Notes on an 800th Post

"And it came to pass that I looked down upon the Internet and I saw that it was formless and void when it came to humor blogs about neurotic ill-adjusted Jewish Baby Boomers.

And darkness was over the surface of the deep but fortunately I had a night light because I'm afraid of the dark.

And the deep too.

And I said "Let there be a humor blog entitled Perry Block - Nouveau Old, Formerly Cute" and I brought forth a humor blog about a neurotic ill-adjusted Jewish Baby Boomer. And I saw that it wasn't very good, but I had time on my hands. 

And it was the evening and the morning of the first day, which is all it took because we're talking about a dopey humor blog, not the heavens and the earth.

And I blessed the blog --- as blessing things is sort of a hobby of mine --- and I bade it be fruitful and multiply. As in readers. 

I'm still waiting for it to learn how to add, let alone multiply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was how it began seven and one-half years ago when I first started writing Perry Block - Nouveau Old Formerly Cute.

Back in that day there were very few if any Baby Boomer oriented humor blogs, so I thought I'm was going to be famous in no time, riding in limos, doing cocaine with A-List film stars, and having sexual relations with women of every race, creed, color, and political persuasion, but not Republicans. 

I began writing in earnest but I had to rewrite the first several blogs in English because no one reads Earnest anymore. Some of my posts were funny but frankly some of them were unfunny. 

Some of them were so unfunny that they turned those who read them to stone. 

I'm very sorry for those of you whose family members read "Perry and Dick Cavett Do the Daily Jumble Together" or "The Sheer Joy of Quantum Mechanics." But at least your loved ones are with you forever.

Years later, except for the sexual relations with women of every race, creed, color, and political persuasion, but not Republicans except for a couple of Republicans thrown in for the experience, success frankly has not materialized for me. 

But I've kept at it.  And along the way I've had fun with characters like:

The LOJM - the mythic creature who jumps in front of the camera whenever Jewish men of a certain age have a picture taken causing someone as young and handsome as me to look like a troll in the picture.  But kind of a cute troll.

The Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer - over 800 years old and a blood-sucking creature of the night, but with it all, a mensch.

Cupid, the God of Love - who's resigned his position as God of Love and whose arrows no longer cause people to fall in love but only to admire each others' clothing.

Ma Nishtanah & Pa Rumpumpumpum- the happiest mixed marriage in show business.

and

Perry, the Bummed-Out Baby Boomer - one very neurotic, insecure, and regretful Baby Boomer who bares no resemblance whatsoever to me.  Except with respect to every single last fucking thing.

And now I have reached 800 posts.

Many people have asked me  if I would share some of my patented humor writing secrets. I must admit they are not actually patented, but they have all had their shots and are available right now for adoption.

Eliminate all excess words from your writing. There is no better example of this principle than my funniest post ever: 

Bop

Dog poop, I’m yelling.

Ha ha ha ha!  Takes years of practice, folks!

If you are not feeling funny on a specific day, do not push the work. Have sex with prostitutes instead. Don't forget to call me first.

Writer's block?  Yes, I can tell you how to beat writer's block. You just have to... huh!  Funny, I thought I had something to say about that. I don't know.  Not sure. Drawing a blank here. Check me later.

Never use the phrase "I digress." That means you have ventured off the main path of your subject and are adding stuff that you think is funny but doesn't really belong. Get rid of it and use it elsewhere where it fits. And guess what? This is a real tip!

Still not feeling funny?  That's enough with the hookers. Time for you to go back to work. I'll take over.

I'd like to thank a few folks whom I have probably never thanked before for their support and encouragement: Don Holley, Tracey Lane Delaplain, Robert Siegel, Monica Kulaski, Merilyn Jackson, Kate Konigisor, Lisa Lynch, and Ilil Arbel.  Hey thanks, guys!

No, you can't have my night light.

See you again when we hit 900 posts. Provided I'm not busy with women of every race, creed, color, and political persuasion.

But not Republicans.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Legendary Jewish Vampire Meets Trump

I don't know many celebrities, but I am privileged to know at least one. And the one I know is not your average Kardashian but one of the shadowy and dark Legions of the Undead.

He is the  Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer! 

I met Vlad some years again during  a vampire onslaught in Philadelphia and we became fast friends after we determined that he was allergic to my blood type, especially after I heavily seasoned it with garlic.  

"Vlad!"  I exclaimed, as he flew through my window in bat-like form and transformed himself before my very eyes into someone who looked like your Uncle Murray, only with fangs. "Would you like something to drink?"

