate Breastplate of Truth (full version)

[A slightly shorter version of this piece appears at JDatersAnonymous.com.]

Recently, Jews observed the holiday of Purim, a day whose themes center on disguise, withheld information, and political intrigue. The theme of hiddenness is primary – in which people aren’t necessarily who they seem to be. One notable example of this is that the Book of Esther (also known as the Megillah) is the only book of the canonized Torah that does not contain the name of God. Even the Deity’s presence is hidden in the story, only evidenced within small phrases that intimate help will come from “another place.” 

On Purim, to commemorate the theme of hiddenness and celebrate the inner parts of our lives that we might not always feel comfortable expressing, Jews traditionally dress in costume. Some of these costumes are fun, or (taking a cue from secular cousin Halloween) present an excuse to sex it up a little, at least for the one day. I decided that if the theme was exposure and honesty, my costume choice became clear: I would become the clichés that people write (over and over again) in their online dating profiles. 

How would I do this? Could I wear “a little black dress and jeans and a t-shirt”? How would I visually manifest “working hard and playing hard”? Should I get a fake arm, throw it around my shoulder, and label with a sign that says “my ex – but don’t worry, he’s out of the picture”? I opted for simplicity and resonance: starting with the little black dress, and adding a whiteboard of sorts – then I’d let people add their own clichés via stickers. I wrote out a bunch of them ahead of time, and stuck them to a sign I’d created using the JDate logo. JDate’s catchphrase is “Where It Happens.” I changed that to “Where Clichés Happen.” And then the public art/commenting phase began. 

The results were fascinating. Not only was this a brilliant conversation piece, but I had become a walking blog post, a work created by a community of the fed-up, a family of collaborators all too happy to contribute their frustrations to my rapidly growing list of clichés. My yeshiva education piped up, silently noting that the “public wall” was a 2.0 version of the somewhat mysterious priestly breastplate, the urim v’tummim, which was associated with oracles, divination and truth-telling; instead of the questions coming via the High Priest, these inquiries were coming directly from the people. Some people - also correctly - noted that they thought I was dressed as "refrigerator poetry." (I guess you know what next year's costume will be. :))

How to Save Blogging: Clap Your Hands, Leave a Comment, Tip the Jar

If you're reading this, I'm writing to you.

I've been blogging, producing regular content here at My Urban Kvetch and at JDaters Anonymous, for five-and-a-half years. Magazines' worth of content...a book's worth, probably.

But it's been a creative and financial struggle to keep the free content coming. Journalism pays less and less, and sometimes, in the Jewish world, almost nothing. (I once had an editor tell me they paid $15 for original articles, and nothing for reprints.) And financial times present a struggle for us all.

If you believe what you read (and let's face it, most people do), blogging is dying (or straight-up dead, depending on who you ask). 

I am among those who don't think blogging is dead. I think it's changing. Metamorphosing, even. The challenge is to see beyond this moment and into a future for electronic publishing that we can't quite imagine.

People are fixated on redrawing the line between journalism and blogging, even as that line seems to fade at certain points. Most agree that not all blogging is journalism. But blogging is one way to keep people informed more immediately and frequently than in-depth journalism does. I think that blogging - or Tweeting a link, or sharing something via Facebook - is still about writers creating conversation, building bridges, and trying to understand other people a little better. In other words, it's about writing, and about relationships.

I've never claimed that My Urban Kvetch is a news source. I'm not trying to replace Entertainment Weekly, New York Magazine, and now the LA Times with some snarky Jewy culturey hybrid. But if you're here, and you're reading, you either know me in some way or like what I have to say. You might not articulate it in this way, but you believe in writers, and you believe in blogging.

I'm not planning to abandon this blog. And I hate asking for help. But since I have always appreciated your support of my internet life, including this blog, I'd like to ask you to take your reading one step further.

There are ways to show you believe.

1) Clap your hands. Show you believe by leaving a comment, starting a new conversation or participating in one that's already taking place.

