BS"D
We have just obtained confirmation of an arson fire that resulted in black smoke passing over the Vatican. In addition, a 350 pound man dressed in a red shtreimel, green dress, and rubber boots was seen attempting to affix a "For Lease" sign to the front door of the Basilica of S. Peter and a sign marked "K'hal Adass Ganovim d'Vatican - Shygetz Aross" above a side door. His assistant was arrested for affixing a "St. Patrick's Day Pub Special" sign to the Papal Restroom, but he was mysteriously freed after the Vatican guards received a call explaining that this sign referred to the day of the ascent of the new Pope to the Porcelain Throne.
The Admou'r meCreedmoor has asked Mel Gibson and Pat Buchanan to join him on a special beis din of sonei Yisroel who will confirm the Admou"r's candidate for the papacy, namely Moshe Aryeh Friedman. The confirmation was postponed to Sunday as the Admou"r is in Venezuela to comfort those mourning for Hugo Chavez.
Friedman, who is in the midst of founding a new educational network for his children somewhere in the bowels of a public toilet in the Antwerp train station, cannot be reached for comment.
Showing posts with label moshe aryeh friedman. Show all posts
Showing posts with label moshe aryeh friedman. Show all posts
Wednesday, March 06, 2013
Monday, February 18, 2013
Moshe Aryeh Friedman is Not Dead
BS"D
There are rumors that Moshe Aryeh Friedman removed himself from this world last week. These rumors are completely unfounded.
Other rumors claim he is in Manchester, home of senior Ku Klutz Karta kleagle (or kigel) Ahron Cohen, the Szarkonosvary Rov. These are also incorrect. He remains in Antwerp, to the chagrin of the respected community of that city.
What we are now trying to confirm is whether he has arrived in Rome yet to claim the papacy, or whether a proxy will accept the office in his stead.
More in time for Peerim.
There are rumors that Moshe Aryeh Friedman removed himself from this world last week. These rumors are completely unfounded.
Other rumors claim he is in Manchester, home of senior Ku Klutz Karta kleagle (or kigel) Ahron Cohen, the Szarkonosvary Rov. These are also incorrect. He remains in Antwerp, to the chagrin of the respected community of that city.
What we are now trying to confirm is whether he has arrived in Rome yet to claim the papacy, or whether a proxy will accept the office in his stead.
More in time for Peerim.
Thursday, February 14, 2013
Will Moshe Aryeh Friedman Be the Next Pope?
BS"D
The staff of Der Shygetz/The Creedmoor Chronicles is busy fabricating and investigating rumors regarding the imminent confirmation of the appointment of Moshe Aryeh Friedman to the papacy. His candidacy was endorsed by a mysterious Cardinal Davide Stronzetto de Menuvallo, who somehow turned the Vatican into an EU member state and registered it as having over forty million unemployed and disabled residents. Cardinal de Menuvallo, who claims to represent the Archdiocese of Acqua di Candeggina in Sardinia, was spotted wearing a red macaw-feather shtreimel-like headdress and little else while disrobing and performing exotic dances in front of the Vatican with EU observers observing the scene.
It is believed Friedman will take the name Pope Malediction the First, and that he and the mysterious cardinal will extend Vatican rule to the tzioinish medine. It is also believed that a bissel tryfe gelt, perhaps a few trillion Euros, might be all it takes to remove the new pope and his protector.
We await more news regarding this most auspicious and fictitious event as well as final information on where the Friedman children will be learning this Peerim zman. Will the Friedman clan be enrolled in a new Catholic school directed by the Pope himself, or will they begin classes in a new madrassa financed by food stamps?
We do know that Moshe Aryeh Friedman is presently holed up in the janitorial closet of the Bnos Soro Seminary in Antwerpen, which now bears a hand-lettered sign saying "Grand Yeshiva of Kehillas Sharia d'Antverp." Our reporters are trying to enter the closet at present but it barely has room even for one little noxious crawling insect from Williamsburgh.
The staff of Der Shygetz/The Creedmoor Chronicles is busy fabricating and investigating rumors regarding the imminent confirmation of the appointment of Moshe Aryeh Friedman to the papacy. His candidacy was endorsed by a mysterious Cardinal Davide Stronzetto de Menuvallo, who somehow turned the Vatican into an EU member state and registered it as having over forty million unemployed and disabled residents. Cardinal de Menuvallo, who claims to represent the Archdiocese of Acqua di Candeggina in Sardinia, was spotted wearing a red macaw-feather shtreimel-like headdress and little else while disrobing and performing exotic dances in front of the Vatican with EU observers observing the scene.
It is believed Friedman will take the name Pope Malediction the First, and that he and the mysterious cardinal will extend Vatican rule to the tzioinish medine. It is also believed that a bissel tryfe gelt, perhaps a few trillion Euros, might be all it takes to remove the new pope and his protector.
We await more news regarding this most auspicious and fictitious event as well as final information on where the Friedman children will be learning this Peerim zman. Will the Friedman clan be enrolled in a new Catholic school directed by the Pope himself, or will they begin classes in a new madrassa financed by food stamps?
We do know that Moshe Aryeh Friedman is presently holed up in the janitorial closet of the Bnos Soro Seminary in Antwerpen, which now bears a hand-lettered sign saying "Grand Yeshiva of Kehillas Sharia d'Antverp." Our reporters are trying to enter the closet at present but it barely has room even for one little noxious crawling insect from Williamsburgh.
Thursday, February 07, 2013
Moshe Aryeh Friedman Coverage to Resume
BS"D
http://www.vosizneias.com/123454/2013/02/06/antwerp-judge-rules-belz-not-obligated-to-acccept-friedman-boys-at-belgian-girls-school
Now that the issue has been settled in the Belgian courts, we at Creedmoor can reveal just how the Admou"r meCreedmoor is making sure the Friedman boys have the chinuch (or chenek) they need to follow in their father's puny footsteps.
Justice has been served, but the Admou"r meCreedmoor has dedicated his life to evading justice and making sure his few non-virtual Chassidim do the same. Moshe Aryeh Friedman, the Creedmoor-Antwerp Rov, will never submit to the rule of Zionist Belgian judges!
More coming before Shabbos.
(NB: Just in case the reprehensible little twerp wants to sue me, I must mention that all posts on this blog regarding Moshe Aryeh Friedman are fiction, with the exception of any links posted to reliable news sources. I must also mention that unfortunately, Moshe Aryeh Friedman is not a fictional character.)
http://www.vosizneias.com/123454/2013/02/06/antwerp-judge-rules-belz-not-obligated-to-acccept-friedman-boys-at-belgian-girls-school
Now that the issue has been settled in the Belgian courts, we at Creedmoor can reveal just how the Admou"r meCreedmoor is making sure the Friedman boys have the chinuch (or chenek) they need to follow in their father's puny footsteps.
Justice has been served, but the Admou"r meCreedmoor has dedicated his life to evading justice and making sure his few non-virtual Chassidim do the same. Moshe Aryeh Friedman, the Creedmoor-Antwerp Rov, will never submit to the rule of Zionist Belgian judges!
More coming before Shabbos.
(NB: Just in case the reprehensible little twerp wants to sue me, I must mention that all posts on this blog regarding Moshe Aryeh Friedman are fiction, with the exception of any links posted to reliable news sources. I must also mention that unfortunately, Moshe Aryeh Friedman is not a fictional character.)
Wednesday, January 30, 2013
Moshe Aryeh Friedman Fundraises for Seminary - Part 4
BS"D
Reb Berish Lowenstein's cellphone showed no fewer than 78 missed calls, at least 12 of which were from his own home. He became suspicious when he realized that 16 of them were from his daughter's seminary principal, and he wondered why Rebbetzin Soro would call him and not his wife if chas vesholom his daughter was in some sort of trouble. She knew he was abroad, and she would rarely call him directly unless it was an emergency. The others were from neighbors, and he wondered what could be amiss on his usually quiet and stately block.
