Bar mitzvah

Jewish Mothers

 

Jewish Mothers 

One thing that could be said for Medical School was that it was a great repository for Jews and Italians. If a Jew did not go into “wholesale” and an Italian did not go into “organized crime,” there were few other avenues open for these groups to succeed in financially. Because of a long tradition of bias and the closed doors of WASP society, they gravitated to Medicine or Law as areas where individual effort tends to be recognized or valued more than heritage.

Both groups are highly goal oriented, having been pushed hard by their families. The only difference is that Jews verbally preseverate more about success whereas Italians tend to resort to the physical punishment of a Baccala swat to stimulate interest in books.

Jewish:

  • What will happen to you if you don’t study? You’ll never be a mensch. You’ll always be just a nebbish, a schlemiel, and a nobody. You’ll live in a hovel. You’ll have no money. You’ll have to use food stamps. You’ll have to move back home. All the neighbors will laugh at a son who moves back home to live with his mother. You’ll never find a good wife. What kind of a son should put such a heavy weight of such embarrassment on his own mother? An Albatross on his mother’s neck. Why would you want to be such a nobody? And why would I want to raise such a nobody to be such a nobody’s nobody? You’re killing me. You know that? You are literally killlll-ling your own mother.

As opposed to Italian:

  • Shut up and study. If you get another C, I’ll bust your head open.

Verbal abuse. Physical abuse. Whatever.

I still think I would rather be occasionally swatted with a dried fish than continuously nagged half to death. The fact is, I really knew very little about the Jews. They were a minority at every level of my educational experience to whom I did not pay a great deal of attention; and far before I knew had Jewish ancestry. (2% DNA).

In grade school, I knew the boys occasionally wore funny hats that were OK to snigger about, but not to their face, or also that they got really mad if the school bully yanked one off their head and stomped on it. They also had weird rules about food and hygiene. Their Priests were called Rabbis, and even though they never got the holidays right, they still always went around saying they were the chosen ones.

Our own Priests usually set that one straight by telling us that they were not chosen at all, that they did not believe in Jesus, that they were responsible for having the Romans kill him. Furthermore, anyone who did not believe in Jesus could never get to Heaven anyway; which would be good as then the only Jew living in heaven would be Jesus himself.

Then when I found out they never had a Christmas tree, but rather called their holiday plant a “bush”, I really did feel bad for them. After puberty however, “bush” took on a completely different meaning\ for me, at the secular level.

At Duke, the jocks periodically beat up the nerdy intellectual Jews or tossed them around like footballs.

Imagine my shock then when I discovered that all the Jewish boys were circumcised, and that I was too. When I asked my mother about it, she said it had nothing to do with religion and that she had it done to me because the Pediatrician said it was the right thing to do, Arbitrarily just like that: and only because it “would be better for me in the long run.” Nothing at all mentioned about personal hygiene, or disease prevention. She also assured me that it did not mean I was secretly Jewish.

It was another shock when I found out that her 6th great grandfather was a Sephardic Jew, making the circumcision more like a cryptic secret ritual.

When I got to Medical School and befriended Michael, I learned a quite a bit more about Jews and Judaism; but being exposed to Michael as a non-religious Jew, I still do not believe I got the so called “kosher” version of the facts.

He told me the following:

