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.

It's a Miracle!

Now that's a Hanukkah Miracle!

As most everyone knows, no matter how trumped up it is or may be, Hanukkah is never going to be as big and bold as Christmas. 

Then again, it was never meant to be.  

Although the fabled eight nights of Hanukkah gifts impresses at first blush, generations of Jewish children know the reality. While the First Night of Hanukkah you might get a cool set of trains, by Nights Four or Five, you're getting underwear and by the time you reach Night Eight, it's one half of a pair of dice with the note "just double it, kid!" 

But Hanukkah's biggest problem isn't the inevitable mismatch with Christmas.  Simply put, the miracle upon which Hanukkah is centered is just not the stuff of which Charleton Heston - starred Biblical epics are made.  Frankly, Temple-consecrating oil conservatively estimated to last a day or two hanging on for an entire eight days is about as compelling a miracle as my making it successfully to work when the gauge is registering below zero but I'm too lazy to stop for gas!

Wanna Pump Up Hanukkah?   Here's my suggestions for an alternative or two that'll have you shouting:

"IT'S A MIRACLE!"

1) One night shortly after the Hebrews’ victory over the Greeks, the skies above Jerusalem suddenly burst forth and mighty droplets of consecrated oil land upon the city!  The downpour provides enough oil to light the Temple lamp for a full eight days, but is kind of hard to get out of the cat.

2) While out hunting one day for sustenance for his family on his small plot of land near the City of David, a humble servant of the Lord named Jedidiah discovers oil. Well, the first thing you knowest, old Jed becamest a millionaire, his kinsmen and kinswomen badest him move away from there....

3) Just as the oil is believed close to burning out, the oil meter is discovered to be broken. And when the necessary repairs are made, the meter reads that there is sufficient oil to light the Temple lamp for another 6.45 days, thereby reaching eight complete days! 

This is considered a great miracle because a Jew fixes something.

4) Through the miracle of time travel, famed entertainer Jerry Lewis travels back to ancient Israel!  His predilections for grooming as legendary as his talent, Mr. Lewis lends the Hebrews enough oil to light the Temple lamp for the total eight days and returns to the present with his inimitable coiffure fully intact! 

To which all of the ancient Israelites rejoice in thanks:  "Oh LADEEEESS!!!"

5) The principle of time-lapse photography, not to be invented for thousands of years, becomes reality!   Eight days pass in mere seconds, a paltry amount of oil keeps the lamp lit throughout, and the entire senior class at Jerusalem High misses the prom.

6) The emphasis on miracles is shifted somewhat away from oil to latkes. Heartburn aside, these babies are your true Hanukkah miracles! 

7) You win at dreidel. 

8) God lifts his mighty hand and Parts the Temple Oil, causing it to rush to opposite sides of the vessel within which it is contained, creating a dry and safe passageway directly through the middle of the vessel itself!

What’s the purpose? Well, it certainly did the trick for Passover.


Miracles great and small notwithstanding, maybe we ought to just let Hanukkah be Hanukkah. It may not be Christmas and it may not be Passover and it may not even be your birthday or anniversary, but it is what it is and what it should be. 

A bit of fun and eight nights of light at a time we need it most.

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

"Happy Hanukkah, LADEEEESS!!!" 

In Search of Big Eli

What an Exit! 

(Elijah Ascends to Heaven by Marc Chagall)

Every year at Passover we invoke his name and welcome him into our homes even though he hasn't phoned ahead and doesn't bring so much as an Entenmann's.   And we marvel at the fact that in one night he manages to visit the homes of each and every Jewish person having a Seder and does it without a sleigh, let alone eight tiny reindeer!   

But who really is this ancient Biblical figure known as Elijah the Prophet, or Big Eli for short? 

We're in search of Elijah the Prophet,  a quest that encompasses a painstaking reading of the Holy Scriptures,  deep discussion with learned rabbis, and a quick perusal of Wikipedia including the plea for money at the top of the page.  As we await Elijah's annual arrival, it's a good idea to bone up about him so we don't accidentally welcome in the wrong  prophet and wind up with some of the silverware missing.

The origins of Elijah are quite obscure. Virtually all he know about him stems from the Holy Scriptures, the Talmud, and Elijah for Dummies, which is in its third printing.  Most visual depictions of Elijah come out of  the Christian tradition and are of doubtful reliability, especially those in which he wears a cross the size of a barnyard door.  

  Elijah?

Yep, looking really goyish here!

