“What you need is a good dose of Jewish guilt!”
Says a friend of some years standing. He’s a sweet man who I’ve often questioned the sanity of because he goes out of his way to have this proximity to me.
“You need to have more compassion for others.”
“I have plenty of compassion for others.” I state with as much passion as one can con. “I feel real bad for people with stuff missing or something wrong in the melon, you know, real disabilities. Like Jews.”
“What? Are you saying my religion is a disability? I’m sorry, Christopher, I think you’ve gone too far this time.”
“No way. You can’t eat pork. That’s a HUGE disability in my book.”
It’s funny, over the years as often as I’ve fucked with him (just about every time) he always looks at me with that same expression of love.
You know the look. Filled with the compassion you have for that meshuggener cousin who’s always sticking his schmeckle in the krupnik.
It’s that kind of love.