Happy Purim!
Who’s got the hamentashen?
On This Day In Jews Eating Pastrami Sandwiches: A chance meeting at Canter’s between author, pornographer, and mensch Mike Edison and the Mayor of the Sunset Strip, Rodney Bingenheimer.
We’d just like to wish a hearty yasher koach to our friend, colleague, and reality TV contestant Rachel “PopJew” Coleman for winning dlisted’s coveted HOT SLUT OF THE DAY award.
dlisted’s Michael K lays it on thick with the double entendres. To wit:
I must be one of America’s shittiest eaters (that came out the wrong hole), because I would devour Rachel’s nasty macaroni and cheese in a quick minute.
By Jewish cooking standards it actually is healthy.
1. Go to your local D2 or a comparable discount store and buy a canister of blazing hot ranch flavored Pringles.
2. Go to 7-11 and load the Pringles up one at a time from the free chili and cheese sauce despenser.
Disgusting Things I Have Eaten: Be More Awesome
Some feel good holiday humor about neurotic Jews and their particular eating habits courtesy of my dentist:
Four Jewish brothers left home for college, and eventually, they became successful doctors and lawyers — and prospered.
Some years later, they chatted after having dinner together. They discussed the gifts that they were able to give to their elderly mother, who lived far away in another city.
The first said, ‘I had a big house built for Mama’.
The second said, I had a hundred thousand dollar theatre built in the house.
The third said, ‘I had my Mercedes dealer deliver her a SL 600 with a chauffeur.’
The fourth said, ‘Listen to this. You know how Mama loved reading the Torah, and you know she can’t anymore because she can’t see very well.
I met this Rabbi who told me about a parrot that can recite the entire Torah.
It took twenty rabbis 12 years to teach him. I had to pledge to contribute $100,000 a year for twenty years to the temple, but it was worth it.
Mama just has to name the chapter and verse and the parrot will recite it.’
The other brothers were impressed.
After the holidays Mama sent out her Thank You notes. She wrote
Milton — Bubbileh, the house you built is so huge, I live in only one room, but I have to clean the whole house. Thanks anyway.
Marvin — Mine Sheyne Kindele, I am too old to travel. I stay home. I have my groceries delivered, so I never use the Mercedes and the driver you hired is a Nazi. The thought was good. Thanks.
Mechim – Tataleh, you give me an expensive theatre with Dolby sound, it could hold 50 people, but all my friends are dead. I’ve lost my hearing and I’m nearly blind. I’ll never use it. Thank you for the gesture just the same.
Dearest Melvin —you were the only son to have the good sense to give a little thought to your gift. The chicken was delicious.
We’re gonna go off script here for a minute. Since it seems like everyone on the internet is all pointing fingers and being sexist today (whoa, big surprise there) we just thought we’d contribute a little something to the fold. (Get it? See what I did there?) In our swinging single days before we were the anti-food blogging cunning linguists that we are today, in a time when cat-themed archetypes were just a trend piece glimmer in Spencer Morgan’s eye this stuff was just called “getting laid” and this kinda bottom feeder last call shit was par for the course. Everyone did it. Not just the dudes. And goddammit we engaged in it as both predator and prey. In fact we were the prey—and by no means unwillingly—more times than we’d ever dare mention. We may have even engaged in the kind of unlawful carnal knowledge that includes, but is certainly not limited to, eating some very vulgar and very disgusting things. Of course if you are interested in hearing more on that send an email as we prefer not to air our dirty laundry in pubic, I mean public.
So if you are Jewish then you are probably all up in arms today about the New, Lewd, Skrewed, and Tattoo’d Jews piece on CNN as if 3000 years of beautiful tradition and Bob Dylan, Ron Jeremy, and Mark The Cobrasnake never even existed.
Anyhow since I haven’t had a drink since Monday and don’t plan to until the week of Thanksgiving when I plop down into a chair overlooking the Mediterranean with a plate of mariscos in one hand and a handle of Spanish Fly in the other I’m going to call bullshit on this whole thing. Especially the part about the beer. Also I have had a headache for five days now.
It was actually on this day four years ago coincidentally when the Wolfman himself dropped me off after a grueling tour down to Memphis and back only to find—much like the three little bears—that not only had someone been sleeping in my bed but they had actually moved all their shit in too and set up shop. Right there on my duvet and feather pillows. That shiksa corva Goldilocks herself didn’t even have that level of chutzpah.
As if the sharp pains running up and down my spinal cord from sitting in the bucket seats of a Kia minivan—the least ergonomically designed vehicle I have ever had the displeasure of riding in for long stretches of time—weren’t enough, the entire He’Brew Beer operation was now also being run from the foot of my bed. This it turned out was the gross miscalculation of a former roommate who thought wise to let her then boyfriend have the run of the apartment.
