Fake Three Weeks

Tzvi Fishman,

לבן ריק
לבן ריק
צילום: ערוץ 7
Tzvi Fishman
Tzvi Fishman is a recipient of the Israel Ministry of Education Award for Creativity and Jewish Culture. His many novels and books on a variety of Jewish themes are available at Amazon Books. Recently, he has published "Arise and Shine!" and "The Lion's Roar" - 2 sequels to his popular novel, "Tevye in the Promised Land." In Israel, the Tevye trilogy is distributed by Sifriyat Bet-El Publishing. He is also the director and producer of the feature film, "Stories of Rebbe Nachman," starring Israel's popular actor, Yehuda Barkan. www.tzvifishmanbooks.com ...

FAKE THREE WEEKS

Let’s face it. In the Diaspora, who really cares about the Beit HaMikdash? Who really mourns? Maybe a handful. A football team of Jews at most. Everyone else can’t wait till the 3 Weeks are over. Then again – what am I talking about? In the Diaspora, the 3 Weeks don’t even exist. Who pays attention? Who cares? Only the diehards of Crown Heights, Williamsburg, and Boro Park – the lovers of Brooklyn. “By the East River and the Hudson, we sat down, yea we wept when we remembered Zion.” Ha Ha Ha, Ha Ha Ha, Ha Ha Ha. If anyone really cared, they’d be in Israel, in Jerusalem, instead of standing on lines around the block to squeeze into Jerusalem 2 Pizza on Ocean Parkway. Yes, my friends, the 3 Weeks don’t exist. The real mourning and agony only begins with the dreaded NINE DAYS. Nine Days of pure horror. Nine Days without the beaches of Long Island and baseball. Nine Days of purgatory – the most horrible days of the year. When everyone prays, “When will they end? When will they end?” And everyone cries out in lament:

When will they end? When will they end?

Nine Days of torment without mercy.

Nine Days without hotdogs and Nine Days without franks.

Nine Days without pastrami and triple burgers.

Who can survive the depravation and loss?

The inexpressible depravation and loss.

Where’s the corn beef, where’s the tongue?

Gone gone is the salami, leaving only the pickles.

Our hearts pine for mountains of baloney but there is none.

Why has our G-d turned so cruel?

We long to hear the Star Spangled Banner at the start of the game.

We yearn for the 3 and 2 count, for the crack of the bat, for the cheer of the crowd.

We weep that we can’t smell the kosher hot dogs, bite into their warm crispy skin, and hear the sizzle, the wizzle, the incredibly delicious dribble of hot mustard dripping over our lips.

And the beaches and bars packed with shiksas – where have they gone?

Who can bear the memory of the good times, who can withstand the pain?

Oh, that the Nine Days were over.

Oh, that the Nine Days were gone.

Save us Hashem!

Save us!

Have mercy upon our agonized souls.

For we have repented.

We have mourned.

We long to find favor once more.

Grant us your bounty of wieners, pastrami, burgers, and steaks.

Make our mouths to water.

Satisfy us with bottles of wine.

Stuff our faces with meat.

Return us our King to the delis and discos and beaches and ballparks and movies and concerts and vacations in the Carib.

Bring us back to the Catskills.       

“By the East River and the Hudson, we sat down, yea we wept when we remembered Zion.”

“How can we sing the L-rd’s song in a Jewish Land?”

Let us stay here in Brooklyn, in Monsey, LA, and sunshiny Miami Beach.

Don’t take us out of galut!

Don’t send the Mashiach!

Why screw up our plans?

“America the beautiful, G-d shed His grace on thee.”

And let us all say, Amen.

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