This link has made the rounds of all over the bookface recently.

All you kids running around,posting it, saying things like, “how can people be so cruel” and “I’m on facebook to much!” I’m sorry. I just assume. Because I am like you.

You guys aren’t seeing the positive of this.

In order to get the fully story of what was going on at his son’s school, Stuart Chaifetz WIRE-TAPPED his son. His son. Is a spy. Without even trying. He didn’t even have to do anythign to be a spy. It wasn’t like on his 11th birthday he woke up with a letter telling him all about his future education at the Spy School…

Dear Akian Chaifetz,

We are pleased to inform you that you have been accepted at Pigball School of Secret Agents and Spies. Please find enclosed a list of all necessary books and equipment.
Term begins on September 1. We await your owl by no later than July 31.

Yours sincerely,

Tupac Shakur
Deputy Headmistress

I think the lesson to grab from this isn’t that this world is a cruel place full of hate, but that Autistic people should be trained to be spies.  Their quietness, lack of eye contact, and ability to remember strange dates is a huge benefit to any secret operation.

I don’t know why, because I never went to Pigball, but if you read the students’ first text book,  The Standard Book of Spies (Grade 1) you can find out about how all these things are benefits to secret agentwork.

 This is an example of what the book looks like, with a different title.

I mean, if we really think about it, there are a lot of spies who were clearly autistic. What about James Bond? Why does he always get THE SAME DRINK? Don’t like change, do we “Bond, James Bond!?!?”

Furthermore, according to the googs, one of the best games to play with an Autistic child is I SPY!

Look, the nickname for those with Asperger’s syndrome is “aspie”. It has part of the word ‘spies’ in it! WHAT MORE DO YOU NEED?

So come on guys, let’s be optimistic. There is a silver lining to every cloud.

*Government, I know you’re proud of me because of my brilliant ideas for saving the spy crisis. You can send me a thank you email at spycrisis@yahoo.com. We can talk money and jobs then.

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The manorexic’s preferred beer of choice.

Science is usually bullshit. Science rocks! Science recently told me that I am awesome because I don’t exercise, don’t eat, and smoke like a chimney. How so?

A lean, muscular person will be less affected by drink than someone with more body fat: Water-rich muscle tissues absorb alcohol effectively, preventing it from reaching the brain.

It’s from the internet, so it must be true!

What does this mean for you, the hipsterjew reader?

1) Jewish girls with joobies will get drunk quick.
2) Our regular scrawny hipsters will drink more than expected. Warning: Stay away from a bootleg moonshine-drinking competition.
3) Chubsters are a cheap date. You know what I’m talking about.

If you care to learn more alcohol facts, so you can be that asshole at your MOMA reception, read here.

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2. Is Billy Joel the Champion of Jewish Comedy in Deutschland?
3. I suck in the future; just like now

However, even I must occasionally fight against the heavy hand of insomnia. Sometimes, even I struggle  to quiet my brain enough to doze off. So don’t worry, readers, I have you covered in these times of continuing peril. Good luck.

1. Listen to one Christmas song on loop. For three hours.
2. Hang out on your college’s shuttle. Talk to a drunk girl about her drunk problems. You both leave the bus as better people.
3. Realize that the show your roommate was watching on the couch as you worked was actually softcore porn. It will become weird when you  continue to watch it. Don’t blame the cat for why you can’t stand up and turn it off. We all know the truth (NASTY).
4. PIN THE TAIL ON THE DONKEY! It’s not weird if you’re by yourself. Promise.
5. Ruin the hopes and dreams of all Hipster Jew reading boys and girls.  Everywhere.
6. Try making dollar bills out of origami. Or origami out of dollar bills? It’s one of those things.
7. Put your seashell collection in height order. It’s NOT WEIRD you have a seashell collection. Promise.
8. Finger paint. Actually, forget all this other stuff. Just finger paint.
9. Take all the silverware out of the kitchen and turn them into characters in a soap opera. This option is a little weird.

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1. The Nine Steps to Hipster Jew Procrastination.
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There’s nothing funny about cancer. Unless Aziz Ansari is making fun of Parks and Rec costar Chris Pratt (Andy), for the sake of saving someone’s life who may have cancer!

Aziz Ansari. What a pint-sized dream boat.

I’m sure you’re all tired of me talking about him by now, but I don’t care. I wish more Hipsters were like Aziz Ansari. I wish I was more like Aziz Ansari.

I wish I was Aziz Ansari. Sigh.

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1. *click here to promote cancer*
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3. 2am rant

However, the more I reflected, the more I began to panic.  There is so much about Israel I don’t know, for example do they have PBR?  Are my favorite indie bands mainstream there?  Where can I buy vintage tees?  Are skinny jeans appropriate attire for the desert?  Will I find love?  Will I get crabs?

