The Later Prophets

Time wasn’t on Barry’s side anymore. Once considered an asset to his workplace, he was now overshadowed by younger clerks, and now that he was no longer the new face at work, people were getting tired of him. Just what it was they were tired of, nobody knows. Barry was quiet and didn’t intrude on anyone, which of course struck everyone as being aloof. You couldn’t win.

Barry Weiss worked in a large government building constructed in marble and stone, the traditional classic metropolitan style. Where there wasn’t marble there was granite, and as such the building was so incredibly dense that cell phone calls couldn’t be made or received. One had to stand outside in order to make mobile calls.

Barry turned his computer on and opened up his emails. The first one was from the Director and made him laugh.

“TO: All Departmental Personnel
SUBJECT: Cultural Diversity Month
As you all know, the month of April is Cultural Diversitty month. This month we salute all minorities, races and creeds by having hour annual cultural Diversity lunch on Friday, April 10 at 11:30 aM. Bring you’re favorite dish from you’re cultural childhood, it will be fun!
Examples: Burritos, tacos, enchilades, and other ethnic delites. See you their!
Director Dan Ashman
Los Angeles County Department of Legislators
NOTE: All governmental correspondence should be treated as confidential.”

Dan Ashman had the highest position in his Department but still had trouble stringing together a sentence. Cerebral Palsy victims were far more accomplished at expressing themselves.

Barry’s intercom line rang. “Hello?”
“Barry could you step inside my office? I need to see you”. It was his boss, Mrs. Weston.

Mrs. Weston’s office had no windows and the walls had generic art prints framed in the common manner. Her office furniture was like a wrestling match between blonde wood and battleship gray metal. Her hair had the same combination with the battleship gray metallic look winning. Her face was fat and overly simple, trying hard to look contemplative.

When Barry stepped into Mrs. Weston’s office he sat down. She kept on writing as if he wasn’t there. After a minute of ignoring him she looked up and said, “Could you close the door?”
Barry got up and closed the door and as soon as he sat down she said.
“Barry, this is about that request for time off next week. I’m afraid I can’t approve your time off, I’m sorry”.
“But Tuesday and Wednesday is Passover”.
“Yes I know it’s one of those Jewish things, but we’re really booked with deadlines that we have to meet by the end of next week. We’re short-staffed enough as it is, and Nyesha’s still out on vacation”.
“She’s been on vacation for three weeks”.
“Well, that’s not really your concern, but anyway, I hope you understand the position I’m in. Sometimes I wish you’d stop and consider the responsibilities a boss like me faces every day”.
“What if Nyesha returns next week?”
“Barry, I’m afraid it’s not negotiable”. Her phone rang which she promptly picked up. “Yes?” She looked at Barry. “We’re done”.
Barry got up to leave.
“Yes, yes, of course I’m listening to it right now”, she said and then raised her chin from the phone. “And please close the door after you!”
Barry closed the door and walked back to his cubicle.

The office was now an audio flood of broadcasts from the Los Angeles County Legislators meeting. Everyone had the meeting turned on live from their computers, so the whole room boomed with the sounds of the Los Angeles County Legislators arguing and discussing important matters. Barry was bored of government and bored with politics.

“You didn’t get your time off, huh?” his work mate Jerry asked him as he sat down.
“How can you tell?”
“The world famous Walk of Shame from the boss’ office”. They both laughed.
“Thanks for the laugh. I wish I had more to choose from”.
“Smile! Look at the sun shining and the flowers blooming! Spring is here!” Jerry waved his fat arms around. The only thing thin on Jerry was his face. The rest of him was big, thick and jolly.
“We used to be able to see the sun and the flowers and all that shit until Weston moved us into the basement. Now all we have are a lot of walls and exhaust from the parking lot”.
“Aw, what do you want to see a bunch of windows for? They’re too bright, you might blind yourself!”
“THERE’S TOO MUCH TALKING GOING ON. ARE MY REPORTS READY, BARRY?” Barry’s supervisor Miss Salazar barked at them. Miss Salazar was short and fat like a little dog and just like one did a lot of barking.

Two hours later Barry was wrapping up a ten-page report with databases and charts drafted by him. It was a pain in the ass to draft with the meeting squalling all around him, but he managed to slap it all together into something presentable.

His co-worker Ameer was across the room goofing around with Talia. He used to be pretty good friends with her until Ameer joined the section, but now she talked to him all the time and ignored Barry. Miss Salazar raced over to Barry’s cubicle on her stumpy legs and barked at him.

