Hillel Announces Plan to Clone Jewish Students
Blood Samples to be Taken as Early as Next Week
In a press conference held at the Hillel International Center in Washington D.C., Hillel President Richard Joel shocked the Jewish world by announcing that in a new “long-term” effort to improve Jewish life on campuses across the country, Hillel will begin to clone active and knowledgeable Jewish students. The selected students will supply blood samples (temporary booths will be erected at local Hillels) from which their cells will then be extracted and inserted into unfertilized eggs. The resulting embryos will then be implanted into the wombs of volunteers from the Zionist women’s organization, Hadassah. The plan entails for the top 1000 students to be cloned every year. Said Joel, “In addition to the good Hillel people we’ll have by chance each year, we’ll have a 1000 extra faces to help boost involvement.” Students will be chosen by the following formula: 1)recommendations from local Hillel directors; 2) a score determined by the number of times the student has spoken about the Torah portion at Friday night services, minus the number of times he or she has left the building without returning a yarmulke, multiplied by the amount of matzah (in grams) the student has consumed over the previous three Passovers, all divided by the number of times the student has been caught eating gefilte fish in his or her underwear in the Hillel bathrooms. (Students who do not have a 3.0 grade point average or who have never led the Birkat Hamazon (grace after meals) will not be considered.)
In spite of Joel’s enthusiasm for the project, not everyone is convinced that “Yom Clone,” as the day the blood is to be taken has been dubbed, is such a good idea. Said Alan Kogan, a junior at the University of Arizona, “This whole thing is bogus. I mean, men are much more likely to end up taking home a yarmulke. We’re going to end up with all female clones.” In response to this charge, Joel has said that there is no excuse for taking home a yarmulke. “I’d rather have all female clones than one male clone with the genes of someone who thinks they can steal Hillel property with immunity.” Others have questioned Hillel’s intention to raise the clones in temporary shacks behind the Hillel International Center. In particular, questions have arisen around the dietary plan Hillel has submitted (in rather small print) for the clones, which has them being served kreplach three times a day once they reach age four. This too Joel dismisses as misplaced concern. “If you think we here at Hillel have any intention of raising another generation of youngsters who don’t know how to appreciate a good piece of kreplach, then you’re dead wrong,” Joel said, breaking into a shout, “dead wrong!” With that Joel thanked the reporters and quietly made his way off stage.
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Netanyahu Agrees to Hand Over an Additional .00025% of West Bank
Washington, January 4
In an official ceremony at the White House this morning, Israeli Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu handed Yassir Arafat an additional .00025% of the West Bank. Chairman Arafat, who is said to be keeping the land in his right coat-pocket, announced that the land will become a part of the new Palestinian state. Meanwhile, angry settlers from across the West Bank are blocking roads and burning tires in protest of the deal which is being called the Rye Agreement after the sandwich Mr. Netanyahu accidentally dropped into the box of dirt and grass as he handed it to Mr. Arafat. Said Avraham Abramowitz, “The Rye Agreement is the last straw. Prime Minister Netanyahu promised us he would not give up one more inch of the land of Israel. Now he has handed over seven and a half more inches plus a delicious sandwich. Who knows if the Palestinians will choose to use that sandwich against us one day?”
As a show of faith in the agreement, Mr. Netanyahu and Arafat have agreed to dance the hora together in a performance that will be broadcast live on Israeli and Arab television. When it was pointed out to Mr. Netanyahu that he has come a long way from refusing to shake Arafat’s hand, the Prime Minister grabbed his crotch, said that he had to go to the bathroom, and hurried from the scene. ____________________________________________________________
Movie Review: I Still Know What You Did Last Shabbes
I watch films according to two inviolable rules: (1) I don’t ever see a sequel; (2) and I don’t ever see Stop! Or My Mom will Shoot. The goal is to create a uniform set of aesthetic criteria by which one can judge a film. Every time we critics see a film, we must first ask: “Is this a unique and complete work of art which can stand as a fair subject for evaluation?” From this question I derive (1). We then ask: “Is this some kind of a joke?” From this question I derive (2). All logic, therefore, dictates against my seeing Danny Cannon’s latest, a sequel to last year’s I Know What You Did Last Shabbes, cleverly entitled I Still Know What You Did Last Shabbes. The laws of logic, though, do not always govern the world of experience. Each of us is a cornucopia of preferences and prejudices, a singular mirror of the universe—a monad (if you will pardon my use of a word that rhymes with gonad). Thus, if not careful to remain objective, each critic runs the risk that he or she will get sucked in by a film’s promises of personal, as opposed to universal, edification. It was out of personal weakness, then, that I shunned my two-rule system and attended a screening of I Still Know What You Did Last Shabbes. But can I really be blamed? This was a film that promised to intertwine two phenomena in which I take great interest: contemporary American Jewish film and Jennifer Love Hewitt’s breasts. And so against my better judgment, I sacrificed an impartial critic’s aesthetic for the sake of both my depraved coital fantasies as well as my as-yet-unfinished thesis, “Modes of Alienation in Jewish Cinema of the 1980s and 1990s.” In I Still Know What You Did Last Shabbes we are immediately brought up to date on all the pertinent goings-on of the original through the use of a brilliant cinematic device known as the “it was all a bad dream sequence.” We open with a bird’s-eye shot of Shoshana Popick (played by Hewitt) violently tossing in bed, unsettled by a midnight incubus. It is at once a captivating, grasping image: the all-encompassing camera angle, the meticulous shadows, the grays and the blacks of a stormy night, the rippling of Hewitt’s naked body. We next see Popick at the breakfast nook over a bowl of matzah farfel and kasha, sharing the contents of her nightmare with brother Sean (played by Seth Green).