Like any normal, logical human being I did what seemed right: I opened both of the French doors and pitched homeboy’s shit—computers, a very nice suit, some towels that he had drying on top of my record collection (anyone in the market for a water damaged copy of Axis: Bold as Love?)—out of the room. In spite of the nagging back pains, later diagnosed as serious disc problems, I was actually able to get most of it all the way to the other side of the apartment without too much effort.
We never spoke of this again but after a bitter breakup he left several bottles of that unholy swill in our kitchen which became the bane of my existence. I finally broke down and drank one and I’d just as soon be burned at the stake Inquisition-style than even taste it again.
“I love challah bread. I’m learning about Jewish food, going to Zabar’s. I love that place.” - J.G.
Because there is no quicker trial by fire than the wrath of 100 angry UWS yentas on line for groceries. Just be thankful it’s not Ess-a-Bagel on the Friday before a holiday weekend!
![Everything Is Illuminated author Jonathan Safran Foer—the brother of my brother’s friend’s brother-in-law (yeah, try and untangle that one - It’s like the Lone Starr/Dark Helmet fight scene at the end of Spaceballs!)—and brother Josh demonstrate how not to cut wood for a sukkah, the temporary harvest season gazebo of the Jews.
Building a sukkah is serious business. It takes brawn and wit and a steady hammer. It takes dedication and a keen eye for design. After all, a sukkah is a sacred shelter — as mythic as a treehouse and as inviting as a dining room table. It is a place to stargaze, to spend time with family and friends and, most important, to savor the abundant edible joys of the fall harvest.
[via The Forward]](http://28.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_kr3my5HN5s1qzrrwoo1_400.jpg)
Everything Is Illuminated author Jonathan Safran Foer—the brother of my brother’s friend’s brother-in-law (yeah, try and untangle that one - It’s like the Lone Starr/Dark Helmet fight scene at the end of Spaceballs!)—and brother Josh demonstrate how not to cut wood for a sukkah, the temporary harvest season gazebo of the Jews.
Building a sukkah is serious business. It takes brawn and wit and a steady hammer. It takes dedication and a keen eye for design. After all, a sukkah is a sacred shelter — as mythic as a treehouse and as inviting as a dining room table. It is a place to stargaze, to spend time with family and friends and, most important, to savor the abundant edible joys of the fall harvest.
[via The Forward]
Break out the gifilte fish everyone! In a bold move that is sure to reverberate all the way down to the very egalitarian and accepting Park Slope Jewish Center—the one with the female rabbi!—Fred Phelps and the Westboro Baptist Church are spending shabbos in the borough of Kings! Setting up shop in the cornfields of America’s heartland may be one thing but I’ll be god damned if a bunch of sign-toting rednecks are gonna stand between me and my organic Co-Op produce!
The Westboro Baptist Church, whose mission is represented clearly in its Web site address, www.godhatesfags.com, announced this week that it would protest at Brooklyn Technical HS in Fort Greene after classes are dismissed tomorrow and at Congregation Beth Elohim and Union Temple in Park Slope and the Kane Street Synogogue on Saturday — one day before Yom Kippur, the holiest day on the Jewish calendar.
The church’s Web site explained the reason for the rallies.
“Yo what’s up, God haters?” the protest announcement reads. “Why you teach ‘It’s OK to be gay?’ WBC will be on hand to teach the rebels of Brooklyn what good looks like, and you had better behave. Not like this, but properly and appropriately.”
God help them once they get on the business end of an angry mommy armed with a gender studies degree in one hand and reusable canvas grocery tote in the other. Needless to say we’ll be monitoring this story closely.
Larry brings a cast member from Survivor to dinner at his Rabbi’s house who himself lost a loved one on September 11th when he was struck by a bike messenger somewhere uptown. Hijinks ensue.
A very astute reader familiar with the menu that the catering crew at Congragation Etz Chiam offers as part of their standard kiddush luncheon writes in and points out that there is no mention of having one’s name spelled out in giant creamcheese letters in the bar mitzvah review below. My own brother—a real live Jewish doctor in training—even claims that in the sect of Judaism we were raised in one could not truly become a man in the eyes of God and be called to read from the torah without first having their name spelled out in oversized lox, scallion, plain, and vegatable flavored creamcheese letters at an after-services kiddush luncheon. Sometimes the letters would also be made out of whitefish salad, tuna, or chopped liver. Sadly a Google image search comes up fruitless as far as photographic evidence.
Is this something unique to our congregation or have any of you ever seen this?
Anyone got photos?
