The Bleu Cheese Stands Alone

While the Old Testament reveals the beautiful struggle of the Jewish people, overcoming monumental adversity and hardship, many shikzas, gentiles, and goyim easily discard the resilience of the Jewish people. Sadly, in modern times, Jewish people have been most closely associated with big noses, nagging mothers, mediocre atheltic skills, and extreme sexual awkwardness. Of course all these stereotypes are not only hurtful and embarrasssing, but simply untrue. Ask at least half of my lovers and they will quickly admit not only to long nights of passion but an exceptional 37% satisfaction rating. On several occassions I think I may have even taken girls to that magical place; of course any recognition of female pleasure is pretty difficult to detect when you're circumsized member is peaking through a hole in a sheet.

But let's get back to that one Jewish stereotype that has plagued me throughout my life: Jewish people are cheap. The reason I bring up this point is not to dive into a lecture about the merits of wisely budgeting your money, or slip into the role of ruthless Shylock and demand court fees for Dr. Rosenburg's malpractice suit. No, the reason I allude to the thriftiness that has characterized Jewish culture is to illuminate our present economic situation, and more specifically, the buffalo wing crisis that will finally hit home this Sunday.

As a naive college student, I was living in a fantasy world. The party didn't stop on Sunday, but kept going all week long. See weekdays were the time to find the best beer and food deals and blow off some steam from my hectic, hour and fifteen minute classes four days a week. While I have indulged in nearly every bar deal: half priced pizza, thirty-five cent tacos, even reduced appetizers at D.C.'s now defunct Dark Horse, I always believed wings were the best deals. Buffalo wings are quite possibly the greatest permutation of meat to have every slid its way down my welcoming throat. Once I get wings on the mind, the sun just seems a little brighter, asses just a little fuller, and all the douchebags around me just seem a little more tolerable. When you wake up on a Monday or Tuesday or even Thursday morning and know that cheap wings may be in store for that evening, you just have such a positive outlook for the rest of the day. But that's what wings do, just a little deep fried present wrapped up in gooey sauce and flanked by crunchy celery and chunky bleu cheese dressing. For several months in college, I consitently woke up on weekday mornings with orange finger nails, still bearing that delicious evidence of the previous night's indulgence.

Now once I graduated college, my desire for cheap wings did not decrease, if anything, my appetite grew and my economic sensibility became more focused. I sprung for the twenty-five cent wings. I experimented with bbq, honey bbq, and even some weird amalgamation of Old Bay, Jack Daniels, and brown sugar. What I began to notice is that ten cent wing deals were showing up less and less until one day they practically disappeared. Furthermore, the wings were less meaty, drier, and often poorly seasoned. Lately I have even passed some bars with the audacity to advertise second rate chicken wings at an outrageous fifty cents a pop. Am I really supposed to blow my load for that deal? Fuck you bar!!!

Then it finally all fell apart. I get home from work, check my inbox and feel my testicles claw their way back into my body. Apparently, the shitty economy has serreptiously creeped away from the housing market and taken a giant shit on the wing market. Pilgrims Pride, the company responsible for processing a quarter of the chickens we eat has filed for bankruptcy. In addition, the high price of gas and something called "chicken feed" has fucked up the wing industry causing jacked up prices for the consumer. Moderately overweight men with drinking problems between the ages of 21 to 27 have reported a noticeable decrease in sexual activity of all kinds. That demographic is undboutedly the backbone of America and sits on the pulse of change. Well friends, don't complain to this "cheap Jew" when some skinny bitch at your Super Bowl party serves up salad with that bleu cheese dressing. Sometimes being cheap really does pay off.

Crybaby

As an adult, I try to operate as much in the "adult world" as possible. My friends are all well into their twenties, decently educated and have similar adult interests. I consume alcohol, drive cars, shop in the "men's" department, and even enjoy the carnal company of a willing female from time to time. While my humor, hygiene, and life goals have really not changed since age thirteen, I am slowly assimilating to adult culture. I have no problem with getting old and hardly ever desire the whimsical endeavours of my more youthful days. I love being able to make my own decisions and take responsibility for my mistakes. I have spent nearly a quarter of a century working hard in school, joining the workforce, and etching out strong relationships that have been vital to my development. That is precisely why I have a an extreme dislike for babies (hate seems like a really cruel word).

Now I know what you're thinking, "Weren't you at one time a baby? Wouldn't it be self-destructive , misanthropic, or even nihilistic to condemn the natural order of life." Of course not. See I don't have any problem with the living, breathing baby. I mean a lot of babies grow up an do extraordinary things. Michael Douglas was a baby. Even James Brown was a baby at some time. I have a problem with the role of babies in our society. See babies can do whatever they want and be completely oblivious to any ramifications. They're like shaved cats that don't know how to clean themselves. I challenge a baby to do any of the things I do on a daily basis. Let's go down the list. They can't feed themselves, they can't wash themselves, they can't walk on two feet, they can't talk, and they don't know how to use toilets. They have no idea how much their parents or guardians have to work to keep them alive. In fact, you probably don't know what pain in the ass a baby is until you have one of your own. To make it worse, everyone seems to gawk and gape at babies like they're some sort of sparkling engagement ring behind foggy glass. Smitten spectators like to squeeze, pinch, hold, and, for some Godforsaken reason, talk in cartoonish voices to babies. All the time the baby stares blankly with fishbowl eyes and creepily squeezes his pudgy fingers. His legs dangle like shrink wrapped bologna at a deli counter and drool cascades from his little mouth. His role has been defined by the adults that surround him.

Of course most of my animosity towards babies stems from severe envy. When I finally entered the adult world, I felt as though I had just gained access into some exclusive club. Now that I have been an adult for some time, I realize that this "club" is shit. Babies really have it down. As an adult, I have to work, acquire food, keep a socially acceptable level of hygiene, pay for my less-than extravagant lifestyle, and not fuck up too bad. On the other hand, babies are on a constant vacation. They get to eat liquidy food (sweet!) and don't have to worry about any bills. Furthermore, they can shit and piss themselves whenever they want and are forced to suck on titties to survive. They shower in a sink and get a little celebration if they talk or walk. Whenever I see babies, I am reminded of all the societal norms that constantly dictate how I live my life. Fuck it, age ain't nothin' but a number. I'm takin' it back. Fuck you babies and your pampered lifestyle. Try living just one day in my world.