He checked his voicemail, and all he could decipher was one message from his usually calm next-door neighbor, Reb Nachman Lichtfeld. "The meshigginer, that Friedman, he says you gave him gelt and I should too. He's in chyrem, for what should I give him gelt? I know you didn't give him a cent, but what can I do? He's wearing a wig and a dress, who you know in the police that can maybe have him put in a byse-mishegoyim? He wants collect for his own seminary tuition, nebach, so crazy!"
Before he even thought to call anyone in Antwerp, Reb Berish called directory assistance and asked for the number to Creedmoor Psychiatric Center. He dialed that number, and asked to speak to the Jewish chaplain. He remembered that Friedman had admitted to spending some time at the notorious facility, and he suspected that when it came to his past hospitalizations, the minuscule menace was telling the truth for once. His brother-in-law was well-connected with politicians, and he figured he could somehow get Friedman deported from Belgium and taken right off the plane to Creedmoor if he could prove that Friedman was indeed of Creedmoor provenance.
Little did Reb Berish Lowenstein, an honest and well-meaning askan, know what was in store when the overworked and underskilled receptionist connected him, accidentally or purposely, to none other than the Admou"r meCreedmoor.
---to be continued tomorrow---
Reb Berish Lowenstein's cellphone showed no fewer than 78 missed calls, at least 12 of which were from his own home. He became suspicious when he realized that 16 of them were from his daughter's seminary principal, and he wondered why Rebbetzin Soro would call him and not his wife if chas vesholom his daughter was in some sort of trouble. She knew he was abroad, and she would rarely call him directly unless it was an emergency. The others were from neighbors, and he wondered what could be amiss on his usually quiet and stately block.
He checked his voicemail, and all he could decipher was one message from his usually calm next-door neighbor, Reb Nachman Lichtfeld. "The meshigginer, that Friedman, he says you gave him gelt and I should too. He's in chyrem, for what should I give him gelt? I know you didn't give him a cent, but what can I do? He's wearing a wig and a dress, who you know in the police that can maybe have him put in a byse-mishegoyim? He wants collect for his own seminary tuition, nebach, so crazy!"
Before he even thought to call anyone in Antwerp, Reb Berish called directory assistance and asked for the number to Creedmoor Psychiatric Center. He dialed that number, and asked to speak to the Jewish chaplain. He remembered that Friedman had admitted to spending some time at the notorious facility, and he suspected that when it came to his past hospitalizations, the minuscule menace was telling the truth for once. His brother-in-law was well-connected with politicians, and he figured he could somehow get Friedman deported from Belgium and taken right off the plane to Creedmoor if he could prove that Friedman was indeed of Creedmoor provenance.
Little did Reb Berish Lowenstein, an honest and well-meaning askan, know what was in store when the overworked and underskilled receptionist connected him, accidentally or purposely, to none other than the Admou"r meCreedmoor.
---to be continued tomorrow---
Tuesday, January 29, 2013
Moshe Aryeh Friedman Coverage Resumes Tomorrow
BS"D
http://www.vosizneias.com/122691/2013/01/28/antwerp-belgian-court-denies-friedman-girls-entry-to-boys-yeshiva-grandmothers-seeking-custody-of-children
Needless to say, the intrepid and decrepit Moshe Aryeh Friedman did not take this decision lightly, lightweight though he is. Find out tomorrow just how Moshe Aryeh Friedman plans to handle the chinuch of his children and thousands of other Yiddishe kinder...................with the help of a Rebbe who has been under mothballs for quite some time now!
http://www.vosizneias.com/122691/2013/01/28/antwerp-belgian-court-denies-friedman-girls-entry-to-boys-yeshiva-grandmothers-seeking-custody-of-children
Needless to say, the intrepid and decrepit Moshe Aryeh Friedman did not take this decision lightly, lightweight though he is. Find out tomorrow just how Moshe Aryeh Friedman plans to handle the chinuch of his children and thousands of other Yiddishe kinder...................with the help of a Rebbe who has been under mothballs for quite some time now!
Monday, January 14, 2013
Pesach Cruise with Moshe Aryeh Friedman
BS"D
Creedmoor Cruises, the travel fraud division of Moisdos Creedmoor veShaar Marin Bishin, is proud to announce that its Ignoramus-in-Residence for this year's Pesach Gala Garbage Barge Cruise Up the River will be the one and only, and boorich Hashyme that he is the one and only:
Seats begin at $300 for a tire attached to a rope made of certified non-Zionist hemp from an eco-kosher sustainable and smokable hemp plantation. Seats end as soon as the rope breaks or as soon as Friedman is thrown overboard.
Creedmoor Cruises accepts EBT cards at 65 cents on the dollar and Iranian rials at 50,000 to the dollar. Reserve now, as this cruise promises to be at least as successful as Friedman.
Creedmoor Cruises, the travel fraud division of Moisdos Creedmoor veShaar Marin Bishin, is proud to announce that its Ignoramus-in-Residence for this year's Pesach Gala Garbage Barge Cruise Up the River will be the one and only, and boorich Hashyme that he is the one and only:
Rabbi Moshe Aryeh Friedman Sheyirfa"sh
Rabbi Friedman will share his deep insights on such topics as:
- Life in Cherem
- Romantic Dinners with Ahmadinejad
- Loving Memories of Jorg Haider
- Mixed-Gender Education in Antwerp
- Single-Sex Marriage in Iran
Seats begin at $300 for a tire attached to a rope made of certified non-Zionist hemp from an eco-kosher sustainable and smokable hemp plantation. Seats end as soon as the rope breaks or as soon as Friedman is thrown overboard.
Creedmoor Cruises accepts EBT cards at 65 cents on the dollar and Iranian rials at 50,000 to the dollar. Reserve now, as this cruise promises to be at least as successful as Friedman.
Tuesday, January 08, 2013
Moshe Aryeh Friedman Collects for Seminary Tuition (Part 3)
BS"D
"Mustafa, you can maybe take me to the rich people, who give money, and not to the airport? Feldstein he is stupid, he send me to airport because he think I can collect there."
Mustafa Asad Fareed and Moshe Aryeh Friedman resembled each other not only in name, but also in moral fiber. Fareed was a Pakistani cabbie who made his living taking meshuluchim to homes in Antwerp, even though he was a fervent supporter of Islamic radicals. Since 60 Euro was three times the fare needed to bring his passenger to the Jewish residential district of Antwerp, Fareed was more than happy to ignore his order to take Friedman to the airport.
Instead, Friedman arrived on the doorstep of Reb Berish and Chave Byla Lowenstein's home, a few moments after Malki came home from seminary, accompanied by her friend Tamar.
"Shulem alychen. I am Avrohom Yeshiye Heschel Yekusiel Yehide Yitzchok Myer Yissochor DovBer HaCohen Lowenstein, but Reb Berish, or even if you like Fetter Berish, is fine with me." The watch importer, a native of Williamsburgh who had moved to Antwerp after marriage, was named for four relatives who perished in the war, each of whom was named for a famous Rebbe. "You are very welcome here whenever you want to come. I have to fly to the States tonight and I will be back just in time for Shabbos, but my wife, Chava Byle, and of course Malki and her sisters, will show you around."
Suddenly, the doorbell rang repeatedly. Reb Berish said: "Oy, it is always stuck." He called to his sons: "Yossel, Shmilu, you think one of you can fix the bell? The key to my tool chest is in my desk if you want to try tonight, or just call someone tomorrow morning before you leave for yeshiva."
This time, however, the doorbell was not stuck. It was being pressed repeatedly by an intercontinental perennial nudnik who had made himself a pariah in Antwerp after only a few months of residence there. What's more, he was wearing what appeared to be a dress.
Unfortunately, Reb Berish was not wearing his glasses, as he had rushed downstairs to welcome Tamar. He looked through the peephole of his majestic oak door and saw only a blurry, bedraggled figure.
"Someone please bring me at least ten Euro, or if someone wants to do a mitzvah, please come here. I left everything upstairs."
Reb Berish opened the door, to his great chagrin. Immediately recognizing Friedman, he angrily blurted out:
"Moishele Friedman? In a dress? Today is not Peerim, but I guess you wanted to look in place over at Bnois Yerushalayim. What may I seruv you? My wife makes an excellent Viennese cherem cake, you know..."
