I started this month with a clear head and now it is filled with ideas, fear and doubt mixed with excitement and intrigue. How I managed to get 9 shows with no agent or any help is beyond me, what is even more boggling is that people actually showed up and laughed, most of the time.

My first show was in Crown Heights at the ALIYA center and while turnout was kind of lame, at maybe 40 people or so, the crowd was great and I made some new friends and got some new fans. ALIYA is mostly for Lubavitch kids to hang out, some of them are off the derech as they say and some are just there for the free food and booze.

I was going to perform for an hour but it turned into a full on 2 hour ranting session, some of my bloging friends showed up to cheer me on and everyone laughed for the entire time. Moshe Feiglin who runs the place said he was impressed and many of the kids seemed to think so, it was a great start to the tour.

Then I bombed in Cleveland, or I think I did, many people said they liked it, but besides for several tables of laughter it seemed like a room full of crossed arms and pissed off modern orthodox people. I tried and I think I failed, although the person who ran the event told me it was good, why can’t people ever be up front. There were definitely a crew up people that liked it, I would say it was 40% liked and 60% were pissed. Modern people in general don’t have a good a sense of humor.

The next show was at a shul in Crown Heights, and while their were many outbursts of laughter, many of the women expressed that they felt left out. There were about 5 women laughing at every joke while all the other women talked about kugel. The men, however loved it, and out of all the crowds this was definitely the loudest and most adamant about my jokes. I did get one boo, but I wont go there.

Then Baltimore which has been the biggest shocker to me, blew me out of the water. If not for my friend and promoter Chaim Lazerous, I would have gotten maybe 10 people. It showed me how it made no difference how many fans you have, it all comes down to marketing. He put up fliers and got me an article in the paper as well as a spot on the radio.

When I was welcoming people to the show in Baltimore, I could tell it was a bunch of random people. Hardly any of my so called, die-hard fans showed up. Instead a diverse crowd of mostly women and their daughters, showed up. Quite a few single girls as well, and the crowd was great. The space was great as well, Ner Tamid is a beautiful shul and great for performances.

I got up and immediately got laughs and throughout the night several of my more wild laughers kept going, I loved it, I never had those crazy laughers before who are like loose canons that laugh at anything. So I did an hour set and then went back up for 20 minutes and then I let people ask me questions to see my responses - that was a lot of fun and I think I may do that at others shows.

On Purim I had two shows in Crown Heights at Seudas and while they were fun, it was very noisy and hard for me to talk due to lack of sleep and alcohol.

I am looking forward to next weeks show at Brooklyn College - March 19th

This show will not be publicized that much: I will be doing a show at Bais Shimshon aka the Class shul on Saturday night March 7th.

It is $10 per person or $15 per couple with milchigs being served. The show will start at 8:30pm

For more info please visit the shuls website Bais Shimshon

Brooklyn(Crown Heights), NY February 26, 9:30pm
ALIYA
527 East New York Avenue
Brooklyn, NY
$10 includes cholent and beer
Facebook event

Cleveland, Ohio - Saturday, February 28th 8:30pm
The Green Road Synagogue
2437 South Green Road
Beechwood, Ohio
This is fund raiser event for the Torah U’Mitzyon Kollel $20 advance $25 at the door
Price includes a milchig dinner - there will also be an improv show as well.
Facebook event page

Baltimore, Maryland - Sunday, March 8th 6:30-8:30pm
Ner Tamid (behind shomrei emunah)
6214 Pimilco Road
Baltimore, Maryland
Admission is $12
Facebook Event page

Brooklyn, NY - Thursday, March 19 7:30pm
Brooklyn College Hillel
More Details to follow
Facebook event page

Silver Spring, Maryland - Saturday, March 21
Cong Shomrei Emunah
More details to follow

Brooklyn, NY - Sunday, March 22 6:30pm
Puppets Jazz Bar
481 5th ave between 11th and 12th streets
Brooklyn, NY (Park Slope)
This event will be with Hassidic funk band Merkavah - the price is $15 for both sets or $10 for just me.
This is an all ages event, however, you must be 21 to drink.
Facebook Event page

