Yesterday, I was riding in a car with my dad, my sister, and my sister's boyfriend.
We were driving from a suburb of Minneapolis to a restaurant in the city. My sister made a comment about how she doesn't like St. Patrick's Day. I heartily agreed with her. While I thoroughly enjoy drinking and fuckin' partying, I don't think it's the best way to pay respects to saints. That is best done through drinking and fuckin' praying.
Cut back to the conversation. I agree with my sister, stating that I hate Irish people and people who pretend to be Irish, which is what St. Patrick's Day is full of.
"You're Irish," my sister says.
"Shut the fuck up," I respond.
Growing up, I never knew what my ethnic history was. The only race I could see from looking in the mirror was American. And that was good enough for me.
So I never asked. Cut to yesterday, me still blissfully oblivious about my heritage, riding in a car with some of my fellow Americans.
"No, really, we have some Irish in us, I think."
"You think?"
"Grandma said we were ‘a lot of things.'"
"Uh…what exactly are those things?"
"I don't remember…Jewish was one of them."
This…this was the single greatest moment of my life. Everything clicked. It was like every single angel came down from heaven and delivered me a tugjob. It was like I just chopped up and snorted 6 McDonald's Happy Meals. The only way I can explain the feeling is that it was comparable to, but better than, that feeling you get right after you murder a puppy and are holding its dead, cute body in your arms.
Thoughts started racing through my head. It all made sense! Everything in my life made sense now. The slightly larger-than-normal-size nose, the love of obtaining money and the reluctance of letting it go. And most of all, the comedy writing. Occasionally, when I'm going through a couple-second phase of writer's block, I might get down on myself (or go down on mysef) and lose my optimism. I think, sure, I'm funny, but I'll never make it as a comedy writer. I'm not Jewish. And everyone knows that every single successful comedy writer or comedian ever has been a Jew. Now that I'm a Jew, I can become a comedy writer, no problem.
I can do anything. This mid-life revelation will change me. Jews are hard-working. No longer will I sleep in until 3 p.m. everyday. No longer will I cast aside homework for relentless, carefree orgies.
I felt like jumping for joy, skipping higher, harder, and longer than Mary Poppins. I felt like going up on a mountaintop and screaming as loud as I could. I felt like donning a yarmulke and fucking the next broad I saw (I also felt like I could now start using the word broad for some reason).
I was free now, a Jew among mere mortals. My once unexplainable life now made perfect sense. Jewish blood flowed through my veins, through every inch of my body. While I would miss Christmas very much, I now had a duty. A Jew duty. And by G-d, I will do my duty.
I am now at peace with the world. Tonight I'll be drinking Jewish water and watching my Jewish tv. Eventually, I'll rest my attractive, soft Jewish body down on my Jewish couch and go to Jewish sleep.
I'll sigh a happy Jewish sigh. After all, everything is perfect now. The world is no longer a mystery. Anne Frank was a Jew. Paul Frank is a Jew.