HELL (GB) - Reeling from a sudden influx of high-profile new arrivals, Satan asked the Syrian rebels today to delay killing dictator Bashar al-Assad for a few more months so that he can clear a major processing backlog in the Inferno.
At a press availability from the Seventh Circle Press Room, the Devil promised that new arrival Moammar Qadaffi would be entered into the system as soon as possible, but admitted he and his minions were still dealing with a large number of recent al-Qaeda arrivals.
"Look," a clearly abashed Satan said, "We were totally caught off-guard by al-Awlaki, all right? We'd just finished bin Laden, which was a real pain in the you-know-what all summer because the dude just wouldn't shut up. Then al-Awlaki comes in, not to mention all the other Qaeda folks, and they're all wandering around asking for their virgins, and now they throw Qadaffi in our lap. If the Syrians do Assad now, I don't know what we're going to do."
Satan also said that Qadaffi would take longer to process because his minions weren't sure how to spell his last name. "Type it in the wrong way, and all of a sudden one of the Khardashians is down here," the Devil said. "We don't need that."
Representatives of the Syrian resistance said they would take Satan's request into account but made no promises.
The Devil would not confirm reports he sacked his Chief of Processing the Damned over the snafus, but did say he was going to ask his finance committee for additional funds to upgrade a very outdated database.
"We're still using DOS. I mean, what the H-E-double hockey sticks?" Satan said. "Man, I really could've used Steve Jobs."
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tuesday, October 4, 2011
Tales for the High Holy Days
The New Rabbi
A week before Rosh Hashanah, the old rabbi of Chelm became terribly ill. The village elders searched far and wide for a substitute until they learned of a rabbi from a distant village who was available.
When the Erev Rosh Hashanah service began, the new rabbi removed the Torah scrolls from the Ark and laid them on the reading table. But to his shock and dismay, when he looked at the scrolls, he could not see what was written in them. Instead all he could make out were bizarre, alien scribblings of a form he had never encountered.
The new rabbi sought out Chelm's most experienced doctor, who pronounced his eyesight to be perfect; indeed, most everything else the new rabbi set his gaze upon looked perfectly clear. Was there a problem with the Torah? he wondered.
He summoned the greatest Jewish scholars in the region to inspect this strange and mysterious scroll. But to a man they deemed it an excellent, easily readable document - a particularly beautiful specimen, in fact. They gathered to discuss: had any of them ever heard of a Torah whose passages became indecipherable to a single man? Could it be a sign from God? Perhaps the new rabbi had committed some unspeakable sin, and this was God's way of rendering judgement; Rosh Hashanah was, after all, Yom Ha'Din, the Day of Judgement.
They summoned the rabbi to the bimah. Rabbi ben Elezar, the wisest of the wise men, directed the rabbi to read the Torah.
The rabbi tried again, and again could not. His face fell in despair.
"You mean to tell me," ben Elezar boomed, "that these words are meaningless to you?"
"That is correct, Rebbe," the rabbi said, his head lowered.
"And that this Torah is but a cipher to you?" ben Elezar bellowed.
"That is correct," the rabbi said, tears welling in his eyes. "Rebbe, what is wrong with me?"
Ben Elezar shook his head. "For a rabbi to be unable to decipher the Torah is a serious matter. Especially one such as this, whose Hebrew letters are rendered so beautifully."
The new rabbi looked at ben Elezar. "Um, Hebrew?"
A Journey to God
Feivel the butcher was not a particularly pious man, although he dutifully attended shul on Rosh Hashanah. This year, the rabbi exhorted the congregation to unlock their souls during these, the Days of Awe, to allow the Adonai in. This made Feivel fearful that if he did not expand his religious horizons, he would have little chance of getting inscribed in the Book of Life by Yom Kippur.
If he were to unlock his soul to God, Feivel figured, then he would have to get much closer to Him. So early the next morning, Feivel packed up his butcher's cart, mounted his horse and rode to the top of the nearest hill. He dismounted and shouted as loud as he could, "OH MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE, HOW MAY I UNLOCK MY SOUL TO ALLOW YOU IN?"
And Feivel heard a voice that echoed across the hilltop: "Bring me the key."
Feivel was both shocked, and confused. What key was God referring to? Perhaps he needed to get closer.