I have three goals while abroad:  1.  Avoid almost certain death, 2.  Remain cynical and indifferent in the face of almost certain death, and 3.  Learn to speak Hebrew.

Who cares knows, only time will tell.  Don’t worry though, I’ll continue reporting the minutia of my daily life, including periodic updates on my terrible bowel condition and the numerous dry movements it produces.  Peace out America, stay drunk and I’ll see you in 2012.

A little cliche going away music:

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I am a strong, proud eater of deli meats; I like my pastrami grilled crisp on the edges soused in Russian sauce on a bed of sauerkraut in between two slices of deli rye.
So I know that this next statement is going to offend all of the one persons reading this blog: Fuck veganism.
“V” is for very fucking silly
I just started this awesome diet called “The Paleo Diet” in which the participant only eats foods that a caveman could have consumed. So no sugar, flour, or dairy; only copious amounts of animal products, vegetables/fruits and nuts. Nothing processed.
Reader, I have eaten bacon + eggs every morning for the last 6 days and have gained nary a pound. Don’t you give me any lip, baby.
This amazing diet is also hip-life approved because it demands very little exercise. Cavemen apparently were not running at fixed speeds for 35 minutes every day and then doing free-weights: they were chasing down elk, once a week or so. Also, they slept an inordinate amount, trying to conserve fat and energy for winter. Basically, this diet was MADE for those hipsters who think veganism/vegetarianism is fast on its way out.

The real reason I’m working on incurring hatred from any readers I might have, is because I am super tired of hearing hip biddies say things like this, “Oh no, I CANNOT eat that double-bacon-cheeseburger because I am a stupid vegan.”
But yes, yes you CAN. You just WON’T. It is ridiculously pretentious to think that you know better then EVERY SINGLE CIVILIZATION SINCE THE DAWN OF TIME.

Wake up, sillies.

Phew. I need a drink.

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2. How can fake Bacon be Kosher?

You don’t get a sickly, thin, holocaust-surviving body by eating, silly.

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“About one in three people seeking rhinoplasty — commonly called a nose job — have signs of body dysmorphic disorder, a mental health condition in which a person has an unnatural preoccupation with slight or imagined defects in appearance.” (via Theawl)

Let’s all remember that we can’t control thousands of years of inbreeding. The only thing to do is to move on, or find a Gentile woman who has a Woody Allen fetish.

I hate all those nosebleeds I have.

Atleast I’m not Nomar.

http://www.theawl.com/2011/07/people-who-want-nose-jobs-may-be-crazy

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I am not naturally one of those toothpick type hipsterladies. Do I deprive myself of food and indulge in blow-binges? Not regularly, no. Do I chain-smoke Djarum Blacks for breakfast? Only very rarely. In all actuality, it’s really a daily struggle to maintain this physique because I am one of those fat-skinnies whose childhood/teenage excesses are beginning to catch them up. However, my lifestyle (ie income) does not allow for fatty binges and keeps me toeing the line of hipsterskinny. Everyday I wake up bright and early at 11 AM and sprint down the stairs to pick through my dwindling food supplies; always hoping there will be something there that wasn’t there before. Or else that my roommates have bought fig newtons. I fucking love fig newtons.

Dern Tooten I love Fig Newtons

But I digress. When I read this article about the new hipster trend being potbellies, my hopes skyrocketed and I thought for a few blissful moments that this same hipster-potbelly-trend noted on hipstermen could eventually begin to apply to hipsterladies. Alas, I failed to note the date on which the article was posted…*cough cough* 2009.

Genetics are against me: I know exactly what I will look like naked in about 40 years. Thanks mom for NOT locking the bathroom door. Ever.

My religion is against me: Delicious Jewy food is always being proffered at every religious occasion. And my maiden aunts are always pinching my arms and telling me to, “Eat something, why don’t you.”

So maybe I will, Aunt Phyllis, maybe I will.

I’m excited for the future

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I mean, clearly, it’s saying that Philadelphia is a shitty city. But anyone can agree to that. I walk the Broad Street of Philthy erryday and I will attest to it’s clear shittiness.  But the nastiness of Philly is why it’s so awesome.  People that deal with the everyday crappiness of 1) potentially getting shot, 2) trash-covered streets, and 3) mediocre public transportation, are the most badass people. WE CAN DEAL WITH ANYTHING.

Homeless guy stuffing stale Doritos down his pants and then throwing them at random passerby?

NOT A PROBLEM.

Overly-friendly stray cat that is wearing an eye-patch, has a severed tail, and is foaming at the mouth?

NOT A BIG DEAL.

Your neighborhood crack dealer getting arrested in your living room?

BUSINESS AS USUAL.

All you posers who “think” you live in a city, like lame Jew York: Pshaww, you don’t know shit. A place isn’t a real city until you feel uncomfortable living there.  Datz da roolz.

Land of the Free, Broseph

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