  • Good Jews live by the rules.
  • The rulebook is called the Torah. Orthodox Jews obey the rules.
  • Most Jews are not Orthodox, so most Jews forget about the rules.
  • The entire culture of the Jews revolves around the anatomy of the chicken.
  • A chicken’s ass is called a tuchus. A tuchus, conversely, is anyone who behaves like an ass.
  • A beautiful ass is called a nice tush; but not a nice tuchus.
  • Chicken soup is a panacea. If offered some by a Jewish mother, do not refuse it under penalty of intense preseveration about its virtues.
  • Kosher means that a Rabbi blesses food, but most Jews don’t really care what they eat or if it ever got a blessing.
  • Chickens are good. Pigs are bad. Bad food is pig food or chazerei.
  • The ‘ch’ in chazerei must be pronounced as though you are nearly choking to death.
  • Jews traditionally avoid pigs, but most Jews do not really care what they eat. Bacon is OK, unless you are orthodox. A BLT is a “nice sandwich.”
  • Orthodox Jews who bring attention to themselves by wearing a Yarmulke and ear braids are stupid and deserve to be abused.
  • Having to eating Gefelte fish and Matzos is one of the rules.
  • Eating Gefelte fish and Matzos reinforces the concept that Jews are quintessential masochists as both are tasteless forms of food.
  • Mogan David wine is another obligatory holiday torture. But it isn’t really wine.
  • A non-Jew is a Goy.
  • A bad Jew is a Kike.
  • If a Kike happens to be a rich uncle then he is really a good Jew.
  • Bad Jews buy Mercedes cars, because Mercedes invented Zyklon-B for Hitler’s gas chambers.
  • It is OK for Jews to have sex with Goys but they cannot marry one.
  • It is preferable to avoid Goys and stick to your own kind; unless you want to use them for sex.
  • Jewish women only have sex as a duty to procreate the race.
  • You can tell how many times a Jewish mother had sex by counting the number of her children.
  • It is mandatory to have a Jewish son.
  • It is a curse to be a Jewish son.
  • A Jewish man is lucky, then, if he has only daughters because then his wife will still be obligated to have sex with him.
  • A good Jewish son is called a doctor or a lawyer.
  • A good Jewish girl will marry a doctor or a lawyer.
  • A shyster is a cheat who might even try to screw another Jew.
  • It is still OK to marry a shyster, as long as he is rich and never gets caught, like Bernie Madoff.
  • A Bar Mitzvah is a party thrown for a thirteen-year-old boy that signifies he has become a man.
  • A Batz Mitzvah is the same party given to a girl that signifies the day she officially becomes a Princess.
  • The bigger the Mitzvah; the richer the father.
  • A Princess is only a Princess until she marries. Then she becomes a professional shopper and begins to avoid having sex.
  • Jewish women hate to cook; they only do Deli. This is known as whining and then dining.
  • Deli is Jewish for: breakfast, lunch, and dinner.
  • Chutzpah means having balls. Real chutzpah is killing your parents and seeking a plea bargain because you are an orphan.
  • It takes a lot of chutzpah to tell a Jewish woman to cook.
  • A Yenta is a gossip.
  • Most Jewish women become Yentas just before the birth of their first grandchild at which time they automatically become a pain in the tuchus.
  • A Mikvah is a ritual bath.
  • Orthodox Jews will not have sex unless a woman first sits in a Mikvah. Regular Jews think this is stupid because if she happens to be horny, it is completely self-defeating masochism.
  • Orthodox Jews have different plates for every category of food. Regular Jews think this is impractical; and like to eat deli off the same paper plate.
  • A Putz is a foreskin and also refers to someone who is as stupidly useless; as is the foreskin in general.
  • A Putz in gorgle is a foreskin stuck in your throat. Being more of a curse, it is not equivalent to getting a blowjob.
  • A Schlemiel or a Schlimazel is a person with perpetual bad luck.
  • Historically, the Jews have always had bad luck; as well as a penchant for perpetual suffering, aimless wandering, and passive acquiescence to sado-masochistic torture.
  • The perfect 50th Wedding Anniversary present from a Jewish man to his wife is an around the world guilt trip.
  • Sometimes it is worse to be Jewish than it is to be Black.
  • Perseveration is the national language of Judaism.
  • A Jewish Christmas = Chinese food and a movie.

That’s the short list

It is also the short list of the fifty or so new words I had to learn to become an honorary Jew.

All this preparatory homework helped considerably for the one occasion I was invited to a Bar Mitzvah given by a friend of Michael’s father. The man was obviously wealthy because the party it was given at a private country club and was extremely opulent in its scope as well as the number of guests.Having never been to one, it was interesting to observe the way tradition and religion became a perfect rational blending with modern hedonism.

