The Fweekjob Confesses: I am Afraid From the Creedmoor Chronicler!

BS"D

Vienna (Baabemaases Press Agency):

"He knows who am I! He is knowing that I was thrown in washing machine at birth and this is why I am who I is!" So exclaimed the eminently ludicrous Moshe Aryeh Friedman to our reporter this morning. The interview took place in his small, secluded murky mudwater mikveh where Friedman swims every morning along with his pet rat, Herzlyimachshmoi.

The man he refers to with such trepidation is none other than Rabbi Dr Gimpel Pashkvilkemacher, Esq, the owner and publisher of the famous Yinglish newspaper "Der Shygetz", which is distributed free of charge in Otisville Federal Penitentiary as well as several men's ritual baths in Brooklyn, NY.

Rabbi Pashkvilkemacher, a journalist who himself is known for his narrowly avoided convictions, namely on charges of illegal manufacture of alcoholic beverages from wood and polystyrene resin, became renowned as the premier mikve journalist in cyberspace when he fabricated and exposed the infamous Admou"r meCreedmoor. The Admou'r is a self appointed phantom Chassidic rebbe who boasts ninety plus trillion followers, every one of whom exists only on the welfare and medical insurance rolls of various countries as well as the United Nations.

And Pashkvilkemacher was the first and only one to discern the awful truth: Moshe Aryeh Friedman is a Chassid of this Rebbe, whose legal name is David Schmoigerman. Friedman apparently relied on Schmoigerman to smuggle him out of Creedmoor Psychiatric Center, where Friedman was a registered patient and where Schmoigerman illegally occupies several abandoned buildings. Pashkvilkemacher also gained access to medical records which proved that Friedman suffers from permanent brain dislocation due to his having been thrown in a washing machine as a baby. This was the final blow in a series of babyhood misfortunes which began when Friedman was born premature in the back of a butcher shop and kept alive with a chicken incubator that was powered improperly with a single AAA cell when it was meant to run on a 9 volt battery. In addition, baby Moishe Aryeh was given helium that was kept on hand for inflating balloons at a nearby party favors store, rather than oxygen which is standard medical practice for premature babies.

"Yes, the Rebbe from Creedmoor got me to Europe. He roll me up in a bedsheet and throw me out from a window on the second floor. Myne parents sent me to Creedmoor because after I was thrown in that washing machine there was nowhere else to put me. The Rebbe taught me that I didn't have to be satisfied with just one disability and SSI cheque; he said even a little pipsquirt like me can get 1000 of them with my eyes closed. But this I am not liking; I like better to take money from Iran. Then it all stop when I get toman from Mahmoudele and I complain I can't convert them nisht in Vilyemburg. Then Mahmoudele he say now we are divorced, so if that the way they are treating me I am not wanting nothing more to do with myne old gang."

"Besides, I am afraid from Der Shygetz. His paper they call me a freak, a nut, a Fweeky Fweedy and from this I am sick. So maybe I pretend I a little bit normal and see if I can for myself and my family get a few Austrian welfare checkelach and some EU subsidies. They are giving for all kinds of farmers all kinds of subsidies and in America I was geven a funny farmer so I am for sure eligible. So maybe now I settle down to a quiet new life without no Iran and no Creedmoor and no Shygetz making fun from me."

Needless to say, given the coherence and authenticity of this interview, and the approaching Purim holiday, we doubt our colleague Rabbi Pashkvilkemacher will let up on his intensive coverage of the most insignificant little windbag in all of the Jewish World, Moshe Aryeh Friedman a/k/a Fweeky Fweedy.

Annual Kamtza and Bar Kamtza Lecture

LS"D

Mit gretitude to der velfare syztem end sektzen acht, ve iz presentink dis year our ennuel Kamtza end Bar Kamtza Lekture Series:

Sunday 2 Menachem Av:

"What can we do to better ensure the destruction of the Medine?"

Speakerz iz:

Grandest Rebbe fin der Community far the Destruction fin der Zionist Entity in Hyligen Vien: Herr Oberrabiner Moishe Aryeh Friedmann (Imam Moussa Assad al-Faraj al-Majnoun).

Der mensch vus tit mehr far der destruction of der medine end puttink in denger der safety fin Yidden dorten den anyone else dese days:
The Recht Dishonorible Mr Ehud Olmert
Chief of Korruption Department in Prime Minister, Der Tzionishe Entity

Moderator:

Grand Rabbi of the Itbah al-Yahud Islamic Community/Ku Klux Karta of Monsey, Imam Moussa al-Dib Beck (Rabbi Moshe Ber Beck).