As she narrates, we visit, via flashbacks, all the principal events of the original movie. We see Shoshana’s best friend Jessie (played by Brandy) questioning the importance of keeping the Sabbath by calmly depositing lit Shabbes candles down Shoshana’s socks. We see Sean summoning the spirit of the Sabbath Queen with a magnetic, electrifying rendition of L’cha Dodi, a performance which actually vaulted the song to the top of the pop charts for a full sixteen weeks. And we again witness the denouement, whereby the murderous Sabbath Queen reveals herself to be none other than Moishe, the beloved town shochet, or ritual slaughterer (played by Larry Bud Melman). The montage closes with the famous image of Popick relentlessly stabbing Moishe with the same challah knife she had used at the Shabbes Kiddish earlier that day. Once we are all caught-up, I Still Know What You Did Last Shabbes transports us to the island setting of Bermuda, where Sean is soon to be wed. The simcha is not without controversy, though. Sean, the voice of righteousness in the original, is now on the verge of marrying a gentile, the impetuous Felisha (played by Queen Latifah). Though the Popick family is relieved that the couple will participate in a Jewish ceremony, they are slightly unnerved by the reluctance of any rabbi to officiate, as well as by the couple’s insistence on concluding the proceedings by tickling a group of local dwarves. The film’s high drama arrives the weekend before the wedding on erev Shabbes (Friday evening). Despite rabid protests from Shoshana, Sean insists on playing Broadway show tunes on the piano in the hotel lobby. Sean argues that he isn’t breaking Shabbes, that it is really a “player-piano,” to which Shoshana inquires, “Why, then, did you spend over 1500 dollars on piano lessons just last week?” Sean, clearly exposed, decides to complicate matters by repaying all his debts—on Shabbes! Shoshana shrieks. “Oh, I forgot,” Sean sardonically replies as he coolly whips out his electric beard trimmer and shaves off his goatee. Shoshana faints on the spot, Sean leaves the scene cackling diabolically, and the camera moves to a shot of the Sabbath Queen preparing to leave her perch in the high heavens.
Shoshana soon recovers and immediately senses (the film never explains exactly how) that the Sabbath Queen is back and out to get her brother Sean. She runs to tell the rest of the family the news, but they are in the middle of practicing a barber-shop performance of “Ain’t Gonna Work on Saturday” and refused to be interrupted. Once again, it’s up to our heroine to save the day, and Shoshana wastes no time. She sets to contacting the Sabbath Queen with an intricate series of prayers, candle-lightings, and virgin she-goat sacrifices. But when the Sabbath Queen appears before her, Shoshana’s entreaties are to no avail, and we finally get the line we’ve been waiting for: “Sean must get his due,” the spirit whispers as she dissipates, “for I still know what he did last Shabbes!”
Thus does Shoshana square up for her final clash—she must, as she did in the original, destroy the vindictive Sabbath Queen—this time in order to save her brother’s life. Propriety keeps me from revealing, in its entirety, the nature and outcome of the ensuing imbroglio. Suffice it to say that I found the end a more than cloying cap to the thriller on three counts: (1) the demise of more than one character is delivered by way of pork-roast bludgeoning; (2) the true identity of the Sabbath Queen is revealed to be Peter Falk, playing himself; and (3) Hewitt’s bare, undulating bosom is once again permitted its rightful place on the screen.