“Barry! I need you to get started on the meeting minutes and we need to have a final draft completed by tomorrow morning!”
“Wasn’t Ameer supposed to do the minutes? He told me you assigned it to him”.
“Now, Barry! Ameer is too busy with other assignments so I need you to step up and pick up the slack!”
Barry looked across the room at Ameer bullshitting around with Talia.

“I’ll draft the minutes but I think next time Ameer should do it next time like you said he would”.
“Why are you being so rude to me? Do you remember what I said the last time you were rude to me?”
“No, when was that?”
“You know, you remember!”
“No, I don’t remember, when was that?”
“Remember how last month I asked you to do something and you raised your voice at me?” Who the fuck remembers shit like that and why?, thought Barry.
“No I don’t and obviously I have a report to finish because Ameer”, Barry waved his arm towards Ameer giving him a dirty look, “has too many responsibilities keeping him so busy”.
“Well if you’re going to be that confrontational I’m afraid I’m going to have to write you up. I really didn’t want to have to do this but I have no choice”, Miss Salazar, thick, short single mother’s voice rose. “YOU MADE ME WRITE YOU UP, I DIDN’T WANT TO DO THIS I’M A NICE PERSON BUT YOU’RE JUST PLAIN RUDE!”

Half an hour later, Barry took his afternoon break. He finally got a glimpse of the sunshine, the wind blowing his dark hair around. He stood at the bottom of the huge marble and granite staircase the fronted the august building he worked at. There was a bus stop by the sidewalk in front, stopping every so often and letting high school kids out. They seemed very happy.

Barry straightened his tie and lit up his cigar, puffing it a few times to make sure the flames catch. The flames seared his sinuses and his throat giving him a smooth, delirious high. He took a quick look at the hills miles away from him, and then opened up his Bible. It was opened up for The Later Prophets, reading a few lines from the Book of Micah:

“Woe to them that devise iniquity and work evil upon their beds when the morning is light, they practice it, because it is in the power of their hand. And they covet fields, and take them by violence; and houses, and take them away; so they oppress a man and his house, even a man and his heritage”.

Barry looked up from his Bible and saw Talia standing by the marble balcony overlooking the street, pretending not to notice him reading, unconvincingly. He looked back down at his Bible, turning to the Book of Habakkuk:

“Woe to him that getteth unjust gain to his house, that he may set his nest on high, that he may be delivered from the power of evil! Thou hast consulted shame to thy house by cutting off many peoples, and sinned against thy soul. For the stone shall cry out of the wall, and the beam out of the timber shall answer it. Woe to him that buildeth a town with blood and stablisheth a city by iniquity!”

Barry took another puff from his cigar, checking his watch to see how much time he had left before he had to return to his daily reporting. A bus pulled up at the curb and a couple of laughing teenagers jumped off, yelling and jumping around. Barry turned to the Book of Zephaniah:

“The great day of the Lord is near…that day is a day of wrath, a day of trouble and distress, a day of wasteness and desolation, a day of darkness and gloominess, a day of clouds and thick darkness. And I will bring destruction upon men that they shall walk like blind men because they have sinned against the Lord, and their blood shall be poured out as dust and their flesh as dung”.

The Bible was funny. Barry laughed at the last line and realized that if he was going to get written up for insubordination he was going to do it with God’s blessing. He decided right then and there he was going to synagogue the following week for Passover. With a big smile he slammed the Bible shut, crushed the fat cigar out on the marble wall and slowly strode back up the steps of the obscene building.

An Electro-Swing Hanukkah

This week - Saturday night, December 8th -brings the arrival of Chanukah, Hanukkah, or the Festival of Lights. Hanukkah is an 8-day festival represented by a candle lit for every day on the Menorah, the candelabra used for this special occasion. The Menorah is used to commemorate the miracle of a single day’s portion of olive oil lasting eight days, the olive oil being important for lighting the candles in the newly rededicated Second Temple.

One of the most significant aspects of Hanukkah is that it reflects an image of Judah and The Maccabees, Jewish rebels that fought against the tyrannical Antiochus Epiphanes of Greece. In light of the tragedy of The Holocaust it was important to remember that there were times in Jewish history when Jews have risen up and rebelled to reclaim their right to be Jews.

Jimmy's Gang - Parov Stelar

For the next eight nights candles will be lit and added each night on my Menorah (pictured above). Buying Hanukkah candles has always been pretty cool. Nowadays you can get candles in silver, gold, or multicolor with weird little wax appliqués on them. I get a different color and design each year. The wax is usually in a braided shape with the appliqués hanging off them like moon craters. You can find them at Bed Bath & Beyond in addition to any religious store.