But I think the father took it to extreme when he attempted a literal consummation of the manhood concept by introducing a belly dancer as the finale to the show. Apparently, it was going to be her job to deflower the poor thirteen-year-old boy later in a motel room after she wiggled around an hour or so for the guests.

It was  hilarious watching this woman chase after the poor frightened skinny little boy who ran around the catering hall as though his very life depended upon a successful escape. He was quick too. Chunky butted Fatima with her clacking cymbals,  gyrating navel and her pendulous heaving breasts, with pastie covered nipples, never did catch the new little man.

I did have to admit however that it was better than the stilted Catholic ceremony of Confirmation that not only had nothing at all to do with manhood, but was followed at home by a boring little cake and ice cream party along with the obligatory smiley face poses for the family album.

Yes, a few forced smiles, posed with the same Pastor who tried to feel my mother’s tits several years later at a cocktail party. He was exposed for the lecher he really was when Wild Turkey being a bit stronger than Mogan David, lit him up and strengthened his resolve.

At least a Bar Mitzvah signifies something practical as opposed to an affirmation that a boy is now a bona fide lieutenant in the army of God, along with the Confirmation ceremony’s reaffirmation of chastity, sanctity, holiness, and piety. That is unless the young boy wants to participate in the secret Catholic rite of passage to manhood by bending over and pulling his pants down for the Jesuit who taught him sexual hypocrisy at Wednesday night Catechism.

Because it’s all about manhood anyway, the Confirmation party could have taken Aunt Rose’s Christmas theme to even a more adult level by having a stripper jump out of a giant white coconut cake replete with whipped cream and Maraschino cherries dolloped on her nipples. That way after having put on a brief but overdone reactive façade of false offense, even the perverted Pastor would probably admit to being furtively pleased.

Michael’s family had a summerhouse on the South Jersey shore, and although I would rather have been in the Hamptons, I did decide to visit there one summer weekend. That was when I found out what it really meant to be a Jewish son who had to suffer the slings and arrows of an inquisition inflicted by the Torquemada of Beach Haven, New Jersey.

Queries by Jewish mothers are like those tactics used by a prosecuting attorney. After being subjected to several malpractice suits, I learned the hard way that the best defense is to offer little in the way of voluntary information or elaboration. The best answer is always a simple “yes” or “no;” or a better answer yet is to say: “I don’t know” or “I just can’t remember.”

Politicians being investigated for corruption or scandal are masters at this defense.

When queried by an attorney the problem is that if you open even one door just a small crack, then all the windows in the house get blown open and the track of questioning becomes a nightmare of open ended pitfalls that spew forth in a geometric proliferation.

Here is how an innocent conversation goes completely wrong.

(How it should have gone)

  • So, what do you boys do with your free time on a Saturday night?
  • I don’t know. Really nothing much. Usually we study more of what we already studied so we can all get better grades than anyone else.
  • Good boys!

How it went instead:

