This week’s Tablet magazine column is here. I miss my dad whenever I look at my Prozac clock (he liked to give pharmco swag as Afikomen gifts), or get a horrifying press release from a self-promoting douchey psychiatrist, or see Larry David on a subway poster (Dad and I differed on Curb Your Enthusiasm — he loved it, I loathed it…and yet I’m so glad it’s still on, because it is the last tenuous TV-series-related connection I have to my father now that The Sopranos is gone). But I miss my dad especially on the second day of Rosh Hashana, when he used to mortify my teen self beyond all measure.

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