I am working on events for the following locations: Any contacts would be helpful
Upper West Side
Washington Heights
Monsey
North Jersey
Kew Garden Hills
Five Towns - eastern L.I.
Philadelphia
Some random Hillels seem excited but doing this with one other person is rough

Please contact me if your shul or organization or club would like to host me or give me a space to market my own show. frumsatire@gamil.com

Voice mail 917-668-2315

I think my hate of the seder is reinforced each year as I attend the same old lame seders, either of the Maxwell House, white yarmulke laden old folks telling the hagada in the old English and talking about grandmas matzo ball soup- or it is of the peel your vegetables, clear the table off for fear of matzo crumbs rising from dripping Joyvin and telling Ma Nishtana in Yiddish and divrei torah which have nothing to do with seeper yitziyas metzrayim. The only redeeming parts of these sederim which I always end up at are two things. Either its over real quick, leaving me with a state of “I waited all year for this crap” or I hear my dad ranting about how no one does the seder the right way and mumbling along with the children on their Yiddish ma nishtanas.

I am actually trying to recall the last seder I attended, that I walked away from feeling like an emancipated man, rather then feeling like a free man on paper, but really with a slight feeling that Jim Crow was looking over my shoulder and saying, “you aint free fo sho” because in my mind nirtza always takes the longest for some reason. Not only does the seder do a good job in making me feel like an enslaved man until the meal, it does a good job at lessening the impact of the whole Egypt thing. I feel like my going to sederim has the exact opposite effect that they are supposed to be having.

All I want to do during most sederim is strangle the person telling me why we eat Karpas and how we want children to ask questions that even educated people like myself would never think of. The questions that usually come to mind during seders for me at least are: why cant we skip magid, if we are trying to get the kids into it? What plague do you think would be the coolest to watch? From a distance of course, I am all about the hail or frogs by the way. Or why is your grandmother touching my thigh under the table?

I know what you are thinking, why all the hatred and negativity? Isnt this supposed to be a frum blog? What happened to trying to use your widespread influence to make a positive impression on what people think of frummies? Well, I must say you are right- in fact I was only using my negative feelings based on past sederim as a prelude to lead up to what I am about to say. Last night I attended a seder in Denver Colorado that was the best seder in my life and in fact the only seder I can recall that I felt should have went longer.

My first night I was at an interesting seder, that was by no means boring, but by no means as exciting as the second night. While discussing the classic seder statistics that everyone discusses on Pesach that usually go along the line of “last year we ended at 1:15am” or “did you hear how long the Horowitzes took last night?” and while everyone was comparing seder statistics and listening with a half ear to the shy Ma Nishtanas someone asked my friend where we were going to for the second seder. Oh, the (enter common Jewish Name here) have very interesting seders. What’s that supposed to mean? Well interesting can mean many things in different conversations. For instance when talking about a girl/guy for shidduch purposes it is a way of saying “weird” or when talking about a shul, it usually means Carlebachian. But when talking about other people sederim it almost always means the same thing. It means that by the time you are done with the seder the milkman will be making his morning delivery and you will be rivaling the seder of the five sages that lasted into the wee hours in B’nei Brak that is always glossed over in the hagada.

In fact we were told to my dismay that the family we would be eating by, would be ending at an ungodly hour, and we would be listening to the roosters crowing on our walk home. Of course they added that it would be great and they have very interesting seders. Not only did I doubt the veracity of their claims, but I had visions of me being propped up by my Kiddush cup and being swatted on the head my old grandmas with those white curls, screaming at me about their ancestors dying so we could have the seder.

To say the least, I rolled around and twisted my sheets in fear of the late night seder I was in store for. Not only was I in a strange land that gave you multiple choices for your arba kosos of wine, but I had experienced for the first time in my life, Seder songs sang to popular show tunes. Yes folks, at my first seder they sang many songs to the tune of many popular tunes. It was weird, albeit a lot of fun and made the whole task of eating shmura matzo a little less painful.