Herr Oberrabbiner Friedmann and Mr Olmert will diskuss what each of dem iz doink to make sure fin the destruction of the medine speedily end in inzere teg! You den decide fin der audience if Friedmann or Olmert iz bigger denger to der medine!

Couvert: 170 Food Shtempelach includez a Halal Lemehadrin meal catered by Hamas Caterink of Atlentik Evenue, Brooklyn. Blenk checks end Visa/Mesterkart/Americhkan Express numbers also aktzepted.

Location: Beis Medrash d'Creedmoor (D-ward Padded Dayroom)

Moshe Aryeh Friedman: The Medical Mystery is Solved

A chance encounter with one of Moshe Aryeh Friedman's doctors revealed the following information:

"When Moshe was 15, we took him from Creedmoor to an orthopedic clinic to see if we could undo the damage to his growth plates that was caused by his spin in the washing machine as a baby. He was enrolled in a study in which equine (horse) growth hormone was supposed to be administered to him for several weeks. Instead, an extract made from equine posterior flesh was used. Or, in layman's terms, they took his medicine from the wrong end of the horse!"

This might explain why, as per the linked picture, Freeky Freedy has an outsized head and feet and a goofy, horse-like grin as well as being stooped (and stooooooooooooooooooooopid)!

And it certainly explains why Moshe Aryeh Friedman is ummm..der tuches fin a ferd, or in the Queen's English, a horse's arse!

The Final Creedmoor Post: Moshe Aryeh Friedman and the Magic Bedsheet part 4

Yes, this is it. I just am not into this anymore, but still I do have the final information to finish the pathetic, yet exciting saga of Moshe Aryeh Friedman, whose journeys from Creedmoor to Antwerpen to Vienna began with a bedsheet stretching from his Creedmoor padded cell to....JFK International Airport!

"No longer did Rabbi and Mrs Friedman back in Williamsburgh have to worry about their son. He was for all practical purposes a voluntary resident of Creedmoor (he simply moved into a padded suite in E-ward, an abandoned building not far from the beloved D-ward of the Admou"r meCreedmoor who was in Alcatraz more and more these days so that he did not even care to claim a tzentel of Moshe Aryeh's ill-gotten gains). What is more, Dr Michael Weinberg, the last competent professional at Creedmoor, had retired to move to Israel, so no one was there to account for decrepit little Moishele."

And the boy Moishele grew, well, he never did grow too far up in any way, be it maturity or stature. But his audacity sure did grow when it came to scams. While his monthly take was puny compared to that of the Admou"r meCreedmoor or even the platoon of Patel pseudo-psychiatrists who were fortunate enough to be on the Admou"r's gravy train, the Friedman coffers were enriched by a solid five figures every month thanks to a litany of relatively mundane acts of deceit, ranging from credit card fraud (he successfully submitted credit card applications in the names of various deceased patients whose names he received from a corrupt clerk for 20% of the take) to sales of counterfeit medications to patients in the drug rehab ward.

But Moshe Aryeh Friedman dreamed of a future far brighter than his present. Truth is that Moishele was not motivated so much by money as he was by a constant need for attention. He also had a perverse desire to marry and start a family, so that he could have a captive audience for his rather extreme deiois, which ranged from right wing Zionism that made the late Meir Kahane seem like a member of Meretz, to his default position of destruction of the Zionist entity and its replacement with a "Palestinian" welfare state, which would be subsidized by the EU and US and allow none other than the one and only Moshe Aryeh Friedman to serve in its government as, yes, Minister of Abuse of Social Welfare and Misappropriation of Entitlement Payments.

So, the ludicrous little clown of a man felt he had to leave Creedmoor for greener pastures in the EU. But he had forged his own commitment order to Creedmoor in a harebrained attempt to guarantee his constant supply of welfare payments and immunity from prosecution under the guise of insanity. That meant that the only way out was - escape!

And he found a willing accomplice in the one and only Admou"r meCreedmoor, whose anti-Zionism was in reality only a smokescreen for avarice that also victimized his despised Zionist Entity, where he ran several insurance, unemployment, gun running and Bituah Leumi scams in cohouts with the infamous Mussa Alperon. Why Mussa Alperon, one may ask? Well, it is very simple. Mussa Alperon is a one legged war amputee. However, we are not chas vesholom making light of those wounded in Israel's wars against the enemies of the Jewish people. You see, Mussa Alperon lost his leg in an assassination attempt spearheaded by a business competitor who was interested in encroaching on Alperon territory in the noble fields of theft of building supplies, theft of recyclables, and the Alperon specialty - loansharking and strongarm collection attempts. In other words, he is an ignobly disabled veteran of the often violent mob wars in Eretz Yisroel.