So Feivel drove his horse and cart to the high hills that lay across the valley, a two-days journey from his village. The wind picked up as he ascended the hill, and his horse shook from the cold. At the top of the highest hill, Feivel dismounted and shouted as loud as he could, "OH MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE, HOW MAY I UNLOCK MY SOUL TO ALLOW YOU IN?"
And Feivel heard a voice that echoed across the hills: "Bring me the key."
Again, Feivel was confused. Where could he find this key? Yom Kippur was fast approaching. Clearly, he needed to get even closer.
So Feivel rode across the plains and the steppes, three exhausting days on unsteady paths and muddy trails, until he came to the mountains that towered over the land. He pushed his horse up the steep path, into the snow and ice. The wind whipped around them; icicles formed in his beard. Finally he reached the rocky summit, far above the clouds. Nearly frozen, he dismounted and shouted as loud as he could, "OH MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE, HOW MAY I UNLOCK MY SOUL TO ALLOW YOU IN?"
And once again, Feivel heard a voice that echoed across the mountains: "Bring me the key."
Scared and cold, Feivel called out in frustration, "KEY? WHAT KEY, GOD?"
And the voice echoed through the mountains: "'God?' This is Schlomo, your assistant. I'm locked in the cart. Bring me the key, you idiot, before I freeze to death."
A Final Request
Rabbi Schuelmann of the synagogue of Krakow, would tell his Torah students this story on the second morning of Rosh Hashanah, following the readings from the machzor:
"A poor Russian cobbler was condemned by the Tsar to death by firing squad. On the morning of his execution, the prison governor asked the poor cobbler if he had any final requests. The cobbler said he desired to eat a whitefish: 'Not just any whitefish,' the cobbler explained, 'but the finest whitefish in all the land.'
"So the prison governor sent his guard to the market to fetch a whitefish. The governor gave it to the cobbler, who took one bite and spit it out, saying 'This is the worst whitefish I've ever tasted!'
"The governor was a harsh man, but a man of his word. So he delayed the execution and sent his guards to the next town to find a better grade of whitefish. They returned the next day with a whitefish. The governor gave it to the cobbler, who took one bite and spit it out, saying 'This whitefish is worse than the last one!'
"The prison governor sent his guards to the far reaches of the province in search of an adequate whitefish. Each time, the cobbler spit it out, declaring it worse than the one before it. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and still no whitefish would satisfy the cobbler.
"At long last, the governor sent his guards to the northernmost fishing village in Norway, a three months' journey, to fetch an adequate whitefish. He then directed the guards to bring it to France, where, under the strict supervision of the chief rabbi of Marseilles, it was prepared. Six months later, the guards returned. Hesitantly the governor served it to the poor cobbler.
"The cobbler took a bite, and declared, 'This is the most astoundingly incredibly delicious whitefish that I have ever tasted!'
"No sooner had these words left his mouth than he choked on a fish bone and suffered the most excruciating death by asphyxiation that anyone in the prison had ever witnessed."
Upon finishing the story, Rabbi Schuelmann would ask his students to ponder the meaning of the parable. He would leave the room and, as his students debated the story, remove all the money from their satchels and go to Weinblatt's Deli for their Rosh Hashanah blue-plate special.
A Meeting on a Road
Every Yom Kippur, the congregants would traipse uphill three miles along rocky roads and through thorny thickets to reach shul, their stomachs aching with hunger and their lips bitter with thirst. This year was particularly difficult as recent rains had left the paths muddy and wet.
So one could imagine their surprise when they saw a shiny new Rolls Royce convertible cruising up the road beside them - and their rabbi in the driver's seat!
To make matters worse, there was a beautiful girl, who was most certainly not the rabbi's wife, in the seat next to him, scantily dressed. And if that were not enough, there was a plate of half-eaten pork chops on the dashboard.
Seeing the looks of dismay and disapproval on his congragabnts' faces, he stopped the car and stepped out.
"My congregants," he said. "I know this looks terrible to you. But there is a very logical explanation for all of this. I was walking to shul to begin the Kol Nidre service, when I came upon a most horrifying scene. A brutish man was mercilessly beating this poor defenseless woman in the front seat of his Rolls Royce - this very Rolls Royce. And while the Torah forbids malakha, or work, on holy days such as this, it was clear to me that this poor woman's very life was in danger. And so I set upon this beast of a man and knocked him to the ground, saving this innocent soul."
The congregants nodded. One of them asked, "But Rebbe, why did you drive his car?"
