Shmuel Goldstein, now registered with the welfare as Shmeel Gold, Samuel Goldstein, Sammy Goldman, Sammy Golder, Sammy Gonzalez and yes, Samir Ghanekar among other names, relates the amazing story of how he became a Creedmoorer Chossid after a near death experience:
Until that fateful day, I was a typical Flatbush schnook. I have an accounting degree and was working for a mortgage company, doing my job, going to shiur every day, learning Daf Yomi, and leading a quiet, respectable life in all ways. And I was happy, but that was only because until I became a Creedmoorer I did not know that the essence of life and happiness is gezel, mirma and doing everything I can do to make sure we stay in this wonderful Golus that has so many benefits, Federal, State and municipal.
Shabbos Zochor. My friend Yankel sponsored a huge kiddush. I made kiddush with regular wine and had a regular lechaim, and then I began eating the kishke.
I didn't know that Yankel, whom I thought got rich in real estate and investments, was actually a secret Creedmoorer. If I knew that I would have asked him about Creedmoor long ago because I was getting bored and tired of my plain, unexciting life and knew there had to be more out there.
But Yankel gave me a special piece of Creedmoorer kishke, which is left outside for two weeks to ferment before it is thrown into the cholent. The fermented kishke was too much for me, and I passed out.
Someone who didn't know any better called Hatzoloh, and while they were wasting their time reviving me from what was really just a deep sleep, I started to see visions.
First, I saw Gan Eden. What a boring place! It was like Flatbush and my boring shtible. Everyone was sitting quietly and learning gemoro getting ready to come back to Earth with Moshiach. Mealtimes were orderly and the food was good but not great; nothing like this great kishke I had just eaten.
Then I saw Gehennom. Now, that was my style! It reminded me of any good kiddush or simcha here; everyone talking loshon horo, trading investment tips instead of learning even though the sforim were open, and lots of interesting people hanging around.
Right there and then I knew I was just a schnook and a sucker for working and living what the shkootzim in my old shul called an ehrlicher life.
And after that, the fun started. I saw visions of my uncle olov hasholom, he was a multimillionaire even though he did two four year terms for tax evasion and insurance scams. He told me: "Me they called everything I did a chilul Hashem, but what a life I had! Everything! My Rivky had a new shaitel every week and she still has plenty that I left her and my kids married into the best families! You? What do you have? Your kids will marry the same kind as you are; square, just spinning your wheels, getting no respect, barely getting an aliya every year when I sat in mizrach even in prison shul!" He disappeared, and I was transported back in time to the sad days after World War 1, where only one man had any money in my town...
He was my zaide, Feivel Zanvil, a Chelmisher Chossid who everyone called Der Oisvorf because he ran all kinds of black market deals with schoire that no one else could get in those lean times. And he told me in tzebruchener Aynglish that he learned in Gehennom: "Look from me! Kyner hed gelt in dose days. Oisvorf they call to me? But when they needed money, the schleppers, to who did they cry? To me, der Oisvorf! And oy I gib dem gelt tzi 100% interest, 150% ribbis, put on the line der houses. A gemach I should give them, the loserlach? Dey geven der oisvorfen in ich bin geven a gresser gvir! Zay nisht kyne sucker!"
Finally, I saw my daughter's wedding. She's a good girl and pretty too, but because I have no yichus and not much money I was worried for her that I couldn't find her a guy who would sit all day and play with his PDA in kollel while she worked and still managed to buy expensive clothing and shoes..
And at that wedding, the mesader kiddushin came to me and said: "Gib a kik, Shmeel, mach a signature on all dese forms and dis chassine is paid for. Your mechitin wouldn't want it no other way..."
He was wearing a garbage bag and a tin foil shtreimel and of course I knew who it was - der hyliger Admou"r meCreedmoor!
So when the Hatzoloh ambulance took me to Maimonides, I told the doctors I wanted to be transferred to Creedmoor after Shabbos because I knew this was a psychological reaction and my doctor was affiliated there.
What I didn't know was that borich Hashish the Admou"r had a couple of Chassidim among the Indian and Russian doctors and staff at Maimo. As soon as I mentioned Creedmoor, the nurse said that I would need evaluation by Dr Hirsch Lybe Patel.
As soon as I heard that I knew full well it was a code because I had a chavrisa in kollel whose name was Hirsch Lybe Patel according to his EBT card and I knew he was in touch with the Creedmoorer because otherwise he'd never qualify for food stamps.
Dr Patel turned out to be a real, live Indian with the letters EBT written in certifiably fake Hindi script on his forehead. His pockets were bulging with cash and cards...
He told me: "Goldstein, you crazy man, good crazy man. We get you out of here into Dr Schmoigerman's service in Creedmoor tonight. For now rest and after your Shabbat I take your information so Schmoigerman begin to help you. He great doctor and also very special rabbi. You are having new diagnosis, personalities up your side and out the other. Schmoigerman see you tonight and start your registering, I am meaning your treatment, as soon as he can..."
And that night, I got to Creedmoor and began a new life. Never mind that no official welfare or section 8 office is open Saturday nights; the Admou"r gave me seven brand new EBT cards and had me sign up every one of my new names for Section 8, SSI and welfare. He even welcomed me specially by registering a half a dozen unfinished condo towers in Florida to each name - and he showed me how to take out an insurance policy on each one while he passed on the names of the most bent fire adjusters in all of Florida.
On Monday, I was ready for release with an outpatient diagnosis that let me visit the Admou"r whenever he was in D-ward.
Today I am facing 50 counts of welfare fraud....and I pleaded guilty...................on someone else's name that I got from the Admou'r's collection of death certificates. My trial was already canceled on the basis of insanity AND being deceased.
And my daughter Sara Chaya is engaged to the son of a major Rosh Yeshiva; I've already set her up with the welfare and section 8 so she can support him while he learns in the Kollel for Advanced White Collar Offenders! The chassune will be in a new hall that we built using Section 8 money; it is as if we are renting it as apartments for each guest with the Section 8 vouchers on assumed names and then after the chassune we'll get evicted for nonpayment so we get emergency welfare for ALL 1000 guests who were kicked out! Three weeks later we'll burn it down and buy Sara Chaya and her husband a big house on Ocean Parkway that we'll burn down again in a year so we can build it even bigger!
Life iz zer git! S'iz shyne a Creedmoorer tzi zyne!
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