The Big Brother Butcher
It’s not easy to eat Kosher. If not for the whopping 2 kosher meat stores in all of Westchester County, NY, or the Trader Joe’s and Whole Foods in Danbury, CT, Joshua would be screwed. But in all seriousness, Joshua was going weeks without Kosher meet a time, even months sometimes, because he felt like a total selfish, fat slob for eating almost the entire mound of Kosher fried chicken all by himself because everyone else in the house at pescatarian. The main reason he refrained from making another overpriced, 40 dollar slab of scrumptious, well marbled brisket, in a homemade barbeque sauce in the Instant Pot, instead waiting to be reincarnated 5 times over into Vince Vaughn with a less obnoxious sounding cackling laugh in the older than Yiddish, slower cooker, was because Joshua wanted to everything within his power to avoid hearing his wife utter with jealous laced disgust, “Did you wash the cutting board with disinfectant?” Joshua claims she was jealous of his devour heavy Kosher meat feasts because she had nothing to do with giving him such wow, worthy pleasure. Joshua was taken a page out writer Ayn Rand’s book, by no longer living to please others has much. Joshua realized, relying on others, even loved ones, to give you sustainable pleasure, was bound to lead down the path of crushing, let down disappointment again and again. Granted, his 3 kids were perfect, who were only guilty of being too much in Daddy, insisting on stroking his scratchy beard and smell his armpit one last time before he tucked them in a bed to determine if Daddy was wearing deodorant or not. Obviously, Joshua had zero problem with his children manhandling him any chance they could get, especially in front of his wife, knowing how much it proved Do It All Dads matter. His 3-year-old son Samuel loved to be hoisted up to ceiling with his bum touching the ceiling so daddy can say, “You want to be Spidey baby?” After a double bath bomb special, 3 year old Samuel would ask daddy to wrap him up like a baby to the bedroom before giving back to back to back, elevator drops, where he’d pick him with the towel wrapped around his back and drop him down to bed to repeated, shrieks of joy and endless request, “One more daddy.” Before Baby Samuel would instruct his Daddy, “Now tell Alexa to play, No More, No More by Aerosmith Dada. No more elevator drops, the last one almost shattered my teeth.” But if Joshua had to endure his wife guilting his daughter into giving forced, emotive praise in honor of her brown poopy liquid looking black bean soup, he’d start sneaking in cut off pieces of Hebrew national franks into kids Heinz baked beans in a NY minute.
Growing up, shopping at the Kosher meat store with his Dad was weird. The Hebrew lettering on the meat exuded a mystical, holy component to it more in retrospect, since Joshua got closer to God and started to acknowledge his existence on a daily morning and evening basis. But back sometime in the 1980’s, the Hebrew lettering imprint, on the sticker price tags, designating it’s Kosher meat status was just perceived as another unwelcome reminder of another boring slog through Hebrew School. Again, Joshua had a hard time getting excited about trips to the Kosher butcher back then because he wasn’t into cooking for himself, or embracing making a Kosher fried chicken in 30 bucks worth of Peanut oil from the Corona Virus laden, now closed down Chinese grocery store, within the derelict, strip mall stretch one floor below the DMW in White Plains, NY. Joshua got a tad chummy with a butcher at the Farmer’s Market by the Grove in West Hollywood, when he started making homemade meatballs based on the recipe from the Soprano’s Cookbook, a NY Times Best Seller pre-fakes news, when he actually read the paper of record on a religious basis, to make him feel smarter and more informed in the process, after learning Walt Clyde Frazier read it religiously since he got drafted by the Knicks to expand his stupendous, ever expansive vocabulary with such nimble, “feline quickness.” Joshua loved these meatballs, because they combined ground veal, ground sirloin beef and ground, pinkish pork, back when eating some occasional pork didn’t bother Joshua one bit, despite his rapidly developing fondness for thick, double stacked, Turkey burgers from Astro Burger on Santa Monica Blvd, slathered with mayo, shredded lettuce and gooey slices of American cheese draping the mouthwatering bomb burger throughout. Joshua even introduced the same butcher to his mother during one her visits to the city of angels, which were always nice. What’s there not to like about LA, except the brutal bumper to bumper traffic and Hollywood producers, studio heads and directors giving the green light to rape kid actors at will? Corey Haim Gen X’s dear lost boy, included.
Now, Joshua was in Crown Heights Brooklyn for the 1st time to meet Schmendel at Kosher butcher shop, which makes brisket heroes to go, which he was going to squirt his latest and greatest planted based cheese wiz on for a taste test. Schmendel hugs it with the Kosher Butcher Jeremiah from across the butcher counter. Jeremiah says, “Good to see you brother. I got your 2 Brisket Bomb heroes to go, the best in Brooklyn, including Williamsburg and I don’t to rely on melted, hard provolone, which tastes better by itself cold, on top to do it. Are you the Do It All Dad Hero guy, my younger brother has been yapping about it? Joshua says, “In the flesh, you 2 are brothers?” Jeremiah says, “We pledged Zeta Beta, can’t you tell? We figured our natural good looks and superior wit wasn’t enough to guarantee us access to all the high-end puss John Hopkins University had to offer. I’m just playing, John Hopkins didn’t have much scrumptious trim to inhale in the 1st place. Joshua says, “Do you mind we squeeze some of your big brother’s plant-based cheese wiz on top your Bomb Brisket hero? I don’t want to trigger any hardcore orthodox Jews in the process. Would you mind making an announcement to your customers, we’re not using actual cheese wiz?” Jeremiah says, “Big brother, that’s a good one. If he was the big brother and real next in line man of the family, he would’ve taken over dad’s Kosher butcher business, not me. Do you have any idea how long it takes to scrub the smell of Kosher flank steak out of your hair? But don’t worry it Joshua, stop being such worrisome, neurotic Jew. Let’s try this plant based, cheese wiz already.” Joshua grabs the can of wiz from Schmendel and sprays on his Do It All Dad Hero and takes a bite. His eyes light up and says, “Fuck stand up comedy and writing more books, I can’t even get paid fucking reviews for because I violated so called rules of hate speech. This Do It All Dad Hero is fucking delicious, even Bill Maher would suck it down if given the option of going down on 2 black trannies first.” Jeremiah says, “Brother, Joshua is growing on me already.”