"I am fundraising for seminary tuition. I want to become a teacher from girls, they should know more from how to fight the evils of segregation, tzioinis, and everything. Maybe you can give me 100 Euro and lend me another 3,000?"
Reb Berish Lowenstein looked as if he was about to land his entire six feet, two inches of height and two hundred and twenty pounds of weight on the minuscule Friedman's shpitzel-covered head:
"Friedman, seminary? Or cemetery? It doesn't matter much because no one is burying you anywhere but in the Muslim cemetery, and maybe they have a place where you can learn to teach girls.. You belong in Sing Sing, no, really in Creedmoor, you meshigginer, you menivel, you shtickel po......you know what Creedmoor is?"
"Sure, Reb Yid. I was there when I was a kid. Dr. Weinberg, Rabbi Goldman..."
"You were really once in Creedmoor? I am not surprised. Rabbi Goldman, this is the chaplain there? I will call him and see if you were really there, because maybe you can be sent back. Meanwhile, get off my property, or I'll do my kappoores early this year with a fruitcake instead of a chicken!" The door slammed shut.
Little did Reb Berish know that Dr. Weinberg had left Creedmoor ages ago, and that "Rabbi Goldman" was an old alias for a self-appointed Rebbe who was hardly the chaplain there. So, he made a mental note to himself to call Rabbi Goldman at Creedmoor if he bumped into Friedman again upon his return from his business trip.
---to be continued----
"Mustafa, you can maybe take me to the rich people, who give money, and not to the airport? Feldstein he is stupid, he send me to airport because he think I can collect there."
Mustafa Asad Fareed and Moshe Aryeh Friedman resembled each other not only in name, but also in moral fiber. Fareed was a Pakistani cabbie who made his living taking meshuluchim to homes in Antwerp, even though he was a fervent supporter of Islamic radicals. Since 60 Euro was three times the fare needed to bring his passenger to the Jewish residential district of Antwerp, Fareed was more than happy to ignore his order to take Friedman to the airport.
Instead, Friedman arrived on the doorstep of Reb Berish and Chave Byla Lowenstein's home, a few moments after Malki came home from seminary, accompanied by her friend Tamar.
"Shulem alychen. I am Avrohom Yeshiye Heschel Yekusiel Yehide Yitzchok Myer Yissochor DovBer HaCohen Lowenstein, but Reb Berish, or even if you like Fetter Berish, is fine with me." The watch importer, a native of Williamsburgh who had moved to Antwerp after marriage, was named for four relatives who perished in the war, each of whom was named for a famous Rebbe. "You are very welcome here whenever you want to come. I have to fly to the States tonight and I will be back just in time for Shabbos, but my wife, Chava Byle, and of course Malki and her sisters, will show you around."
Suddenly, the doorbell rang repeatedly. Reb Berish said: "Oy, it is always stuck." He called to his sons: "Yossel, Shmilu, you think one of you can fix the bell? The key to my tool chest is in my desk if you want to try tonight, or just call someone tomorrow morning before you leave for yeshiva."
This time, however, the doorbell was not stuck. It was being pressed repeatedly by an intercontinental perennial nudnik who had made himself a pariah in Antwerp after only a few months of residence there. What's more, he was wearing what appeared to be a dress.
Unfortunately, Reb Berish was not wearing his glasses, as he had rushed downstairs to welcome Tamar. He looked through the peephole of his majestic oak door and saw only a blurry, bedraggled figure.
"Someone please bring me at least ten Euro, or if someone wants to do a mitzvah, please come here. I left everything upstairs."
Reb Berish opened the door, to his great chagrin. Immediately recognizing Friedman, he angrily blurted out:
"Moishele Friedman? In a dress? Today is not Peerim, but I guess you wanted to look in place over at Bnois Yerushalayim. What may I seruv you? My wife makes an excellent Viennese cherem cake, you know..."
"I am fundraising for seminary tuition. I want to become a teacher from girls, they should know more from how to fight the evils of segregation, tzioinis, and everything. Maybe you can give me 100 Euro and lend me another 3,000?"
Reb Berish Lowenstein looked as if he was about to land his entire six feet, two inches of height and two hundred and twenty pounds of weight on the minuscule Friedman's shpitzel-covered head:
"Friedman, seminary? Or cemetery? It doesn't matter much because no one is burying you anywhere but in the Muslim cemetery, and maybe they have a place where you can learn to teach girls.. You belong in Sing Sing, no, really in Creedmoor, you meshigginer, you menivel, you shtickel po......you know what Creedmoor is?"
"Sure, Reb Yid. I was there when I was a kid. Dr. Weinberg, Rabbi Goldman..."
"You were really once in Creedmoor? I am not surprised. Rabbi Goldman, this is the chaplain there? I will call him and see if you were really there, because maybe you can be sent back. Meanwhile, get off my property, or I'll do my kappoores early this year with a fruitcake instead of a chicken!" The door slammed shut.
Little did Reb Berish know that Dr. Weinberg had left Creedmoor ages ago, and that "Rabbi Goldman" was an old alias for a self-appointed Rebbe who was hardly the chaplain there. So, he made a mental note to himself to call Rabbi Goldman at Creedmoor if he bumped into Friedman again upon his return from his business trip.
---to be continued----
Tuesday, January 01, 2013
Moshe Aryeh Friedman Goes to Seminary: Part 2
BS"D
Malki Lowenstein could not have been more different from Tamar Moshashvili, and it was Malki upon whom both Rebbetzin Goldman and Tamar herself relied to keep Tamar out of trouble.
"Tamar, I am going to call Malki, she's wasting her time in class today anyway because she knows more about the parsha than Mrs. Lichtman, and I don't understand why I haven't been to her vort yet. Meanwhile, we have to do something about that phone, don't we. Maybe my son-in-law Yankel will give you something for it. He'll be here in a minute!"
For Tamar, this seemed like the Game Over message on one of the games she had played on her new phone. She did not have to wait long for Yankel to arrive.
"So, what is this I saw in the basement, I heard noise, and I saw Friedman the Freak down there! So I start to sing: "Moishe Aryeye Friedman, chomor di, eisel di, menivel di. Vus a shygetz tit do in Antverp...." His mother-in-law immediately recognized the Belzer nigun "Omor Reb Akiva, ashreicheim Yisroel..ma mikveh metaher.."
"YANKEL! That is a hylige niggin, where do you get such words!"
"Shvigger, where did you get Friedman? This is a GIRLS' seminary, isn't it - and where did he get that ugly dress?"
"The same place Miss Moshashvili got this phone here, I guess - from a store window."
Yankel, a large and burly, but gentle, man, brandished an owner's manual and bellowed: "Serial number 3685952. Manufactured 10 November 2012. Missing since motzoei shabbos parshas Vayero when my window somehow broke, right?"
Tamar Moshashvili shook as she spurted out: "Mister, you can have it back. The adapter is at home. 5 Vielge, third floor. The door is open. My mother drinks and sleeps all the time so just go in and do what you want."
"Miss, I don't turn Jews in to the police, but I had one more day before I had to make an insurance claim, so you are very lucky. Now, you don't look like a phone thief to me, so maybe you want to tell me who got you this phone? I wish it were Friedman because him I'm allowed to moiser, or maybe I could just break his beitzim with a nutcracker, but Friedman didn't rob my store because he wouldn't know which way to swing a hammer.."
"YANKEL! With a nutcracker you break eggs? There are girls around here! You want they should get confused when they cook for their husbands?" his mother-in-law scolded.
"Friedman's eggs I break with a nutcracker. Burich Hashem, you taught Rochele well and she knows how to break a chicken's egg, for what I need to know how to do it? I open a refrigerator in my store, I show it to the baleboste, ten percent off I give her, she buys, I take home the gelt. At home for what I should open a refrigerator?"
Rebbetzin Goldman was about to berate her son-in-law again for his inappropriate display of humor in her seminary, but Malki Lowenstein showed up in the middle of the chaos. She saw the burly electronics dealer confronting Tamar, and immediately asked: "Are you in trouble, Tami? We'll work it out."