  • We usually go out to bar.
  • Why do you go to a bar?
  • To have a drink and maybe meet a girl.
  • Why would you want to waste your time drinking and what kind of a girl do you think you might meet in a bar?
  • But what’s wrong with having a drink. Beside that we study so much anyway we never get to meet any women.
  • You want to waste your time getting drunk and meeting a girl in a bar? Do you know what kind of a girl hangs out in a bar? Not the kind of girl that works hard and studies and who wants to get ahead or get a decent husband. You’ll meet the loose kind that smokes and spreads her legs for anyone.
  • That’s kind of the idea.
  • Don’t be facetious. I’m serious. Nice girls, at least nice Jewish girls never hang out in bars and drink and smoke and pick up men. You might even get a disease.
  • Jewish girls can get a disease too.
  • Not the nice ones. Not the kind I’m thinking about. Not the good ones. You know the kind, Michael. Girls like Kathy up the street. Why don’t you call Kathy up and go out with her to dinner and a movie?
  • Mom, Kathy weighs 90 pounds and has Ulcerative colitis. She can’t even eat popcorn at the movies much less have a steak for dinner.
  • Then why not Cynthia. You know Cynthia. She’s a gem, a doll, a darling. Her mother says that all the girls in the dorm think she’s just adorable. The last time I spoke to her, her mother said she was even making all her own clothes.
  • Great. You want me to go out with homely Cynthia wearing her own knitted pants suit.
  • Don’t talk like that. Her mother and I were best friends. When your father was sick she came and visited. None of your father’s other so-called friends came over. She comes from a lovely family.
  • That doesn’t make Cynthia any prettier or more debonair.
  • Now you’re being rude. And how many beers did you drink anyway? Is that what’s making you talk like that? Beer? And is that what you are learning about in that school? How to drink in bars. How to drink beer. How to drink beer and find a goyisha smoking slut for a wife. How to drink beer and become a drunk like some Irish. What kind of a drunk shikse wife do you think you’re going to find in a bar anyway? Nice girls don’t hang out in bars. Not nice Jewish girls.
  • No, ma. They all stay home and make their own clothes. Could we please stop talking about this ? I think I have to leave now ; go back to school and study.

A similar situation occurred many years later when I leased my office for two days a week to a Jewish physician who used it on the days I was not there. He had a relatively domineering mother who even went as far as arranging vacations for him at the Club Med, especially to improve his chances of meeting the right girl. He did in fact meet the right girl. She was Jewish. She was a business entrepreneur. She was rich. She was pretty and she was personable. She played golf and tennis, as did he. Perfect, yes?

No. The fatal flaw was that she was in her forties, but even worse she was not interested in having children…and for mother that was “over and out.”

One day B’s mother appeared in the office, which also happened to have a private back entrance, inquiring if her son had come in yet because he had promised to meet her there at that time for whatever purpose.

  • No Mrs. B., he’s not here yet. He didn’t come in.
  • But it’s four o’clock and he said he would meet me here at four.
  • Mrs. B, we’ve been here all day and he hasn’t come in yet.
  • But how do you know he didn’t come in the back door? Sometimes he goes in the back door to do work in the back.
  • Yes, Mrs. B. but we have been using the office all day and I know he is not in the back.
  • But how do you know. When was the last time you went in the back? Maybe he came in the back door when you were not looking.
  • Trust me, Mrs. B. he did not come in the back door and he is not working in the back. I just came from the back and he is not there. Maybe he’s just a little late. Why don’t you just sit in the waiting room and give it a few more minutes.
  • He’s never late for me. Are you sure he’s not in the back? He never minds if I go in the back when he works in the back. You don’t mind if I just go back to have a little peek for myself, do you?

With that, she burst through the inside door to the office without permission, went in the back to look for herself, only to discover that indeed, he wasn’t there.

Then she came back out to the front, said she couldn’t understand why he wasn’t there; and then went into the back room again just to be absolutely sure about it.

 

No, no.  A  thousand times, no

 

© Photo  Keep the Faith

 

http://www.salon.com/mwt/feature/1998/03/src/13faith.gif

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Raging Hormones: Why puberty begins at twelve

 

Raging Hormones: Why puberty begins at twelve

Puberty is a difficult period in the life of a child. Not only are there rapidly progressive physical changes, but also as if mystically or magically materializing out of nowhere, unusual thoughts and proclivities directed toward the opposite gender emerge like a wild Blue Norther rolling across the plains of West Texas.

Most children probably do not have a clue as to the whys and wherefores of what is happening; or at least not until their peers start to disseminate both information and misinformation about sex. I have already mentioned my friend Eddie, who told me that sex was when a man puts his penis in a woman’s ass and then pisses in it. Meanwhile as their parents are wallowing in anticipatory dread about appropriately timing “the talk about birds and bees” in some cases, ironically the children could probably teach their parents a thing or two they didn’t know themselves; Eddie notwithstanding.