Elijah lived in Israel in the 9th Century B.C.E., so it's likely he was almost as technologically clueless as the average Baby Boomer.  From a very early age, Elijah demonstrated great zeal for the Lord and often demonstrated it for the entire class as part of "Great Zeal Show and Tell."   

As he grew to adulthood, Elijah became a prophet of God which is something like the post Jay Carney holds today but for much less money.  He became known throughout Israel as "he who inveighest against those fallen from the path of the Lord" and as "he who knowest the meaning of the word inveighest."  It is written in the Holy Scriptures at  1 Nudniks 19:1-4 that:

"Elijah doth call down suffering and destruction upon the faithless ones through fire and brimstone, short sheeting of their beds, and girl friends who lookest like Methuselah!" 

It seems clear that Elijah probably rarely got invited to parties. 

Elijah spoke out with special fervor against the worship of a deity named Baal.  Refusing to play ball with Baal, he resolved to test the powers of God and Baal by having altars built to both and bidding the adherents of each to pray for their favored deity to light the altars. Sure enough, Baal called in sick while God put on a sound and light show almost as good as the one at Epcot Center. Baal still can't find work today.  

It is written in the Scriptures that when his earthy sojourn was completed Elijah was lifted up onto the heavens in a mighty whirlwind, which had not been predicted.  Had a modern day weather caster like Cecily Tynan been around who could nail a forecast the way Moses could nail a plague of locusts, it's likely Elijah would have stayed indoors and wound up with an earthly sojourn culminating years later by choking on some white fish in Boca. 

Of course, Elijah is still alive and very much with us every Passover.   Each year at the Seder, Jews worldwide open their doors to Elijah, hoping for him to enter but also praying he doesn't eat much.  A special cup of wine known as Elijah's Cup is laid out for him because it's the least we can do for such a distinguished guest, even though he never thinks to bring us so much as a sponge cake!

Some thoughts about Elijah as we prepare for the Elijah World Passover Tour 2013:

How does he make it to every Seder  in one night?  True, he isn't loaded down with presents, but with 12 million Jews around the world, he can't be any slouch either.  Does he drive a hybrid? Does he have a rocket ship?  Either way, assuming he takes even a small sip from the cup at each Seder, maybe we should take his keys?

Does he actually drink from Elijah's Cup? This is the Jewish equivalent of "every mother's child is going to spy to see if reindeers really know how to fly."  Assuming your mother's children have already spied, best ask them directly about this one --- preferably before they ransack the house for the Afikomen. 

Does he ever leave?  Unfortunately, he does frequently miss  social cues like "Oh my, look at the hour!" and "Aren't you due in Cleveland around now?," but with solid technique you can get him out before Shavuous.  Just place his cup next to mouthy Uncle Claude who thinks Obama is a Muslim or let it be known that Mrs. Pressman --- the hot divorcee who showed such a provocative interest in him at last year's Seder --- won't be making it to this one. 

Why can't we see him?  He's invisible, dumbass!  If Harry Potter can manage it, don't you think Big Eli can do it without breaking a sweat under one arm, under his tallis?

And so, folks, this year let's all welcome Elijah with open arms and full heart knowing he has now been fully vetted and given a complete background check. In a season of friendly faces around the table, Elijah brings us his own friendly face which --- albeit invisible --- helps bind together all people, Jews and gentiles alike, in the spirit of freedom which is Passover.

Drink Up, Elijah!

  As long as you're not driving

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

If you liked this post, you might also like A Rickie Gervais Pesach!, The Eight Days of Passover Redux,  and Go Down, Twitter.

If you hated this post, I hope your brisket is burned, your matzoh balls leaden, and 3,000 year old Elijah never leaves your house and starts dating your teenage daughter!  

The Complete and Unabridged Adventures of The Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer

 

 The complete saga of Vlad the Retailer from 2010 to 2025 in eight action-packed (not really) chapters. 

Chapter 1 

Wings Over Philadelphia

“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!”

The date was 2010, perhaps a more innocent time in the world. But things were about to change in multiple ways both that very night and politically in a few short years. 

Suddenly 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.

                                            "So? I happen to like shiksas!"

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

Chapter 2 

Vlad Exercises his Franchise

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 (a/k/a Russian dressing!  Get it? Cute? Nah, not so much.) ---  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!"

                                     "Vlad the Retailer? Hah, that's funny!"

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

Chapter 3

Vampire Weekend or Interview with the Vampire

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 hag-like 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.

                    

                                           "This book is all that I need .."

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

Chapter 4

 

Vlad and the Rabbi

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.