Malki was actually quite petite, smaller even than Moshe Aryeh Friedman, but she was hardly intimidated by Reb Yankel's bulky form. After all, she was a daughter of one of the finest families in Antwerp, and her married sisters, all of whom resembled her, bought plenty of appliances from his store.
Reb Yankel turned around, and asked her: "Your name I don't know, but I think you have a sister Mrs. Berkowitz, maybe another one let me think..her husband is Berel Cohen, your father wholesales Swiss watches, and your brother, he likes computers and he wants to learn to play keyboard..."
"Yes, that is us, and thank you for always helping by giving us prizes for our chesed drives. Did someone call Hatzoloh?" She knew Reb Yankel was a Hatzoloh volunteer from the two-way radio he carried.
"No, but someone has a phone she wants to give back to me. And there is a freak from Vienna downstairs!"
"A freak from Vienna? My father says that there is a creature from Vienna that swims in the sewers here, and if my little brother doesn't behave, he'll feed him to the Viennese sewer monster. So he's for real?"
"This one can't eat your brother, and my shvigger she'll kill me if I said what he does eat in front of you and your friend. He looks like he came from the sewer, that's for sure. A house coat he wears, so ugly I'd be embarrassed even if my 95-year-old baabe who can hardly see anymore wears a thing like that! Now, forget Friedman and back to the phone. Your friend here says she got a 900-Euro phone from my store as a gift, but someone forgot to pay for it. I'm missing six more, not so good like this, but worth 400 Euro each."
"Rebbetzin Goldman, what is going on here? Friedman? Which Friedman? Downstairs?"
"Malki, yes, a man named Friedman entered this building by mistake and is resting downstairs with Mr. Igor the new janitor. He'll be gone soon. Tamar, please tell my son-in-law how he can get his six phones back and his window fixed."
"Tamar," Malki pleaded, "please tell Reb Yankel everything. I will get you money from my father if you have to pay him back, but please, my mother wants you to stay with us at least every Shabbos. She really doesn't mind. We have two extra rooms and everything you need.."
"Mr. Goldman!" "No, your principal is my wife's mother, not mine, my name is Mr. Feldstein." "My, my brother stole your phones. But he's not working alone. He probably doesn't have the phones anymore. This phone he gave me, I really don't even know where your store is and I try to make a better life for myself so I don't do nothing with my brother and his friends. I didn't steal it, but I believe you that it's yours. If you beat up Friedman, my brother and his friends will respect you and pay you back. Otherwise, I love Malki but I can't take money to pay you for what I didn't do!"
"Tamar is your name, yes? I am not street trash. I don't beat anyone up, not even Friedman. And I know you did not do it, even though you knew that phone wasn't paid for. Just give me back what you have, and that's it. Please come by my store if you need help; I know everyone in town. But I have to go to the police tomorrow, or I don't get insurance. Times are hard, and I can't lose money right now. If your brother drops off the phones or the money tomorrow before I guess about five when the day police shift ends, I won't say a word, and I won't even charge for the window unless he tries anything again. Friedman is another story. He'll get his own tuches in jail without my having to go there with him for beating up a sewer rat."
And who entered but Moshe Aryeh Friedman, minus his shpitzel but still dressed in a house coat, that was now ripped along the side as he had snagged it on a shelf peg in the basement.
"So these are two from my classmates? And who is this?" He turned to Reb Yankel: "Mister, shygetz aross, this is a girl's seminary. I'm Masha Esther Friedman, you are Tamar, and you are?" Friedman turned to Malki with a moronic grin on his face.
"I am Malka, my last name you don't need to know, and you are not Masha Esther Friedman. You are Moshe Aryeh Friedman, and yes, I heard your sons go to school with my two youngest sisters."
"MALKI! You've gone meshigge now too? What are you talking about? Your sisters have no boys in their school!"
Malki did not have to say a word. Reb Yankel pulled out a newspaper and handed it to his shvigger: "Shvigger, I know you don't read the papers, but this is one week you should. Moshe Aryeh Friedman has enrolled his sons in Bnos Yerushalayim, thanks to the courts and his menivel ideas. I should maybe sell his wife a washing machine on credit so she can run him through it the way his mother did when he was a baby.."
"Yankel, you have what paper there? From last Peerim? Hold on, I am getting my glasses so I can read this!"
"It's Sunday's Flemish paper. You know I advertise in there every week, so I get a copy in the store. Read it sitting down, Shvigger! I don't want you to fall or faint when you read it. It is true."
She quickly read and understood the article: "That does NOT mean that MISTER Friedman can register here though. This is a private school. Yankel, maybe you want to take him to the beis mishegoyim, or the zoo?"
Tamar had the last word: "There's no rat cage in Antwerp Zoo. I can flush his.."
"Tamar, STOP RIGHT NOW and please listen to your friend. You need to spend time in a real Yiddishe hyme. Go home with her tonight. You're a nice girl and you need to live like one so you can learn to act and talk like one. You know where she lives, you can just walk there after the last class. Friedman needs to spend time somewhere far, far away, because he is not going to set foot in a classroom here!"
Little Friedman piped up: "Tomor'l, shyne mydel, why your brother so angry at me? I can to help him so much, he wants to make big money in Gaza, in Iran...."
Rebbetzin Goldman nearly screamed: "Tamar and Malki, go back to parsha class. No need for you to hear such shtissim. Yankel, can you take Friedman somewhere in your car?
"Shvigger, Friedman might as well be in cherem. I can't be seen with him. I didn't drive here anyway, my car is in the shop and you know I don't like to ride a bicycle, so I took a taxi. Here's 60 Euro. I am calling a cab to take him out of town."
----to be continued tomorrow---
Malki Lowenstein could not have been more different from Tamar Moshashvili, and it was Malki upon whom both Rebbetzin Goldman and Tamar herself relied to keep Tamar out of trouble.
"Tamar, I am going to call Malki, she's wasting her time in class today anyway because she knows more about the parsha than Mrs. Lichtman, and I don't understand why I haven't been to her vort yet. Meanwhile, we have to do something about that phone, don't we. Maybe my son-in-law Yankel will give you something for it. He'll be here in a minute!"
For Tamar, this seemed like the Game Over message on one of the games she had played on her new phone. She did not have to wait long for Yankel to arrive.
"So, what is this I saw in the basement, I heard noise, and I saw Friedman the Freak down there! So I start to sing: "Moishe Aryeye Friedman, chomor di, eisel di, menivel di. Vus a shygetz tit do in Antverp...." His mother-in-law immediately recognized the Belzer nigun "Omor Reb Akiva, ashreicheim Yisroel..ma mikveh metaher.."
"YANKEL! That is a hylige niggin, where do you get such words!"
"Shvigger, where did you get Friedman? This is a GIRLS' seminary, isn't it - and where did he get that ugly dress?"
"The same place Miss Moshashvili got this phone here, I guess - from a store window."
Yankel, a large and burly, but gentle, man, brandished an owner's manual and bellowed: "Serial number 3685952. Manufactured 10 November 2012. Missing since motzoei shabbos parshas Vayero when my window somehow broke, right?"
Tamar Moshashvili shook as she spurted out: "Mister, you can have it back. The adapter is at home. 5 Vielge, third floor. The door is open. My mother drinks and sleeps all the time so just go in and do what you want."
"Miss, I don't turn Jews in to the police, but I had one more day before I had to make an insurance claim, so you are very lucky. Now, you don't look like a phone thief to me, so maybe you want to tell me who got you this phone? I wish it were Friedman because him I'm allowed to moiser, or maybe I could just break his beitzim with a nutcracker, but Friedman didn't rob my store because he wouldn't know which way to swing a hammer.."
"YANKEL! With a nutcracker you break eggs? There are girls around here! You want they should get confused when they cook for their husbands?" his mother-in-law scolded.
"Friedman's eggs I break with a nutcracker. Burich Hashem, you taught Rochele well and she knows how to break a chicken's egg, for what I need to know how to do it? I open a refrigerator in my store, I show it to the baleboste, ten percent off I give her, she buys, I take home the gelt. At home for what I should open a refrigerator?"