When the subject is finally put on the table it is usually accompanied by dire prohibitive warnings about pregnancy and sexually transmitted diseases; or if religion is piled on by evoking the sexual guilt card and the additional threats of eternal damnation, premarital sex becomes a crime against God; a Cardinal sin.

The reason no one can reasonably come to grips with the problem is a lack of scientifically based understanding. That is, the dichotomy between the societal sexual taboos versus the age at which puberty starts can be explained by the fact that biological evolution has remained a constant factor over time while concurrent societal evolution has become more technically complicated. Societal issues outpace and artificially grow further away from those biological roots.

This has created a significant paradox that unintentionally accounts for the mandatory sexual suppression of the adolescent, who is capable of reproductive breeding but who is also incapable of subsequently coping with day to day survival, making a living, and supporting a family. All of this was more easily facilitated when humans lived in communal tribal bands surviving as hunters and gatherers. For human beings it is simply the case that they are both genetically and biologically programmed by design to begin their reproductive cycle at about the age of twelve. This took millions of years to evolve, whereas our modern technologically oriented society has only taken a few hundred.

The emergence of secondary sex characteristics therefore is nothing more than nature’s way of signaling to the rest of the world that a child is announcing: “Hey look at me. I’m ready.”

The human species, by evolutionary standards is relatively frail. Without the modern medical miracles of safe habitats, weapons, tools, decreased maternal and infant mortalities, vaccinations, antibiotics, pharmaceuticals, exotic surgeries, and the other marvels created by life extending sciences, a human being would stand little chance of living past the age of thirty or forty. Face to face with a Grizzly bear, and without a knife or a gun; the bear will always win. In fact, the average life expectancy of a white male in the United States in 1900 was thirty to forty, which oddly enough also correlates well with the female menopause.

Age forty for a human being then, is a biologically programmed time for everything to be “over and out;” so to speak; including the rationale for a number of Medieval royal patricides.

Even so we are still doing better than our Cro-Magnon forebears whose average life expectancy was only twenty-five years, or our European ancestors in the Middle Ages, who barely made it to the age of thirty. That is why European Royal families married off their girls at about age 14 and nobody blinked an eye about it being a form of pedophilia.

To illustrate this point, does anyone not think it odd or ever wonder why Alexander the Great had already conquered half the world before he was twenty-five? He had to seize the day because the odds were critically against him living for even another half decade. Or why is it a fact that most elite athlete’s careers, including tennis, baseball basketball and football are over before they even reach the age of thirty. Or that for certain other athletic endeavors such as Olympic level swimming, and especially for gymnastics, that the age of twenty five is also considered to be “over the hill?”

Mortality issues were also the only omission in the otherwise exceptionally brilliant thinking of America’s forefathers when they drafted the Constitution. If they had even an inkling that someone could actually live to be 90, they would have set term limits for all political offices at the documents’ inception.

In some primitive tribal cultures the rites of passage to adulthood are actually the official signal of availability of the young man or woman for marriage and child rearing. These people for the most part do not fixate on the appropriate age. They fixate more on the biology, which they simply take for granted, with guidance directed only by empirical observation.

The rites of passage of the Jewish Bar Mitzvah or the Catholic Confirmation ceremonies are also neither mystical nor magical. They have simply lost their true identifiable meanings as a marker for official passage into adulthood. The development of breasts and pubic hair on the other hand, has not. What this means is that if a human being had not already reproduced at a young age, his gene pool would basically become extinguished.

Being just two generations removed from my Italian grandmother who was married when she was sixteen, this circumstance was not considered to be anything out of the ordinary; nor did it raise any eyebrows. Even today there are still pockets in the deep rural south where there are teenaged child brides.

