Hebrew Hullabaloo

Since the very begining of this humble blog I have presumed one thing about my readership: that they are all wasps. Most of you have probably never even seen a Jewish person. I mean how many times have you said to yourself "If I was a Jewish kid from Long Island, what would I say, how would I talk, what would I wear?" A thousand? Once? Either way I know these things because I often go undercover as a Jew myself. I can tell how shocked you all are but its true. Here is the story of my night in Murrayhill.

Adventures in Judaica
The purpose of this mission was simply to see if I had what it took to blend in. I wanted to learn everything about the Jewish life because I knew I had a service to my blog readers. Since I had decided to head out alone I knew that my outfit was of the utmost importance. I had made sure my shirt had stripes and my jeans were Diesal but I felt I was missing something. I would never fit in at a MurrayHill bar unless everything was perfect. Then I realized what had happened. My hair was dry. I immediatly dumped half a can of gel onto my head and was ready for business
I decided to head over to second ave in the hopes of picking out an establishment in which I would not be discovered. I knew exactly what I was looking for: A minimum of 20 televisions all showing Sportscenter. Then I saw it, a glorious eyesore called Wet Bar, I held my breath and ventured in. In the corner were a group of twenty-something recent graduates and I figured they were my best chance at full immersion so I walked over. I introduced myself as Joshua Manishevitz of 34 Long Island Street. They were confused by the length of my name because it is customary to be called by your last name. This is important because everyone is named Josh. After that initial stumble I regained my status by mentioning that I enjoyed making and spending large sums of money. Quickly they were placated and I joined their table.
The ensuing conversation was facsinating. It traveled from sports to money to sports like I had never seen. They all had recently graduated from a certain midwestern school. I wondered why they would leave Long Island for the middle of nowhere and they were stunned. It had simply never occured to them and I realized my error. They quickly became suspicious and started quizzing me on my life. I the heat of the moment I spitted out all my most ingratiating lines at once. I told them that I enjoyed wearing form fitting fake vintage t shirts that cost 50 dollars each but looked like they bought them from a homeless person. I mentioned my disdain for books and the newspaper. Unfortunately I then made my fatal mistake. When they asked me if my favorite type of girl was 4 foot 11 and completly worthless I said no. They pounced upon me immediately. I was beaten within an inch of my life and thrown out into the gutter like a common matzo ball. Although I was in intense physical pain, I felt a great emotional high. For 15 minutes I had entered the Jewish sanctuary and sat as one of the chosen people. It was an evening that I would never forget.