So we met our host, a jolly English fellow whom I am not sure yet if I can mention his name, and his sons who were both jolly fellows as well. My fears of boredom elated a little bit as we entered their large and beautiful house and were greeted with happy people eager to start the meal. I must say that the only thing worse then Magid in my mind, is waiting for people to sit down for Kiddush, washing in normal terms is crappy as well, but both nights we were greeted with women ready and willing to wash our hands and fan us with grape leaves during urchatz.

The seder began with the typical shy singing of the kadesh urchatz song- by a bunch of people who didn’t really get acquainted yet. I started thinking about how the seder is kind of like an episode of Real World. A bunch of strangers thrown together for several hours and talking about their faith, of course at most meals at frum homes politics is also discussed and you can always see restrained faces as they choose their words as carefully as Condoleezza Rice. As a matter of fact at my first seder their was a slight political discussion about Obama and McCain between two fellows who talked as if they were constipated, trying to hold in their typical Liberal vs. Republican outrage that always happens when the frum meets the secular at Pesach seders.

In fact if I may recall a story that happens to me at a Pesach Seder in Cape Cod. My old man and my bro were seated at a table with the type of folks that looked to be locals of Hyannis. White pants and yachting shoes was the attire, and my father unfortunately got into a political discussion. It always starts out peaceful, as my brother and I beg the people discussing it to please stop or just agree with everything he says, or else. Well unfortunately for us “OR ELSE” happened and the three of them up and left. They accused my father of saying something racist, and well, my father said he was prejudiced and went into some Rush Limbaugh-esque diatribe of Affirmative action slavery Reparation Bull-Sh— in a very loud manner.

So after we were seated with damp hands from the washing the divrei torah began. I was still sketchy although I was a bit intrigued by a few things, the girl across from me was a little intriguing for multiple reasons, especially because I kept by accidentally coming in contact with her foot under the table, which kept me wondering if it was always in my way on purpose waiting for a game of Seder Table Footsie- probably the best type of Footsie that could be played- oh how I hoped for Seder Table Footsie with the skinny blonde across the way- I wasn’t even interested in her, accept for some footsie to get me through the meal. Then there was the placement of Pineapple chunks on the Karpas plate sitting oddly next to scallions, radishes and potatoes.

At karpas I asked why they had that on their plate and one of the sons who is a Rabbi in Woodmere and works for Long Island NCSY launched into a detailed and interesting devar torah about it- which concluded with “because we want to keep the children interested” which under normal Karpas settings would have been waved away with my hand- but under this circumstance I thought that it was brilliant. What a better way to keep kids and adults interested then to actually do things differently. Parsley for some reason does not make one much interested.

Then the wacky hats came out and everyone got a mask, that had one of the plagues on it and we got props as well. Things were getting interesting, and the youngest kid at the table was 19. Blow up dolls were added, of alligators, you sicko- kind out of the gutter buddy. The props really helped, sombraroes, pink furry hats that reminded me of my few times at Drag shows and gay bars, and a chicken hat that shook around at every move of the head. Bowling pins of the plagues and small hail balls for my buddy and I to throw at each other. I was having a ball and didn’t even notice the time passing by. Sections of Magid were said in Hebrew and then discussed, real discussion, not that honky dory heal the world BS that permeates sederim worldwide.

All was going good and then, like the folks the night before they whipped out some Pesach Seder songs. Take me Out to Egypt – sung to the tune of Take me Out to the Ballgame, These are a few of my Passover things, and something sung to Clementine though I cannot remember- it was very entertaining. In short I had never experienced such a fun and invigorating Pesach Seder. It was the first time that I did not have visions of food during magid. Usually during magid I am thinking like a man stuck in the desert dying of hunger and dreaming of food, visions of ice cream sundaes and hamburgers fill the void as I try to read study the features of all those at the table and take reconnaissance missions to the kitchen on my way to the multiple bathroom breaks that make everyone wonder if I had really eaten any matzo at all.

