A Man Eating Chicken

If you’ve watched the news lately, you’ve noticed there’s been a lot of medical advice and talk about different Covid treatments. My dad always told me that the best medicine for anything was alcohol, not complaining and never, ever messing with the thermostat. He lost his medical license when I was still a small child, but continued to give medical advice to anyone who would listen. And some people who wouldn’t listen.

If there’s one thing I did learn from pops it was to be distrustful. Even your father, a one-time doctor and current deadbeat, could be out there recommending that a small child treat a headache with Wild Turkey and being uncomfortably cold. So, when Covid came along, I understood the vaccine hesitancy. I was also skeptical of people recommending rogue treatments, like Ivermectin or coffee mugs that say “liberal tears” on them. I understood the distrust in general. I mean, I didn’t trust anyone in the world about anything. You could say I have “trust issues” and “daddy issues” and “cirrhosis of the liver since I was a child issues”.

I still needed to figure out a way to make medical decisions. If you can’t trust doctors, or any random asshole with the internet, then who can you trust? I thought maybe I can do like the Christian Scientists and not do any medicine; they just pray. I was a little skeptical, though. I mean, I’ve been praying everyday that my childhood was a horrible dream and that my real dad would wake me from it one day. That hasn’t happened yet, so maybe they are wrong. Also, wouldn’t there be some positive correlation between religious prevalence and health then? Isn’t that basic science? Maybe those Christians Scientists aren’t really that good at science.

So, how do I answer my medical questions and make informed choices? Do I still need to wear a mask? Is my best bet to just try to join the space program and when I go on a moon mission just go AWOL and camp out there forever? Is this all a prank perpetrated by the man once voted the worst doctor in the mid-Atlantic region, somehow trying to get me to hustle harder in little league? I wouldn’t put it past him.

Well, I’ve finally come up with a great system: I just give pops a call and do the opposite of what he tells me. It’s working pretty well so far! Last week when I had the sniffles I asked him if I should take a rapid test before I go to work. After talking to him I turned the heat all the way up and didn’t send him any “parent support payments” (which I’m pretty sure aren’t even a real thing). I’m feeling way better already. If anyone wants to give him a call, you can try his office line at 1-900-DOC-4-EVA.

With all of these travel restrictions, more and more events are offering a remote Zoom option. There are so many different types of remote events these days with unique needs. Zoom just isn’t working for everything anymore. That is why we have developed Zop, the Zoom alternative for your next bris!

If you’ve attended a Zoom bris, you’ve probably experienced many of the issues with using a “one size fits all” teleconferencing service. For starters, everyone is late, often including the mohel. In testing, Zop tried several strategies, including sending automated meeting reminders, logging people in automatically five minutes before it started and even automatically changing all invitations to say a start time that is 30 minutes early. Our research showed that you can’t convince the late comers to be on time, they will always be late. You need to actually simulate a lateness response to get them to show up. Through our testing we found a strategy that worked: a CGI video of the bris starting 20 minutes before the actual start time played over the Zop feed.

One issue with a Zoom bris is making and keeping a minyan of 13 Jewish men. People may RSVP and then not attend, or attend and then drop out mid-call. Well, we at Zop have developed minyan bots. They are kind of like chat bots, but with realistic human avatars and programmed to act like Jewish men. They have realistic kvetching and can (and will) provide unsolicited advice that they are unqualified to give, even to the mohel.

With a new baby in the house, things may be a little messy in the background. A new parent doesn’t have time to clean up for the big event. Sure, Zoom offers some nice fake backgrounds, but none of them are really “bris-friendly”. We at Zop have developed some perfect backgrounds for your bris, including “The Wailing Wall”, “Edward Scissorhands” and “Mortified Mordechai” (Zop’s squeamish but lovable mascot).

Zoom is owned by an evil goyishe corporation, while Zop is owned by real mohels! That is why our board meetings are one month long, to allow all members the opportunity to say their long-winded spiels. Zoom spends tens of thousands of dollars hosting their board meeting at a five star resort. The chairman of Zop’s board himself argued with the cashier over the price of the pastrami sandwiches for Zop’s board meeting. That just screams “fiscal responsibility”. 

So put yourself and your family at ease. Go with the tele-bris service that has an average review of two and half stars. If you know our crowd, then you know that’s actually really good! Try out Zop, it’s really “taking off”!

