COLLECTION: No Faith… None.

Ok, I didn’t want to do this. Really, I didn’t. But you made me do it. Well, maybe not you, but anyone who emailed me about “What kind of Jew celebrates Christmas?” You made me do it. It’s none of your damn business. “This kind of Jew” should’ve been answer enough, but I’m better than that. Anyway, lest you think I’ve somehow sold-out, I figured I’d post some pictures of my recent trip to the Arctic.

I’ve also gotten a few notes asking why I went in the first place (after the posts about Grant and Karin), so I thought maybe I’d put an end to that speculation at the same time. Wanna know why I went? TO KICK THAT FAT FUCKERS ASS. That’s right, after a lifetime of lackluster gifts, I figured it was time to throw MY weight around. Santa, I'm coming for blood.



9AM Disembarking the plane at Levi’s only airport, some 300 miles inside the artic circle, was the first and perhaps greatest obstacle. With the wind-chill, the temp. clocked in at 50 below zero—that’s Celsius—and there was no heated gangway, nothing, just a stairway, leading out to the tarmac. Luckily, the last decent gift I got was a parka.


11 AM With twenty-something feet of snow per year, many Laplanders consider dogsleds a viable means of transportation… only, I had had an unfortunate incident years ago. Instead, I decide to kick off my hunt with a rain-deer ride.



1PM Deer-sledding wasn’t nearly as fun as I’d hoped it'd be. It’s kiddy stuff. In fact, not only could I have walked faster, but the only view the ride afforded is of the deer’s ass, alongside that of the reindeer farmer guiding him.



2PM Lunchtime. Did I mention they eat reindeer in this part of the world? That’s right, I started with reindeer sausage and washed it down with a shot of what they tell me is reindeer blood. If the fat man knew I was in town, surely at this point he knew I mean business.



3PM Eager to kick it up a notch, I rented a snow-mobile for a quick ride back… It was fun. Cold, but fun. Rudolph should be jealous. Santa should be scared.



3:30PM One of my fellow riders suggested we pull off the track for a bit of ice fishing. I’m in. After some instruction I bored a hole through nearly 3 feet of ice and prepare for my second lunch of the day.


4:10PM. The ice wasn’t the only thing that got bored. Who’s the ice-hole now?



9PM. Time to check in. I was booked at the Snow Hotel. It looked like a fun idea on paper, but after kicking back on the ice couch in the lobby I was beginning to wonder.




9:30PM. Finding my room was easy (it’s on the second floor), but I couldn’t figure out the ice crapper (I refuse to take my pants down), nor is falling asleep on a bed make of snow.


6AM. Wake-up call was rough one. I’d heard Santa’s on the move though. In a effort to get me on my feet, someone suggested a traditional ice-swim.



6:10AM. A short jog out onto the frozen lake revealed an icehouse. Inside I striped and climb down a ladder into the frozen depths. It beats an alarm clock for sure… but with hypothermia setting in, it was hard to stay focused on the mission.
NOTE: I’m not a fan of censorship. Those of you who’ve been with me since the beginning have seen these pictures sans bar anyway. For the rest of you, consider this inspiration to click around… and my way of saying thank-you to my mom who bought me a new computer the other day; today's the day I don't push your buttons.


7AM. Because the room is heated by throwing water on red-hot coals, the Fins call saunaing “Tossing water.” I though my berries might never thaw, but after a sprits, I was ready to face Clause.


10AM. At last we reached Santa’s Village. Though the big man was nowhere in sight, I was boiling over with rage.



10:10AM. He finally arrived—by motorcycle! But try as I might, I simply couldn’t get an audience. He was even more heartless than I ever imagined. My pleas were met with silence. In fact, in one of the ballsiest moves of all time, he turned his back on me and stormed into his office.


10:15AM. With no other course of action, I engaged in another time-honored Finish tradition: Snowballs. I gave his door a good whitewashing, but it didn’t feel nearly as good as a fist-full of white-beard would’ve.


10:30AM. With just 40 minutes to go before my flight, I enjoyed the tastiest Finish tradition of them all: Finlandia. I picked-up a bottle of their new lime-infused vodka at the Duty Free shop and get down to business. A few gulps of the good stuff and Santa, his lists, and his half-baked gifts are distant memories.


CLEARLY THIS IS BIGGEST HALF-TRUTH OF ALL TIME. It’s just a series of pictures I stung together to form a story. In fact, the picture of the dude in the bed? That’s a picture I took, but it’s not even of me. I figure it's cool though; there seem to be a lot of MTV fans coming here and, well, this is pretty much how some of your favorite shows are made (ie, out of order and out of context), so I figure all's fair...

But the truth of this whole thing is that the good people of Finlandia Vodka took me and my friends on a tip and this is my way of saying thank-you to them (I’m meeting up with my handlers for breakfast this morning, I think they’ll get a kick out of this). OK, that and I didn’t have anything better to put up this morning, but didn’t want to leave you out in the cold either. Stay tuned though… tons of weirdness later in the week. REAL weirdness. The kind of weirdness you've come to expect. The kind of weirdness I think you deserve. See you there.