If I Ever Become
a Greek Orthodox Jew
by Bob Iozzia
If I ever
become a Greek Orthodox Jew, I will throw a big
party for myself but not invite anyone because I
won’t want to share all the wonderful
catered Greek Orthodox Jew food, such as grape
leaf latkes and pita ball soup. I’m joking
about not inviting anyone. Of course I will
gladly share my newly adopted cuisine with my
honoured guests—friends, family and
celebrities alike.
The celebrities, however, will be disoriented and
angry because they will have been shanghaied by
my Greek Orthodox Jew crew. I will have commanded
that my posse decorate my party with famous
people so that a memorable panache will slap the
face of each guest as he or she enters the
ballroom. “Wow,” each would say. “Isn’t
that Graham Norton spitting out grape leaf latkes
and yelling, ‘Who put tobacco leaves in my
bloody pancakes?’ And hey, the vertically
challenged Peter Dinklage from Game of
Thrones has unhampered access under
former German chancellor Angela Merkel’s
skirt. What do you think he will do with all
those chopped liver kabobs? This is the best
Greek Orthodox Jew party I have ever been to (most
of my invited guests will be inclined to end a
sentence with a preposition … or a
proposition when they’ve drunk too many
Mogen-Ouzo shooters).”
I will throw a party for myself, mostly to
celebrate my Greek Orthodox Jewism, but also to
flaunt how superior I will then be compared to my
friends who are Methodist Actors and Roamin’
Catholics. I doubt my Charismatic Christian
acquaintances will even show up. Ironically, they
are very shy. The Methodist Actors will probably
become very dramatic about how lavish everything
is and how much I have spent on my party. This
will please me. If the Roamin’ Catholics
could stand still long enough to focus on the
lavishness, they would probably remark what a go-getter
I had become. This will please my mother.
I can’t wait to be a Greek Orthodox Jew.
When I tire of being a Greek Orthodox Jew, I
could become an officer in the army of a strip-mining
company. I would be Major Miner. If my teenage
daughter were to be recruited as an intern, she
would be known as Minor Miner. I wouldn’t
allow her to mingle with the strippers—I’m
kind of old school that way. Plus, mining while
naked sounds dangerous … not to mention
distracting. I imagine “Eureka” gets
shouted often. If not shouted, then at least
whispered loudly.
I wonder if strip-mining food compares favorably
with catered Greek Orthodox Jew food. If not, I’d
have to pass on becoming involved in any way with
a strip-mining company. Also, I understand
strippers are very attracted to overweight bald
men. Those hoochie mamas would be all over me
like stink on asparagus. “Forget about it,”
I might scold. “I know where your coochie
been.”
Besides, this sort of socializing would upset my
daughter big time, and that’s not how we
former Greek Orthodox Jews Zorba-Hora.
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