4 Jews Enter A Greek Temple

Gimmel, a high school wrestling star for Jerusalem High turned professional bookie for the Maccabees, stands in prayer, lip synching some horseshit prayer in honor of some half-horse, half-man freak centaur, who also happens to be hung like an Arabian.

            Shin, the local tailor, adjusts his fancy schmancy Tallis like a stressed-out Rodney bombing with new material at Dangerfield’s, and says, “Gimmel, have you ever been hellenized? Because, you know I have. How else do you explain my fear of getting electrocuted to death ever since Zeus jammed a thunderbolt up my wife’s snatch because she called the Goddess of Wisdom Athena ‘fake news deep’ compared to the Lord our God, not the God of Loud Rain.”

            Gimmel elbows Shin in stomach and says, “Stop making me laugh, Shin. You’ll arouse the wrath of Gelos, the personification of laughter, because, despite his Greek God status, he isn’t endowed with the funny Jew bone to bang out room-shaking laughter with either.”

            Nun, a Kosher winemaker, enters the Greek Temple after wining and dining a Greek senator who threatened to take over his family winery if he didn’t erect a marble sculptured fountain of Dionysus, connected to underground barrels of pricy Cabernet Sauvignon which spill out of his golden chalice cup every other two seconds.          Nun spots his friends Shin and Gimmel whispering to each other, lip synching up close near the holy side of the Greek Temple. This was where the Golden Menorah used to light up the 2nd Temple before Antiochus took over after Alexander The Great died and turned the Second Temple into a head shop for Greek Gods, where they now sell bundles of incense sticks for five shekels and a gram of hashish. What a country Judea had become!

            Nun lines up next to friends Shin and Gimmel, engaging in fake news Greek God prayer, and whispers to his old school Jerusalem High wrestling buds, “What are you two doing here again? You’ll get crucified if the Greek priests overhear you kvetching about you having zero interest in worshiping Pan the Goat Boy during the never-ending 2nd Temple period.

            “But you have to bitch, because we already paid our synagogue dues before King Antiochus turned our JCC gymnasium into a members-only gay bathhouse for Greek senators to bask in endless leisure, admiring each other’s flappy rounds of mound.”

            Hey, the Kosher Dairy Farmer, enters the Greek Temple with a chalef knife, whose incredibly sharp edge ensures a painless, Torah commanded, gentle-as-can-be death for cows later converted into brisket stew.

            The Negev Desert sun glares through the newly refurbished stained glass window designs of nymphs playing tug of war with Hercules cock.  But this blast of holy-powered light nearly blinds the Greek priest leading the service, as the Negev desert light bounces off Hey’s chalef butcher knife and refracts into his Greek God-loving eyes.     (Which, I’m sure, reminds the Greek priest of the time he wanted to poke his eyes out after getting blackout drunk from a three-day Theatre Festival in Athens, only to wake up next to Medusa’s sister, who rapes drunk Greek priests at will because in her presence, blackout drunk or not, you become automatically frozen stiff.)  

            As the Greek priest rubs his eyes in extreme agony, Hey, The Kosher Dairy Farmer, with his chalef knife held high in the air, yells, “Maccabees rule! We’re the chosen people for a reason, bitches.”

            Eight days later, the magnificent band of Maccabee warrior brothers reclaimed the Greek Temple and turned into the grand 2nd Temple of old without barely breaking a sweat because the Lord was on their side. I bet you eight million Shekels that Hermes ran for the hills away from Zion as fast as he could, refusing to give Zeus the message.

             Happy Hanukkah, Kayne excluded. Challah, thank you very much.

Michael Kornbluth

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