The name of a ride at a South Florida fair is offending some Holocaust survivors living in the area.
We like to think of our Annual Guide to the Best of (Jewish) Los Angeles as kvetch-proof. Our writers and editors provide personal favorites that are so idiosyncratic and eclectic that it's hard to argue. Year after year, by the way, Los Angeles is still our "Best Jewish City."
I didn't exactly mean to go incognito, but when my friend Ben didn't recognize me -- even after chatting with me for a minute at the noisy Purim carnival -- I realized I was onto something: I could be anyone.
We arrived early for the Purim carnival last Sunday. The giant bounce house still lay in a wrinkled, uninflated wad on a corner of the parking lot. The only children around were, like our son, middle school volunteers, corralling the puppies for the puppy-petting booth, lining up bottles for the ring toss.
The family of Jewish Defense League (JDL) leader Irv Rubin has filed a $5 million wrongful-death claim against the U.S. government, stemming from his apparent suicide last November while in federal custody at the downtown Metropolitan Detention Center.
Deep red curtains, dark lighting, cushiony pillows and pictures of camels and bellydancers adorning the walls: That's what you'd expect from a restaurant reputed to be one of the best Middle Eastern eateries in Southern California.
Instead, what you find is a bright diner-like atmosphere, with orange and yellow arches on the walls, in a strip mall in Sherman Oaks. Oh, and a long line of Americans, Arabs, Druse and Israelis.
Carnival's green awning welcomes guests in Hebrew ("Bruchim Ha'baim") English and Arabic. Newspapers in three languages line the table of the anteroom, as people wait for a table or takeout on this busy Saturday night.
Hanoka was attempting to unravel the mathematical complexities of how Purim falls in Adar Bet, or the second month of Adar, this year, making 2000 a leap year, not only in the solar calendar but in the lunar, or Jewish calendar, as well.