"Sure," he replied,"I'd love to crack open a veinski!"

"You'll take a Cokeski.  What brings you here?"

"I heard some idiot is running for President of your country. Thought maybe I could rip his throat out for you?"

After some discussion, we decided that  compared to forming a Political Action Committee, raising 75 million dollars, hiring a top-notch public relations firm, developing highly polished negative advertising, and purchasing air time for the highly polished negative advertising from coast to coast, ripping Donald Trump's throat out might be a pretty good alternative.  

So we headed for North Carolina where Trump was speaking, me on a commercial airliner and Vlad in the avatar of a flying rodent in a fetching cape. 

"I'll go on ahead," said Vlad, "and when I get there, I'll order you someone ... I mean, something to eat."

When I arrived I found Vlad aghast at something he'd seen.  He wasn't all right now, in fact he was aghast!   (rimshot!) 

"What does that sign mean - Trump Pence?" he asked.  "This jerk is already renaming your money after himself?"

"No, no, it's not that," I answered, "we don't have pence in America. That refers to Mike Pence, Trump's running mate; he holds the indoor record for haircuts in a hour."

"Foreigners are pouring into our country!" Trump shouted.  "Muslims, Mexicans, Benedict Cumberbatch!"

"Damn," sniffed Vlad, "he doesn't like anybody, does he?"

"He likes Vladimir Putin," I whispered. "They hang out, discuss totalitarianism, plan traitorous acts against the United States, and admire each other's nipples."

"I'm building a wall!" he cried.

"He's building a wall?" said Vlad. "Around his mouth, I hope. Who's that big fat guy?" 

"That's Chris Christie.  He's the shameless, ass-licking, opportunistic  Governor of New Jersey."

"Well, he looks delicious! And who's the hottie next to him?"

"That's Melania, Trump's third wife. Trump manufactured her in one of his plants in Malaysia."

"And Transylvania isn't sending us their best!" bellowed Trump. "They're sending vampires, they're sending werewolves, they're sending the Bride of Frankenstein. Huh, I wonder if her pussy has those electric streaks like her head hair ...."

"That's it!" cried Vlad, leaping into the air towards the stage."Insulting the Bride of Frankenstein, that idiot is toast! Rye toast with chopped chicken liver and a dash of hemoglobin!"

"Go get 'em, Vlad!" I  yelled.

Vlad assumed the shape of a bat and swooped across the crowd directly toward Trump, then took a swift  detour straight toward the shapely neck of Melania Trump!

"Vlad, what are you doing?"  I cried. "I thought you were going to meet, greet, and eat Trump!"

"Sorry, man. If I have to spend eternal life with anybody, I think I might prefer the mannequin to the orange-haired idiot." 

And they were off. 

So maybe the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer didn't fully get the job done.

But for a blood-sucking creature of the night, he's a mensch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

                                     Dinner!                                          

The Return of the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer

Some Vampire Weekend! 
 Why am I the one that always has to do the sucking?

Things had become very disheartening for the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer, and normally when you use the words "dis-hearten" and "vampire" in the same sentence, you can expect bad and bloody things to follow.

But that was not to be the case on this particular eve, the eve of All Saint's Day known as Halloween. Vlad looked in the mirror and realized he wasn't getting any younger.  Of course, he wasn't getting any older either. 

"I don't even know what I look like," he thought. "Do I look like the young Mel Gibson in The Road Warrior or the old Mel Gibson in The Beaver?  But Mel Gibson is an anti-Semite.  If I look like the old one, no wonder I don't get more Jewish girls!" 

Above all, Vlad longed for a normal existence."Living eternally is not all it's cracked up to be," thought Vlad, "especially when we get to the point where the sun crashes into the earth 50 billion years from now. That's going to take some getting used to."

Then there was the need to keep up with social references.  Vlad's jokes about Marie de Medici had not been going over well, and nobody seemed to appreciate his spot on impression of  Calvin Coolidge.  Mostly, however, Vlad wished that he could have a human girl friend, someone whose boobs were as enticing to him as her neck.

If only he could be a tit man, not a nape man! 

It seemed to Vlad that undeath was passing him by.

Vlad decided to go see Rabbi Lichtman at Temple Beth Hemoglobin. Rabbi Lichtman was a very wise and learned 1200 year old vampiric scholar who had written the definitive Passover Hagaddah for Vampires, which substituted blood for wine and very skinny dudes for matzoh. 

