What does a fetus resemble in his mother's intestines? A folded notebook... And he sees from one end of the world to the other, and he is taught all the torah. And when he enters the world, an angel comes and smacks him on his mouth and makes him...
There is a tradition, at the Eisenkopp Yeshiva for Fine Young Men, that when you make yourself tea, you fling the used teabag at the ceiling and see if it sticks.
It is called teabagging, and no one knows why it is done. Some speculate that it’s a reminder that...
Avrumi Zeivald was prepared to meet his maker. Or at least a maker. Someone’s, even if not his.
The Torah, the Rabbis had assured him, came with a lifetime guarantee. It was guaranteed to be true, or he’d be eligible for a full refund. The problem was, that as Avrumi’s...
In the hyperbolic style of Mishpacha Magazine. Inspired by bullshit like this.
Mild mannered and unassuming, most people looking at Gedalya Halevi Fleagenkrautz would not realize the man is truly one of the biggest leaders of the generation, a gadol who has brought thousands closer to Yiddishkeit.
In the corner, a...
Avreml Zingelwald kicks off his shoes and jumps into the freshly dug grave. He’s done this a thousand times before. It’s his job.
Yankel Vozserzach hands him the body. They’ve done this so often, multiple times a day, that their movements are fast, mechanical, sterile.
This lumpy body in its shrouds...
Sanbelat the Horny was horny.
He adjusted the black hat and suit he was wearing, wiping the sweat from his brow. A black hat and suit were the last thing you’d think of wearing in the Middle East, but this what Moses had worn when he left Egypt, so it...
“On Rosh Hashanah, we pray to be inscribed in the book of life,” explains Rabbi Feigenkrantz. “On Yom Kippur, Hashem seals the deal.”
It was a very narrow window of opportunity that affected the rest of the year, so try to stay inspired. Don’t fuck this up, ok? Rabbi Feigenkrantz...
The streets were windy.
Dark.
Grey and overbearing.
Little slits carved into limestone to accommodate passerby.
Endless tunnels, where people lived over the street.
Never walking in a straight line for more a few steps.
This was home. Safe. Familiar.
Where you had to worry about getting stabbed if you walked one block too far.
Where endless...
Velvel couldn’t stop dreaming about Magda Pritzovsky.
Every Sunday, he’d see her headed to the Greek Orthodox church with the extra little crosses on top of the crosses. Extra Christian.
She would always go with her father. He had a long white beard and reeked of potato vodka.
He looked like Rasputin.
She...
Current Weather in Hell
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