Witz полностью

It’s all in the packaging (Hamm): we’re poring over the research, the data (Mada), samples, testmarkets (Gelt)…that’s what this tour’s about, after all — the Messiah opening in selected wherevers this summer, or this season passing for…but, goes the Garden’s latest questionaire, how do they want their salvation, with hot beverage, maybe, and their choice of dessert; and so there’s optimization, specialization, brandjobs supercustom. A question, another, half of what’d been asked to last session: should Ben conform to them, or them conform to Ben — asked to eighteen different groups of eighteen different adolescents selected at the holy and holying random, railroaded at Times Square, pennedin ten floors up — a focusgroup, with attention operating at deficit. Them giddy excitement and performance anxiety at the prospect of giving any right answer at their individual rolltop desks in this space luxurious with panes formerly used as a screen studio lit over the foot traffic and growing pools of manure; quills in hand, ink welling, the surveyed stare at parchment scraps; asked their names, ages, purchasing habits, the usual blah and then

Q. A Messiah should be ____:

A.) Male

B.) Female

C.) All of the Above

D.) None of the Above

E.) All & None of the Above

(Circle One)

Q. A Messiah should look ____:

A.) Good

B.) Eh

C.) Feh

D.) Down upon us all

(Circle One)

Q. Match the following words with their definitions, and then use one in a sentence:

1. Kvetch

A. To take pride in pathy.

2. Kvell

B. Me

3. Mitzvah

C. To bitch, complain, or whine

4. Goy

D. A good deed, or, better—commandment

Sentence:

I am a goy.

Fun Fillins:

My mother is a

______.

Your mother is a

______ ______.

I hope you

______ ______ ______.

On a scale of one to five, one to a thousand and a millionfigured unto innominate more please rate your satisfaction with the salvation of your soul in the fields preparest the green pastures provided, then list in the space designated nowhere what your Savior’s name should be, ideally: Benjamin Israelien, how does that sound, strike you closefisted, the beaten goat drum of the ear; those seven sialogogic syllables — the tongue to the roof of the mouth on the assenting Ja of the vorname, how’s that feel, a good tolling roll: Benjamin — or so they’re informed, who to confirm or deny — from the Hebrew Binyamin, meaning A son of the right, or Of the tribal south, alternately, wandering, the kingdom of them and of Judah, there’s no time to get into that now; though others hold it to be a corruption of A son of days, born to His father Jacob’s old age, Israel’s, Him like the first Benjamin, a Ben-oni, A son born of sorrow, of pain, or according to such an authority as the Rambam Of mourning—no relation to the tour’s opener, shortlived, the Amazing Benoni, a fleacircus veteran who had to pull out of his contract when the union impounded his wand for you don’t want to know what; his opening patter: Ram-bam, thank-you-ma’am, I’m just saying…

How about “Ben,” then, they ask the daily assembled: or is that too familiar, sounds too much like a kid, a household pet that died once? Whatever comes to your mind, first thought best, no thought at all. How about Benny, or is that much too familiar? Or Bennie? Schlemielsounding, maybe, loserish — like a goy who’s owed you money for moons, who’d trust in a Savior named that, all wrong.