Rebbetzin Goldman was about to berate her son-in-law again for his inappropriate display of humor in her seminary, but Malki Lowenstein showed up in the middle of the chaos. She saw the burly electronics dealer confronting Tamar, and immediately asked: "Are you in trouble, Tami? We'll work it out."
Malki was actually quite petite, smaller even than Moshe Aryeh Friedman, but she was hardly intimidated by Reb Yankel's bulky form. After all, she was a daughter of one of the finest families in Antwerp, and her married sisters, all of whom resembled her, bought plenty of appliances from his store.
Reb Yankel turned around, and asked her: "Your name I don't know, but I think you have a sister Mrs. Berkowitz, maybe another one let me think..her husband is Berel Cohen, your father wholesales Swiss watches, and your brother, he likes computers and he wants to learn to play keyboard..."
"Yes, that is us, and thank you for always helping by giving us prizes for our chesed drives. Did someone call Hatzoloh?" She knew Reb Yankel was a Hatzoloh volunteer from the two-way radio he carried.
"No, but someone has a phone she wants to give back to me. And there is a freak from Vienna downstairs!"
"A freak from Vienna? My father says that there is a creature from Vienna that swims in the sewers here, and if my little brother doesn't behave, he'll feed him to the Viennese sewer monster. So he's for real?"
"This one can't eat your brother, and my shvigger she'll kill me if I said what he does eat in front of you and your friend. He looks like he came from the sewer, that's for sure. A house coat he wears, so ugly I'd be embarrassed even if my 95-year-old baabe who can hardly see anymore wears a thing like that! Now, forget Friedman and back to the phone. Your friend here says she got a 900-Euro phone from my store as a gift, but someone forgot to pay for it. I'm missing six more, not so good like this, but worth 400 Euro each."
"Rebbetzin Goldman, what is going on here? Friedman? Which Friedman? Downstairs?"
"Malki, yes, a man named Friedman entered this building by mistake and is resting downstairs with Mr. Igor the new janitor. He'll be gone soon. Tamar, please tell my son-in-law how he can get his six phones back and his window fixed."
"Tamar," Malki pleaded, "please tell Reb Yankel everything. I will get you money from my father if you have to pay him back, but please, my mother wants you to stay with us at least every Shabbos. She really doesn't mind. We have two extra rooms and everything you need.."
"Mr. Goldman!" "No, your principal is my wife's mother, not mine, my name is Mr. Feldstein." "My, my brother stole your phones. But he's not working alone. He probably doesn't have the phones anymore. This phone he gave me, I really don't even know where your store is and I try to make a better life for myself so I don't do nothing with my brother and his friends. I didn't steal it, but I believe you that it's yours. If you beat up Friedman, my brother and his friends will respect you and pay you back. Otherwise, I love Malki but I can't take money to pay you for what I didn't do!"
"Tamar is your name, yes? I am not street trash. I don't beat anyone up, not even Friedman. And I know you did not do it, even though you knew that phone wasn't paid for. Just give me back what you have, and that's it. Please come by my store if you need help; I know everyone in town. But I have to go to the police tomorrow, or I don't get insurance. Times are hard, and I can't lose money right now. If your brother drops off the phones or the money tomorrow before I guess about five when the day police shift ends, I won't say a word, and I won't even charge for the window unless he tries anything again. Friedman is another story. He'll get his own tuches in jail without my having to go there with him for beating up a sewer rat."
And who entered but Moshe Aryeh Friedman, minus his shpitzel but still dressed in a house coat, that was now ripped along the side as he had snagged it on a shelf peg in the basement.
"So these are two from my classmates? And who is this?" He turned to Reb Yankel: "Mister, shygetz aross, this is a girl's seminary. I'm Masha Esther Friedman, you are Tamar, and you are?" Friedman turned to Malki with a moronic grin on his face.
"I am Malka, my last name you don't need to know, and you are not Masha Esther Friedman. You are Moshe Aryeh Friedman, and yes, I heard your sons go to school with my two youngest sisters."
"MALKI! You've gone meshigge now too? What are you talking about? Your sisters have no boys in their school!"
Malki did not have to say a word. Reb Yankel pulled out a newspaper and handed it to his shvigger: "Shvigger, I know you don't read the papers, but this is one week you should. Moshe Aryeh Friedman has enrolled his sons in Bnos Yerushalayim, thanks to the courts and his menivel ideas. I should maybe sell his wife a washing machine on credit so she can run him through it the way his mother did when he was a baby.."
"Yankel, you have what paper there? From last Peerim? Hold on, I am getting my glasses so I can read this!"
"It's Sunday's Flemish paper. You know I advertise in there every week, so I get a copy in the store. Read it sitting down, Shvigger! I don't want you to fall or faint when you read it. It is true."
She quickly read and understood the article: "That does NOT mean that MISTER Friedman can register here though. This is a private school. Yankel, maybe you want to take him to the beis mishegoyim, or the zoo?"
Tamar had the last word: "There's no rat cage in Antwerp Zoo. I can flush his.."
"Tamar, STOP RIGHT NOW and please listen to your friend. You need to spend time in a real Yiddishe hyme. Go home with her tonight. You're a nice girl and you need to live like one so you can learn to act and talk like one. You know where she lives, you can just walk there after the last class. Friedman needs to spend time somewhere far, far away, because he is not going to set foot in a classroom here!"
Little Friedman piped up: "Tomor'l, shyne mydel, why your brother so angry at me? I can to help him so much, he wants to make big money in Gaza, in Iran...."
Rebbetzin Goldman nearly screamed: "Tamar and Malki, go back to parsha class. No need for you to hear such shtissim. Yankel, can you take Friedman somewhere in your car?
"Shvigger, Friedman might as well be in cherem. I can't be seen with him. I didn't drive here anyway, my car is in the shop and you know I don't like to ride a bicycle, so I took a taxi. Here's 60 Euro. I am calling a cab to take him out of town."
----to be continued tomorrow---
Monday, December 31, 2012
Moshe Aryeh Friedman's First Day of Seminary
BS"D
Bnois Soro d'Antverpen really was nothing more than a finishing school, a place where the most traditional of the Chassidic girls of Antwerpen enrolled while waiting for a shidduch. Rare was the girl who even bothered finishing the entire year's curriculum, and many were the lechaims and vorts to which its beloved principal, Rebbetzin Soro Goldman, was invited.
The school was not named for its principal, but it might as well have been, as the two were inseparable. Rebbetzin Goldman knew or remembered every girl who ever set foot in her seminary, going back over forty years to when she took over as principal after a career of teaching girls that began in a D.P. camp in Germany.
She most certainly did not remember having a Masha Esther Friedman who was supposed to enroll in the middle of the "academic" year, and she was shocked to see this name penciled into her list of students, and in an odd handwriting at that. She did not even have to ask her assistant or any of her teachers if they had altered the roster, as she was an expert at recognizing handwriting, and this scribbled name was completely alien to her in appearance.
Suddenly, a man with a squeaky voice piped up in broken Flemish: "Mrs. Goldman, I want to enroll in your seminary." She replied: Reb Yid, today is not Peerim, so unless you are here to enroll your daughter, I can't help you. She then turned around, only to quickly recognize the very scourge of frime Antwerpen, the one and only Moshe Aryeh Friedman, dressed in a shpitzel and housecoat.
"Rabbi Friedman, I know who you are. I would welcome your daughter and give her another chance in life, so I don't know why you disguised yourself to see me. You could have sent your wife, or come as you are. I don't turn anyone away."
This was very true. She certainly never turned anyone away for inability to pay tuition, and while the school was for the most haimish of the haimish, she was not averse to accepting girls from broken homes, Russian and Israeli immigrant girls, or others who did not fit her school's mold. However, the principal was not prepared for what came next:
"No, I am wanting to enter your school, and the law says that I can. So, where is the first morning class held today?"
"Rabbi Friedman, this is a private school. The only place I can keep you is in the janitor's bathroom downstairs, if you need to rest for a few minutes."
"Thank you! Tell me, the janitor he has maybe a wrench, a pliers, whatever? I open the pipes, flood your school, you get a new campus!"