The Admou"r met Alperon and said "Ich bin a meshiggener end you don't heve a leg to stend on no more - so we get caught, we meke zeyr a gut pair". And the Admou"r and Mussa now front each other for every harebrained scam known to man, from sales of stolen left shoes and gloves to attempts to use Alperon's amputee status to receive a new prosthetic leg every hour on the hour from Bituah Leumi, which is in turn filled with hashish and sent to Creedmoor for redistribution.

And it was this hashish that the Admou"r was smoking when he said: "Look, Moishele myne kind - I know you are really wantink to destroy der Tzioinishe medine end I know all I want iz gelt. So gib mir, lomir ziggen. a hinnert toisent and I sell by you a sheet for a bed it goes all der way to JFK Airport!"

The transaction was completed. 100,000 forged food stamps were duly handed over to the Admou"r, who then presented Freeky Freedy with a twenty mile long, ten foot wide white bedsheet, sewed by certified burqa weavers in Afghanistan!

Freeky was then duly wrapped in the bedsheet - and thrown out a seven story window by the Admou"r onto a waiting pickup truck. The bedsheet end was still attached to the window, so that when the pickup truck sped away, it unraveled all the way from the hospital to the airport, leaving Freedy covered by perhaps five miles of bedsheet and creating extremely hazardous and eminently ridiculous driving conditions for miles as well as attracting gawkers from all over Queens and Long Island.

Now came the hardest part of Operation Bedsheet - getting Moshe Aryeh Friedman onto a plane bound for any EU city.

"Listen. I've got a little twerp rolled up in this sheet - he's gotta go somewhere in Europe by cargo!"

Jose Hernandez Pendejo del Rio heard this and said" Si, senor, I load leetle cargo to Antwerp. We send bedsheet to Antwerp you just pay me 50 dollar and I say nothing, OK" (needless to say this took place long before 9/11!)

"OK Antwerp is in Europe, right?" "Si, senor, it de capital of Holland so he go dere!"

50 counterfeit dollars changed hands, and the Friedman wrap was cut down to perhaps one mile of cloth with holes in the back for breathing and in the front for other functions, for all were convinced that Friedman's anatomy was a bit different from standard human issue.

And the plane took off, with Friedman managing to extricate himself from the bedsheet altogether and then finding a hacksaw and making his way into the first class cabin, after having stolen a pair of tefillin and a tallis from an unsuspecting haimishe passenger in economy and claiming he wanted to go to first class to daven with a group of diamond dealers headed to a convention in Antwerp.

How Friedman managed to produce a valid ticket and remain in his seat is a mystery, but the plane did land with one huge abandoned bedsheet in cargo and one minuscule, demented but for once well nourished Freeky Freedy in first class. And of course Friedman claimed the bedsheet as his luggage and then found a willing Gypsy to wrap him up and smuggle him past border control to freedom.

Needless to say, Freaky Freedy's first stop in Antwerp was at a psychiatric clinic where it was not hard for him to achieve several official diagnoses including delusions of grandeur, and therefore begin his life in Europe as an indigent eligible for generous European welfare benefits.

Sadly, he did meet his mate there, and to this day Mrs Friedman is abused as are the couple's children. They live in Vienna, where Friedman is considered persona non grata in the Jewish community and in fact enjoys a status of total cherem. But they do enjoy vacations to Iran, and indeed Moshe Aryeh Friedman was almost named Chief Rabbi of the Islamoterrorist Republic of Iran.

And thus ends the Creedmoorer Chassidus blog once and for all. It has been a pleasure and a lot of fun, but sadly the latest episodes of crime and fraud in our communities involve abuse far worse than that meted out upon the Friedman wife and children, and are therefore beyond parody.

Moshe Aryeh Friedman and the Magic Bedsheet - part 3

As could be expected, Moshe Aryeh Friedman took little interest in his studies, and he was not a stellar student, to put it mildly. One of his rebbeim, who was also his neighbor, would often say "I wish we were back in the old days in Budapesht where I could give Moishele such a potch he'd remember me forever!"

