Gets Us? Jesus They Don’t Know From Borscht.

Let’s pretend he’s really up there listening to all the prayers and handing out “get out hell free” cards. If so, this “Jes(us) Gets (us)” ad campaign must have JC scratching his halo.

“Mom,” Jesus asks the Holy Virgin, (isn’t every Jewish mother one?) “What am I supposed to get? That the human race is all screwed up? Like this is big news? That we two were humans with human tsuris. They think they have problems? What do they know from tsuris? We had gehakte tsuris.”

“You’re telling me? What the Romans did to my first born, my kleyne Jeesela, I wouldn’t wish on my worst enemy. Worse, they blamed it on the Jews and ever since then the goyim have persecuted us for something we had nothing to do with.”

“Yep, we had plenty of tsuris, so we know how people feel, but they have no idea how we feel. Problems, worries, conflicts? I had enough for fifty humans. I “got” it way back when we were on Earth. Big deal. The real question is, what the hell do they expect me to do about it? I could tell them how to live a good life till I’m blue in the face. Even Dad, before I was knee high to a grasshopper or a glimmer in his eye, even Mr. Omnipotent, couldn’t get them to behave. Gey tu eppes– go figure. Face it, Mom, they’re hopeless. Check out this one from the ad campaign, ‘He Loved The People We Hate,’ it says. The people they hate is what they mean. Of hate they have an endless supply. I only hated the rich people -who they love and vote on behalf of. They go on about how I didn’t practice all the hate. Meanwhile they raise it to an art form. The racism, the bigotry, the culture wars, the dirty politics, pushing their morals on everyone else. They talk the talk, but don’t walk the walk. Everything they do shows they don’t get me.

“Oy, I know,” Mary sighs, “Such a schande, a real travesty. But calm down. You get worked up, it gives you the runs. How come the ‘Prince of Peace’ constantly haks mir in chinik? Gripe, gripe, gripe. It’s too much to ask you should leave me in peace? Why didn’t you listen to your mother? I told you way back in Judea, ‘This you call a job for a nice Jewish boy?’ Of course the goyim don’t get you. They don’t know you from borsht. Never did. They don’t even know you’re Jewish or even what a Jew is. They pray and pray for you to fix everything they screw up, and when they keep screwing up they think you’re sitting here with your heart bleeding for how evil the humans are, but always forgiving them anyway. Such a cockamamie idea. Like we don’t have anything better to do? Then, after they sin and sin and sin, you wipe the record clean and give them a one way ticket to here if they just praise you to, well, you know, high heaven? As if you’re some narcissist they can butter up? They went and ruined your image by behaving the exact opposite of how you told them to. Now they want to put a new spin on you? They should do us a favor and not do us any favors. Such help we don’t need from ignoramuses who get home schooled by their ignorant parents and go to “universities” where they learn bupkes. They cancel classes for weeks on end so the kids can have prayer marathons. And in half the classes they go over all the same bubbameisters they brainwash them with from day one. Such farschvenderigkayt-what a waste. But what do you expect? They know from nothing. So stop feeling sorry for them already.”

“Yeah, Mom, but then I think, they know not what they do and their intentions are good.”

“See? That’s just the wimpy attitude I’m talking about. Good intentions. We know which road those intentions pave.”

“Road? More like a super highway.”

“At least it comes in handy for Satan. With so many woke people making the cut to come here these days and all the innocent Covid victims who died thanks to the politicians those evangelicals elected, poor Luce is strapped for good labor. That’s why we make like the schmuck governors and put those hypocrites on buses and deliver them directly to our friend. And they talk about an immigration crisis? What do they know from crisis?”

“You want to hear from crisis? Here’s a real one. My head has been spinning for two thousand years from all their petty prayers down there and then the racket they make when they get here. Praising me and singing their flarschlugena hymns day and night, night and day. It klubs mir in kup. Such a headache, you wouldn’t believe. Would it be so terrible to let us get a little peace and quiet or a decent night’s sleep? Thank Dad for Luce taking them off our hands. We should have done it long ago. Luce and the evangelicals deserve each other. They do all his heavy lifting on Earth so he can kick back with his demon buddies and party on. I feel bad about them frying, but, you’re right. They deserve it. Just look at the mess they’re making of America. No wonder all the other people hate them and my polls are sinking. I have an ad for them: ‘Jesus is Jewish. So Why Are You Goyim?’”

“Well, I just hope old Luce is not being too soft on them. You know he makes like he’s some kind of gemeynisha villain but he’s still really an angel at heart. I heard he lowered the temperature down there by 500 degrees. Before you know it the place will be another Miami Beach.”

“Not to worry. Mom. Those holy rollers wouldn’t know how to have fun if he transformed it into Disney World.”

“So true. By the way, I meant to tell you. I was having a little schmooze with your father the other day and…”

“Which one?”

“You know which one so stop with the teasing. I was a nice Jewish girl. Who else could it have been?

“You tell me.”