If anyone would have the answer, it would be Rabbi Lichtman. Well, maybe Alex Trebek, but then it would be in the form of a question.

"Rabbi," said the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer,"I am deeply perplexed. Not to mention plexed and multiplexed as well."

"That's the trifecta!" replied Rabbi Lichtman. 

"Oh, Rabbi," said Vlad, "I want to be human!" 

"Human? That's a tough one, Vlad.  By age 450, one's personality is pretty much set."

"But why did Hashem make us vampires?  Couldn't he have made us dentists, with a thriving suburban practice?  Or better yet, lawyers?"

"Then everyone would really hate us."

"Rabbi, there must be something that can be done. I'm sick and tired of going to the beach wearing Coppertone Protection Factor Number INFINITY!"  

"If you're truly serious,Vlad, there is one place you can go that can make you human."

"I'll do anything to be human, Rabbi, including sitting through one of your sermons."  

"You are serious!  The place to go is:  Bosley Restoration Services."

"The hair restoration infomercial people on TV?"

"Yes, they have a special human being restoration service too.  But there is a problem; they do not always succeed."

"I should have known!"

"Oh, they can always change a vampire to a human, they just can't always give you hair."

Eager and hopeful if still a bit multiplexed  .... multiplexed? .... the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer bade Rabbi Lichtman goodbye, spread his black cape, and leaped into the air. 

A small dark bat flew through the night headed for the Promised Land, Bosley Restoration Services, a land flowing with milk and honey shampoo, where Vlad hoped he would finally become human.

Or at least wind up with hair like Robert Pattinson.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Good Old 1863

Taking a break from the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer to hop on over to Madison Woods Friday Flash Fictioneers.

The Prompt is above, the Story below.  

Vlad sure wouldn't like all that bright sunlight.   Good thing I left him home in his coffin.

The Good Old 1863

It was 8:15 on a Tuesday morning in Jefferson City and already they were lining up eagerly.

Lining up, that is, to climb on board Jefferson Lines Bus No. 1863, departing Jeff City 8:45 A.M. and arriving 9:35 A.M. in neighboring Mt. Bailey.  Most of the folks in line had been taking the Good Old 1863  for several months now, traveling to Mt. Bailey on a Tuesday for the weekly meeting of the Jefferson County Blame Someone Else Society.

There was Big Bob Byron himself right at the head of the line.  Big Bob had founded the Society secure in the conviction than anything bad that had ever happened to him was the fault of his foreman, Drake Beighley.  Big Bob had arranged the meetings be held in Mt. Bailey rather than Jeff City because they had a much bigger town hall which was already proving to be sorely needed.

The weekly meetings of the Jefferson County Blame Someone Else Society usually began with a greeting by Big Bob, who next railed against Drake Beighley for half an hour or so and then opened it up to the floor. Others came forward to rail against those responsible for their own misfortunes --- against the staff member whose fault it was Ralph didn't get a promotion, against the ex-boyfriend who caused Angela to give up on life, against the assistant coach who ruined the morale of Coach Cassidy's team, and so on.

It was now 8:40 A.M.  The bus driver flung open the doors and bade the passengers enter:

"Climb on.  Climb off.  Throw under."

That's the mantra down at the Good Old 1863, leaving Jeff City 8:45 A.M. and arriving Mt. Bailey 9:35 A.M. each and every Tuesday of the month.

All Aboard!

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad The Retailer

So, I like shiksehs ...

The times had not been particularly kind of late for the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer.

It was  early November and even the normally joyous holiday of Halloween had failed to cheer Vlad.  Like many in the current American economy, the Legendary Jewish Vampire was in a desperate straits. During the final days of the Vampire Boom several years ago vampires had become as overexposed as "Honey Boo Boo" and Vlad had found himself wholly unable to make a halfway decent Unliving.

This was also an election year in the United States of America.  Vlad had not voted in an American election since 1908 when he cast his ballot for William Howard Taft but less because of any keen analysis of the issues than because for a vampire Mr. Taft was such incredible eye candy.

As of today still one of the Undead undecided,  Vlad had to ask himself the key question: 

"Am I better off now than I was 400 years ago?"

Back in those days, things weren't easy for a Jewish vampire.  Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition,  but Vlad the Retailer expected it every morning about 8:00 and never later than 8:35  even on days the Grand Inquisitor would sleep in. 