                       Bosley: America's #1 Human Being Restoration Experts too.

 

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

Chapter 5

Vlad 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!

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

Chapter 6 

Vampire in the Mirror

A short play starring the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer

Characters

Vlad - a narcissistic vampire

Lestat - his friend 

Scene opens with Vlad looking in a mirror very upset and distraught. 

VLAD

I can’t stand it anymore.  It’s driving me crazy! 

Lestat, another vampire, joins him on stage. 

                                                            LESTAT

OMG!  What’s wrong, Vlad!?  What can be so bad? 

VLAD

I don’t know how I look! I just can’t tell! 

LESTAT

Of course you can’t tell.  We’re vampires.  We cast no reflection in a mirror.

VLAD

But it isn’t fair, Lestat!  Here I am, 800 years undead and I can’t tell if I’m aging well.  Or not aging well, as it were!

LESTAT

So what?

VLAD

Last night I was about to bite a young lady in the neck who was asleep in her bed and she woke up and began screaming. Loud bloodcurdling screams! Why would she scream like that?!!

LESTAT

Because you’re a vampire.

VLAD

Yes, but …

LESTAT

About to bite her in the neck and drain her of all her life sustaining fluids.

VLAD

Well, there is that. But how do I know it isn’t my looks that are turning the ladies off?!  How do I know I’m not turning into the John C. Riley of vampires?

LESTAT

That’s silly, Vlad. What makes you think all this?

VLAD

I ran into Victor recently and I said to him “Victor, I haven’t seen you since the Bubonic Plague.  My, you look great!” And you know what he said to me? 

LESTAT

 No, what?

VLAD

How ‘bout dem Phillies?  He changed the subject right away!

LESTAT

Maybe he is a big Phillies fan!

VLAD

I happen to know he lives in New Jersey. He’s always talking about how he’d love to sink his teeth into that delicious morsel Chris Christie!!! 

LESTAT

OMG, he would be delicious!

VLAD

But isn’t there some rule or law that when someone compliments your looks, you have to reciprocate?

LESTAT

Never heard of such a thing. Get a grip, Vlad!

VLAD

But, Lestat, whenever I run into any of my fellow vampires they react as though I was wearing a humongous Christian cross.

LESTAT

Vlad, of course they react that way.  You live in Lower Merion. Most of your vampire friends are Jewish.

VLAD

But I wanna be cute, just like I was during the Spanish Inquisition!  Tell me, Lestat:  am I Brad Pitt or Nosferatu?

LESTAT

I couldn’t say.  You’re just gonna have to forget  about all this Vlad. As a vampire, you’re never going to be able to see how you look.

VLAD 

But I want to look good.  I’ve so much at stake!

 LESTAT

Stake?!  Don’t say the word “Stake!”

VLAD

Sorry, sorry!  Okay, say, wanna grab a quick bite? We can jump on  a couple of dudes in South Philly.

LESTAT

No, thank you.  I … uh … the folks there eat so much spicey food they all have garlic breath.

VLAD

Okay, see you soon, I’m off.

 

VLAD leaves the stage.

LESTAT

Thank God he left!  Having to eat and look at the guy at the same time would disgust just about anybody!

                                               "Lookin' good today, Vlad!" 

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

Chapter 7

Vlad's Nephew, Who Can't Stand the  Sight of Blood

One doesn't think of vampires having families, but of course they very much do.  And there are Jewish vampire families as well, which -  as with Jewish families in general - tend to be on the smaller side.

The average Jewish vampire family consists of one or two vampiric children and a goldfish, which as a matter of self-preservation learns to swim very fast during the nighttime hours. Although my friend, the Legendary Jewish Vampire Vlad the Retailer, does not have any children, he does have a nephew, a nice young man only 247 years undead by the name of Bela.

 But undeath has not been a bed of thorns for Bela.

 "I tell you, Uncle Perry, " Bela was telling me, "I'm the saddest vampire in the world. You see, I'm a vampire who can't stand the sight of blood."

"How could it happen that a vampire can't stand the sight of blood?"

"It can happen with some Jewish people, whether human or vampire.  How come you're not a doctor?

"You're right.  I can't even stand the sight of spaghetti sauce."

"But it's just way more terrible when you're a vampire," muttered Bela. 'Imagine if whenever you sat down to eat steak and potatoes you felt like running screaming out of the room."

"I see what you mean," I said.

"Your steak and potatoes, " said Bela, "would look like just plain stake to me, if you'll pardon the pun.

"Cute. But your uncle's puns are  funnier."

