TA: It Doesn’t Always Necessarily Mean Tits an’ Ass

Arrived Tel Aviv one afternoon Late ‘78. Soon to be Stoned, Dazed, and Confused and somewhat abused. One of my fellow SFM drivers, Perry, a good bud of mine, had convoyed with me into TA. Each of us driving deuce and a’halfs and at dangerous speeds. We checked into the Pal Hotel which SFM had retired to after the New Sheraton had made it plain they no longer desired nor needed the patronage of Sinai Field Mission types, specifically the Texan ones. I preferred the Pal Hotel anyway.

“Screw you Sheraton New Hotel!”

Of course for both of you Lenny Fans out there in ‘Radio Land’  I just had to drop this audio bit in. It really is not germane (nor certainly not German) to the point, but it do expand on the title somewhat.

It occurred to me that when using the term ‘Tits an’ Ass” some would not know the etymology. Lenny first coined the phrase. (Bless his heart).  He did some jail time too… for his transgressions.

So…when I first arrived to SFM and folks would talk of TA, imagine my confusion.

Lenny Bruce audio below ‘Tits and Ass’

After settling in, Perry called me from his room, “Hey Lance. Got anything goin’ tonight?”

“Nope,” I replied. “Not a damn thing. You know Gladys done dumped me for that Venzu-walon dude.”

“Come on up to my room. We’ll smoke a bowl.”

“On my way,” I said and hung up. We smoked a few bowls of hash, drank some Amstels, and decided to head over to Dizengoff Street to check out the action. And sate some munchies. Just yet another night in TA.

dizengoff-cafe

Dizengoff Cafe

We stepped out onto Hayarkon Street just after sundown and proceeded to float on toward Dizengoff, a few short blocks away. We were stoned beyond repair. As we tried to navigate across the busy Hayarkon four lane, we noticed more than the average number of folk on foot. As soon as we had arrived on the leeward shore of Hayarkon, a teenage girl came running up to us and smacked us both on the top of our heads with a little plastic mallet. Then said something unintelligible in Hebrew and ran giggling away.

“What the fuck was that?!” I asked Perry.

“Dude, I gots no idea, but look yonder!” he said pointing up the street. Sure as shit, there were people everywhere; all armed with similar plastic mallets, just wailing the shit outta each other’s heads.

“Dude! We gotta sort this out. This is just too weird. Must be some kinda religious ritual.” This is what my hashish soaked brain was telling me anyway. We made our way to Dizengoff, after having our heads bonked repeatedly by overzealous religious fanatics. I spied a street vendor displaying the plastic mallets with aplomb.

“Perry, we gots to git one ah them for self-defense.” We purchased one each and went to whackin’ pretty Sabras about the head. (Great way to meet women, I must confess—Kinda Neanderthal—but what the hell?) Later I was told we had experienced some joyful Israeli Halloween-Like festival. Mardi Gras, it weren’t but dammit! I had fun. (But I didn’t get any beads)

To this day, I do not know the holiday, or festival. Are there any out there who would care to enlighten me? Tis one-of-those-unknown-things that still haunt me today. Perhaps if I had not been stoned…

banner_purim_sm[1]

Purim

My Jewish Friends: Was it Purim I had experienced? My enquirin’ mind really do wanna know.

24 thoughts on “TA: It Doesn’t Always Necessarily Mean Tits an’ Ass

  1. Pingback: Sinai Field Mission. Or The Story of How Lance Lost His Mind and Later Found it Ferreted Away in His Pocket | Texan Tales & Hieroglyphics

  2. That wee plastic mallet custom should be a universal—! I loved your turn of phrase about meeting women, about something Neanderthal … I was hit over the head a few times by strangers armed with wee plastic hammers that gave a loud squeak on impact, but they were just kids (Singapore) trying to make a sale.

    I bought …

    Like

    • Yeah. I’m hip (hit?) I woulda bought too.
      Thanks for coming by and reading and commenting.
      Hope you listened to the Lenny Bruce bit: ‘Tits an’ Ass’.
      Cheers,
      Lance

      Like

      • Lenny comes later—I am in a life-and-death struggle with a feral rose bush at the moment; came inside to lick my wounds, guzzle coffee and recharge before I charge out. It’s one of those ‘no quarter’ battles … and at the moment the rose seems to be winning. I may have to go nuclear …

        Like

      • I could invest in a neutron grenade … you know, the one that kills the enemy soldier but leaves his uniform intact?

        Like

    • Cannot speak to now, but in the Seventies, hashish was very much illegal. But… we all had diplomatic immunity, as technically, we were diplomats, working for the U.S. State Department.
      No one was ever stupid enough to get busted and test that theory though.
      Great question.
      Thank you.
      Lance

      Like

      • My pleasure. The three years I spent at SFM shaped me. I am always happy to discuss that rather unique time in history. The Mission was a total success, yet no one seems to have ever heard of it, save for some USG types and a a bunch of Cowboys from Texas..
        Hehehe

        Like

  3. I got back from visiting She Sat Still and about to retire for the night when tits and ass popped up on my reader. Well you know, I had to know.
    I heard that hash will stretch your mind in ways it hadn’t ought to be stretched.
    That is hilarious……
    I swear your a good story teller and I thank you for tellin’ it.

    Like

Feedback? Comments? Questions? Let me know...

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s