"Ah, you see, this woman was badly injured, and it was clear she needed immediate medical attention. But the nearest hospital is 10 miles away, and I am too weak from fasting to carry her. So I put her in the Rolls Royce to get her to the hospital as soon as possible."
The congregants nodded again. One of them asked, "But Rebbe, how do you explain the pork chops?"
"Ah, you see, the woman was weak and light-headed. She begged me to provide sustenance. I, of course, could offer nothing, so I set out to find a place to get food. Alas, the only merchant open was a market that sold only pork products. As difficult as it was for me to do, I had no choice but to buy these treif cutlets to give this poor young woman a chance to survive until she received medical care. Now, my friends and neighbors, I must continue on my journey to the hospital to ensure that my duty is done."
With that, the rabbi returned to the car and sped off.
The congregants continued on their trek, satisfied with the rabbi's answers and proud of his courage, none of them saying a word about the French Maid's outfit he was wearing.
A week before Rosh Hashanah, the old rabbi of Chelm became terribly ill. The village elders searched far and wide for a substitute until they learned of a rabbi from a distant village who was available.
The new rabbi sought out Chelm's most experienced doctor, who pronounced his eyesight to be perfect; indeed, most everything else the new rabbi set his gaze upon looked perfectly clear. Was there a problem with the Torah? he wondered.
He summoned the greatest Jewish scholars in the region to inspect this strange and mysterious scroll. But to a man they deemed it an excellent, easily readable document - a particularly beautiful specimen, in fact. They gathered to discuss: had any of them ever heard of a Torah whose passages became indecipherable to a single man? Could it be a sign from God? Perhaps the new rabbi had committed some unspeakable sin, and this was God's way of rendering judgement; Rosh Hashanah was, after all, Yom Ha'Din, the Day of Judgement.
They summoned the rabbi to the bimah. Rabbi ben Elezar, the wisest of the wise men, directed the rabbi to read the Torah.
The rabbi tried again, and again could not. His face fell in despair.
"You mean to tell me," ben Elezar boomed, "that these words are meaningless to you?"
"That is correct, Rebbe," the rabbi said, his head lowered.
"And that this Torah is but a cipher to you?" ben Elezar bellowed.
"That is correct," the rabbi said, tears welling in his eyes. "Rebbe, what is wrong with me?"
Ben Elezar shook his head. "For a rabbi to be unable to decipher the Torah is a serious matter. Especially one such as this, whose Hebrew letters are rendered so beautifully."
The new rabbi looked at ben Elezar. "Um, Hebrew?"
A Journey to God
Feivel the butcher was not a particularly pious man, although he dutifully attended shul on Rosh Hashanah. This year, the rabbi exhorted the congregation to unlock their souls during these, the Days of Awe, to allow the Adonai in. This made Feivel fearful that if he did not expand his religious horizons, he would have little chance of getting inscribed in the Book of Life by Yom Kippur.
If he were to unlock his soul to God, Feivel figured, then he would have to get much closer to Him. So early the next morning, Feivel packed up his butcher's cart, mounted his horse and rode to the top of the nearest hill. He dismounted and shouted as loud as he could, "OH MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE, HOW MAY I UNLOCK MY SOUL TO ALLOW YOU IN?"
And Feivel heard a voice that echoed across the hilltop: "Bring me the key."
Feivel was both shocked, and confused. What key was God referring to? Perhaps he needed to get closer.
So Feivel drove his horse and cart to the high hills that lay across the valley, a two-days journey from his village. The wind picked up as he ascended the hill, and his horse shook from the cold. At the top of the highest hill, Feivel dismounted and shouted as loud as he could, "OH MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE, HOW MAY I UNLOCK MY SOUL TO ALLOW YOU IN?"
And Feivel heard a voice that echoed across the hills: "Bring me the key."
Again, Feivel was confused. Where could he find this key? Yom Kippur was fast approaching. Clearly, he needed to get even closer.
So Feivel rode across the plains and the steppes, three exhausting days on unsteady paths and muddy trails, until he came to the mountains that towered over the land. He pushed his horse up the steep path, into the snow and ice. The wind whipped around them; icicles formed in his beard. Finally he reached the rocky summit, far above the clouds. Nearly frozen, he dismounted and shouted as loud as he could, "OH MASTER OF THE UNIVERSE, HOW MAY I UNLOCK MY SOUL TO ALLOW YOU IN?"
And once again, Feivel heard a voice that echoed across the mountains: "Bring me the key."