Rock It For Me - Caravan Palace

No Jewish holiday is complete without a seasonal delicacy to make the holiday more fun, and that’s where latkes come in. Potato pancakes with either apple sauce or sour cream on the side, even non-Jews enjoy eating this all year round, but they’re the official delicacy for Hanukkah.

Be-Bop 2 Hip-Hop - Jem Stone

Another festival custom is spinning the dreidel, a diminutive spinning top that we played when we were kids. Each side of the dreidel had a different letter, which in Hebrew has a numerological value to it. When the dreidel stopped spinning and fell on the letter with the highest number value the kid with the highest number would win all the chocolate coins or bubble gum coins the other kids would put up in the betting pot. I always preferred the chocolate coins to the bubble gum coins because the bubble gum was always too hard and made your jaws ache!

The Gasworks Gang - Jem Stone

After all is said and done you can’t beat an awesome holiday season, and growing up in snowy Providence, Rhode Island in 1961 was the best. Predominantly Roman Catholic (a lot of Italians lived there) even my family loved going to downtown Providence and looking at the great department store displays with Christmas toys and electric trains and the humongous Christmas trees all tricked out with billions of lights. It was pre-zactly just like Bob Clark’s classic film “A Christmas Story” with all the elaborate fancy toy displays.

Hotel Axos - Parov Stelar

After we checked out the great store displays all over the metro area we drove through the residential areas to see who had the most extravagant display in front of their house. Some people went all out with an elaborately built manger (like in “Diner”) or a Santa’s Village that would make Walt Disney blush. One manger showcased statues painted and lit so ghouly grotesque the Three Wise Men looked more like Dracula, Wolfman and Frankenstein. Scary. I guess the bottom line with this holiday season that it’s all about THE LIGHTS, Christmas or Hanukkah. The snow might be falling but it’s all about THE LIGHTS.

The morning after this Xmas phantasmagoria had us bobsledding down the hilly streets of Taft Avenue, Rhode Island Jewish kids sledding in the snow with the starry spire of Temple Emanuel standing tall at the top of the hill like a sentinel protecting us from any further Antiochus Epiphanes in the future.

And all I want for Hanukkah is lots and lots of Burberry Prorsum clothes for men, or at least the dough to buy it with!

Parov Stelar will be appearing at The Nokia Theatre in Los Angeles on Friday, December 14, 2012 at 8 pm.

God's Little Darkroom

I don’t remember how I met him, maybe he approached me, maybe I approached him, Yosef was a very cool guy for an Orthodox Jew. He talked the hip lingo, didn’t cop a self-righteous attitude as many did, loved science fiction, and collected vintage Citroens. Yosef was part of some Citroen collectors club so there were four parked in his driveway, some spilling over into the front lawn. He wasn’t a diamond dealer, he was an astronomer who worked at Griffith Observatory. If all Orthodox Jews were as hip as he was, well…

“You know, Andy, Citroens are pretty far-out cars, they have the most amazing pneumatic system that protects them. Let’s go see ‘Barbarella’ tomorrow night, man. It’s playing in Sherman Oaks, I’ll drive”.
“Barbarella, huh? Does Miriam know?” Miriam was his wife.
“No”, he smiled sheepishly. “We’ll tell her we’re going to the Observatory. She hates astronomy”.

Miriam didn’t hate astronomy, she hated everything. A cold, unfriendly Catholic girl who converted to Judaism, Mary, I mean Miriam had “NUN” written all over her. With no makeup on and her shawl around her head instead of a habit, Miriam didn’t resemble a Jewish wife so much as she did an angry nun. And acted like one, too.

It wasn’t unusual, though. After hanging out at Chez Yosef on the Sabbath I got to meet a few of their friends, who were either: a) Jewish ex-hippies who got on the rehab train from acid, speed or heroin; or, b) they were converts to Judaism. So when you met a Nordic-looking kid named Moshe Johnson, you shouldn’t be surprised.

I didn’t mind them at all except when they acted like they knew Judaism better than I did.
Yosef’s wife Miriam was like that.
“That’s not the way you hold a menorah”.
“You can’t be alone in a room with a married woman. It’s in the Torah”.
No it’s not, Mother Superior. I went to Hebrew school while you were eating pork out of a can, you stupid bitch. Out of respect for Yosef I kept my mouth shut from her.

