When it comes to the Jews the glass is always half full

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“Otto, you know what I just learned?”

“No Mort, I don’t know what you just learned.”

“Well, if  you click on Netflix’ search button—that’s the little magnifying glass symbol—and then type in the word “Jewish” a whole bunch of Israeli and Jewish-themed movies appear.”

“Pretty amazing Mort. That’s valuable information. I usually just type in names of movies.”

“Well Otto, when I followed this procedure a French film entitled, They are Everywhere hit the screen; I decided to watch it.

A pretty interesting film—funny, irreverent and thought-provoking. It definitely merits a viewing.

And in that film, an actor—portraying a Jewish film director— sits and talks to his psychiatrist. The actor mentions that director, screen writer and producer, Billy Wilder once said, ‘The pessimists are in Hollywood and the optimists are in Auschwitz.’”

“Yah know, it took me several seconds to figure out what Wilder meant.”

“Mort, I got it right away. Because the way I heard it was, ‘The optimists died in the gas chambers, and the pessimists have pools in Beverly Hills. The Jews who were pessimistic about what Hitler was going to do to them fled Germany for the States and the optimistic Jews, the ones who thought Hitler was a passing phase, stuck it out in Germany and ended up in concentration camps. Wilder made a pretty astute observation from a Jew who got out of Germany early but who still lost his mother, his stepdad and his grandmother who remained behind.”

Yah, his quote got me thinking, ‘Optimism and pessimism are pretty complicated subjects. Everyone faces the same conundrum. Am I an optimist or a pessimist?”

“Well, Mort, I’m a pessimist. It was inbred into my personality and when it comes to Jews the glass is always half empty.”

“Otto, that’s a sad generalization.”

“But it’s a true generalization. Based upon our unfortunate history, it’s pretty easy for us Jews to look at life through a dark filter.”

“Yet with each new generation, Jews keep talking about and writing blogs on how to cure anti-Semitism or even better yet, on how create peace between the Israelis and the Palestinians. Now, that’s optimism. Proving once and for all that there will always be Jews who see the glass as half full—even in Auschwitz.”

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August 31, 2021

Ben and Jerry’s day with Magda Goebbel in Hell

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Ben opened his eyes and saw Jerry standing in the buff next to a curled up naked lady.

The dame clung to a massage table as beads of sweat trickled down her neck.

“Jerry, where are we?”

“Buddy, you’re not going to believe this but we’re in hell.”

“WTF—after all the good causes we supported while we were on planet Earth. This is our payment. This is our just reward. This ain’t fair.”

“Yeah Jer, it ain’t fair but we musta done something awfully wrong because yesterday, I woke up in this white room on that black leather massage table.”

Ben pointed at the table and the  lady resting on it and continued, “I met Magda and she said, ‘Welcome to hell, Mr. Cohen.’”

“How did she know your name?”

“I haven’t a clue but she definitely knew I was Jewish. The circumcision, I guess.”

“How did we die? I bet it was from eating all that ice cream. All that sugar, saturated fat and calories hardened our arteries and made us fat. I told you we should have eaten more yogurt. But you refused to listen. I knew death was around the corner.”

“Ben, please focus on the big picture. Ice cream may have killed us but we’re in hell. Eating ice cream is not a mortal sin. Well, I guess eating too much of it is gluttony. Ice cream doesn’t come with such a complex penalty. I’m wondering if our trip to Hades had anything to do with our support for Ben and Jerry’s boycotting Samaria and Judea. Maybe they cursed us.”

“Ben, who cursed us? Do you think we were cursed by those settlement rabbis? The ones that wrote us those nasty letters.”

“Yeah, like the Kennedy curse—that plague that Rabbi Israel Jacobson placed on the Kennedy family. You remember that story about Joseph Kennedy, that infamous anti-Semite and JFK’s dad.”

“I kinda do.”

Well, in 1937, Joseph was the US ambassador to the United Kingdom. He was on a ocean liner crossing the Atlantic to get back to the States. That ship also carried Rabbi Israel Jacobson, a poor Lubavitcher, and six of his yeshiva students. These seven Yids were fleeing the horrors of Nazi Germany. Well, Kennedy complained to the ship’s captain about the distracting noises coming from the mouths of the Jewish passengers praying on Rosh Hashanah. Kennedy demanded that the Jews be forbidden to continue praying because it was bothering him and his fellow passengers.

Well, that pissed off Rabbi Jacobson. So the rabbi in retaliation put a whammy of a curse on Kennedy—damning him and his male offspring to tragic fates.”

