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Dear Joe, You Were Replaced by a Jew

Dear Joe,

Where’d you go? We went to bed together last Thursday and sometime in the middle of the night — poof! — you vanished and I woke up to a Jew in the bed, sleeping where you sleep.

Wherever you are, I want to let you know that I’m doing well, as are the kids, surprisingly, given that their father was replaced by Schmuel Rosenthal.

But truth be told, Schmuel’s transition into our lives has been rather seamless. We’re even starting to think a single state Israel might be best, whatever that means, I don’t really know, but Schmuel can be very convincing.

I hope you don’t mind, but we took down the “Jews will not replace us” sign, since we had no choice but to admit you had indeed been replaced by a Jew. Plus, Schmuel found it offensive.

At first I was upset and yelled at Schmuel for replacing my husband. “How dare you replace my Joe!” I screamed.

But Schmuel insisted he did no such thing — “Who am I to replace someone?” he kept saying. “I’m so special I can go around replacing people? I wish someone would replace me,” he went on, just like Jews do.

Eventually I got tired of arguing with him and gave in. I’m learning first-hand how Jews tire you out until you can’t fight anymore. Suffice it to say, it’s been a real fermisht over here, which is Yiddish for “all shook up.” Schmuel taught me that.

Don’t feel bad though, practically our entire block has been replaced by Jews. We tried to be good neighbors and put our Nazi sentiments aside to welcome them to the neighborhood and they sorta took advantage of it by making everything Jewish.

“Welcome to the neighborhood,” we said, “we have a block party this weekend if you’re interested.”

Schmuel said, “It’s our block party, it’s always been our block party. The street is now Jewish, the trees are Jewish, the cars are Jewish, the animals are Jewish.”

“Is there anything that’s not Jewish?” we asked.

“No,” Schmuel said, “even the question ‘Is there anything that’s not Jewish?’ is Jewish.”

If/when you do return you’re gonna love the money Schmuel’s accountant, Saul Feinberg, has saved us (Saul replaced the town’s accountant so we had no choice but to use him).

Turns out, the materials we bought to make our Nazi paraphernalia is tax deductible. And we can mark our white nationalist participation as charity! I put the $ we saved into a 401K per Mr. Feinberg’s suggestion. He said it was a safer bet than putting it in the market.

The toughest times are the weekends when Schmuel makes us change the TV channel for him, place phone calls for him. He apparently can’t use any machines over the weekend but if we do it for him then it’s ok. I don’t get it, but that’s Jew logic for ya.

He keeps saying, “Please, I don’t want to be in the way,” but then he’ll ask me to put How I Met Your Mother on and make him potato pancakes, which take awhile.

Mach shnel already and get back! (Sorry, more yiddish for “hurry up!”)

Shabbat Shalom,


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Comedian, writer, housewife, deemed "Really Good Person" by Buddhism Magazine 2 wks in a row.

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