Tag: jewish (Page 1 of 2)

“Do yourself a favor and read this thread,” Mary Ann Mendoza, who is a member of the Trump campaign’s advisory board, tweeted to her more than 40,000 followers Tuesday morning.

Do yourself a favor and read this thread. https://t.co/BfxVokBE3k

— Angel Mom Mary Ann Mendoza💥TEXT EMPOWER TO 88022 (@mamendoza480) August 25, 2020

Mendoza, an “angel mom,” was scheduled to speak Tuesday about her son’s 2014 death at the hands of a drunk driver who was in the country illegally. But a Republican source familiar with the programming said the speech had been cancelled amid uproar over her tweet.

Hours earlier, Mendoza had linked to a lengthy thread from a QAnon conspiracy theorist that laid out a fevered, anti-Semitic view of the world. In its telling, the Rothschilds—a famous Jewish banking family from Germany—created a plot to terrorize non-Jewish “goyim,” with purported details of their scheme that included plans to “make the goyim destroy each other” and “rob the goyim of their landed properties.”  – The Daily Beast, 8/25/20

Do the Jews want to rob the goyim of their landed properties?

Some do. I’m sure there’s a crooked lawyer named Arnold Teitelbaum working his ass off to yoink some Episcopalian’s shit right now.

We should warn that Brother-In-Christ about the Semitic perfidy!

He’s hypothetical. You’re not gonna be a dick again, are you? I’m giving you another chance.

I appreciate it, man. I got kids to feed.

Sure.

They’re not my kids. I just like feeding them.

Strange.

Back to the landed properties of the goyim: Why wouldn’t the Jews want to steal them? Nothing’s more valuable than landed properties.

Lots of things of more valuable. Little bit of gold is worth as much as a plot of land.

So you’re saying that the Jews also want to steal the goyim gold?

No.

That’s what I heard.

And that’s the problem. Lot of people lately are hearing a lot of bullshit that no one’s saying.

Yes or no: The Jews hold the patent on firetrucks, and won’t build your town one unless you pay the Matzoh Tax.

No. And there’s no “The Jews.” We are a scrappy and argumentative people. Terrible at collaborating.

What about the Matzoh Tax?

Not a thing.

I have sent away for multiple screeds and jeremiads that say different.

I’m right; they’re wrong.

You cannot deny the call of landed property, though. 

I can.

IT CALLS TO THE JEW.

This is the shit I don’t like. Halfway through the post, you turn twattish.

You’re just saying that because you covet my landed property.

What landed property?

I have a time-share in Jupiter.

Ew. I don’t want that.

It’s better than a hotel! It pays for itself!

Yeah, but it’s Jupiter. Nothing but goyim up there.

A-HA!

Shouldn’t have said that.

You’re like Joe Biden: You wanna punch God in the face.

I don’t.

Don’t you?

Who can say He doesn’t deserve it?

You stay away from my time-share.

Maybe.

I’m not a gun person. Only held three in my life, fired two. First was a 45 or a 9mm. My girlfriend was house-sitting in Echo Park or Eagle Rock, some neighborhood in LA that was not my familiar Hollywood; suburban and hilly and quiet. The house’s owner kept the pistol in a little carrying case under the bed, and my girlfriend let me play with the weapon after making sure–double and triple-checking–that it was unloaded. I quick-drew, and leapt onto the bed BANG BANG BANG shooting in the air like a John Woo hero, and I said the line about feelin’ lucky. She would not let me fire the gun off in the backyard, even directly into the ground like I promised I would. Smart lady.

My uncle used to live in Riegelsville, Pennsylvania, which you haven’t heard of for good reason; the local drug store sold a tee-shirt that asked “Where the hell is Riegelsville?” The house he bought came with a shotgun. It was that kind of town. One Thanksgiving, we all trooped out there and in between kreplach and turkey took turns firing off the weapon BLAMMO into the empty woods surrounding his property. Heck of a kick, we all agreed.