Maybe OK as long as it is not your fourteen-year-old first cousin, which coupled with Jerry Lee Lewis’ notoriety, was more the reason that got him into trouble than for actually marrying a child in the first place. Consanguinity in his case was worse in the eyes of his fans than his getting drunk one night and because Jerry, in believing that he had more talent than the King, tried to drive through the gates of Graceland to kill Elvis Presley with a handgun.

What we now have instead is a society that has become so complex that many people are forced to delay having families until they are in their thirties or even forties, which according the biological species time card should be just about the time they would ordinarily become grandparents or even getting ready to clock out for good.

The ultimate, unanticipated ironic consequence of this longevity has left some of today’s generation having to care for two sets of children. Their own, who may not leave home until they are in their mid to late twenties, and their aging, slowly disintegrating parents who may even have to move back in on the heels of their grandchildren’s recent vacancies. This is known today as being “The Sandwich Generation.”

Couple this with the new modern insanity of men and women becoming parents when they are in their fifties, or even worse for men who become fathers in their sixties or seventies and you get:

  • Hey Johnnie. How come only your grandpa brings you to school. What ever happened to your dad?

All of this only leads full circle to the way it was originally designed in the first place; the early orphan phenomenon, which is summarized as follows:

You are born. You give birth. You die. 

Parents, teachers, and clergy lose perspective or understanding why they have such difficult issues when trying to control teenagers. The reason is that ten thousand years ago teenagers were more functional as integral parts of a larger group, and in fact were expected to reproduce as soon as they could to ensure both the survival of the tribe as well as the greater overall survival of the human species. Imagine, then a primeval cave in which Barbie was the doll who had to play with a real baby, while Ken was the buffed dude out hunting a Bison instead of playing X-box.

Hormonal cycles are finely tuned end products of a biological evolution that makes it virtually impossible to beat any rational thought or guilt out of a blossoming adolescent. 

The reason that puberty begins at twelve is very simple. It was designed solely for the preservation of the human race, but not at all for the preservation of parental sanity.

 

Raging Hormones
© Film: Written and Directed by Michael Dugan

 

Rituals Gone Wrong

Rituals Gone Wrong

People thrive on rituals. Rituals serve as reminders of cultural roots, religious ideologies and anniversaries that mark important milestones or events. On a more mundane level they may serve to mark any reasonable excuse to get together for a party. Super Bowl Sunday is one of my favorites.

Ritualistic behavior is really nothing more than a repetitive act that either ensures the ability of a person or thing to maintain contact and equilibrium with its environment or to eat excessively and get drunk. On a social level, rituals ensure cultural bonding, a reaffirmation of life cycles; while in the extreme or at the more deviant level, they ensure a reaffirmation of perverse existence.

For example, my office manager’s husband Fred thinks that every gathering with his friends becomes a first event that should be celebrated yearly, such as the “Annual First Time We Ever Got Together and Ate Chinese Food.” He also likes to drive around playing the same Flying Burrito Brothers or Steve Goodman albums over and over again; a habit that makes his wife have to restrain herself from reaching over to strangle him. Repeatedly playing ones favorite tunes, as many of us are prone to do, is an example of a rather benign form of ritualistic behavior that makes us happy and soothes our nerves; whereas for example an Aztec ceremonial ritualistic evisceration, sexually addictive masturbation or the acts of a serial killer are not.

Some ritualistic behaviors such as repetitive hand washing however fall into the category of the mild psychosis of Obsessive Compulsive Disorder.

Ritualistic gatherings such as those centered on a holiday define our common roots, bringing us all together to allow or to facilitate both celebrating and reminiscing about the good old days or to anticipate potentially better times ahead. Christmas, Hanukkah and New Years fall into these categories.

In the Catholic Church as well as in the Jewish faith, rituals not only celebrate holidays and Holy days but also center on rites of passage.

Catholics have Baptism, a ritual that abolishes Original Sin. They also have Confirmation, a ritual that inducts a young man, as a Private First Class, into the army of Christ.