When Passover came around Yosef invited me to come to his Seder (festival banquet). He practically begged to the point of embarrassment, so I gave in.
“Besides”, I said, “It’ll probably be safer than the Chabad House (UCLA campus Jewish institution) Seder I went to last year. The frat house next door was staging a Redneck Night:”
“That sounds funny”.
“No, it wasn’t”, I said, “After the Seder some drunken frat guys were following me down the sidewalk blathering about beating up some Jews”.
“That’s terrible! Baruch Hashem (praise the Lord) you’re safe.”
“The sidewalk was poorly lit and I was by myself. I was pretty scared, and to this day I hate college fraternities”.
“Well, we’ll protect you. I give you my guarantee this will be the safest Passover you’ll ever have. The most enjoyable, too”.

It wasn’t. I met Yosef and Miriam’s friends, some looked like they were visiting and some looked like they were now living in the house. Moshe Johnson was there, and then there was some guy everybody was excited about seeing.
“Herschel’s here! Herschel, when did you get back?”
“I got out on Sunday. They wanted to release me on Shabbos, but I said no”, he said, lifting up his arm to take off his jacket. All I focused on was the tracks on his arms. Herschel was a junkie, who with his sleepy eyes looked like he was still loaded. He always wore a large overcoat and beret. Junkie.

There was Freyer, the Johnny Cool Jew with dreadlocks, resplendent in shorts, sandals and the ever-present tallith under a green t-shirt. Tallith is a prayer shawl that married men wear when they pray. Well, he wasn’t married, and you don’t wear it as a clothes accoutrement 24/7. But all the girls loved him.
“Ooooh, Freyer, when are you going to Israel?”
“Oh, Freyer, will you make the blessing? Yosef won’t mind!”
Even Yosef thought Freyer was a posey little tool but had too much class to spit it out. But he’d get a little snatchy some times.
“Ahhh, Freyer”, Yosef slyly appraised the bad Hebrew hippie outfit, “I see you’ll be working in a nice Shabbos hat with those sandals, huh?”
“Far out, Brother”, Freyer would insincerely drawl. Trash.

Yosef and Miriam had a cute little boy, Mendel, three years old, and a little girl, Chana, two years old. Chana was a show-off and being the youngest got all the attention. I liked Mendel immediately. He was always asking me questions.
“How do you know my abbah (daddy)?”
“Did you stop taking drugs, too?”
“I can count in Hebrew. Wanna hear?”

Miriam had a new friend, a fat, surly black girl (Leah) who wore the same ugly scarf around her head as her. She also disdained makeup like her mentor, and I suspected there was a little more going on, too. I had the nauseating notion that she was now living in their home. Now that Miriam had a sneer sister it was a waste of time trying to befriend her.
“It’s time to set the Passover table, Leah”, Miriam coldly commanded.
“Can I help?” I offered.
“No thank you”, Miriam said, not smiling.
“You’re not taking a mitzvah (holy deed) away from us, okay”, Leah grumbled angrily. I think this was the only thing she ever said to me. For the rest of the time I was there she just kept grumbling quietly about everybody to Miriam, and refused to speak to anyone else. It was astounding how dysfunctional all of these hippie Jews were with their new found gift of God.

The Seder went okay. No, it was irritating, I’m sorry. Freyer sang so loudly he drowned everyone out. Herschel almost passed out in his matzos, and Leah kept grumbling in Miriam’s ear. I wanted to be home and in bed reading Raymond Chandler. The only thing that kept me there was Mendel, whose huge brown eyes kept darting around the room. He couldn’t ask the Four Questions which the youngest in the house is supposed to sing. It was Chana’s job now, and she struggled through it for seven agonizing minutes. Everybody thought it was cute. Leah didn’t smile until Miriam made it okay for her to smile.

Once the Seder was over I was fixing to leave. Moshe Johnson was asking Yosef more questions about Jewish traditional laws in his hippie way.
“So this cat was rapping to the Rabbi, and-“
“Andy, where are you going?”
“I’m going home, it’s been great. Thanks for having me as a guest, I enjoyed myself, and-“
“You can’t go home now”, Yosef ran up to me. “You drank too much wine and it’s very late. Please stay, we’ll go to shul (temple) together tomorrow. Stay!”
“Yes, Andy!” Miriam yelped. “Please stay!”
What the fuck does she care whether I stay or go? I looked over at Leah and she was still cleaning off the table with an angry look plastered on her fat, black face.

It creeped me out: ten people sleeping on the floor of the living room like a hippie commune. I just wanted to shoot myself in the head.
So the lot of us prayed in the house, same area where we slept, is it starting to get claustrophobic for you? Then we walked five feet to the dining room for lunch. Same people, same little house. By one p.m. I was getting a little freaked out by the commune environment, so I escaped to the back yard.