I tried to date when I moved to Florida. The habit did not take; I miss getting laid by accident. Instead of going to the movies or taking acid in the graveyard, we went to the gun shop/shooting range by the airport. Whole array of deadly shit under the counter available to rent, and I chose the Walther PPK.

“Gimme the James Bond gun,” I told the guy, who didn’t call me a faggot even though I could tell he wanted to.

Lotsa fun in the range. You get giant earmuffs that look like 70’s-style headphones, and protective shades, and a stern lecture from a man with sawdust in the hair of his forearms, even though I saw no woodworking equipment nearby. There was a switch to bring the target closer to you, or–once you had gotten your eye in–farther away. PAMP PAMP PAMP! Louder than the movies. I held the pistol incorrectly, and so the barrel sliced open my thumb’s webbing as it automatically reloaded. I sucked the blood from my hand, and felt oh-so-butch.

And that was it. Never felt a need to have a gun in the house. Haven’t ever used the baseball bat I keep by my bed, so a gun seemed like overkill. Plus, there’s the depression, substance abuse, and impulsive decision-making. I stay up real late, too, and that’s no good. If you don’t need a gun at four a.m., then you shouldn’t have one.

But I think I’m gonna go get me one. Maybe a .38, the snub-nosed revolvers that New York cops used to carry, wrench from the armpits of their checkered sports coats, shoot criminals in the back with. Maybe a .22, which is made for headshots. Bullet’s got enough force to enter the skull, but not leave it. Bounces around in there. It’s like how greenhouses work.

A journey of six million miles starts with a single step. I get awful nervous when the Gentiles start discussing my nationality, you see. My nationality is American, which means I have certain rights.

I’m not getting on that fucking train.

THE MIDDLE EAST – 5778 YEARS AGO

“Shlomo?”

“Yes, Shushy?”

“I had an idea.”

“Oy. Is it like the idea you had for hats? Because I have to tell you: we have the worst hats.”

“It’s not about hats.”

“They don’t keep your head warm, and they don’t keep the sun out of your eyes.”

“The idea is not hat-related.”

“And they fall off constantly. Is your idea bobby pins? Because we could use bobby pins.”

“Forget about the hats, Shlomo. This is a big idea. You’re gonna plotz.”

“Is it magazines? I could go for a nice general-interest magazine. I was at the podiatrist the other day and I had nothing to read while I was waiting.”

“Not magazines. I think I invented a calendar.”

“A what?”

“A calendar. You know how the rivers flood once every twelve full moons?”

“Sure.”

“I think that means something. So I wrote it down.”

CALENDAR REVEALING NOISE

“Where did you get that printed? The pyramids haven’t even been built yet.”

“Don’t worry about it. Each full moon is called a ‘month.’ And then after twelve, we start all over again.”

“And it fits neatly like that?”

“Oh, no. Not at all. My system requires constant tinkering and rejiggering and the occasional 13th month to keep it straight.”

“Why?”

“Well, I’m not quite sure but I think the moon is far less important in the grand scheme of things than we think.”

“We are remarkably primitive.”

“Barely human, yeah.”

“13th month?

“Uh-huh. Seven out of every nineteen years are leap years that require an extra month. Also, no matter what we do, we’re still gonna lose a couple days every decade.”

“Shushy, I think you need to take this idea back to the woodshed.”

“You’re a nut. This is great plan.”

“I don’t know about that. When does the year start?”

“September.”

“Can you be more specific than that?”

“I cannot.”

“Oy.”

“The New Year is called Rosh Hashanah, and it will be some time in September. Maybe real early October once in a while.”

“How will you know when it happens?”

“You’ll walk into the house and it’ll stink like kreplach.”

“Why don’t we just keep using Bob’s calendar?”

“Bob? Bob the Babylonian and his Base-6 bullshit? No thank you.”

“But his scheme works! 365 days plus a leap day every four years. No muss, no fuss.”

“Shlomo. Mishpochah. Is that how the Jews do things?”

“Can’t argue with that.”

WASHINGTON, D.C. –  HOLOCAUST MUSEUM, DAY

“Now, why would the Jews leave their shoes in a pile like this?”

