Miss Holocaust Survivor Uncrowned for Pro-Palestine Comment
Displaying everything one would look for in a 79 year old Jewish woman, Israel crowned Hava Hershkovitz as Miss Holocaust Survivor. Her win, and the contest itself, was thought to be too macabre.
This past week, Hershkovitz spoke out against the actions of Israel in Gaza.
“History repeats itself,” Hershkovitz said at the grand opening of the Jerusalem Bingo Center, “I think what Israel is doing to Egypt is no different that what the Nazis did to Europe.”
Almost immediately, Hershkovitz lost sponsorships from Depend, Oh! Nuts, and Alka-Seltzer. Today we learned she will loose her crown as well.
The runner up in the contest, Esther Libber, will be sworn in and crowned next week. Hershkovitz has no ill feeling towards Libber.
Her duties relieved, Hershkovitz said exclusively to the Daily World News that she will return to obscurity, “kickin’ it with my Heebes and Sheebs.”
"We were happy, studying hard. Neither one of us had a job, because Mitt had enough of an investment from stock that we could sell off a little at a time. The stock came from Mitt’s father. When he took over American Motors, the stock was worth nothing. But he invested Mitt’s birthday money year to year — it wasn’t much, a few thousand, but he put it into American Motors because he believed in himself. Five years later, stock that had been $6 a share was $96 and Mitt cashed it so we could live and pay for education…
‘Another son came along 18 months later, although we waited four years to have the third, because Mitt was still in school and we had no income except the stock we were chipping away at. We were living on the edge, not entertaining. No, I did not work. Mitt thought it was important for me to stay home with the children, and I was delighted."
Oh my god, Ann! This sounds JUST LIKE my parents’ story! You know, the one where they were so poor that they had to work three low-wage jobs apiece, collect cans and newspapers out of trash bins, and raise my sister and I in the projects in order to fight their way out of poverty.
You know, the story, Ann! It’s the one where a business environment forged by hundreds of years of institutionalized racism made it impossible for my father to get a white collar job despite his education because who could trust a young black man back then? And remember how institutionalized the racism was that businesses would actually say that to his face? He ended up taking three jobs — at a deli counter, at a Burger King, and as a stock boy — oh yeah, he worked all those jobs at once. Didn’t he know that all he had to do was have his impoverished coal miner father believe in himself more? Lol!
That’s awesome that you got to stay home to raise your children. I mean *I* can relate to that seeing as I had to raise my little sister — if only my parents could afford to be stay at home parents — or afford child care for that matter! As a eight year old, staying up until midnight each night just so that I could wake my mother up in time so that we could pile in the car to pick my father up from his night job was so much fun! Of course, she was sleepy because she had to work multiple jobs too!
Since my mom was the only one who could get an above-minimum wage job on account of her being an “Oriental”, she worked as a secretary, at a printing press, and as a waitress in a Chinese restaurant six days a week. I wish she had just listened to Mitt!
Remember how the minimum wage was just $2.90/hr…. (Sorry, Ann. I meant “half a share of Mitt’s stock per hour”.) Remember how the low minimum wage meant that you could barely cover your government assisted rent, no-frills groceries, expensive utilities, and your barely working used car (made by Romney’s American Motors! How ironic!) just to keep up let alone put anything into savings? I mean, who has time to entertain when you can’t afford cable television or a home phone?
One thing that was different, though, Ann, was that my parents weren’t happy where you and Mitt clearly were. I mean, they loved each other and they loved us kids, but boy, could they argue! They’d get into arguments about things like how to spend the extra $1 they’d have left over at the end of each week. Do they buy an extra loaf of bread so the kids wouldn’t be as hungry? Fresh milk instead of watering down the can of condensed milk? Gas for the car so that they’d make it to the third job on time. Such silly arguments! They should have learned to struggle like you did. It sounds like you and Mitt clearly did have all the best days! Now that’s a real marriage! (unlike their silly interracial marriage — remember how people used to treat the interracial couples then like we do gay couples now? That was awesome for kids like me!)
When I see you on television talking about how you got by, in your basement apartment with your ironing board dinner table (how Bohemian!) I can’t help but think of my parents. I mean, it’s like you’re fucking twinsies. You should all go ride your Olympic show horses together. I’m sure they’d identify with your struggle 100%. You’d have so much to talk about!
Favorite line: “But he invested Mitt’s birthday money year to year — it wasn’t much, a few thousand…” followed by “we had no income except the stock we were chipping away at.” How can anyone consider electing a man who’s so disconnected from the real reality of poverty in America that the hardest part of his life was when he was LIVING OFF OF stock dividends while going to school?
That stock they sold off? It was worth $400,000 if you adjust for inflation. What a struggle!
What’s even more frightening about how out of touch she is is how unaware of exactly how out of touch she is.
Why does my back hurt!?!
This is not normal for me. Maybe area irritation from sleeping weird plus Crohn’s stuff?
It kills me when couples post sappy shit on facebook—
“OMG we’re back at ________ restaurant. We haven’t been here since our first date!”
Would it be weird to tie this icepack around my face in a scarf?
Because I think it could work.
And I’m slightly medicated.
My life is a feedback loop—
When I’m at home I feel as if I’m constantly battling conflicting obligations, trying to satisfy everyone. Unfortunately this means my health takes a toll. While stress doesn’t CAUSE Crohn’s Disease it can definitely make it worse. My mother can’t function (most of the time) without an assistant. Someone to call the pharmacist, feed the cat, change the laundry. My father always needs her help to do ANYTHING. My sister is constantly needing someone to go let the heating and air guy in, or someone to dogsit. Everyone always needs something, and they rely upon my mother. She tries to do everything, then when she can’t she has an emotional breakdown and blames it all on me. She blames it on me because I’m available. I’m the one here…
The problem is that I’m here because I have to be, not because I want to be. I’m here because I’m too sick for insurance to cover me. I’m here because I can’t have a job because I’m sick. I’m here because if I do make any money I’ll lose my SSI/Disability and I won’t have any health coverage. Without health coverage I’ll get sicker and lose any job I could get. You see how this is a never ending circle?
SSI/Disability allows me to live, and see the doctor, get my medications, and function on a daily basis. I’m better than I have been since I was diagnosed but being at home constantly, not having something to do or a solid routine is difficult. Dealing with my mother is a huge source of stress. When I’m at home I get sick. I can’t sleep, but I’m exhausted. Then I’m nauseous because I can’t sleep. Then I end up laying in bed for days because I feel like I’m stuck in a feedback loop…
So far the only thing that helps is a break in routine. Except that break in routine has become a separate pattern of behavior and now my mother views that as a separate problem.
I’m sick when I’m home so she thinks I must be too sick to do anything other than sit at home.
But… I’m not as sick when I’m not home. Thursday or Friday nights I go to J’s house. I spend the weekend with no real obligations. Some cooking, occasionally loading the dishwasher; but mostly hanging out with Kayla and Nathan, napping on the couch with the cats, and spending time with J. I don’t exactly feel AMAZING. I spend at least half of my time sleeping. I still have some stomach cramps and nausea, but it’s easier to deal with when no one is demanding anything of me. It’s easier when I wake up at night to take some pills and someone is there rubbing my back, checking to see if I’m ok.
I come home Sunday night (having always had a good weekend) dreading the week ahead. Mostly because I know it’s just going to be immediately worse Monday morning. Mostly because I know she is going to say “Well you can’t be that sick…”