Mason Lerner – Jewcy

Invitation-Only Judaism: A New Religious Primer

Mason Lerner — Sun, 16 Sep 2007 04:49:36 +0000

Here is one more reason that excommunication is one of my goals: Once front-row tickets to shul are more expensive than court-side seats at a Laker's game, it's time to check out. I am not sure what it would take to get excommunicated, but I am pretty sure my buddy Eli deserves it for the the time he molested Anne Frank's statue in a stoned stupor in the streets of Amsterdam. As disturbing as that was, lucky for Eli, it didn't garner much media coverage, so he is still official. If you want to get kicked out of a religion like Judaism, you gotta make an ass of yourself in public. So here I am. As my first step toward excommunication, I will lay out in black and white, for the first time, what I consider to be the future of Judaism. I call it the "Doctrine of the Invitation Only Jews". I thought of the concepts several years ago when I was working out with my good friend, Dr. Dani Cohen. It was just before Rosh Hashanah, and he told me he would not be going to services. "Are you crazy?" I asked, still clinging to the superstition, not the strong belief, that compelled me to be just another High Holiday Jew. He told me that he stopped going years ago. He just didn't believe. "But don't you want to hedge your bets?" I asked. "What if the after-life is nothing but a big bureaucracy, and when you get there, they just have a checklist of things that you did or didn't do. And lets face it, you probably didn't swing a rooster around your head three times before Yom Kippur and chant, 'This is my substitute, this is my exchange. This is my atonement. This fowl will go to death, and I will enter upon a good and long life.', but at least you can get credit for putting on a tie and sitting through services. And that's something." Dani said something akin to,"You're an idiot." And then he told me he had actually become a happier person since he stopped pretending that going to shul twice a year was important to him. So I gave it a try. I skipped Rosh Hashanah services for the first time in my life. I waited for the lightning to strike. I was sure that I would hear the Book of Life slam shut. I imagined sadly looking into heaven from outside the gates while my dad realized his version of paradise at an all-you-can-eat chult and potato kugel buffet in return for the at least several hours he had spent in Kol Nidre services over the course of his life. Didn't happen. Instead, I felt free. When Yom Kippur rolled around, I took things a step further. I didn't fast. I didn't apologize for any of the crap I had done the year before. And I anticipated doing many of them again. Plus I didn't have to go to work. Pretty sweet deal really. After that, I realized that there was a sense of liberation with every rule, custom or superstition that I dropped. Why not eat pork? It is cheap and healthy and I am poor. Who needs a Mezuzzah? My grandfather warned me that the Jehovah's Witnesses would be at my doorstep in droves if I didn't hang one, but so far…nothing. And don't even get me started on the scam the Manischewitz people run on us every Passover. A Milky Way isn't cool, but somehow their corn-syrup free chocolate is? The bread didn't have time to rise. That's it. End of story. All of the ingredients were still in it though. Jesus. In short, I have come up with my own sect of Judaism that will end all the lies and hypocrisy. If the only time you go to shul is during the holidays, you should really consider joining up. We are the Invitation-Only Jews. The only time we hit shul is when we get an invitation in the mail for an event like a Bar Mitzvah or wedding. So far I don't have too many converts, but I haven't released any propaganda videos yet. I am going to wait and see what does and doesn't work in Osama's conversion drive before I do. My best friend told me that the whole concept was stupid. He is still convinced going to a 45 minute reformed service on Yom Kippur makes him much more respectful than a I.O. Jew like me. I say, for Christ's sake, if you're going to make the effort to go, can't you at least slap on a kippa? "You don't even have enough people to form a minyon," my buddy told me. "That's not really a problem seeing as we don't go to shul, shmuck," I said. "At this point, I'm not even sure we endorse believing in god." "You're an idiot," he said. I bet L. Ron Hubbard got that a lot too. So you people go get dressed up in your nicest suits, sway back and forth and pretend you know what the hell the prayers mean. I'll be hosting at the Laff Stop. I can't afford tickets to pray anyways. Happy New Year!

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Jew Lost Me At Hello

Mason Lerner — Sat, 01 Sep 2007 08:16:29 +0000

Noah Graff, the online reality dater behind "Jew Complete Me," just reminded me why I am dating a shiksa.