Well save for trying to detect if their was any attempt being made by the skinny blonde girl to play footsie I had not thought about the meal at all. I had been so engrossed in the stories, songs, jokes, costumes and divrei torah that I had not even noticed when a heaping bowl of scalloped potatoes with rosemary was placed in front of me. Normally I would have been overcome with trying to control my saliva glands from spewing their contents onto my lap, while counting the pages left to magid, kind of like those folks counting the pages to the end of Yom Kippur musaf. Something was wrong, I causally loaded up my plate with scalloped potatoes, orange chicken, broccoli kugel and brisket- that I have to say was all amazing. In fact the Denver Jewish community is definitely rated up there as a collection of some of the Jewish community cooking I have tasted.

You could tell by a few ways that the seder was not being held in the New York Metro area. First because there was no Jewish Geography, the only form of geography was usually about having been to NY or having been to Seattle and whether the person liked it. You could also tell you were in Denver because when everyone wanted to bench, a conversation between two people about the benefits of wider tipped skis for deep powder and back country skiing were useful or not. You could also tell it was the west, because I was perfectly normal and not unique at all for wanted to use my Pesach holiday mountain biking and hiking in the Rockies. In New York this is always followed by “wow” and “interesting”.

So the meal is done and we are rocking on through the last parts and I am beat, real tired, I remember at hotels I would just bench and leave after the meal- and go look around for girls to talk to. But at peoples sederim you were stuck and we were a couple miles from my friends house anyway and at night the mountains cannot guide your way. I was stuck and all the songs at the end are annoying and suck. Who knows one should be started at 13 and just said once, actually it almost was until someone suggested we do the whole thing, I like it English but it was said in Hebrew.

Suddenly the Hosts son who is the Rabbi from Long Island appears in a spider man costume, full costume, save for the shorts he was wearing because I doubt his wife wanted him in full spandex at the table. It was funny, then we got masks to put on for chad gadya- and we had to practice the noises so we could do the song. I have not laughed so hard since watching the movie Superbad. Was rolling with laughter, I got fire, a very hard thing to make noise to. Everyone was into it and when it was over, I sat stunned that the seder was over. For the first time in my life I was sad that it was over and wanted more. I stated this, but it was 2 in the morning and time to go.

I have wondered what would happen if I would just show up at some wedding, engagement party or bridal shower, unannounced, what would happen? I can just imagine, the looks a bunch of peoples’ faces as they wondered why a guy they had never even seen before has come bearing gifts to a bridal shower?

Girls: Hey who’s that guy, what’s he doing here?

Other Girls: I have no idea

Girls: Excuse me, what are you doing here?

Me: You invited me on Facebook.

Has anyone ever done this? It’s almost like a high-tech version of Wedding Crashers, except you were actually invited. Granted, the person doing the invites probably didn’t think that clicking the “invite all friends to this event” button would actually matter. Who on earth shows up to a family affair that they were invited to on Facebook, if they aren’t part of the family?

As my network on Facebook begins to grow, I begin to see more and more temptations regarding experimenting with this newfound power. Has anyone ever gone to a wedding or other personal event they were invited to over Facebook? I wonder if I said I was going to attend if they would set up a seat for me to eat like a fully invited guest at the event.

Its understandable if someone would kick me out of a bridal shower - after all, it’s a chance for newly engaged women to discover their lesbian within by trading sex secrets and having naked pillow fights - but what about a wedding or a bar mitzvah?

So which side of the family are you from?

“I’m a friend of the bride. We’ve never actually met, but she invited me online.”

I am seriously debating doing this. Anyone want to join?

“This week’s parsha class will be this afternoon,” droned the VP, “followed by Mincha shortly after.”

He went on to tell us the schedule for the rest of the week, punctuated by other supposedly relevant announcements, but I could see no one was interested. All anyone really wanted to know was one piece of information: was there going to be a kiddush?

Suddenly, his tone changed. His eyes met audience. He stood up straighter. And the side conversations screeched to a halt.