Scared and cold, Feivel called out in frustration, "KEY? WHAT KEY, GOD?"
And the voice echoed through the mountains: "'God?' This is Schlomo, your assistant. I'm locked in the cart. Bring me the key, you idiot, before I freeze to death."
A Final Request
Rabbi Schuelmann of the synagogue of Krakow, would tell his Torah students this story on the second morning of Rosh Hashanah, following the readings from the machzor:
"A poor Russian cobbler was condemned by the Tsar to death by firing squad. On the morning of his execution, the prison governor asked the poor cobbler if he had any final requests. The cobbler said he desired to eat a whitefish: 'Not just any whitefish,' the cobbler explained, 'but the finest whitefish in all the land.'
"So the prison governor sent his guard to the market to fetch a whitefish. The governor gave it to the cobbler, who took one bite and spit it out, saying 'This is the worst whitefish I've ever tasted!'
"The governor was a harsh man, but a man of his word. So he delayed the execution and sent his guards to the next town to find a better grade of whitefish. They returned the next day with a whitefish. The governor gave it to the cobbler, who took one bite and spit it out, saying 'This whitefish is worse than the last one!'
"The prison governor sent his guards to the far reaches of the province in search of an adequate whitefish. Each time, the cobbler spit it out, declaring it worse than the one before it. Days turned to weeks, weeks turned to months, and still no whitefish would satisfy the cobbler.
"At long last, the governor sent his guards to the northernmost fishing village in Norway, a three months' journey, to fetch an adequate whitefish. He then directed the guards to bring it to France, where, under the strict supervision of the chief rabbi of Marseilles, it was prepared. Six months later, the guards returned. Hesitantly the governor served it to the poor cobbler.
"The cobbler took a bite, and declared, 'This is the most astoundingly incredibly delicious whitefish that I have ever tasted!'
"No sooner had these words left his mouth than he choked on a fish bone and suffered the most excruciating death by asphyxiation that anyone in the prison had ever witnessed."
Upon finishing the story, Rabbi Schuelmann would ask his students to ponder the meaning of the parable. He would leave the room and, as his students debated the story, remove all the money from their satchels and go to Weinblatt's Deli for their Rosh Hashanah blue-plate special.
A Meeting on a Road
Every Yom Kippur, the congregants would traipse uphill three miles along rocky roads and through thorny thickets to reach shul, their stomachs aching with hunger and their lips bitter with thirst. This year was particularly difficult as recent rains had left the paths muddy and wet.
So one could imagine their surprise when they saw a shiny new Rolls Royce convertible cruising up the road beside them - and their rabbi in the driver's seat!
To make matters worse, there was a beautiful girl, who was most certainly not the rabbi's wife, in the seat next to him, scantily dressed. And if that were not enough, there was a plate of half-eaten pork chops on the dashboard.
Seeing the looks of dismay and disapproval on his congragabnts' faces, he stopped the car and stepped out.
"My congregants," he said. "I know this looks terrible to you. But there is a very logical explanation for all of this. I was walking to shul to begin the Kol Nidre service, when I came upon a most horrifying scene. A brutish man was mercilessly beating this poor defenseless woman in the front seat of his Rolls Royce - this very Rolls Royce. And while the Torah forbids malakha, or work, on holy days such as this, it was clear to me that this poor woman's very life was in danger. And so I set upon this beast of a man and knocked him to the ground, saving this innocent soul."
The congregants nodded. One of them asked, "But Rebbe, why did you drive his car?"
"Ah, you see, this woman was badly injured, and it was clear she needed immediate medical attention. But the nearest hospital is 10 miles away, and I am too weak from fasting to carry her. So I put her in the Rolls Royce to get her to the hospital as soon as possible."
The congregants nodded again. One of them asked, "But Rebbe, how do you explain the pork chops?"
"Ah, you see, the woman was weak and light-headed. She begged me to provide sustenance. I, of course, could offer nothing, so I set out to find a place to get food. Alas, the only merchant open was a market that sold only pork products. As difficult as it was for me to do, I had no choice but to buy these treif cutlets to give this poor young woman a chance to survive until she received medical care. Now, my friends and neighbors, I must continue on my journey to the hospital to ensure that my duty is done."
With that, the rabbi returned to the car and sped off.
The congregants continued on their trek, satisfied with the rabbi's answers and proud of his courage, none of them saying a word about the French Maid's outfit he was wearing.
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