Hello Carly,

I received the invite to your vow renewal with your husband, Todd. I know this is a big deal to you; you’ve been married for two long years and you want to show Todd that you still love him after all this time. I mean, why wouldn’t you? It’s only been two years. Anyway, I’d love to attend. The idea of watching you two futzing around with the camera in front of a chintzy backdrop on my tiny ass laptop screen sounds wonderful. By the way, are you splurging for a real-fake background, or just going digital? Anyway, I sadly won’t be able to attend because of some sort of disorder I have. Seasonally affected disorder? Seasonal allergy disease? The runs? I forget what it’s called. It’s new and I don’t think the doctors have a name for it yet, but I got it real bad. The long and short of it is I can’t go to your stupid, boring attention grab.

Love is beautiful, and it’s sad when I think about what I’d be missing. I mean, just going through the itinerary is getting me excited. A fifteen minute speech from your original officiant about the history of marriage in the bible? Riveting. Maybe he’ll accidentally be on mute for a while and take some time trying to figure that one out. That would be exciting! A trip down memory lane, where we look at what was going on in the world when you got married? You even saved a newspaper from the big day! Let me Google that: Covid and the capital riots. I think it’s pretty much the same thing in the news now. I guess that would be fun to reminisce about.

I also see there will be a cake that we can watch you and Todd eat, while I can’t even get one if I wanted to because the only bakery in my town closed permanently a year ago when the owner died of Covid. It’s really too bad that my thing has been acting up so much. You know, my syndrome? Diseases are understood. Syndromes, like your reasons for marrying Todd in the first place, are mysterious.

What’s that, you want to know more about my syndrome? Well, I cant remember the name of it now, because memory loss is one of the symptoms. It also makes it hard to attend Zoom vow renewals and do other things that sound fucking miserable. Yes, I can still remember the symptoms; I’m sick not a moron! I didn’t want to make this about me. This is about you and Todd. And all the poor saps who don’t have the mystery get-out-of-vow-renewal-free syndrome.

I see there’s a registry, too. You know, I didn’t get a thank you note for the original wedding gift, but I guess maybe you knew that you were doing the vow renewal so soon that you’d just combine the thank yous into one note. I think that in lieu of a physical gift, I’ll be making a donation to the research fund for my mystery syndrome. Yes, the Mystery Syndrome Research Fund. The MSRF is really focused on their work, so the donation slip you get in the mail may be written on the back of a Taco Bell receipt. That’s how they keep their overhead so low. Also, if you look at the receipt and the order is for six chalupas, that wasn’t for one person. It was an order for their whole office. I mean, who would eat six chalupas while coming up with an elaborate lie to get out of the dumbest thing they’ve ever heard of? You’d have to be sick, but not with Mystery Syndrome, because that is very, very real.

Love,

Jane

In ancient societies, children’s games prepared their young for adult activities. Sports and games of tag prepared their youth to hunt and fight in wars. As society evolved, our games evolved to prepare our youth for their changing roles as adults. Here are how some modern children’s games prepare our young ones for the adult world:

Simon Says: This game prepares our young for the modern workplace. A man, clearly white (Simon), tells you exactly what to do. There are subtle, nonsensical rules and if you don’t follow them you are “out”.

Seven Up: Remember this one? Heads down, thumbs up! This one teaches you adult coping mechanisms; put your head down, cover your eyes, and give a thumbs up. As an adult this will be the only way to deal with the world crumbling around you.

Musical Chairs: In any modern economy there is a scarcity of resources. Sure, when you are young it may seem like you are all happily walking around in a circle with your friends, listening to cheery music. When you get older, though, the music stops and either you or one of your friends will be homeless.

Duck, Duck, Goose: It’s never too young to learn that it’s a duck eat goose world out there. Wait, how did you play this game? Sounds like we had way different rules where I’m from.

Rock Paper Scissor: Sure, real wars aren’t fought with these weapons, but the general idea is the same. When they are older they can learn the real rules: Molotov-Sanction-Nuke. They may learn this sooner if they’re in the room when the news is on.

Monkey in the Middle: I think this teaches them evolution? I don’t know, I’ve never played it.

Hide and Seek: This is great preparation for an adult social life, where everyone either won’t leave you alone or avoids you all together.

