Jay: For those who don’t know, Matt and I are your hosts here at Jewbauchery. Our topic today is (duh) tattoos. Matt has tattoos, I do not.
Matt: I have one. But it’s awesome.
Jay: So awesome it counts double. Plus aren’t you planning on getting another?
Matt: At some undetermined point in the future, I would like to get another one. However, unlike many drunk/stupid/dared idiots out there, I will wait until I know exactly what I want and where I want it and then ask myself many months later if I still agree. If/when I do, I’ll get ink number two.
Jay: True story: for the better part of two years, I wanted to get a certain brand’s logo tattooed on my wrist. Spoiler alert: it was booze. I flip flopped for a while but didn’t get it — for exactly that reason. Funny though it may have been, I would have regretted my decision down the line.
Matt: Smart mensch.
Jay: Past the obvious fuck-what-was-I-thinking, and even the straight-up religious aspects (which I get conflicting reports about) like any good Jewish boy I’d have to consider my parents’ opinion. They have as much claim to my own body as I do - they did make it, after all. If I came home for Thanksgiving with ink on my skin, my parents would have heart attacks, die, and then roll over in their graves.
Matt: I can’t argue that even the most inked Jew hasn’t felt the pangs of Jewish guilt. Shit, I’ve felt my mother’s guilt across the country just from considering buying a non-Hebrew National hot dog. But as Jews, we all relish our self-expression. It ignited a fire during the Jewish diaspora art movement and it keeps every yenta’s mouth moving. When was the last time you had a heated conversation with a Jew and they didn’t get their point across? Tattoos are just the permanent (unless you’re rich) ink version of the same thing.
Jay: Right, but (and I hate to fall back on stereotype here) points change and Jews are frugal — if you stop liking that french quote so much, or you no longer care about cassette tapes, or so on and so forth — you’re stuck having that opinion, manifested on the flesh, for the rest of your natural life — or until you mangelina up and get it zapped.
Matt: Yeah, yeah, I get it. Your body is a temple. Whatever. The whole concept of your body is a temple is cool with me. Most temples have some really cool sculptures and artwork on the inside and outside. Why shouldn’t my temple be allowed to enjoy the same thing?
Jay: Yeah but what happens when your temple is destroyed and the Romans steal your oil and, uh, candles burn for like 8 nights, um, and Mordechai, um. Triangle hats? What are we talking about again?
Matt: Hamentaschen tattoos? File that under the “I had way too much schnapps at Purim” argument.
Jay: Is there a consensus to arrive at here? Is there a right or wrong answer? Tradition says no. Expression says yes. Jew Tattoos - DRAW.
Matt: I think that the answer is that if you really feel like getting a tattoo, think long and hard. Then wait another 6 months of thinking long and hard. If you still want it, get it, but don’t hide it from your parents. And make sure it doesn’t say “chow mein slut” as opposed to the chinese character for virility.
It’s kind of ironic how the ancient Egyptians who once enslaved our people for our labor and the fact that we had the Big Guy on our side versus their Anubis (the god of the dead who had the head of a jackal) are now they themselves fighting for their freedom. As free Jews who savor the privilege of independence, we acknowledge the struggle our forefathers went through to reclaim our freedom and steadfastly support our former taskmasters in their push for the same.
That being said, there are unfortunately stories of looters and rioters wreaking havoc in, around and on the pyramids. Let’s make this clear. My great-to-the-nth-power grandfather built those behemoths with nothing but his bare hands and raw back (unless you blasphemers believe that the aliens built them). He toiled in the scorching desert sun for 210 years, making bricks from straw and receiving lashes from taut whips when he did not complete his work at the torrid pace set for him. We can assure you he didn’t look this good when he did it, either. Once is enough! We’re not going to rebuild them. Don’t fuck this up, freedom fighters — and best of luck.
More like GREAT Shabbos.
Brazenly stolen from the archives over at Next Shabbat New York, we bring you:
- 2 oz Stoli
- 1.5 oz Kedem concord grape juice
- 1/2 oz lime juice
- Club soda
Add first three ingredients to a mixing glass, shake with ice and strain up into a chilled martini glass or serve on the rocks if desired. Top with club soda and garnish with a grape or lime wedge.
Pro-tip: if you make these yourself at home, you can successfully keep such common Shabbatisms such as handling money, driving an automobile, using electricity, speaking clearly and making responsible decisions. Plus, we’re Jews: Think of the savings!