In hopes of finding acceptance  in Renaissance society,  Vlad had taken up painting, and his sensitive Abbott & Costello Meet the Virgin and Child  did in fact achieve some modest renown as one of the finer paint-by-numbers canvases of the period.  Yet his art career foundered when a commissioned still life turned out to be way more still than life, and Vlad found himself fleeing from angry mobs decrying him a fiend, a demon,  and a monster, and they didn't like the fact that he was a vampire either.

Vlad chowed down on a Corned Beef Special --- consisting of corned beef, cole slaw, and some random guy from St. Petersburg in the act of pulling up his pants (aka Russian dressing) ---  and thought over the choices in the upcoming election. 

True,  President Barack Obama sometimes failed to come through on promises he had made, but he had never made any promises regarding Vlad's main issue of concern, a sane national policy of Garlic Control. Vlad understood that the National Garlic Association (NGA) was just too strong both in terms of political power and smell.   

Joe Biden seemed like a decent chap, Vlad thought, but he was not fond of Mr. Biden's home state of Delaware where Vlad  had spent 100 years one weekend.

On the other side was Governor Mitt Romney and Congressman Paul Ryan.  But Governor Romney tended to flip flop like a latke on a hot griddle cooked by a nervous vampire at daybreak, and Representative Ryan looked too much like Eddie Munster.   

"I'm not prejudiced," thought Vlad, "but I'm just not ready for a werewolf Vice-President."   

Vlad made his way to the nearby voting place where he found himself deluged by multiple persons pressing political flyers into his hands.

"Vote for Governor Romney," said one. "Here's a list of his positions, updated daily." 

"Here's a rundown of Barack Obama's key positions," said another.  "For starters,  he's not Mitt Romney...""

"That's probably enough,"  said Vlad. 

Entering the polling place, Vlad signed in with the volunteer at the desk before him.

"We're gonna need picture ID," she said.

"I'm afraid that's impossible,"  replied Vlad.  "I don't cast a reflection in a mirror and no camera can photograph my image."

"Sounds like you need to upgrade to a smart phone, sir."

"No, you fool," bellowed  Vlad, "I'm a vampire!"

"Wonderful!"  said the volunteer.  "The photo ID requirement's  supposed to weed out minorities and it's working perfectly!"

"I'm also Jewish."

"Bingo, two for two!"

Following a bit of persuasion followed by a bite of persuasion, Vlad was able to enter the voting booth and exercise his franchise.  As he exited the booth,  he felt proud that he had taken part in a great American process almost as old as he was and proud that at his age he was able to exercise anything, let alone his franchise.  

Vlad lifted his arms and, gently holding the corners of  his cape,  leaped high into the air.  A bat flew off into the night.  A circumcised bat, but a bat nonetheless. 

Vlad thought maybe he'd grab himself a quick bite and then go home and watch the returns with Wolf Blitzer. 

"Good old Wolf Blitzer," thought the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer.  

"Nice Jewish boy, but I can't stand that first name!"

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Legendary Jewish Vampire,  Vlad ...

That's Funny!

Interview with the Vampire

Vlad the Retailer and Barbara Walters circa 1932

Please allow me to introduce myself:  I'm a man of neither wealth nor taste.

That is, my 401 (k) took a beating just like yours recently and I'm going to need mine for a lot longer than you ever will. And as for taste, well, the Children of the Night, the music they make rocks my tuchas! 

Oh, and by the way, I'm not a man either.

I am the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer.

Mr. Perry Block, the proprietor of this blog,  has asked me to provide a special Halloween entry and I've been glad to  oblige.  The last time I encountered the redoubtable Mr. Block --- that is everyone who meets him doubts him --- I was attempting to frighten him and his young son during a vampiric onslaught of his native city of Philadelphia last year.

Now I'm used to being able to incite the kind of terror in humans that Bernie Madoff  feels whenever he hears the words "you know, your new cellmate likes you." But last year the vampiric craze was at its height and I was viewed as simply the Vampire of the Month by Mr. Block and thoroughly unable to scare him.

And Perry Block is someone who runs screaming at the sight of Larry King!

How did I  --- a nice Jewish boy voted "Most Likely To Be Drawn & Quartered by Anti-Semites"  in my 1257 high school graduating class at Transylvania's  Ecole Speciale for Blasphemous Vermin --- come to be known as the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer? 

I was employed by the firm of Shylock and Sons and my job was to audit the monthly output of fecal matter from the hovels of peasants of the realm. The job was fraught with danger from feral wolves, wild boar, and the toothless haglike spouses of audited peasants who daily lunged at me under the highly mistaken impression that "once you go Jewish, you'll never be bluish."