Meanwhile, Tamar Moshashvili was approaching the office. Tamar was one of those girls whom the Rebbetzin accepted out of sympathy. Her father was in prison for robbing jewelry stores, and her mother begged with the principal to accept her and teach her to live a better life.
She screamed in disgust: "FRIEDMAN! The little rat who went to Iran? My father's friends know all about you, what are you doing here?"
"Tamar, calm down! How do you recognize him anyway, I asked you not to talk about TV and video and newspapers here, and I know you don't daven at K'hal Chassidim, so you never saw him there!"
"Mrs. Goldman, everyone knows Friedman. He's a scum sewer rat and the sun off the beach. Do you need help from my uncle to take care of him? I'll call him right now!"
She pulled out her smartphone, which had resided in the window of a local electronics store until a week ago, when her brother disabled the store alarm, removed the phone and a few lesser model smartphones from their abode after breaking the display with a hammer, and gave it to her as a birthday gift.
"Tamar, that phone is NOT ALLOWED here! Please, I want to give you a chance, but we have rules here."
Before Tamar, who stood a good head taller than Moshe Aryeh Friedman, knew it, Friedman was trying in vain to pull the phone out of her hands.
"See," the diminutive man said, "I can be a good tznius patrol officer for your hylige school!"
"Rabbi Friedman, you are lucky Tamar doesn't take out a knife and cut you like an apple for my Shabbos kigel, and this time she'd be right!" Let me take you to the janitor's room, so you can cool down before you leave here. The wrenches and pliers are locked up...and she whispered to herself...you should be too!" "Tamar, you can leave that phone here. I don't know what it is or how to use it, but my daughter Rochele's husband Yankel Feldstein from the electronics store near the train station can teach me."
Tamar shivered with fright upon realizing that her principal knew where her brother had obtained the phone, and Friedman was about to shiver with cold as he was wearing nothing but a flimsy house coat as he was escorted to the frigid basement of the building by Rebbetzin Goldman.
----
To be continued tomorrow, the first day of the new year of welfare distribution.
Bnois Soro d'Antverpen really was nothing more than a finishing school, a place where the most traditional of the Chassidic girls of Antwerpen enrolled while waiting for a shidduch. Rare was the girl who even bothered finishing the entire year's curriculum, and many were the lechaims and vorts to which its beloved principal, Rebbetzin Soro Goldman, was invited.
The school was not named for its principal, but it might as well have been, as the two were inseparable. Rebbetzin Goldman knew or remembered every girl who ever set foot in her seminary, going back over forty years to when she took over as principal after a career of teaching girls that began in a D.P. camp in Germany.
She most certainly did not remember having a Masha Esther Friedman who was supposed to enroll in the middle of the "academic" year, and she was shocked to see this name penciled into her list of students, and in an odd handwriting at that. She did not even have to ask her assistant or any of her teachers if they had altered the roster, as she was an expert at recognizing handwriting, and this scribbled name was completely alien to her in appearance.
Suddenly, a man with a squeaky voice piped up in broken Flemish: "Mrs. Goldman, I want to enroll in your seminary." She replied: Reb Yid, today is not Peerim, so unless you are here to enroll your daughter, I can't help you. She then turned around, only to quickly recognize the very scourge of frime Antwerpen, the one and only Moshe Aryeh Friedman, dressed in a shpitzel and housecoat.
"Rabbi Friedman, I know who you are. I would welcome your daughter and give her another chance in life, so I don't know why you disguised yourself to see me. You could have sent your wife, or come as you are. I don't turn anyone away."
This was very true. She certainly never turned anyone away for inability to pay tuition, and while the school was for the most haimish of the haimish, she was not averse to accepting girls from broken homes, Russian and Israeli immigrant girls, or others who did not fit her school's mold. However, the principal was not prepared for what came next:
"No, I am wanting to enter your school, and the law says that I can. So, where is the first morning class held today?"
"Rabbi Friedman, this is a private school. The only place I can keep you is in the janitor's bathroom downstairs, if you need to rest for a few minutes."
"Thank you! Tell me, the janitor he has maybe a wrench, a pliers, whatever? I open the pipes, flood your school, you get a new campus!"
Meanwhile, Tamar Moshashvili was approaching the office. Tamar was one of those girls whom the Rebbetzin accepted out of sympathy. Her father was in prison for robbing jewelry stores, and her mother begged with the principal to accept her and teach her to live a better life.
She screamed in disgust: "FRIEDMAN! The little rat who went to Iran? My father's friends know all about you, what are you doing here?"
"Tamar, calm down! How do you recognize him anyway, I asked you not to talk about TV and video and newspapers here, and I know you don't daven at K'hal Chassidim, so you never saw him there!"
"Mrs. Goldman, everyone knows Friedman. He's a scum sewer rat and the sun off the beach. Do you need help from my uncle to take care of him? I'll call him right now!"
She pulled out her smartphone, which had resided in the window of a local electronics store until a week ago, when her brother disabled the store alarm, removed the phone and a few lesser model smartphones from their abode after breaking the display with a hammer, and gave it to her as a birthday gift.
"Tamar, that phone is NOT ALLOWED here! Please, I want to give you a chance, but we have rules here."
Before Tamar, who stood a good head taller than Moshe Aryeh Friedman, knew it, Friedman was trying in vain to pull the phone out of her hands.
"See," the diminutive man said, "I can be a good tznius patrol officer for your hylige school!"
"Rabbi Friedman, you are lucky Tamar doesn't take out a knife and cut you like an apple for my Shabbos kigel, and this time she'd be right!" Let me take you to the janitor's room, so you can cool down before you leave here. The wrenches and pliers are locked up...and she whispered to herself...you should be too!" "Tamar, you can leave that phone here. I don't know what it is or how to use it, but my daughter Rochele's husband Yankel Feldstein from the electronics store near the train station can teach me."
Tamar shivered with fright upon realizing that her principal knew where her brother had obtained the phone, and Friedman was about to shiver with cold as he was wearing nothing but a flimsy house coat as he was escorted to the frigid basement of the building by Rebbetzin Goldman.
----
To be continued tomorrow, the first day of the new year of welfare distribution.
Fweeky Fweedy is back - and so is Creedmoor
BS"D
Newsflash:
Moshe Aryeh (Fweeky Fweedy) Friedman, the pesky, minuscule crawling insect who put the -twerp in Antwerp, is back in the news. He styles himself the Rosa Parks of the frimme velt, having successfully used civil courts to force a girls' school in Antwerp to register his sons. Rumors that he himself has donned a sheitel so he could enter seminary are now being investigated. (At present, we only know that the Bnois Sooreh Laundry and Cooking Academy reports the mysterious appearance of an extra student named Masha Friedman in its student records, with tuition fully paid.)
When Friedman is back, so is Creedmoor. We hope to have an entirely fictional interview with the one and only Fweeky Fweedy, as well as news from the Admou"r's luxurious new underground kever and residence, tomorrow.
Newsflash:
Moshe Aryeh (Fweeky Fweedy) Friedman, the pesky, minuscule crawling insect who put the -twerp in Antwerp, is back in the news. He styles himself the Rosa Parks of the frimme velt, having successfully used civil courts to force a girls' school in Antwerp to register his sons. Rumors that he himself has donned a sheitel so he could enter seminary are now being investigated. (At present, we only know that the Bnois Sooreh Laundry and Cooking Academy reports the mysterious appearance of an extra student named Masha Friedman in its student records, with tuition fully paid.)
When Friedman is back, so is Creedmoor. We hope to have an entirely fictional interview with the one and only Fweeky Fweedy, as well as news from the Admou"r's luxurious new underground kever and residence, tomorrow.
Tuesday, May 19, 2009
Heeeee'z Back - Ahron Cohen, ShaDaR of the Creedmoorer, is in Teheran
BS"D
Ahron Cohen, the Manchester Disunited shada"r (schmegegge, degenerate, rosho) of the Admou"r meCreedmoor, who is known as the Szarkonosvary Rov, is back in Teheran.
