Who are you, Simcha Fisher?

I am freelance writer and mother of nine.  No, wait, a mother of nine, and then a freelance writer.  Consequently, I may abruptly vanish from the combox to go make supper or something.  So if you spot a post that’s offensive, illogical, indefensible, or just plain stupid, and you question it, and I don’t respond, it’s because I’m just, oh, nourishing my children, that’s all.

What kind of name is that, anyway?

It’s Hebrew, meaning “joy.”   It’s pronounced “SIM- kha,” with a slightly gutteral “ch” like in  “loch,” but if you say it “SIM-ka,” that’s fine.  That’s how I say it.  Other, less fine but common pronunciations:  Cynthia, Sim-ACH-a, Smirka, Sandra, Symphony,  and Silly (that was my pastor’s rendition.   At my wedding).  Or you could just get frustrated, like our electrician, and decide my name is probably just “Mary.”

Hebrew, eh?  So then . . . you’re . . .

Roman Catholic.  My family converted to Catholicism when I was about 4, and I’m not going anywhere.  I consider myself a Hebrew Catholic, as my parents are both Jewish by birth.  I’m still sorting out exactly how I ought to be preserving my Jewish heritage, beyond putting horseradish on everything; but in the mean time, don’t piss me off about Israel.

Does your husband realize you’re saying these things about him?

Yes.  He is my final editor before I press “publish,” so it’s cool.  He also has a growing entourage of alter egos who look out for him.

With all those kids and a husband with several personalities to care for, how do you find the time to write?

Sheer, horrifying neglect of duty to God, country, family, and basic hygiene.

Hey!  You can’t say that about Ron Paul!

That’s not a question, but oh yes, I can.

I’m offended!  I demand an apology!

Still not a question, but I’ll tell you what:  check your mailbox to find a full refund of every cent you paid me to write this blog.  Ha ha!

I’m revolted by what I’m reading here, but rather than simply going somewhere else, I’m going to make nasty jokes about your family, the Pope, or the Jews in your combox, okay?

Not.  Poof, you’re gone.

Where can I read more of your stupid writing?

I blog on Tuesdays, Thursdays and Fridays at the National Catholic Register, and I sometimes contribute to Our Sunday Visitor, Catholic Digest, and this-a and that-a.  I will be releasing my first book, The Sinner’s Guide to NFP, in ebook and audiobook form in 2013.

How can you call yourself a Catholic when you [insert flagrant and disgusting vice here] ?

It’s not easy.  Pray for me.

Can you give me some advice about this horrible, complicated problem I’m having in my personal life?

I probably will if you ask, but why would you?

How do I contact you?

Okay.  If you’ve read this far, I’m assuming that you really want to get in touch with me, and aren’t just going to fire off some choice insults.  You can reach me at simchafisher [at] gmail [dot] com, and I will do my best to get back to if I can.  Sometimes I never get back to you, and I feel bad about it, but that’s just how it is.

Aren’t you also a speaker or something?


So what is for supper?

Food, probably.