"And I can't talk to Uncle Vlad about it.   He's a "beegan."

'What's that?'

A "bite everyone everyday good and nasty!"  vampire.

"That one wasn't any better, Bela."

"And I'm awfully hungry, Uncle Perry!" Bela lamented.

"I don't doubt it, " I said. "How do you eat?"

"In order to eat, I have to go to a blood bank and ask to make a withdrawal." 

"Do they let you?"

"Yeah, it's professional courtesy. Blood banks and vampires are both in the blood sucking business,  you know."

"I guess you're right, Bela, but why can't you just close your eyes before you bite someone in the neck?"

"I can’t bite anyone in the neck!  I have to hold my Noseferato in order to even think about biting anyone's neck, if you’ll pardon the pun."

"I can pardon it because I made the same one 15 years ago when I first met your uncle. But if these lousy puns keep up you may have to get your own writer!"

"I just have to relax, Uncle Perry. I’m going to go out and watch a movie tonight."

"That's a great idea.  What are you going to see?"

"A film by  a famous director I've heard of but never seen any of his movies."

"Who's that?"'

"Quentin Tarantino. A movie called 'Kill Bill.'”

"Umm, Bela?'

"Yes?"

"We've got to talk."                                 

                                  

                               "You might also like my 'Django Unchained,' Bela."

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Chapter 8 

Vlad Battles Count Steven of Miller 

Suddenly there was a loud scream right outside my living room window and a darkened shape barreled through it, crashed into my coffee table, and came to rest splayed out flat onto my well-worn den carpet.

"I can't believe it," I said, "you're still an incredible klutz!" .

"Guess I can't fly all that well as a vampire bat anymore," replied my unexpected guest.

"I don't recall that you ever could," I laughed. 

Yep, it was my friend the Legendary Jewish Vampire, Vlad the Retailer, whom I hadn't seen in many years.  We had become friendly years ago after he gave up trying to frighten me in an era in which there were so many vampire movies and TV shows that I found Tracy Morgan to be scarier than he was, but of course nowhere near as funny.

"Perry," said Vlad, "I came as soon as I heard that your country had elected that moron again. How did it happen?"

"Oh, the Democrats blew it."

"What else is new?  But there is a truly evil presence in this Administration, one that poses a grave - no pun intended - threat to your nation and to humanity."

"I know who you mean," I muttered.

"None other than my old nemesis," said Vlad in hushed tones, "Count Stephen of Miller!"

"You know, there's a rumor going around that he's not actually a vampire."

"Hah, some people will believe anything!"

"But what can we do?"

"We're going to Washington!" said Vlad, morphing himself back into a vampire bat but not without knocking clean over the coffee table.

"But how will I get there, Vlad?"

"Take a plane, buddy," said Vlad, "but by all that's unholy don't fly out of Newark!" 

The next day we entered the office of Count Stephen of Miller, Vlad having used his vampiric powers to put Trump's security detail into a dreamland of orange skin, bloated flesh, and a face that only a mother could love, but not that person's mother.

"So we meet again, Count Stephen of Miller, " snorted Vlad. 

"Vlad the Retailer! Damn, I was just about to kick an orphan and then you show up."

"I might have known you'd find a job with Trump," said Vlad. "What, Satan wasn't hiring?"

"Scoff if you will, Vlad," hissed Count Stephen. "I am ruining the lives of hard-working immigrants, destroying Medicaid, and overseeing a major measles outbreak thanks to that useful idiot, Robert F. Kennedy Jr."

"I see you are still giving vampires a bad name, Stephen,"  said Vlad.

"And that's saying something," I interjected, "since vampires suck the blood and very life out of humans."

Vlad shot me a look.

"But point well taken, Vlad."  

"I aim to stop you," shouted Vlad, brandishing a large hypodermic needle.

"You know l don't believe in vaccines," snarled Stephen.

"You'll believe in this one," Vlad shot back. "It contains concentrated wolfbane with a dash of Star of David!" 

With that Vlad leaped at Count Stephen and managed to jab  the needle into Stephen's thigh, and the sinister Stephen of Miller fell to the ground.

"Did you just kill an immortal vampire?" I asked Vlad.

"No, it will only stun him for a while," Vlad said ruefully, "but at least he'll know that whenever Trump is out of power, we'll be ready for him." 

Yep," said I, "notwithstanding Trump Insurrection 2.0."

         "Oh  no, Vlad the Retailer! 

        The (wolf) bane of my existence!"

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

Now some people may ask: 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.

The End