2) Give something and get something. You don't have to be an altruist to help; there is space on this blog dedicated for ads, and ad prices are affordable - in some cases, goods or services may be accepted instead of monetary payment. Make me an offer. (Contact me at myurbankvetch at gmail.com.). 

3) Put something in the Tip Jar or send me a donation directly through PayPal. $5. $10. $18. Consider it an optional subscription to "My Urban Kvetch Magazine." I can't give you a tax credit, but even the smallest amount helps me pay for things like hosting, site upgrades, and outings to Trader Joe's. And in the tradition of tithing, if I hit $100 or above I'll give 10 percent of the total to a charity or Jewish innovative project of my choosing. 

Here's a button to make it easier.

4) Buy me a belated birthday present from my Amazon wishlist. There's also a link in the sidebar, or you can search for my account at Amazon.com. 

5) Recommend me for paid freelance work, whether it's writing, editing, creative consulting or conducting social media workshops for groups or individuals. I'm pretty sure the Rambam would approve.

6) Forward a post to a friend, by sharing it on Facebook or retweeting it on Twitter.

No matter what your budget, each of you can do one of the above to help me hear your voices and feel your support. 

I can't guarantee that blogging won't die a natural death in the next ten years (or sooner). But I can guarantee that as long as My Urban Kvetch exists, it will continue to be a place for the kinds of stories that have caught your interest, and provide interesting commentary on social and pop culture trends, often with the same Jewish flavor that you keep coming back for. As always, I welcome your suggestions, feedback and participation in the conversation. 

Thank you for reading and for your continued support.

25 Things: The Facebook Meme Goes Blog

Oy. Another meme. This one found me on Facebook, and could have emerged as just another annoying game of internet "tag" among friends who would rather post a moment of introspection and navel-gazing than ask their friends real questions, face-to-face or at least person-to-person. If I hadn't found everyone else's responses to this one so interesting, I wouldn't have even considered it. Back in 2005, I rejected the invitation to do a "100 things about me" post on my blog (read all the "whys" here). But 25 is doable. I'll reveal what I want, and know it's not the totality of me, but things that I find relevant (or utterly irrelevant!) to the person I've become. It might even serve as an outline for that book I keep threatening to finish. Here are the official directions...

Once you've been tagged, you are supposed to write a note with 25 random things, facts, habits, or goals about you. At the end, choose 25 people to be tagged. You have to tag the person who tagged you. If I tagged you, it's because I want to know more about you. [Or because I thought you'd enjoy this piece...but if I didn't tag you, feel free to do it anyway.]