“This week’s kiddush is sponsored by the Katz family,” the VP said, and you could almost picture everyone in their suits and talesim jumping up and slapping each other “high five” like a bunch of frat guys at a homecoming football game. To be sure, there was no outward change in anyone’s behavior. People simply turned their prayer books to the next part of the service with a little more fervor than before. But you could feel the anticipation in the air. Little conversations formed between the machers, each of them firing different questions:

“Who the hell are the Katzes anyway?”

“Hey, is it a hot kiddush or what?”

The rumors flew around the pews. “I hear there’s going to be cholent,” someone said, and suddenly, by way of his big mouth, everyone had these visions of a full blown, hot kiddush, “Gala Kiddush” as some upper west side shuls like to call it (similar to the way motel chains call free donuts and coffee a continental breakfast), replete with cholent, kishke and potato kugel.

The rumors were unconfirmed, of course, until the children abandoned their fathers’ sides in order to do a little reconnaissance mission of their own-and, of course, to escape the rabbi’s droning speech. We ran up the three flights of stairs, hearts pounding in preparation, dreaming of the Ultimate Kiddush. Suddenly, though, we were stopped-by a locked door and what can only be described as a kiddush bouncer. There he stood, just inside the social hall, directing old, white-haired ladies (a.k.a. the sisterhood) on where to place the gefilte fish platters.

I was always one of the taller ones, so I was designated the “scout.” I wish we had been smart enough to bring binoculars, so we could at least tell whether there were food warmers on the tables-placed thus so that, when the last notes of Anim Zmiros were heard, and everyone knew the locusts were coming to wreak havoc on the land, the food staff could deposit the dishes. Pronto.

Sometimes, of course, we were lucky enough to get past the kiddush bouncers. Once in a while we knocked on the door and he actually let us in. But it was rare. He knew better than to let a bunch of kids into a nicely prepared Kiddush; the orange soda wouldn’t have lasted three minutes under the sly hands of 10- and 12-year-old boys. Neither would those little rainbow cakes that every Jewish kid grows up eating on Shabbos. The bouncer might also have been wary of ruining the caterer’s next job, since we were sure to report back our findings to the congregation below. For instance, he didn’t want the women to know that the gefilte fish platter’s soggy lettuce leaves had been reused so often their veins had been flattened to obscurity. He didn’t want the Men’s Club knowing that the booze table consisted of Slivovitz from last Pesach.

Of course, it didn’t make that much difference when we actually got to the kiddush. I was a pretty cute kid, so I was able to make a face and grab the cholent spoon first, before it was dropped into the pot by some clumsy lady and made disgusting by wet napkins placed on the handle to cover up the residue. I could also climb under tables and between people’s legs without getting too much attention-aside from my father’s, that is. You see, he was always telling me to “calm down” and wait; that the food wasn’t going anywhere. But he couldn’t have been more wrong. The food was going somewhere-right onto people’s plates. I wanted to tell him that-to warn him that the cranberry and broccoli salad was almost gone and I hadn’t even gotten to taste it yet-but I was afraid he might reward me with a patch.

Kiddush hasn’t really changed much for me; its one of those timeless classics. Of course, I’ve matured enough to make it past the kiddush bouncers and do some actual reconnaissance, rather then a covert mission ending in failure. But I still sit in shul, waiting impatiently for the announcements. The difference is that now I’m more sophisticated. For instance: I find out ahead of time where there’s a Kiddush-and then base my attendance on it.

Luckily, I’ve developed into a confident individual. I can push over both children and old ladies in my effort to reach the kugel tray. I’m better at gauging whether or not to start with hot or cold food, based on the traffic of the crowd. Indeed, I’ve honed many important skills that I learned first as a child. But the Kiddush factor will always remain.

Moral of the story? You can stick a boy in a suit and hope he’ll rise to the occasion. But ultimately, it’s a waste of time. He’ll find a way around it.

Trust me, I know.

Heshy also wanted a place to write non-comedy items of which he has many. His main blog Frum Satire is mostly devoted to a specific niche and he wants a place to feature some of his other articles. Unlike Frum Satire which is not known for its editing work, this site will only contain thoroughly edited works.

Please roam around the site, as I have placed various links throughout and add me to your blogroll.

Thank you and enjoy