But mostly he just made me feel sorry for Jewish women.

A few days ago, he hit me with a friend request for his MySpace page. The page promotes his online dating show called "Jew Complete Me," in which the 26 year-old aspiring filmmaker hunts for the right Jewish women to coax beneath the chupa.

To be honest, it looked pretty lame, but I am always one to give a Jewish brotha a chance. And then skewer him when he sucks.

Early in the show, Noah hits us with this gem while he is getting dressed for the date: "The truth of the matter is, that I've never had much luck dating Jewish girls. I'm still not really sure why that is."

I think I might have a clue, Noah, my good man.

First of all, if you must show the world what you look like in nothing but your boxers, I would recommend waxing those shoulders, buddy.

I'm not making fun of you. I am a hairy dude myself (No hair on my shoulders though, ladies. Plus, I look like I should be on billboards in my undies compared to Noah. He is kinda scrawny.). But I am guessing that no woman, Jewish or otherwise, wants to date a guy with a mullet on each shoulder. Noah,would you want to date a woman with a pigtail in each arm pit? (Thank you, Rodney Dangerfield.)

The rest of the show follows Noah and his date, Heather, during Noah's version of the courtship process. As the narrator, Noah does a lot of post-date whining about how Heather stole the show from him. He implies that she has an overbearing personality. But she actually doesn't. All she really had to do to steal the show was display any personality at all. Which she did.

In the video Heather seems like a fun chick. Noah seems like a guy with huge tufts of hair on his shoulders. Noah laments that there is no chance for even a kiss on this date. To add insult to injury, he says that is "okay" because he is not physically attracted to Heather.

Who you fooling, dawg? If you had the game to get that Yiddisha Momma to give it up, you would be all over that ass like applesauce on a latke. Boy, please.

I understand the world of Jewish dating is brutal. Been there, done that. I know that dating a Jewish woman can be tough. I won't say that they are high maintenance. But I will say that if you are not a doctor, forget about it. If you're not a lawyer, scratch your name off the list. And if you have been convicted of sexual assault on a minor even one time, uh-uh, it ain't gonna happen.

And just beneath convicted sexual predator, you find broke-ass stand-up comedians on that list. So I feel your pain, old top. But that is no excuse for you to gratuitously display your "Revenge of the Nerds" physique in a poorly produced video in which you diss a perfectly good Jewish girl.

To make matters worse, Noah states that he couldn't wait for the date to be over. The only reason he "endured" it was because he knew some of the footage would be "priceless".

Was there any priceless footage on this Jewish dating show? Let's just say, I never thought I could miss Roger Lodge.

And as for endurance, it took every bit of strength accrued within my Jewish soul in the last few thousand years in the Galut for me to make it through the entire episode. So, Noah, I beg of you… I can't force you to quit. I won't even recommend it. We should all do our thing. But for the love of Abraham, Isaac and Jacob, can you please edit out the hairy shoulder scene? Haven't our people been through enough?

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Doc Brown Was Jewish, Right?

Mason Lerner — Sat, 25 Aug 2007 06:58:07 +0000

An Israeli scientist has figured out how a time machine might work. Once we get that thing bangin' and slangin', how do you think the Jewish people should use it to change history?

No saying that we should assassinate Hitler. I assume that was the impetus for the study in the first place. Here is the top ten things I would do with a time machine for the benefit of the Jewish people: 10. I would go give an extra hour heads up to the tribe just before we broke for the Red Sea so our bread could leaven. Imagine a pizza on your seder plate instead of parsley, horseradish and a freaking shank-bone. The Manischewitz family might have to actually work for a living. By the way, we would never hear the word "leaven" or any of its derivatives again. I guarantee it.

9. Sneak into the Olympic compound and shave Mark Spitz's mustache the night before his record setting medal run. There is no reason for one of the poster boys of Jewish athletic achievement to look like Ron Jeremy's fluffer.