“They didn’t, Councilman White. This is an artistic representation of–”

“If my mother saw us leave our shoes like this, we’d get a whupping.”

“Again, not simply a pile of shoes.”

“Ms. Williams, I do want to thank you for inviting me to your Holocaust Store.”

“Museum. It’s a museum.”

“Oh, I don’t know about that. I saw a fellow downstairs selling churros.”

“That’s the snack bar. Most museums have snack bars.”

“Tell me about this picture. Why are all these people wearing the same set of pajamas?”

“Those are not pajamas, Councilman. Those were the uniforms that–”

“Was there a sale?”

“Not pajamas.”

“Did they go with the vertical stripes in hopes of looking slimmer?”

“Wow. No. I don’t think anyone had any need of looking slimmer.”

“I was gonna say. These were some skinny Jews. Could they not buy churros?”

“They could not.”

“Even with all of their Jew gold?”

“Oy vey.”

“What is this?”

“It’s a scale model of the Warsaw ghetto.”

“Uh-huh. This is where the Jews lived?”

“It was, briefly.”

“So we’re talking about a Boca Raton-type situation?”

“Nothing like that at all. It was an open-air prison.”

“Ah. Couldn’t the Jews use their Jew-magic to escape?”

“No such thing as Jew-magic, Councilman.”

“No? Explain David Copperfield.”

“What?”

“Now, you said that Hitler killed six million Jews on the Holodeck.”

“Holocaust. And, yes.”

“Uh-huh. Six million. Surely, some of them must have been very bad.”

“What?”

“Robbers, thieves, mind-stealers. That sort of thing. I’m just saying that all six million couldn’t have been innocent.”

“I don’t know what to say to that.”

“I quote the Minister Farrakhan–”

“Please don’t.”

“–‘Hitler was complicated man, and no one understood him but his woman.’ That was Eva Braun.”

“I’m aware.”

“No offense, but Eva Braun was a foxy fräulein.”

“Offense. So much offense.”

“What does this stairway represent?”

“Nothing. It’s a way to get to the third floor.”

“Are they Jew-stairs?”

“What are ‘Jew-stairs?'”

“Can I trust them?”

“How are you the worst thing in a Holocaust museum?”

“I think it’s churro time.”

“Me, too.”

After this asshole.

• Bernie Madoff.
• Hymen Roth.
• My aunt, Helen. (The woman is a pig.)
• Whoever decided there should be seeds in rye bread. (Why the fuck would you ever choose seeded rye breaded over seedless? Seeds are just edible splinters; all they do is get stuck in your teeth, and the little fuckers get way up in there, too.)
• Judas Iscariot.
• The Jew broad from Goodfellas who wouldn’t go out with Tommy alone. (She was racist against Italians. Can you believe that?)
• Auschwitz kapos.
• Meir Kahane.
• Mayim Bialik. (She’s horrendous.)
• Hal Gadot, Gal’s brother who likes to make himself vomit on children.
• Harvey Weinstein.
• Woody Allen.
• Those Hasidic assholes who attack women in shorts.
• Leopold.
• Loeb.
• Julius Rosenberg.
• Ethel Rosenberg,
• Freshy Greenblatt.
• Did you google Freshy Greenblatt?
• Yeah, I made him up.
• But good on you for doing your own research.

When should I make special note of the fact that my attorney is Jewish?

When discussing him with your 26-year-old daughter Hannah, who is so so wonderful and beautiful and kind but just hasn’t found the right person, and here’s his number and you should just call him; I’ll pay for dinner if you go out with him.

When else?

That’s about it.

Nothing else?

I truly cannot think of another reason. Maybe if you’re recommending a friend go see him/her, but that friend is frightened by Jews.

Why would you recommend a Jewish lawyer to someone who didn’t like Jews?

No, the friend is fine with Jews, but they startle him. Like, “Ah! Jew!” but then everything’s cool.

That’s just odd.

This is what I’m saying. There’s no reason to mention your lawyer’s Judaism. Well, there’s one reason.

Which is?

You’re a fucking Anti-Semite.