The Floor is Lava: When the inevitable apocalyptic natural disaster comes, our children will be ready to hop from table to couch to avoid it. They will also have practice pushing their little sisters into it.

Every year, our panel of experts at Merriam-Webster discuss candidates for word of the year and choose a winner that is judged to reflect the ethos, mood, or preoccupations of that particular year and to have lasting potential as a word of cultural significance. This word should be common and well known, a term that reflects the year that was and has left an indelible mark on our society. This year’s winner is one that you may have heard a lot over the last 12 months: A Defeated Sigh.

This marks the first time that a sound has won word of the year, however it became clear in our media review and random polling that this sound dominated 2021. In our poll, we asked 5,000 people to provide one word that summarized 2021, and while we got 934 different words, 95% of responses started with a defeated sigh. In fact, 221 respondents responded only with a defeated sigh. Other common responses that were finalists included “Fuck”, “Seriously?” and a thousand-yard stare.

The etymology of the defeated sigh goes back to the Paleolithic era, when a caveman first stepped in mastodon poop. While it’s remained in the human lexicon, its usage increased over time, particularly over the last three years. Last year, Merriam-Webster updated its definition of defeated sigh to:

Defeated Sigh noun

1. Just look around at this shit
2. I mean, are you fucking kidding me?

Few words can truly convey so much about one moment in time. Congratulations to a defeated sigh! While this is the first year a sound has won word of the year, we have a feeling it isn’t the last, as early polling is showing that curling up into a ball and crying is a frontrunner for 2022.

Gregor Samsa wakes up one morning to find himself transformed into an insect. This is surprising at first, but then again Donald Trump did become president, so anything seems possible. Like a responsible citizen, Gregor checks if insect transformation is a symptom of Covid. Seeing that it is not, Gregor is immediately relieved. Stuck on his back and unable to get up and leave the bed, Gregor reflects on his job as a traveling salesman and cloth merchant, which is full of temporary and constantly changing human relationships, which never come from the heart. Being of Generation Z, most of his personal relationships take place through the phone and are also temporary, constantly changing, and never come from the heart, so he’s used to it.

Still, he sees his employer as a despot and would quit his job if he were not his family’s sole breadwinner and paying off both his and his parents’ student loans. Turning into an insect, however, has shown him that life is too short to waste selling cloth. After all, he’s been receiving a stimmy every month, and has heard rumors that Uncle Joe is going to forgive student loans. Also, everyone else is quitting their jobs. He doesn’t see why a cloth salesman is an essential worker who needs to put himself at risk for Covid just to make his company some money. Nobody would buy cloth from a bug anyway. I mean, it isn’t the 1800s, who buys cloth at all? So, while lying on his back, Gregor decides he is going to quit his job once he can right himself. 

While trying to get off of his back Gregor finds that his office manager, the chief clerk, has shown up to check on him, indignant about Gregor’s unexcused absence. Gregor attempts to communicate with both the manager and his family, but all they can hear from behind the door is incomprehensible vocalizations. Then he realizes that he can just use his phone, and he texts the clerk that he quits, along with a hang ten emoji, a middle finger emoji and a bug emoji. He then texts his family “IM A BUG LOL!”. They come in and are disgusted. His sister, Grete, post some TikToks of Gregor that quickly go viral.

With Gregor’s unexpected transformation, he becomes the world’s #1 bug influencer. In spite of this, they keep Gregor locked in his room, because he’s a bug. There, he begins to accept his new identity and adapt to his new body. Grete is the only one in the family willing to bring him any food, but Grubhub is willing to cater to his desired diet of rotting food. 

With a steady stream of income from his influencer job and a steady supply of garbage to eat, Gregor starts spending lavishly and invests a good chunk of money in NFTs and crypto. Unfortunately, an even grosser bug-man goes viral on TikTok, stealing Gregor’s market and ruining his sole source of income. Gregor tries to sell his investments, but it turns out his NFTs have no value and the crypto was all scam coins and are worth nothing.

Desperate for income, Gregor signs up for a celebrity boxing match against Macaulay Culkin. Gregor vows to reform his spending habits with the income he earns. In the boxing match, however, Macaulay Culkin removes his shoe and hits Gregor with it, smushing him. His disgusted but relieved family dispose of his bug body and move out to the countryside.