Things Jews Don't Do Part 6

I own a chainsaw. I never thought I'd be a chainsaw owner, but now I am. And now I wonder why I waited so long.

Let's face it chainsaws and Jews go together like politicians and productivity. You could spend months scouring the logging camps of Northern Oregon and still not produce a 1/2 a minion.

Yes, there was one famous wood-working Jew who made a name for himself. But let's face it, lumberjacking is different than litigation or investment banking or neurosurgery. No one says, "I've got a 100 foot Douglas Fir that needs felling, quick get me Feinberg."

Nevertheless, thanks to some poor landscaping choices made years ago, we now have several trees with weird protuberances. And since I'm unwilling to hire somebody to do what any normal man should be able to do, I found myself at the local Home Depot, excited and frankly, a little intimidated.

I didn't want to deal with those loud gas engine and the rip chord ignition models, so I opted for an 18 volt battery operated 10" Ryobi. It's a starter chainsaw, if you will. But as you can see, it does the job pretty well, thank you.

But here's the funny part. Now that I own a chainsaw. And now that the trees have been trimmed and cut up into handy disposable pieces, I have nothing left to cut. And I want to.

Maybe I'll go next door and offer to cut my neighbor's trees.

That's what Jesus would have done.