1. I had (and ok, maybe still have) a possibly unhealthy relationship with John Hughes movies.
2. Our high school had a secret, underground, yeshiva prom.
3. I fell for a boy in sixth grade and liked him through high school - during that time, he talked to me a total of three times, but I was still convinced he'd ask me to our secret, underground, yeshiva prom. (For which I blame #1. And, a little bit, #2)
4. Watching "the Breakfast Club" in high school, I was convinced that the characters were getting high off of regular nicotine cigarettes.
5. I never wanted to live outside of New Jersey. New York? That was dangerous!
6. My first NY apartment was on the corner of 84th and Amsterdam. I only lived there until 1998, but my name is still on the buzzer (or was at the end of September 2008).
7. I know lyrics to the never-produced Christmas version of the "ToysRUs kid" song because I sang them on a demo, and also sang on the demo that sold the song and made the composer a lot of money. I made $18.
8. In an echo of #1, I think "When Harry Met Sally" was responsible for at least six years of warped relationship expectations.
9. I've been to Israel 14 times and haven't paid for a single trip.
10. I've pretty much never been anywhere else with the only exceptions being one trip to Club Med (Turks), another to San Juan, Puerto Rico and a family trip to Mexico when I was in fifth grade. I also "came out of Egypt" in time for Passover during the semester I spent in Israel, which thrilled my parents.
11. We have a family newsletter. Some of you may be familiar with it. And the rest of you will not be surprised by this. I fully expect my nephews and niece will assume editorial positions before they realize that not all families do this.
12. At current count, I have 3285 unread Gmail messages. Good thing I get unlimited space in my inbox, if not unlimited time in my life.
13. This blog, my first blog, http://myurbankvetch.com celebrates its 5th anniversary on Monday, February 2. JDatersAnonymous turns 5 on April 28. Blogging has transformed my life, enabling me to visit other cities in the US, meet great people, and set the stage for my recent relocation.
14. I have worked at two Jewish organizations that were severely affected by the Madoff situation. No, I am not the link.
15. I once worked at Yeshiva University and MTV in the same week.
16. I really do love working with the ROI Community, because I meet amazing people from many countries, and get a real introduction to Jewish innovation worldwide. For more, see http://roi120.com or come to my Jewish innovation session at LimmudLA (register: http://LimmudLA.org)
17. The ocean sometimes makes me cry.
18. In another life, I was definitely a comedy writer. And perhaps, also, in this one. And Entertainment Weekly missed the boat on me in terms of my devotion to pop culture (their loss: Beliefnet's Idol Chatter's gain). EW editors looking to make amends/reach out should skip directly to #25.
19. My great-great-grandfather, Yehoshua Stampfer was a founder of the Israeli city Petach Tikva.
20. I put a lot of my life online, but nowhere near all of it. That should give you an idea what goes on in my brain every day. It's like the audio equivalent of those "Magic Eye" pictures: you know there's an image in there, but you just have to filter out the other colors competing for your attention.
21. In the 1975 film, the part of drunk, pot-smoking night aide Turkle was played by Scatman Crothers. In [year deleted], the role was played by never-been-drunk, thinking-cigarettes-and-marijuana-are-the-same-thing Esther Kustanowitz (swilling flat cream soda out of a whiskey flask).
22. I have never tried cocaine or Ecstasy. Coffee? That's another story.
23. I moved to Los Angeles in October with two suitcases of my stuff. The rest is either at my parents' house in NJ (sorry about that, guys), or has been donated back to the universe.
24. I go through moments of extreme faith and conviction that there's a larger purpose, and others believing that life is random, fleeting, and only about personal meaning.
25. I am available for writing, editing, blogging about bizarre celebrity behavior, obsessing over popular culture, creative and elementary technology consulting, speaking engagements, blog and social media tutoring, hosting karaoke events, leading improv clinics, joining writing groups, and of course, weddings and bar mitzvahs.

As usual, 25 things seems like too short a list, and I've spent way more time on this than I should have today. If you want more, there's lots online every day at various websites. So check them out, people. Those blogs aren't going to read themselves. Thanks for your support.
Http://myurbankvetch.com
http://jdatersanonymous.com
http://estherk.com
http://blog.beliefnet.com
http://roi120.com
http://jewlicious.com

Rumors of My Retirement Are Greatly Exaggerated: East Coast Events in December

I know. It's nearly been a week since my last post. Have done so much -- finding an apartment, trolling for furniture on Craigslist and in thrift stores, trying to find an allen wrench so I can assemble my bed, going to the LimmudLA Healing Havdalah, checking out Jewish authors at the Celebration of Jewish Books, and of course, writing lots for Idol Chatter -- that it's been near-impossible to get it all down. But posts are coming...

In the interim, allow me to announce that I'm planning an East Coast trip for December -- mostly so I can experience the cold, dank winter-ridden East Coast and then return to generous sunshine with a mild chill in the air (better take a sweater if you go out). But here's the real reason for my return:

"Sex and Relationships in the 21st Century with Zeek Magazine"
Thu, Dec 11, 2008, 7:00pm
Location: 92YTribeca, 200 Hudson Street
Venue: 92YTribeca Lecture Hall
Code: T-MM5LC07-01
Price: $12.00

Joshua Henkin (author of New York Times Notable Book of 2007, Matrimony), Dan Friedman (Associate Editor of Zeek and Arts and Culture editor at the Forward), and Esther D. Kustanowitz (blogger, My Urban Kvetch and JDaters Anonymous) offer a literary take on the themes of love, romance, and sexuality. Find out what writers have to say about the role of marriage in modern families and societies, and the ways that relationships have changed in recent history.