“So you mean, we’re stuck in hell because we pissed off some Judean and Samarian rabbis who put the evil eye on us.”

“Yup. We should have kept out mouths shut; been a little less anti-Zionistic.”

“Jerry, changing the subject a bit, why are we naked and who is that dame?”

“Ben, I haven’t a clue as to why we are naked. I guess the Beelzebub is into nudism. But I know the dame’s name. It’s Magda. Supposedly, she was a big shot in Germany.”

“By any chance, did she say her last name was Goebbels?”

“Yeah, I think she did say that.”

“And you schtupped her. Didn’t you?

I can tell by your stupid grin, the look on her face and those beads of sweat clinging to her neck.”

Ben closed his eyes and screamed, “Jer, you stupid jerk! You schtupped Magda Goebbels! She was one of the highest ranking female Nazis in all of Germany. Her husband was Hitler’s propaganda minister. I guess you do belong in hell.

Ben opened his eyes, glanced at Magda and cringed.

She stared right back at him with her Mephistophelean smile. A smile that said, “Buddy, now it’s your turn.”

Postscript

Readers respond to B&J series of blogs:

Dear Mr. Laitner:

Please cease and desist writing anymore articles about us.

We do not find them humorous nor witty.

Please do the world a favor and stop writing short stories.

Signed—Ben and Jerry

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August 22, 2021

The Wicked Son Discusses Ben and Jerry’s

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We sit at the kitchen table for dinner and our wicked son is tearing through a talking jag.

His mouth, lips and tongue can’t stop moving.

I hardly get a chance to break in and say a few words.

But his brain is in a state of brain freeze.

It is as if he had just finished a half vanilla and half chocolate custard at Dairy Queen.

We know he’s looking to get a rise out of us.

We know how much he loves getting a rise out of us.

We know he loves verbally fighting with us, raising our blood pressures and making our stomachs turn.

It is his job, his duty and his responsibility.

Why, because he is our wicked son.

So, we look into each other’s eyes and ask, “Is this why we had children?”

“Mom, Dad I got a great idea, for next Passover. On our Seder table, I think we should add two more cups next to Elijah’s wine glass.”

“Why, son?”

“Well, they’re not ordinary porcelain or glass cups.

No Magen Davids painted or carved into their bodies.

They’re made of thick paper.

Well, I might as well be more specific. They’re two empty Ben and Jerry’s pint-size ice cream containers.”

“What flavors?” I ask.

“Dad, cut the sarcasm. It doesn’t matter what flavors were in those containers. What matters is that they must be Ben and Jerry’s. One cup honoring Ben and the other honoring Jerry.”

“Pray tell, why Ben and Jerry’s?”

“Because they’re Jewish heroes. They love Palestinians more than their fellow Jews. They’re willing to stick their necks out for a cause. They don’t care about Israel’s security. All they want is peace, love and for people to eat ice cream. They’re a couple of idealists. They’re all about freedom. And Passover is all about freedom. Therefore, they deserve a space on the Seder table. Let’s fill the pint containers with Manichewitz, so that when Elijah enters our house he’ll have even more wine to drink.

My blood pressure rises to a level where I feel a headache coming on. My stomach flips and flops like a live carp in a kitchen sink. My stomach acids climb my esophagus as if they’re trying to reach the summit of Everest. I feel like I’m about to puke.

“Dad, we can even say a prayer to Ben and Jerry. A blessing like—Thank you G-d for giving us two true friends. Ben Cohen and Jerry Greenfield, great makers of ice cream and Jews with a conscience. They’re not slaves to the propaganda coming out of Israel.

Dad, what does this boycott ritual of Ben and Jerry’s mean to us American Jews anyway?

It’s none of our business.”

“Yeah son, it is our business and with friends like Ben and Jerry, who needs enemies.”

“Well, here’s another idea I have for Passover, in each Haggadah we insert a Ben and Jerry’s gift card and or a two for one ice cream coupon, the ones with the promo codes.

We can also tape a gift card on to the afikoman, So when the lucky kid finds it, he or she will be super happy.”

“Over my dead body!” I scream.

“We’re never again serving or eating Ben and Jerry’s in this house.

Your ideas make me want to vomit.

Son, if you had been in Egypt with Moses you wouldn’t have been redeemed.

I think David Mamet would have said, ‘You and Ben and Jerry are trying to find acceptance in a liberal society antagonistic to Israel.’

That posture is intolerable and reprehensible.

Now let’s finish our meal in silence.”

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August 2, 2021