In the Jewish faith there is the Bris milah or circumcision, a ritual that affirms Abraham’s covenant with God; then later on the Bar or Botz mitzvah, a ritual that signifies the rite of passage of boys or girls crossing from childhood to adulthood.

Of all the religious rituals however, circumcision seems to be the one most shrouded in mystery and the one least associated with common sense.

Even if one subscribes to the biblical proscription that it is mandatory to identify one as being a certified Jew, something that the Nazis used to their advantage in consigning people to death, this does not explain why the Islamic faiths as well as Eastern Orthodox and Coptic faiths also subscribe to this ritual; or even why the procedure is drawn on the walls of ancient Egyptian tombs.

This is especially so since there is no clear-cut medical evidence as to whether there is any benefit to the procedure except possibly for the purpose of allowing better personal hygiene, or as far as I know making absolutely no difference in the sex life of males who walk around with or without their putz intact.

The only possible reason would be eliminating the possibility of unwanted odiferous smegma ruining the potential for a good blow job.

I happen to be circumcised, for no apparent reason other than the fact that my mother was told by some Pediatrician that it was a good idea.

However the worst example of pig-headed determination to subscribe to blind ritual happened to my next-door neighbor’s daughter.

She was a Christian of German descent who had married a Jewish man she described as not only being from California but who she also referred to as being a “California Jew.” This is roughly translated into meaning that either he or his family, or both, virtually did not practice their faith at all and is equivalent to being known as a “Once a year Catholic” on Easter or Christmas.

However, when she had her first son, he insisted on having the child circumcised, which was done by a Pediatrician.But when the second son was born he went one step further by insisting that the procedure be done in the customary manner of the faith by a mohel (pronounced moyel).

A mohel is a person specifically trained to do circumcisions in a religious ceremony eight days after birth, in which some unlucky close family friend gets to hold the baby while this person cuts off the foreskin. Simultaneously the baby adopts the name of some other totally impersonal ancient dead ancestor.

In a more gruesome form of the ceremony known as a metzitzah, the mohel cuts of the foreskin after which he sucks the blood off the end of the incision. This practice was known to occasionally transmit herpes to the baby and so was largely discontinued as being an unhealthy; medieval, and outdated practice.

When you grow up how would you like to have to tell any of your potential girlfriends that story?

  • I got genital herpes from the mohel when I was eight days old and he sucked my dick.
  • Right. Pigs can fly too. Then you’ll probably tell me we need to fuck because tomorrow you’re being sent to Viet-Nam and you might die.

Like I said, brushing a little holy water on the baby’s head is quicker, simpler, neater and cleaner.

In any case, my friend’s husband insisted that the person to do the job was the “King Mohel” of Washington D.C., the mohel of all the mohels.

The only problem was that this person, who was in his eighties, had a senile hand tremor that resulted in him slicing off part of the poor kid’s penis. This accident resulted in an injury to the urethra that caused the urinary stream to blast out sideways and then required about five cosmetic repairs. The aftermath caused enormous physical pain along with emotional difficulties for the victim over his first decade of his life. It also almost resulted in a divorce as his mother then had her own cross of guilt to bear over letting this happen in the first place. She said:

  • The son of a bitch never even went to Temple and then he made me get this quack bastard mohel to do the job so he could push his own guilt aside, atone for his sins and bond with his stupid religious roots. I hate him. It makes me want to cut his dick off, too.

I told her I felt the same way about the new craze to let midwives deliver babies. I told her:

  • People forget that the reason infant and maternal mortality is so low is because we have doctors delivering babies. They also forget that the risk is still so high that these guys are at the top of the medical malpractice food chain both in litigation as well as premium costs.

It wasn’t really funny at all, but years later when I thought about it sarcastically, I could envision some tremulous old mohel in 500 B.C. bending over a baby, slicing off the poor kid’s entire penis and handing the baby back to his mother saying:

  • Congratulations. Now it’s a baby gohel.

 

 

Tools of the Trade

The Tools of the Trade

(Circumcision kit: Photo source: Wikipedia)