Shabbat Shalom, from the good folks here at Jewbauchery. Don’t work too hard, folks.
What is it about Jewish men that non-Jewish women love?
Kiddush cup refills.
When a Jewish man dates a non-Jewish woman (a ‘shiksa’, if you will), the burden of guilt usually - and appropriately - falls on the man. Why is he dating outside of the faith? What, he’s too good for Jewish girls? Does he want his parents to have a heart attack? What is his problem?
Allow us here at Jewbauchery to pose a retort: What’s up, sexy heathens? Where are all you shiksas coming from? What is it about brown hair and big noses that you love so much? Don’t you know our grandmothers are contractually obligated to hate you from the outset? Why do you find us so intriguing, so engaging, so positively irresistible?
Is it the chase of locking one of us up before her single Jewish friends who complain about their failed JDates? The mouthwatering allure of a brisket dinner the first time she meets her future mother-in-law? Perhaps it’s the realization that the core Jewish ideals - strong family, importance of education, financial stability, talkativeness - are exactly what a goyish girl needs?
Needless to say, there’s simply no right or wrong answer. In the end, our fellow Yids can appreciate the beauty of all women, whether they are black, brown, yellow or purple (Attention: purple women - please seek medical attention, you’re doing something wrong). This topic is one that women have been asking themselves for a long time, and that Jewish men have been secretly high-fiving about for slightly longer.
There have even been books published on the topic, a personal favorite being “Boy Vey!: The Shiksa’s Guide to Dating Jewish Men” by Kristina Grish. Let’s be honest, there’s a lot of things that stand out about men of the tribe. There’s the fact that they like to travel in packs, the comfort that they’ll pick up the tab on a first date, the knowledge that they went to a good school. If that didn’t get you, maybe the chest hair will. It worked for this guy, that’s why they called him The Bear Jew. And look, we’ve got lawyers, we’ve got doctors, we’ve got accountants — think of the savings!
To some of them, dating Jewish guys can be tough. So to the lovely Jewish women of the greater Los Angeles area and beyond, we at Jewbauchery have but four simple words for you: Step up your game. Claim what has rightfully been yours since those Roman soldiers ransacked our temple to find what made those Babylonian shiksas rock our circumcised jocks so hard. Hurry up while you’re at it, or there’s gonna be a lot more Asian girls taking your place at your nearest Harvard singles mixer.
Jews get a bad rap.
In pop culture, we’re often depicted as nerdy. Awkward. Stingy. Bad with women. Meek. Nervous. Jittery, even. Rich. Lazy. Sloppy. Easy. Weak.
We’re not those Jews.
Of ‘the Jew’, Mark Twain once wrote:
“He has made a marvelous fight in this world, in all the ages; and had done it with his hands tied behind him…. The Egyptian, the Babylonian, and the Persian rose… The Greek and the Roman followed; and made a vast noise, and they are gone… The Jew saw them all, beat them all… All other forces pass, but he remains. What is the secret of his immortality?”
And that motherfucker wrote Tom Sawyer!
The truth is, more often than not, we got our first handjobs from girls named Rachel or Sarah. At summer camp. When we were 11.
We hustled kids out of their chocolate during Hanukkah dreidel matches. We did it again during college - but this time, it was their money, and the game was poker.
We can talk our way into trouble, and once we’re there, talk our way back out again. We could talk our way into a free scotch - a few of them, for that matter. We could probably talk you into a taxi, and back to our apartment, and out of that dress.
We talk fast. It’s what we do. We are young. Hungry. Climbing fast and shouting loud and drinking hard. And for fuck’s sake, living.
Other powers may come and go, but we will do as our forefathers have done: put up a marvelous fight, even with our hands tied. And we will remain. And in this way, we will earn our immortality.
Did we get this way to counter stereotype? To advance in our chosen fields? To get laid? Did we get this way because the other way - any other way - would just be fucking boring?
Who knows. Who cares. We have places to be.
One way or another, we’ve found our way here, to Los Angeles, to seek our fortunes in a city where everyone’s seeking their fortunes. We’ve headed out West to seek gold in them hills. You get to watch us take it for our own.
We lead lives of proud Jewbauchery, and you - all of you - are cordially invited to join us for the ride.