On the other hand, the little pipsqueak of a boy was a true busybody, the male equivalent of a yente, or perhaps more accurately, of the yente's more malicious counterpart, the yachne. He would listen in to every conversation, whether in school or at Creedmoor. While he had little interest in what went on in school, he would not hesitate to turn in his fellow schoolboys when he overheard usually exaggerated tales of their boyish pranks. But when it came to Creedmoor, somehow he became a precocious child who understood conversations about treatment of psychiatric illness.

This, too, held little interest for him once he found out that he could not successfully set up much of a black market in psychotropic drugs without getting on the bad side of an Indian and Pakistani medical mafia that already controlled same in the rapidly declining mental facility. So, he injected himself into the offices of the social workers, who were charged with the all important task of obtaining benefits for their addled charges. In the offices of the directors, assistant directors, and associate directors to the assistant directors of the Affirmative Action riddled and woefully undercompetently overstaffed Department of Psychiatric Social Work, puny little Moishele learned about welfare, Section 8, SSI, Social Security Disability Payments, Veteran's Benefits and who knows what else.

In the meantime, while little Moishe Aryeh was forced to spend his afternoons in treatment in Creedmoor, his older sister, a kind and sweet young lady of 14, spent her free time helping truly developmentally disabled little girls in her community, which is known both for its chessed and for providing services to its least advantaged members. Malkele (name changed to protect the innocent) was already 2 heads taller than her ridiculous little brother, but that did not stop her from getting on her hands and knees and playing with unfortunate children as young as three years old. Malkele also had a large collection of stuffed animals, often given to her as presents by grateful parents, as well as a doll collection.

And Moshe Aryeh Friedman had a pair of scissors, a hammer, and a wrench, all purloined from the utility closet at Creedmoor, which was off limits to patients (he was also banned from access to the Friedman family cache of sharp objects, for obvious reasons).

One Sunday afternoon, while gentle, sweet Malkele accompanied a group of disabled children to a local park as was her usual routine on Sundays, her rancid, putrid, miserable rodent of a brother picked the lock to her room with his "gechapt" scissors, and began his ghastly work.

Sure enough, Malkele or her charges had named every doll and labeled each one with "her" very own name. So, Moshe Aryeh Friedman began his career as a scam artist by recording every one of the doll's names - typical Williamsburgh names like Esther, Blima, Yidis, Fyge, Byle, Gnendel, Ryzel - on a sheet of the only paper that he was allowed access to at home - namely asher yotzor papier. Then, he decided that the stuffed animals were male, so he named them in typical community fashion - Yoily, Gimpel, Getzel, Groinem, Shepsel, Yidel - and recorded their names as well. Of course they all shared his surname of Friedman as per this chronicle of woe.

And now, the mayhem began. Scissors amputated at least three limbs per doll and decapitated the stuffed animals. The hammer, rather large for Moshe Aryeh's undersized hands, wreaked havoc on the dolls' heads.

Presto! Moshe Aryeh Friedman now had a collection of injured and disabled dependents to claim for welfare and SSI, as well as a handful of deceased ones to claim for survivors' benefits. When asked to explain his actions to a visibly distraught Malkele and the unfortunate children to whom she so dearly served as a surrogate sister, the budding menivel explained: "Now your farshtinkene getschkes and shmatte vilde chayes are as retarded as the kids you take care of!"

Malkele could take no more; she was totally incapable of understanding her brother's utter lack of humanity. For five minutes, she cried inconsolably while she figured out what she could do. Her equally kindhearted older sister joined her in her tears; she was just as equally incapable of handling the situation and was amazed that her little brother, demented as he was known to be, could say and do such things. Not capable of doing what needed to be done, namely throwing the hammer at Moshe Aryeh and putting him out of his misery, both Friedman girls were beyond words. Finally, Malkele called the kollel where her father learned every Sunday and asked him to rush home.

When Rabbi Friedman saw the mess his son had made, he knew that Moshe Aryeh had to become a full time resident of Creedmoor as soon as possible despite his tender age. There was no sense punishing him for he was clearly beyond what any normal family could handle. But by the time he arrived, little Moishele was gone. His sisters were blinded by their tears and shock and saw nothing. For that matter, his father was not too interested in locating his depraved son, and as it turned out, he had no need to do so.

The wealthy aunt of a little girl whom Malkele took to the park every Sunday gratefully and generously replaced all of the toys which her brother had massacred. Fortunately, she was judged on her own great merits and was never associated with her brother's ways, so that beshaah toive umitzlachis she married a fine young man and today leads an exemplary life, and such is also the case with her older sister and all of the other Friedman siblings.

