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| Oy yey, Jesus. Such a catch. And still single. |
May your son the doctor
introduce you to his fiancée, Bristol Palin.
May your child give his Bar
Mitzvah speech on the genius of Ayn Rand.
May your grandchildren
baptize you after you’re dead.
May you find yourself
insisting to a roomful of skeptics that your great-grandmother was
"legitimately" raped by Cossacks.
May you grow so rich that
your widow’s second husband is thrilled they repealed the estate tax.
May you have a large store,
and have it all dismantled by vulture capitalists.
May you have a rare disease
and need an operation that only one surgeon in the world, the winner of the
Nobel Prize for Medicine, is able to perform. And may he be unable to perform
it because he doesn’t take your insurance. And may that Nobel Laureate be your
son.
May G-d give you a
daughter-in-law who is as kind as she is beautiful, as patient as she is rich,
as wise as she is devoted, a virtuous woman in every way. And then may a ballot
initiative invalidate her marriage to your fat lump Rebecca.
.
Reading the list of curses makes my day, Mike--especially the Bar Mitzvah-Ayn Rand one. That bittersweet Jewish humor, born of oppression, which sees right through the sham and hypocrisy.
ReplyDeleteI love Yiddish humor. It is a match for dark Irish sarcasm.
ReplyDelete