One night I met a lustrous blonde shiksa who seemed quite interested in learning all about the Kosher custom of never mixing meat with dairy, and believe me, I had no intention of serving her any dairy that eve!

I stole a kiss!  And then she stole my jugular!  And thereafter it was eternal life as one of the Undead,  nightly seeking out the blood of humans for my ages-old sustenance, and a great deal of work with Abbott and Costello in the early 1950's. 

Hey Abbott!!!   I loved that little guy!

I've submitted to one previous personal interview back in 1932 with Barbara Walters.   Although well along in her middle years at the time, Ms. Walters was still a tasty morsel  and I wanted to chow down on her.   Good thing I didn't because I'm really hoping she can get me in to meet Paul McCartney! 

Had a man-crush on him since I was 782!  

The interest in vampires having greatly waned today, I've decided to take a straight job. I'm replacing Daniel Radcliffe in "How to Succeed in Business without Really Trying" on Broadway in  November.  

Say, why don't you come see the show?  I'll get you comped.   Afterwards we could go get something to eat.

Oh, no doesn't have to be a big deal.  

Just a quick bite.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The Eight Days of Pesach Redux

Now that Passover has officially passed over, I would like to once again share with you the re-tweeting I’ve just completed of the lovely and traditional The Eight Days of Pesach.

Also, following the holiday, I’m too lazy to write a new post.

This legendary prayer represents the spiritual and emotional yearnings of the Jewish people in the same vein and best traditions of the Avinu Malkeinu, Ose Shalom, and the theme from Curb Your Enthusiasm.

The Eight Days of Pesach has been so popular throughout the ages that gentiles have even developed their own version known as The Twelve Days of Christmas, although it has yet to catch on. The gentiles have even gone the Jews one better and padded it out an extra four days to a total of twelve, although many feel this has accomplished scant more than to amply illustrate the significant influence in modern liturgical musicology of the concept of “pushing it.”

I mean, “lords a-leaping?” Come on!

The Eight Days as presented here is the version originated in the Havertown PA Talmud as opposed to the Babylonian Talmud, which has fewer pictures and no forward by comedian Richard Lewis. Unlike the Bablylonian Talmud which emphasizes strict moral law and “an eye for an eye,” the Havertown PA Talmud espouses “do it when the Big Guy’s back is turned” and “got your nose!”  

This explains why the Havertown PA Talmud is a much better beach read. Which is a good thing because anyone who puts much stock in its teachings had better start getting used to extremely hot temperatures right now! 

The version of The Eight Days of Pesach presented herein is also the one chanted earlier this year by comedian/actor Ricky Gervais when he followed up his controversial insult-laden hosting of the Golden Globe Awards with a controversial insult-laden hosting of a Passover Seder which, incidentally, was attended by the Legendary Jewish vampire, Vlad the Retailer  and the mythical Jewish creature known as the LOJM.

It is also the favorite version of The Eight Days of Pesach of the vainglorious Mottel the Itinerant Rabbi, Ma Nistanah and Pa Rumpumpum, the two halves of the happiest mixed marriage in Show Business, and Al Rothman, President of the Men’s Club of Temple Boray Perry Hagolfen.

Gee, I sure have written a heck of a lot about the Jews.

I ought to pick on somebody else for a change!

The Eight Days of Pesach

 On the first day of Pesach, Elijah gave to me:
An Afikomen hidden stealthily!

On the second day of Pesach, Elijah gave to me:
Two hands-washed-in-Dove,*
and an Afikomen hidden stealthily!

On the third day of Pesach, Elijah gave to me:
Three dipped karpas-ends,
Two hands-washed-in-Dove,
and an Afikomen hidden stealthily!

On the fourth day of Pesach, Elijah gave to me:
Four sons (one’s a turd),**
Three dipped karpas-ends,
Two hands-washed-in-Dove,
and an Afikomen hidden stealthily!

On the fifth day of Pesach, Elijah gave to me:
(a) five year-old the Four Questions sings!!!,
Four sons (one’s a turd),
Three dipped karpas-ends,
Two hands-washed-in-Dove,
and an Afikomen hidden stealthily!

On the sixth day of Pesach, Elijah gave to me:
Six charoses bricks a-laying,
(a) five year-old the Four Questions sings!!!,
Four sons (one’s a turd),
Three dipped karpas-ends,
Two hands-washed-in-Dove,
and an Afikomen hidden stealthily!