Moishele could have cared less about his father or his sisters. He was actually on his way back to Creedmoor, where one of the more corrupt associates to the assistants to the director of the associate directorship of the Department of Psychotic Anti-Social Work was ready and waiting to help him fill out forms for benefits for the no fewer than fifteen injured, disabled and deceased dependents of Moshe Aryeh and the late Malka Friedman. Yes, that is right. He actually claimed his very much alive sister was his deceased wife so that he could explain how he had fifteen dependents, ten hopelessly disabled and five conveniently deceased. A forged article about a tragic car accident was included in the application, and all was duly accepted by the overworked bureaucrats in Washington DC, Albany and City Hall.

And when the checks came in to "Rabbi Moshe Aryeh Friedman" at a PO Box not far from Creedmoor, Jose Hernandez, an illegal immigrant from Guatemala who occasionally pushed a mop across the corridors of power at Creedmoor, cashed them with an equally undocumented money transfer agency for one cent on the dollar. The rest of the loot was divided 80:20 between Moshe Aryeh Friedman and Mrs. Goosehonketta Jones-Whankingham, a native of some misbegotten island in the Caribbean whose title was "Assistant to the Associate of the Directorship of Benefits Management" at Creedmoor Psychiatric Hospital.

No longer did Rabbi and Mrs Friedman back in Williamsburgh have to worry about their son. He was for all practical purposes a voluntary resident of Creedmoor (he simply moved into a padded suite in E-ward, an abandoned building not far from the beloved D-ward of the Admou"r meCreedmoor who was in Alcatraz more and more these days so that he did not even care to claim a tzentel of Moshe Aryeh's ill-gotten gains). What is more, Dr Michael Weinberg, the last competent professional at Creedmoor, had retired to move to Israel, so no one was there to account for decrepit little Moishele.

Moshe Aryeh Friedman and the Magic Bedsheet - part 2

It is impossible for a child of ten years of age to be committed to Creedmoor. However, the Friedman parents and his many frustrated teachers, babysitters, and counselors needed a solution for little Moshe Aryeh, and fast.

So when Reb Velvel suggested Creedmoor, Moshe Aryeh's mother was only too happy to listen, and indeed she called the august institution to inquire as to whether there was a berth for her addled spawn.

While the answer was of course negative, it so happened that the medical director of Creedmoor at the time was Dr Michael Weinberg, an eminently overqualified heir to a building fortune, and himself a frum Yid of Hungarian origin with a very warm feeling toward Chassidus. So, Dr Weinberg agreed to accept Moshe Aryeh Friedman into a medical study aimed at assisting children with antisocial behavior patterns to somehow integrate into society.

This meant that every Monday, Wednesday and Thursday after school, Moshe Aryeh Friedman would be taken to a padded cell in Creedmoor for a few hours, where Dr Weinberg and his team tried to figure out what could be done to turn Moshe into "half a mensch, or eppes nisht azoy a vilder ferd," as one of his enervated teachers put it so eloquently.

Of course, when dealing with one as addled as Moshe Aryeh Friedman, success is not a given. And the treatments were given no chance of success, so that in essence Creedmoor was simply an after school day care center for "Freaky Freedy," a nickname that even the staff used for their unwanted charge.

And Freeky lived up to his name. He especially enjoyed drawing Zionist flags on the padding of his cell, and then tearing up the padding while shouting "Death to Zionism! Zionism and Judaism are direct opposites! Down with Zionist murderers!" Then, there were his myriad scams which the undersized terror carried out among the underpaid and under-documented maintenance staff.

For instance, the simplest scam was the cigarette scam. Moshe Aryeh Friedman was only 11 years old when he began this game, but credulous Mexican and Honduran janitorial assistants lined up to pay him a mere 50 cents for a pack of cigarettes "straight fin der Indianer reservation in Vilyemsburgh!" Since Moshe had driven his long suffering father to chain smoking long ago, he had no trouble obtaining Marlboro packages, in which he placed one piece of paper wrapped around chopped up rubberbands. He then resealed the packages with scotch tape and distributed them to his dupes, with instructions to "plent der cigarette in der erd end you grow a cigarette tree in tzvye months!" Given the low level of sophistication among his customers, they eagerly believed him, and when the trees did not grow in two months, he simply sold each dupe a half bottle of hydrogen peroxide for another fifty cents and told them to water their plants with "heiliger vasser fin der Rebbe."

And this was trumped only by his first welfare scam, successfully completed before he reached his 12th birthday..(part 3 coming after Shabbos).