“Don’t be smart and don’t interrupt your mother. Where was I? Oh yeah. The other day I was saying to Mister Omniscient, how come these people are all ‘praise the Lord’ then go and do the opposite of what You told them to? ‘Go know,’ He said, ‘When I made them it seemed like a good idea. Maybe I should have just rested on the sixth day and made a nice weekend of it. The problem is I had to rush the job because shabbas started early and I couldn’t work after sundown. Then the whole rest of the next day was shot. Junior may get them but I sure don’t. That’s why I sent the half human kid, hoping he, being more like them, could get through to them. Go ask him. He should know better than me.’”

“Don’t look at me, Mom. I don’t get it either. I really pushed the party line. I even pushed over the money lenders’ tables to make my point. Not a good idea to mess with the big money crowd. They’re still using these schlemiels to get richer. I should have known better. Just look where it got me. If I showed up today and told them what I told them back then, they’d nail me up all over again. They mouth the words, but they don’t put their shekels where their mouths are. Just blow it on these facacta ads.”

“The joke’s on them, isn’t it? They’re clueless. I never get tired of seeing the look on their faces when Uncle Petey informs them they’re unforgivable and puts them on the bus. Priceless.”

“Yeah, I try not to snicker too. But this meshugana ad campaign is driving me meshuga. It’s bad enough they blew all that money on those dumb billboards with the ascent of man picture in a crossed out circle, like ‘no evolution here’ signs, and the ones of a lily-White me with goyeshe looks saying I’m the bouncer of this establishment and whoever doesn’t kish mir in tuchas is off the A-list. What? They think I was born yesterday? I wasn’t even born in December. Like I’m going to discriminate against my own mishpucha? And every other religious group and pagans and atheists who live decent lives? But this furshlugginer ad takes the cake. Now I can’t even enjoy a football game without having those “gets us” commercials coming on every five minutes. They could have taken their billion bucks and done something worthwhile, like I told them to, for all the downtrodden people they hate and then turn around and say they love.

“But no. What do they go and do with all that gelt? Might as well have burned it. And who ever said I need an image makeover, anyway? Their help I don’t need. I have a Jewish mother who does a great job of telling me what’s wrong with me.”

“You’re welcome. If you’d listened to me you’d be peacefully dead and buried and not got both of us up here in this boring place for eternity. What did I tell you when you showed all that medical talent and raised Lazarus? ‘Boychik,’ I said, ‘Be a doctor,’ But no. You have to go and waste a brilliant medical mind and open up a prophet business. They were a dime a dozen back then and they all ended up like you did. Imagine the naches you deprived me of. I could have been kvelling un over my son the doctor instead of wearing sackcloth and ashes at the foot of a big wooden cross. Maybe it’s my fault. I should have listened to your grandmother and married a doctor or a lawyer, or at least a CPA. ‘Azoy a husband?’ your Bubbie, may she rest in peace, said,’ ‘How could you run off on a donkey, knocked up, in the middle of the night with a carpenter, a common laborer?’ she said, ‘That kind of work you hire a goy to do. Now you went and ruined the family name. And after all your father and I did for you. Where did we go wrong? Tell me. No. Better you should just put a knife in my heart.’ The least I could do for her was to tell her Joe wasn’t your father. I had stars in my eyes. You know how it is when you’re an innocent sweet young thing in love.”

“Innocent. Right. Look Mom, don’t kick yourself. We got Bubbie and Zadie a nice corner condo on the first green over on that cloud. Really? They should complain? And I got us famous to boot.”

“Famous schmamous. Listen to the big macher. Would it have hurt if you’d made a decent living by really helping people? You broke you poor mother’s heart.”

“Oy. Lets not get into that again.”

“Alright, I’ll just sit here and keep my mouth shut. I’m only your mother. What do I know? “

“I know what you think, Mom, and believe it or not, I agree with you. Let’s not cry over spilled milk. Oy! Milk. It reminds me of that other ad they did. Such a load of schmegegge, ‘Got Jesus?’ Like I’m a carton of milk or something. They eat me. They drink me. They never give me a minute of peace with all the praying and the singing and the preaching.

“What they don’t do is ‘get’ me. Oh well. This cockamamie ad campaign will run its course and then they’ll come up with some new way to pester us and the rest of the humans with their mishegas.”

“You said it, boychik. I can hardly wait for them to get tired of this stupid commercial. And I can hardly wait for the game to come on. Don’t ruin it by telling me who you decided is going to win. We’ll just turn off the sound when they show the ads and crank it up when Rihanna does her big half time show.”

“Yeah. Now that I really get. I still don’t know if I’ll leave Mahome’s ankle alone or let him aggravate it just to make things more interesting. He’s a great quarterback, but I can’t stand to look at that scraggly facial hair…

Oy gevalt!!! It’s almost kickoff time and I’ve been so worked up over these furshlugginer ads I forgot to decide which team will win and who is going to score. Quick. Get those wings and nachos ready. I’ll pick up the beer and order the pizza.”

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