This year Alex Butzbach has decided to celebrate each day of Hanukkah by honoring a different member of Wu-Tang Clan each day Day Three (U-God) This day is named especially fortuitously. When I say "U-God" out loud, I'm not only referring to one of Staten Island's finest (and fuck what ya heard), but I'm calling out to the Supreme Being who has shepherded His people throughout the vast wasteland of human society since Time Immemorial. One thing that I've been finding particularly difficult is kosher food. It's hard to know exactly what dietary consumption is proscribed by the Torah and what is strictly verboten. As a result, I'm constantly wracked with a desire for anything I think might not be kosher. For example: as I look at my cat, curled up warmly in my unmade bed, I can't help but think that he would be delicious as part of a surf and turf dinner. I don't have any butter to drizzle on him, but believe me: I'd get some. That's how bad I want to eat my cat. I love my cat, but just knowing that he's not kosher drives me insane with hunger. Actually, he might not be a filthy animal. He does shit and piss in a box of sand, but at least he licks himself clean all the time. And he never smells bad. Shit. Now I don't really want to eat him. Too much fur. It would get all over the apartment. Tonight's menorah candle is lit in honor of Sammy Davis, Jr. (b. 1925 in Manhattan, New York). I'm not particularly attracted to him (especially compared to the lovely Ms. Spektor and Ms. Portman [nee Hershlag]), though he can sing a tune quite well. I don't actually know for certain, since I don't believe I can recall ever hearing a song by him, but nostalgic baby boomers bust a load every time they hear his voice. And you can't really argue with that, can you? I heard that he only has one eye because Pai Mei plucked it out when he called him a miserable old fool. Mr. Davis (Jr.) then poisoned that miserable old fool's rice. That's right! He killed your master! And now he's about to kill you! With your very own sword, no less. Which in the very immediate future will be his sword. Sammy was also black and Jewish, which jibes nicely with the Wu-Tang/Jewish theme I've adopted this year. Though he's long since shuffled off this mortal coil, I like to think that Mr. Davis would have been into hardcore gangster rap right now. In fact, stand-up guy that he was, I'm positive that he would have taken Ice Cube's place in N.W.A. when the group first fractured. As a result, Dr. Dre would never have "blown up," as it were, and Carson Daly would have been interviewing the aging crooner on TRL in 1999 as he took the top spot on the countdown. I suppose I shouldn't deal so much in "what ifs," since people might get the wrong idea. In fact, mother fuckers might indeed act like they forgot about Dre. Whichever way you look at it, Sammy Davis Jr. was a black, one-eyed Jewish rapper who ate my cat. I'll see you all when the sun rises on Masta Killa. Check out the previous days:day one and day two review by Alex Butzbach