NEXT ISSUE: STOP! OR MY MOM WILL SHOOT Brad Wolchansky graduated from Washington University in May 1998
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New Vices Personals
Love in a duck blind. Nothing excites me more than a man in hip-boots. SJF and avid hunter looking for 12-gauge romance. Wade through the muck and bag this bird. Must have own gun. Box 2744.
SJF looking for SJM. My interests include Talmudic study, Biblical history, and monster truck shows. Dream date consists of morning discussion of Maimonides, afternoon discourse on the Dead Sea Scrolls, and evening of rip-roarin’ excitement as Bigfoot crushes 20 Chevy Impalas. Box 2751.
Sarah became pregnant with Isaac at the age of 100. This 90 year-old widowed Jewish female wants some action of her own. Will you be my Abraham? Box 4190.
I’m a SM “twice-a-year” Jew—Purim and Simchas Torah. Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur are for squares; this Member of the Tribe likes to party! We’ll polish off some Manischewitz and bring new meaning to the expression “high holidays.” Box 1945.
Placing this ad for my son, a 37 year-old SJM doctor. Looking for sexual dynamo to add spice to my Boobala’s life. Religion and life ambitions not important. Good body a must. Box 4111
Talk dirty to me...in Yiddish. SJM, a unique fetishist, seeks SJF to mesmerize me with the Mama-loshen. Call me a shmendrik and make me shiver. Whisper pupik and I’ll be a fraliche mamzer. Schlep yourself on over to the
post office and drop me a line at Box 3324.
Me SJM. You SJF. Me: blond hair, blue eyes, 6-feet-six, and 280 pounds. You: blond hair, blue eyes, 6-feet-six, and 280 pounds. Let’s nosh on bagels, lox, and Sizzler’s all-you-can-eat baby-back ribs. Box 3118.
SJM looking for a SJF who can make good love and blintzes—preferably simultaneously. Box 3434.
Sixty year-old bachelor with Viagra prescription seeks 19 year-old with a lot of energy. Does not matter if you’re Jewish; I’m placing this ad everywhere I can. Box 1743.
Recently Bar-Mitzvah’d boy looking to cash Israeli bonds and spoil a SJF age 11-14. Let’s hit the town with a pocketful of dough and youth on our side. A siman-tov and a mazel-tov to me! Box 2080.
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Orthodox Scientist Discovers New Service Between Mincha and Ma’ariv
In the most recent issue of the journal Physics, Yossi Bimbaum, an Orthodox physicist at Yeshiva University, claims to have discovered a new service between the afternoon Mincha service and the evening Ma’ariv. The service, which Bimbaum has named Mendel Zalman after his father, is said to take place at the exact instant the sun sets. According to Bimbaum, “For centuries we’ve known that there is a gap of about .00034 seconds which is covered neither by Mincha nor Ma’ariv. Mendel Zalman will solve this problem.”
In making his discovery, Bimbaum used an Art Scroll prayer book, ionized helium atoms (alpha particles), a Geiger counter, an electron microscope, and 25 etrogs. (Bimbaum refused to explain the relation of the etrogs to the rest of the experiment.) Said Bimbaum, “As soon as I began to bombard the Art Scroll siddur with the accelerated helium atoms, I noticed something incredible taking place. Instead of passing through the Mourner’s Kaddish at the end of Mincha directly into the Barechu at the beginning of the Ma’ariv, the atoms were being deflected at 60 degree angles.” According to Bimbaum, not one atom made it to the Barechu (the opening prayer of Ma’ariv) without changing its course. “Something is deflecting those atoms,” Bimbaum said. “We have every reason to believe that Mendel Zalman is out there.”
In spite of this evidence, some scientists remain skeptical of Bimbaum’s findings. “It seems very unlikely to me that an entire service could have remained undetected after all this time,” said Bar Ilan particle physicist Avraham Bloomberg. “I’ve conducted the same experiment and found that the evidence suggests at most one or two prayers. No way is there an Amidah there. I’d be surprised to find as much as an Aleinu.” When I reported Bloomberg’s remarks to Bimbaum, a look of disdain flooded his face. “It’s absurd to think that one or two prayers are going to deflect those particles. It’s as if I were throwing a hard stale piece of kreplach at a thin sheet of glass and watching it bounce off like a rubber ball.” One problem, however, continues to trouble Bimbaum: “I still haven’t figured out how we’re going to conduct an entire service in .00034 seconds,” he told me with a look of great frustration. For the moment, Bimbaum’s plan is to have the service run on a high-powered computer at just the right instant. When I asked Bimbaum what he will do on Shabbat, he paused, removed a basket of etrogs from beneath his table, and began to aim them at me with great force.