On the seventh day of Pesach, Elijah gave to me:
Seven wine cups; head’s-spinning,
Six charoses bricks a-laying,
(a) five year-old the Four Questions sings!!!,
Four sons (one’s a turd),
Three dipped karpas-ends,
Two hands-washed-in-Dove,
and an Afikomen hidden stealthily!

On the eighth day of Pesach, Elijah gave to me:
Eight lame jokes a-milking,***
Seven wine cups; head’s spinning,
Six charoses bricks a-laying,
(a) five year-old the Four Questions sings!!!,
Four sons (one’s a turd),
Three dipped karpas-ends,
Two hands-washed-in-Dove,
and an Afikomen hidden
stealth--i--lyyy!


****************

Thank you, everyone.

Okay, Big Guy?

Big Guy? 

Big Guy???

ULLLPPPP!!!!

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

* soap is not actually used in the washing.  Whaddya want, I'm winging this!
** "one's a turd" --- i.e. the Wicked Son
*** "Eight lame jokes a milking" --- or however many you have around your Seder table.     Hopefully fewer, but probably not.

VAMPYRE!

“Dad, you should hear the news on TV!” shouted my son Brandon.

“What is it, Bran?

“Vampires are attacking Philadelphia. They’re sinking their teeth into more than just cheese steaks!”

With that, the large window in the den shattered and a dark caped figure catapulted into the room. Then it crashed into the flat-screen TV and finally came to rest splayed out on the floor.

“Hey,” I said, “you’re going to pay for all this, dude!”

“I am not a dude,” hissed our uninvited visitor rising to tower over both me and Brandon. “And I am not a man.” 

"Who are you?” asked Brandon.

“I am the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer!”

“Oh, I see,” said I. “So Count Drekula, what is it you cannot tolerate?”

“What do you mean?” snarled Vlad the Retailer.

 “A regular vampire recoils at The Sign of the Cross. What makes you recoil? The Star of David? A mezuzah?  Curb Your Enthusiasm?”

“Foolish human,” scowled Vlad. “Don't you realize that I am over 800 years old?”

“Then why aren’t you living in a 550 Plus Community in Transylvania?”

“I do not cast a reflection in a mirror! Does that not terrify you?”

“No, but if you saw yours at 800 years old, it would probably terrify you.”

“Want some Manischewitz?”  Brandon offered.

“I never drink … wine!" Vlad and I said in unison.

“You are one derivative bastard,” I laughed.

 Over the next several days, the Armies of the Undead continued their horrific invasion of Philadelphia, and I went to bed earlier and earlier. I suppose it was all for the best because it was never crowded at the bowling alley, and I had the opportunity to begin an exciting new hobby --- whittling.

About a week later I was in the kitchen with Brandon when the window above the sink shattered, and a dark figure leaped into the room and directly onto all four lit burners on the stove.

“YEEOOHHH, that’s HOT!!!” screamed the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer.

"So we meet again, Noseferatu!"

“I give up!” said Vlad. “I’m used to inciting the kind of fear in humans that Bernie Madoff feels whenever he hears the words ‘your new cellmate really likes you.’ Why do you not fear me?”

“Fear you? I’m sick to death of you!”

“What do you mean?”

Because we hear almost as much about vampires anymore as about Betty White herself! 

“That’s right,” Bran agreed, “there was ‘Buffy the Vampire Slayer,’ ‘True Blood,’ ‘Twilight,’ ‘Abraham Lincoln, Vampire Hunter’ …”

“Tell me, dude - I mean, Legendary Jewish Vampire: how did a klutz like you ever become a vampire?”

“One night back in 1247,” related Vlad, “I met a lustrous blonde shiksa who expressed interest in sampling kosher food. In this instance, me. Little did I know she was a vampire! I stole a kiss. She stole my jugular!"

“Do you ever snack on fellow Jews?” Brandon asked

“I prefer Asians.”

“So you like Chinese!” I said. ”Then you’re just like all the rest of us Jews.”

“Sorry I tried to put the bite on you guys,” said Vlad. “Gotta go now; I told my Aunt Tessie in Boca I might stop and see her before I return to Transylvania.”

And then, bat wings fluttering in the night, he was gone.

How can I be friendly with Vlad the Retailer?

Sure, Vlad is one of the Walking Undead, and I wouldn’t want to be too close to him after sundown on Yom Kippur.

But for a blood-sucking creature of the night, turns out he's a mensch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~