For those who need some background:
Ahron Cohen, the Manchester Disunited shada"r (schmegegge, degenerate, rosho) of the Admou"r meCreedmoor, who is known as the Szarkonosvary Rov, is back in Teheran.
While his mentor and leader, the Creedmoorer, had to leave early for insurance purposes, the hollowed and desalted Szarkonosvary Rov is in Teheran calling for people to boycott products which are not "noki mechashash tumas haTzioinus".
Cohen is also set to become Mahmoud Ahmadinejad's third wife, after his divorce from the now penitent M.A.F. which was indeed arranged by a beis din consisting of Cohen, the Creedmoorer and Ayatollah Khamenei, the Chief Rabbi of Shiite Islam whose smicha is as good as that of the other two.
For those who need some background:
We are compelled to present part three of the fascinating tale of how this great leader of the Creedmoor affiliated Ku Klutz Karta managed to lift himself from the isolation and dullness of his native Szarkonosvary, via Creedmoor and a similar institution of higher psychiatric treatment in the UK, to reach his present and inglorious depths.
More coming this week...
Sunday, February 22, 2009
The Real Truth
BS"D
While I appreciate Mr Friedman is so enamoured of my journalistic powers that he cites my publication as the reason for his feigned tshive, I must reveal the real reason.
With Purim coming, the hopes of the Jewish people are focused on the speedy and not necessarily painless or politically expedient removal from the ranks of the living of the present day Haman, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad YMS. And the traditional punishment for the likes of Ahmadinejad is of course hanging, particularly from 50 amos above the capital (Teheran will do although Shushan of then is Hamadan of today).
Now, an extremely light and fragile (half a) man such as Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is very difficult to hang as he will sway in the wind and possibly slip out of his noose. In primitive Iran, the way this is prevented is the use of ballast, or a weight attached to the victim's legs or back.
And who would make better ballast than the similarly flyweighted Fweeky Fweedy, the Chief Rabbi Designate of the Regime of the New Haman? Together, the two halves of the loving couple (which one is the eizer and which the kenegdo?) will reach a proper weight for fast and efficient hanging.
So, out of fear that the Jews in Iran will re-enact the Purim story by also ridding themselves of Zeresh ishto, Fweeky Fweedy, who as pictures prove was lawfully wedded to Ahmadinejad by a Conservative Islamic imam, has temporarily disassociated himself from his husband.
We expect this situation to change after Purim, when Fweeky Fweedy searches yet again for attention!
And we at Der Shygetz - Der Eppes a Vochedige Velt-Barimte Mikve-Nyess Blatt - will not give Fweedy any more attention at this time but instead finish some of the articles which remain neglected here, as well as provide our readers with such timely information as "How to Choose A Ponzi Investment Scheme".
Coming very soon - a full shiur on an oft neglected topic in halacha le(bubba)maaseh - Hilchos Mishmeres HaTznius al pi ha Admou"r meCreedmoor.
While I appreciate Mr Friedman is so enamoured of my journalistic powers that he cites my publication as the reason for his feigned tshive, I must reveal the real reason.
With Purim coming, the hopes of the Jewish people are focused on the speedy and not necessarily painless or politically expedient removal from the ranks of the living of the present day Haman, Mahmoud Ahmadinejad YMS. And the traditional punishment for the likes of Ahmadinejad is of course hanging, particularly from 50 amos above the capital (Teheran will do although Shushan of then is Hamadan of today).
Now, an extremely light and fragile (half a) man such as Mahmoud Ahmadinejad is very difficult to hang as he will sway in the wind and possibly slip out of his noose. In primitive Iran, the way this is prevented is the use of ballast, or a weight attached to the victim's legs or back.
And who would make better ballast than the similarly flyweighted Fweeky Fweedy, the Chief Rabbi Designate of the Regime of the New Haman? Together, the two halves of the loving couple (which one is the eizer and which the kenegdo?) will reach a proper weight for fast and efficient hanging.
So, out of fear that the Jews in Iran will re-enact the Purim story by also ridding themselves of Zeresh ishto, Fweeky Fweedy, who as pictures prove was lawfully wedded to Ahmadinejad by a Conservative Islamic imam, has temporarily disassociated himself from his husband.
We expect this situation to change after Purim, when Fweeky Fweedy searches yet again for attention!
And we at Der Shygetz - Der Eppes a Vochedige Velt-Barimte Mikve-Nyess Blatt - will not give Fweedy any more attention at this time but instead finish some of the articles which remain neglected here, as well as provide our readers with such timely information as "How to Choose A Ponzi Investment Scheme".
Coming very soon - a full shiur on an oft neglected topic in halacha le(bubba)maaseh - Hilchos Mishmeres HaTznius al pi ha Admou"r meCreedmoor.
Thursday, February 19, 2009
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.
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.
Thursday, February 05, 2009
Fweeky Fweedy Does Tshive
BS"D
Yes, the unexpected has happened! Mamash Moshiach's tzeit! The eminently ludicrous Moishe Aryeh Friedman, whose utter lack of resemblance to either Moishe Rabbenu or a lion as well as his not exactly being tzi frieden has led me to rename him Fweeky Fweedy, has announced that he has done tshive and has renounced his love for the Naye Homon, Mahmoud Ahmadinanejendeh Dam Reshoim Yerakev.
He announced this on the frum equivalent of the Jerry Springer show, namely the Zevel Hoizbrenner circus hour, which has been (dis)graced by Fweedy, his buddy Scheiss, the infamous Bittul HaTzoimos group who are doing their part to turn Crown Heights into Clown Depths, and other various and sundry fringe freaks.
However, we at Der Vochedige Velt-Barimte Mikveh Nayes/Der Shygetz/Gelber Zhournal know the real reason for his so called tshive.
Apparently, in one of his usual harebrained schemes, Fweeky attempted to convert the Iranian toman which he received from Mad Mahmoud into US EBT credits a/k/a food shtempelach so that he could send his EBT card to sympathizers in the US who in turn would send him his beloved Green's (as in mouldy) Kokosh Cake.
Since the US and Iran do not have diplomatic relations and even the Admou"r meCreedmoor, who prints his own toman in odd-numbered denominations (and even in a user friendly fill in your own zeroes format), does not wish to associate with Fweeky these days, the transaction was impossible. In any case, even if his supporters paid in cash, no grocer would sell kokosh cake for transshipment to Fweeky, who is in chyrem across the Jewish spectrum. So, Fweeky Fweedy had to do whatever he could to get out of chyrem and get his farshtinkeneh, farshimelt cake ASAP.
Therefore, Fweeky sold out for nothing but restoration of his US food shtempelach and a few pounds of mouldy kokosh cake. He is still waiting for Zevel Hoizbrenner to figure out where Green's Bakery is located and how to get cake from Brooklyn to Vienna in one decomposing piece.
That is a bit more than the government of the medine got for selling out to world opinion in the middle of cleaning up Gaza.
----------
Update: I have received a letter from the eminent Fweakjob himself saying that his exasperation at being the butt of my satire, especially as Adar once again approaches, was the main factor in his shocking announcement. It is presently being translated from gibberish and will be posted along with my response after Shabbos.
Yes, the unexpected has happened! Mamash Moshiach's tzeit! The eminently ludicrous Moishe Aryeh Friedman, whose utter lack of resemblance to either Moishe Rabbenu or a lion as well as his not exactly being tzi frieden has led me to rename him Fweeky Fweedy, has announced that he has done tshive and has renounced his love for the Naye Homon, Mahmoud Ahmadinanejendeh Dam Reshoim Yerakev.
He announced this on the frum equivalent of the Jerry Springer show, namely the Zevel Hoizbrenner circus hour, which has been (dis)graced by Fweedy, his buddy Scheiss, the infamous Bittul HaTzoimos group who are doing their part to turn Crown Heights into Clown Depths, and other various and sundry fringe freaks.
However, we at Der Vochedige Velt-Barimte Mikveh Nayes/Der Shygetz/Gelber Zhournal know the real reason for his so called tshive.
Apparently, in one of his usual harebrained schemes, Fweeky attempted to convert the Iranian toman which he received from Mad Mahmoud into US EBT credits a/k/a food shtempelach so that he could send his EBT card to sympathizers in the US who in turn would send him his beloved Green's (as in mouldy) Kokosh Cake.
