I was cross when I arrived at The Jewish Journal on Oct. 9, 1986. I had earned a master's degree in journalism at Northwestern University and had fantasized about becoming an arts writer (at least eventually) for, say, The New Yorker. Also, I was a bad Jew, having been turned off by lackluster synagogue services. So after I settled down at my Journal IBM Selectric, I was shocked to discover I liked -- no, loved -- working at a Jewish newspaper.
I've spent the last several weeks listening to the recently released six-CD box set "Lenny Bruce: Let the Buyer Beware" (Shout Factory), an exhaustive and authoritative collection that gives the uninitiated and even the fan a sense of the thrill, the importance and the tragedy of being Lenny Bruce.
There is an old joke from the Holocaust, Robin Williams says.
Two old Jews want to kill Hitler. The fuhrer doesn't show up. "So one turns to the other and says, 'My God, I hope nothing happened to him,' " Williams quips.