Both Josh and Dan are very smart and entertaining individuals. And they're both married (not to each other). So I have a sense I'll be the Lorax for single people again. It would be great to see my NY posse in attendance at this hip venue, and if enough of y'all want to, I could probably be convinced to go for drinks or sushi downtown somewhere. So tell your friends, and I hope to see you there!

And yes, I am available for other NY gigs, and will be traveling to the DC area as well as Miami on this journey, so book [email protected].

"Know When to Walk Away"-My Last Jewish Week Singles Column

Well, it's done. I've submitted my last Jewish Week singles column, and it's available online now.

I wrote the thing weeks ago, but then found myself in Tmol Shilshom, a Jerusalem restaurant where the theme is books. Surrounded by the works of famous Hebrew and English authors, I finished the final column. I usually don't reprint the entire thing on my blog, but it will be the last time, so I wanted to share.

Thanks to everyone for their support for the column over the last four and a half years, as well as your commitment to this ongoing conversation.

"Know When to Walk Away"
by Esther D. Kustanowitz

How does one become a Jewish singles columnist, anyway? On recent reflection, it has occurred to me that perhaps I’ve only found myself here, an untrained sociologist Jane Goodall-ing it in the singles jungle, because of the metaphorical significance and transformative power of transit.

Several years ago, during a work trip to Israel, I had been picked up at the airport by a taxi and was traveling to Jerusalem when the driver began making Hebrew conversation. It started innocently, with a “welcome to Israel” and “what are you doing here?” and ended in a question I didn’t quite understand. “At revakah?” he asked. “Revakah?” I asked. “Revakah zeh lo nesuah (‘revakah’ means ‘not married’).”

I had never heard the word before. Most of my Hebrew was biblical, and most unmarried biblical women were referred to as betulah, which most English Bibles translate as “virgin.” Where, linguistically, could “revakah” have come from? I tried to “shoresh it out,” parsing the word and looking for a root. Since it was unlikely that the resh-vav-kuf could be read as “rock,” the best logical word origin I could find was the word reyk, meaning empty. If Genesis was right and it was “not good for a person to be alone,” then was it a huge leap to identify a person who hadn’t found their soul mate as, to an extent, empty? The Hebrew language seemed to think not. In that moment, an idea began its path of transit.

More recently, I was on a bus, spiraling down the West Coast. The sea was out of sight, and clouds sagged low over the mountains, which rolled past the windows as if they were on a conveyor belt, and I was the one who was standing still. I knew it was an illusion; the bus moved, and the scenery passed, but instead of feeling like an active participant in our progress, I felt detached and stagnant. Noticing the vast expanse of Northern California land, I felt the solitude descend, a curtain closing on a dramatic chapter.
At the end of that trip down the coast, I found myself thinking about journeys, the constant wandering of being in transit, and — because I was headed to Las Vegas — the song lyric that urged me to “know when to hold ‘em, know when to fold ‘em.” I knew I wasn’t quite at “know when to run,” but “know when to walk away” began to resonate strongly. I don’t like leaving my destiny to chance — heading off into the great unknown has never been an area of comfort for me. But it became clear that any more hands of solitaire or broken gambling metaphors, and I would risk the erosion of the parts of me that I’m most proud of, precisely the ones I’d hoped to one day share with a family.

My four years writing this column seem commensurate to an academic degree in relationships, yet somehow I’m ABD, and without the coveted “M.R.S.” degree. Perhaps I need to concentrate on field work, move beyond the theoretical into the actual. This column has been the longest relationship of my life. But I can’t marry a column. The transition will be one of the hardest things I’ve had to do, but I think that it’s time.

I don’t know what is or isn’t in the cards for me. If God is calling the shots, I’d like to believe that the Deity wants me to be happier than I am, if only selfishly, for the strengthening of my faith weakened by staying single. I’d still like to be able to contribute to the expansion of the nuclear family I’m already so blessed to have. Or perhaps I’m committing hubris — an English major’s favorite sin — by thinking that I’m on God’s agenda at all. I’m aware that my life has been a series of unique opportunities that have been both humbling and a blessing. It may make me selfish, but I’d still hoped to have more.