Since the US and Iran do not have diplomatic relations and even the Admou"r meCreedmoor, who prints his own toman in odd-numbered denominations (and even in a user friendly fill in your own zeroes format), does not wish to associate with Fweeky these days, the transaction was impossible. In any case, even if his supporters paid in cash, no grocer would sell kokosh cake for transshipment to Fweeky, who is in chyrem across the Jewish spectrum. So, Fweeky Fweedy had to do whatever he could to get out of chyrem and get his farshtinkeneh, farshimelt cake ASAP.
Therefore, Fweeky sold out for nothing but restoration of his US food shtempelach and a few pounds of mouldy kokosh cake. He is still waiting for Zevel Hoizbrenner to figure out where Green's Bakery is located and how to get cake from Brooklyn to Vienna in one decomposing piece.
That is a bit more than the government of the medine got for selling out to world opinion in the middle of cleaning up Gaza.
----------
Update: I have received a letter from the eminent Fweakjob himself saying that his exasperation at being the butt of my satire, especially as Adar once again approaches, was the main factor in his shocking announcement. It is presently being translated from gibberish and will be posted along with my response after Shabbos.
Friday, October 03, 2008
Please Send Ahmadinejad A Letter
BS"D
As I wind down the Creedmoor Chassidus blog, it has come to my attention that Iran is soon to be without a Chief Rabbi and that unfortunately, everyone's first choice, Moshe Aryeh Friedman, was rejected as unfit for said post (perhaps because he is Ahmadinejad's Conservatively lawfully and gaily wedded spouse, or perhaps because he will soon be appointed to the leadership of the Shia mosque in Vienna that the Islamic Republic is about to establish in the Vienna sewer system thereby enabling Friedman to teach his version of whatever it is that he believes to his fellow sewer rats).
However, Iran need not despair as another candidate is ready, willing and able. He is Ephraim "Luftgesheftige Luftmensch" Luft, the great sage (rosemary and thyme) who is trying to institute a wide sweeping ban on music that would leave everyone listening to old 78 RPM records of Chazzan Yossele Rosenblatt.
Therefore, this desteemed Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivas B'nei Taliban d'Chunyok - Kiryas Merkaz HaSharia is a perfect candidate for Chief Rabbi of the Pistachio is Not Even As Big as A Banana Republic of Iran. We urge all who follow in the flickering four watt bulb, now reduced to one watt because the Admou"r cannot exchange his food stamps for Lehman Brothers shares, of Chassidus Creedmoor to please copy and paste the following letter and send it to The Rightfully Dishonored and Shameful Mr Mahmoud Ahmadinejad:
-------------------------------begin here---------------------------------------------
The Rightfully Dishonored and Shameful Jendeholislam Mahmoud Ahmadinejad
Kharkosdeh Administration Building
0-0 Teheran Iran.
Dear Jendeholislam Ahmadinejad:
As fellow travelers in your quest to remove the Zionist state from the map of time, we wish to bring to your attention an ideal candidate for the desteamed post of Chief Rabbi of the Pistachio Is Not Even as Big as a Banana Islamic Republic of Iran.
His name is Grand Rabbi Ephraim Luft, and he is noted for his ability to reconcile sharia law with Judaism especially when it comes to banning any form of remotely enjoyable Jewish entertainment. However, as it seems that your lawfully Conservatively wedded spouse Imam Moshe Aryeh Friedman cannot be appointed to provide you with remotely enjoyable Jewish entertainment of a type that is forbidden by Jewish law, we believe that Rabbi Luft is an equally worthy substitute.
Like Rabbi Friedman, Rabbi Luft is so ludicrous in his extremism as to be entertaining, and his attempt to remove perfectly acceptable Jewish albums from store shelves is as realistic and welcomed as the attempt by His Most Shamed and Dishonored Mr Ahmadinejad to remove the Zionist entity from the map.
In addition, Rabbi Luft, who is at present a resident of said entity which is about to be obliterated from the map, may be able to actually locate this benighted polity on a world map or even on a globe. In addition, he may be skilled enough to properly guide your most oxidized and nobly superannuated chain saw so that the befouled Jendeholslam Ahmadinejad does not amputate the one final digit that remains on his left hand after your many failed attempts to excise the entity from said map.
With wishes for success in your holy campaign to purify the map by excision of the Zionist entity, I remain,
(name on your most recent fraudulently obtained EBT or credit card here)
------------------------------end here---------------------------------------------
I do intend to finish the last post about the research grants fraud, perhaps after Shabbos ends my time (Zionist Entity time zone) and with that I will close Creedmoor until Purim unless events warrant its reopening.
As I wind down the Creedmoor Chassidus blog, it has come to my attention that Iran is soon to be without a Chief Rabbi and that unfortunately, everyone's first choice, Moshe Aryeh Friedman, was rejected as unfit for said post (perhaps because he is Ahmadinejad's Conservatively lawfully and gaily wedded spouse, or perhaps because he will soon be appointed to the leadership of the Shia mosque in Vienna that the Islamic Republic is about to establish in the Vienna sewer system thereby enabling Friedman to teach his version of whatever it is that he believes to his fellow sewer rats).
However, Iran need not despair as another candidate is ready, willing and able. He is Ephraim "Luftgesheftige Luftmensch" Luft, the great sage (rosemary and thyme) who is trying to institute a wide sweeping ban on music that would leave everyone listening to old 78 RPM records of Chazzan Yossele Rosenblatt.
Therefore, this desteemed Rosh Yeshiva of Yeshivas B'nei Taliban d'Chunyok - Kiryas Merkaz HaSharia is a perfect candidate for Chief Rabbi of the Pistachio is Not Even As Big as A Banana Republic of Iran. We urge all who follow in the flickering four watt bulb, now reduced to one watt because the Admou"r cannot exchange his food stamps for Lehman Brothers shares, of Chassidus Creedmoor to please copy and paste the following letter and send it to The Rightfully Dishonored and Shameful Mr Mahmoud Ahmadinejad:
-------------------------------begin here---------------------------------------------
The Rightfully Dishonored and Shameful Jendeholislam Mahmoud Ahmadinejad
Kharkosdeh Administration Building
0-0 Teheran Iran.
Dear Jendeholislam Ahmadinejad:
As fellow travelers in your quest to remove the Zionist state from the map of time, we wish to bring to your attention an ideal candidate for the desteamed post of Chief Rabbi of the Pistachio Is Not Even as Big as a Banana Islamic Republic of Iran.
His name is Grand Rabbi Ephraim Luft, and he is noted for his ability to reconcile sharia law with Judaism especially when it comes to banning any form of remotely enjoyable Jewish entertainment. However, as it seems that your lawfully Conservatively wedded spouse Imam Moshe Aryeh Friedman cannot be appointed to provide you with remotely enjoyable Jewish entertainment of a type that is forbidden by Jewish law, we believe that Rabbi Luft is an equally worthy substitute.
Like Rabbi Friedman, Rabbi Luft is so ludicrous in his extremism as to be entertaining, and his attempt to remove perfectly acceptable Jewish albums from store shelves is as realistic and welcomed as the attempt by His Most Shamed and Dishonored Mr Ahmadinejad to remove the Zionist entity from the map.
In addition, Rabbi Luft, who is at present a resident of said entity which is about to be obliterated from the map, may be able to actually locate this benighted polity on a world map or even on a globe. In addition, he may be skilled enough to properly guide your most oxidized and nobly superannuated chain saw so that the befouled Jendeholslam Ahmadinejad does not amputate the one final digit that remains on his left hand after your many failed attempts to excise the entity from said map.
With wishes for success in your holy campaign to purify the map by excision of the Zionist entity, I remain,
(name on your most recent fraudulently obtained EBT or credit card here)
------------------------------end here---------------------------------------------
I do intend to finish the last post about the research grants fraud, perhaps after Shabbos ends my time (Zionist Entity time zone) and with that I will close Creedmoor until Purim unless events warrant its reopening.
Wednesday, July 30, 2008
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)
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)
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