Monday, January 29, 2007

How To Get Busy In The Name Of All Jewish People Ever, In Six Easy Steps

Step One: A quick trip to the Museum of Tolerance will strengthen your resolve. If that’s too far to drive, pop in Shoah, grab a cookie, and buckle in with a box of Kleenex and a glass of pinot. The only thing standing between us and what you’re looking at is your genetic material. No pressure.

Step Two: Take a thorough shower. No one wants to bang a stinky person.

Step Three: Seduce your lover. Yes, this makes a difference. We don’t want precise and perfunctory intercourse; what are we, Germans? Think wet and sloppy. You’re celebrating life. Get loud. Screech like a feral cat. Remember, you’re sticking it to Hitler.

Step Four: Oooh—did our mention of Hitler slightly soften the Little Rabbi? Well, that’s your secret weapon, guys, at no extra charge. It might take more than one round to make a legible copy of your DNA, so you men need to make sure your lady’s willing to keep at it until Mission Accomplished. That means satisfying her. Scratch that: It means placing her in the very Barc-a-Lounger of ecstasy and putting it on full recline. Look, Jewish chicks are hot:

It’s sometimes tough not to get overexcited. We’ve all been there.

So when the precipice of your climax looms too close, and you know that beyond it lies the forbidding, rock-strewn valley of her disappointment — and really, hell hath no fury like a shvitzing, unsatisfied descendant of Rivkah mumbling, “No, it’s fine, really” – think of jackboots.
(But only if they turn you off. It has come to our attention that some of our people secretly enjoy the mental image of Ilsa the She-Wolf sneeringly booting them in the tuchus. If you are one of these, well, first of all, you have some issues you might want to discuss next time you visit Dr. Feldman for a refill. But for the purposes of properly schtupping the naked and sweaty Jewess whose ample bosoms are even now heaving alluringly beneath you, skip the jackboots and go directly to the next image.)

Think of that oily black hair. The mustache of doom. The karate-chop gesticulation. The glottal bellowing (seriously, Hitler, why were you always yelling? They gave you a microphone so you wouldn’t pop a vein in your eyeball every time you got your crazed-dictator swerve on. Fucking relax, would you? Oh, that’s right – you never did).

Anyway, quick mental slideshow of Herr Über-Evil, and now you’ve got all the time in the world, right? (Please say yes. If picturing Hitler, Goering, Himmler, Mengele or even Pat Buchanan fails to decelerate your headlong plunge to ejaculation,you’re reading the wrong blog.)

The one caveat: when it comes to Hitler, know when to say when. You don’t want to deflate yourself completely. A handy rule of thumb: 20 seconds of Third Reich, then switch to baseball. (If the National Pastime doesn’t sufficiently put on the brakes, it’s permissible to imagine the infielders in SS uniforms.)

Step Five: Congratulations – you’ve conceived a micro-Semite. When the telltale joyous puking and weird cravings begin, it’s time to start the real work. We don’t believe you should wait until the little darling is born to start basic training. Talk to the belly. If blasting Mozart at fetuses makes ‘em smarter, imagine what a daily dose of Talmud can do!

...Then again, that might be a little too rich a slab of cosmic pound cake for a baby’s bubbling mind. So stick to the secular – remember, we don’t really care if the kid’s a good Jew. Try some nice Jewish comedy. Like Lenny Bruce, a visionary firebrand whose heroin-fueled naps and frequent poo-poo humor make him surprisingly nursery-appropriate. Think how quickly you’ll hear your tiny, beloved offspring speak those special words: “Nazis? Fuck those douchebags!”

Step Six:
Wow, that’s one cute baby. But you’re not off the hook yet. Hop back on that cock, ladies, because it’s time to make a brother or sister for your little Levite. Yes, two kids are exponentially more work than one. That’s why we advise you make at least three, so they can just raise each other. You’ve got to cover all the bases: the doctor/lawyer:

Dr. Cristina Yang, TV's most popular Jewish doctor. Is it just us, or is it a little weird that she is named for Jesus?

the artistic big thinker who dazzles academia with densely written ruminations on good and evil:

and the overlooked, disgruntled middle child who crashes the car, dabbles in drug dealing, and drops out of Humboldt U to “find” himself. That child is key, because he’ll be the one who hitchhikes through South America and discovers the secret compound of a hunted Nazi war criminal and his legions of evil scientists, whose swastika-swaddled Hitler clones are mere days from gestation:

Yes, ladies, whatever he's packing, it's circumsized.

There are so many ways they’ll make you proud!

1 comment:

Sophie said...
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