I watched Mendel digging up worms excitedly. Leah walked over and freaked out.
“Mendel, no digging on Passover, it’s a Yom Tov (holiday)”. She sneered at me.
“Oh, okay”, Mendel sighed. Leah trotted away. He looked up at me.
“Listen, Mendel”, I said to him, “the reason you can’t dig around here is because there’s buried treasure in the back yard.”
Mendel’s eyes lit up. “There is?”
“Yeah! There’s gold, diamonds, sparkling jewelry of every color you can imagine. You can’t dig it up because then burglars will find out”, I gave him my best Treasure Island rap.
“Wow!” He ran away all excited. I stretched my legs out on the back yard lawn staring up at the trees. In two minutes Miriam’s face replaced the trees.

“What kind of garbage are you telling MY SON? Who do you think you are filling his head with your vile lies? “ She screamed at me, the cords in her neck bulging like cables. “I want you to stay away from my boy!”
That does it. I try to have a little fun with some kid and I get my ass handed to me by a lesbian pseudo-nun with pretensions of being a Jew. Fuck her.
“Okay”, I said half-heartedly, “I’m sorry-“
“Sorry won’t cut it! You’re filling Mendel with impure thoughts! Such rubbish! You know what I think? I think you must be some evil spirit sent to test us from Satan!”
Okay, that did it, my Judaism questioned by some trendy Cross banger. I turned. “Gee, I’m sorry. Maybe I should be a junkie with a yarmulke and dreadlocks, and-“
“GET OUT OF MY HOUSE! NOW!!!” she screamed.
“Yeah, fuck you, too”, I grumbled, imitating Leah. Yosef was nowhere to be found, probably in the bathroom jerking off thinking about Barbarella or something like that. I was finally booted out of the commune. And that’s all it took.

Months later I ran into Yosef, once, twice, etc. He was always trying to invite me over to another religious function at his creepy house. After the third invitation whenever I saw him I would duck out of sight from him. I liked him, actually, he wasn’t a bad guy. After all, it’s not like he put the fear of God in me. No, he put the fear of religion in me.

Butcher Boy

I confounded my old man's expectations when I blew off college and decided to go to work full time. Since I had low self-esteem, instead of getting an administrative clerk's position which I would have excelled at, I went for something low and menial. I got a job as a delivery boy.
I had a halfway decent car that could get me around, so I applied for the nearest business in the neighborhood. It was a kosher butcher shop, Zimmerman's Meats, run by Morty Zimmerman, a gaunt man with a pot belly and a mustache that looked Hitlerian. His behavior was fairly Hitlerian, but I needed money, bad.
Zimmerman was cranky and acted like he was always on the rag, and looked it too with his bloody butcher's smock.
"Sevrin!" he yelled at me. "Mrs. Scheinblum of Cashio Street ordered five pounds of brisket. Here's twenty dollars and make sure you get exact change. Did you hear me, Sevrin?"
"I'm on my way!" I grabbed the twenty and the pink wrapping paper of five pounds brisket.
Twenty minutes later I came back with exact change for Zimmerman. Zimmerman was chopping wings off chicken bodies, and stopped to look at me. The first thing that came out of his mouth was, "Nu, how much did she tip you?"
"She tipped me fifty cents", which was normal back then. A pound of meat was only two dollars fifty cents.
"That cheap son of a bitch!" he yelled. "Only fifty cents. God damn it!"

Zimmerman was punk rock before there was punk rock. He showed me the ropes at depositing the store take for the week by walking with me to the bank across the street. Zimmerman didn't give two shits about propriety, he kept his bloody apron on. There we were in line, me frightened young yid-mod alongside Jewish hitler moustache with a bloody apron stinking of dead flesh, the customers moving far away from us in line. Zimmerman was oblivious to his effect on the crowd.
"Now listen, if they offer you a glass tea with cookies you tell them Mister Zimmerman has more meat you HAVE to deliver", he hissed so loudly you could hear him in Calabassas. "Take the money and get the fuck out", his voice rising with Semitic rage, people parting away from us even more.
I was disgusted by him, but then I lifted my arm and realized I had dead cattle and chicken stink on me, too. We both had the stink! I looked down at my shoes and noticed the reddish-brown hue of dried blood, too.
"Look, Sevrin", he went back to hissing, "The next assignment when we get back I have for you is you're going to hose the floor and I want you to sponge the freezer, then we have to prepare for the Shabbos rush!"
The teller waved us over with a terrified look on his face and took the cash. I think I worked for Zimmerman for two months and finally I got tired of taking scalding showers that barely got the bleeding meat smell off me. Zimmerman hated paying me anyway, I think that's why he threw a pisspot tantrum over my tips. I don't think he missed me and I KNOW I didn't miss him.