There has to be more than just the illusion of progress. It’s a gamble, but every change is. It’s time to put one foot in front of the other, fix my eyes on the future, and walk away from what’s comfortable, into what might, one day, be possible. I’m in transit again. Let the chips fall where they may. And next time an Israeli taxi driver asks me to define my status, whatever it is, I intend to celebrate it.

Esther D. Kustanowitz thanks her editors, readers, family and friends for their support of this column and her obsession with Hebrew. In her “retirement,” she will be working on her book about living Jewish and single, and will continue to blog at MyUrbanKvetch.com and JDatersAnonymous.com, among other places. You can always reach her at [email protected].

Happy 4th Birthday, JDatersAnonymous!

It's a milestone, one I forgot to mark with this blog in February (but you can always check out my archives, or the posts from my first month of blogging, here). But with second child, JDatersAnonymous, I'm remembering. For a retrospective, see this post.

Journeys and Transitions: An April Update

As we welcomed spring with taxes, cleaning, holidays and saying things like "I can't believe it's April already!" I had my eye already trained on summertime--not because it brings vacation during an academic year, or because I'm dying to sit on a beach somewhere. (My skin, in case you haven't noticed, does not tan.) But because I've been invited to participate in several special projects this summer that I think could really make an impact, I've had to make summer plans early. And since I already owed some people an update, I thought I'd share with the class.

April and May will mark a major transition for me: I've decided to leave the singles column at the Jewish Week (most recent column, "Spring Cleaning, Relationship-Style," is here--two more to go). This was an extremely difficult decision--to walk away from something that's been so much a part of my life for four years. It's often been a challenge to be the Lorax for single Jews, but it's always been a privilege. It was good for my ego, becoming the most minor of local Jewlebrities, and alternately encouraged and discouraged me to learn that the challenges I faced were also faced by others.

But it was a challenge for me personally, in my dating life, and when I was otherwise "off the clock," to not become the column. I faced the regular charge of trying to share enough personal insights so that the columns were meaningful, without giving too much (of myself or my emotions) away. I ended up watching reruns of late Season Six episodes of "Sex and the City," watching as Carrie grappled with identity within her column and how she insisted that she was her own entity, apart from the context in which people knew her. And I thought, well...sort of.

But after being seduced by the romance of--and moving her life to--Paris, Carrie was pursued by her past, and sucked back into it. A happy ending, most people thought. But I had always resented her ending--she went back to her old life, her old patterns, even the ones she'd identified as dysfunctional. I was not anxious to stand in her fictional, yet clearly uncomfortable shoes. I'm not entirely done with the subject--I'll keep writing about dating and relationships on JDatersAnonymous, and will likely use the experience in a longer, dare-we-say "book-length", venue someday--but the day-to-day focus of my writing will be elsewhere.

But wait...there's more.

New Reality Show Idea: How to Solve "the Singles Crisis"

No really, just hear me out...it seems like everyone has an answer to this singles crisis thing (which all stems from the fact that Jews -- and let's face it, almost everyone else too -- are marrying and procreating later. So let's start an open application process. Apply with your idea, then we take seven winners and present them to Shmuley Boteach, who puts them through a series of challenges. The losers are dismissed with the show's tagline: "You have failed the Jewish people. But not as much as the single women in their 30s who 'chose' to stay single and could have had seven babies by now."

Too depressing? Maybe. But that's why you have the sympathetic, comforting presence of singles columnist Esther Kustanowitz to guide contestants through the process. And the top five receive guest posting gigs at JDaters Anonymous.

Crazy? Don't you call me crazy. Every morning I wake up and Bravo has a new reality show, including the latest one, "Flipping Out," which (until I saw a preview) I was pretty sure was about guys who go off to Israel to study for a year, come back home, and only eat Pas and Cholov Yisrael. So it's pretty possible.

Want to read about two more ideas for solving the singles crisis? Check out YU's latest endeavor and the Jewish Journal's suggestion, both as delivered by the JDaters Anonymous blogger.