For centuries, Jews have been accused of ritually killing Christians, particularly children, to drink their blood or, more famously, bake it into Passover matzos. You know, for that special holiday pizazz. Although these reports are no longer chic in the West, they’ve been picked up in the Moslem world. It seems we don’t just kill Christians. We kill anybody—we’re very democratic this way. Apparently anyone who is not a Jew (though this can be a real problem of discernment) is sauce for the goose. Blood is blood.
It’s a terrible thing the way these rumors go around. Historically, it has led to all kinds of nasty behavior. Crazed, fist-pumping shouts of vengeance, round-ups, baby-head bashing, bellies sliced open and live cats sewn inside. Just a mess.
I blame it on secrecy. People don’t like it when they don’t know what or whom to believe. Facts, they can accept. What else are you going to do with them? But rumors? That’s what makes blood vessels burst.
So, enough is enough. I’m coming clean. It’s all true. We do it. We do it all the time. Not just Passover, but all the time. We’re not so big on ritual anymore. Not like our parents or grandparents. We do it for fun. Sometimes because we crave a little taste, but mostly it’s just to kill a slow night. You know?
A day might come up when I’ll call a couple of brother Judeos, and we’ll hit the streets and find a place to lurk. Lurking is key. That’s the sport of it, and you miss the whole point and thrill of it if you don’t lurk. So we lurk. We lurk and lurk. Along comes some juicy Gentile, a swift rock to a soft melon, and Bob’s your uncle. We can’t all be doctors.
Personally, I’ve been making small fortune with a little invention of mine. It’s nothing really—an enamel-coated steel straw with a razor sharp pointed tip that gets right to the heart of the matter. Goes in like butter. Insert and sip. Right now, I only have one color. Silver. But I’m rounding up investors.