8. Speaking of which, why not sabotage Ron Jeremy's bris? A little snip here and there, and who knows? Instead of making us cringe with fat and hairy nudity, maybe he'd be working for Manischewitz. Or at least standing next to them in the unemployment line, both of them complaining that there is no one for them to fuck for money. 7. Find an 8 year-old Mel Gibson on a playground somewhere and throw him a savage beating. He might as well have a reason to hate us. 6. Go back to the Old West and start a few gun fights. Why we always gotta be portrayed as dry-goods salesmen in Westerns? 5. Go snap a polaroid of Jesus, if only to settle the whole "Jesus was black" thing once and for all. 4. Go back to 1950, become a stand-up comedian and end every joke with "When do we eat?" Jackie Mason would be baking matzahs for a living, but I would have a star on Hollywood Blvd. And we would never have had to endure an episode of "Chicken Soup." 3. At gunpoint, force Sherwood Schwartz to make the Brady Bunch into a show about a rebuilt family of Hasidic Jews living in B'nai Barak. Not so much for the change it would bring to the episodic continuity of the show, but for the variety show that followed its cancellation. What could be better than sequined, Hasidic Brady's singing "Turn the Beat Around"? 2. Go to Einstein's Bar Mitzvah. When he asks how he did, politely say, "Eh, it's all relative, kid. Enjoy the fountain pens. " 1. Instead of jumping all over Jesse Jackson for calling New York "Hymie Town", we could support his presidential candidacy and once in office, actually make him effect such a name change. Change the Yankees' name to the "Mohels", and we would be in business.

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My Big Celebrity Poker Schmooze

Mason Lerner — Thu, 16 Aug 2007 03:10:16 +0000

In my first ever Jewcy blog post, I lamented the fact that I didn't have anyone's coattails to ride to fame. It's funny how fast things can change. Not that I am necessarily any closer to fame and fortune, but I have decided which coattails I will be clinging too. Over the weekend, I played poker with Jennifer Tilly and Ben Affleck. I kicked it wit SNL alum Norm MacDonald. And I got comedy advice from a genius. A comic genius. I owe it to Jacob Zalewski. One of my best friends and a kid with more heart than John Henry and a mouth that runs like Carl Lewis on a seven day meth binge. Jacob has cerebral palsy, but that has not stopped him from pursuing his dream of making it in Hollywood. It has, on the other hand, stopped him from being able to walk. But we work around that. That has always been a hallmark of our friendship. He needs to be lifted pretty often. And I am really good at lifting stuff. And this friendship is what got me an audience with the genius. Jacob used his considerable networking skills to meet a ton of big-name celebrities at the 2007 World Series of Poker. He told each and every one of them about his intentions of going into film after he gets his degree in Media and Broadcasting from the University of Houston. And guess what? They listened. And that is what led to my audience with the genius. One of the many luminaries that Jacob charmed was a dude named Sam Simon. Yeah, that Sam Simon. The guy who is both a creator and executive producer of The Simpsons. A guy that has written, directed or produced for shows like Taxi, Cheers, Friends, The Drew Carey Show…must I go on? Simon invited Jacob to spend a week at his humble little mansion in Los Angeles. Since Jacob needed someone to carry his bags, I was invited too. Jacob mentioned to Simon that I was a stand-up comic. Simon asked me to run some of my act past him. And while I realized that this was like Einstein asking a freshman who just made a C in his Intro to Physics class for his take on relativity, I did my best. But there was one problem. And his name was Ralph Cirella. Cirella is the stylist for the Howard Stern Show. He is such a frequent guest at Simon's, that the guest house on Simon's Pacific Palisades property is known as "The Ralph Cirello Suite". Unfortunately for me, at the time that I went into my act, I had only known the guy for a few minutes. I did not yet know that Cirella was the living embodiment of every obnoxious caller that has ever dialed in to the Howard Stern Show. In short, he heckled me relentlessly. And I must admit, that it threw me off of my game. I am usually good with hecklers, but beyond a firm kick in the teeth, I really don't have any good comebacks for repeated catcalls of "douchebag", "faggot" and "you suck!" And a kick in the guy's teeth was out of the question, because no starting fights was one of the promises Jacob made me make before the trip. The other promise was no pinching his cheeks. So there I was. Melting down before one of the great comic minds of our time. And he was enjoying every minute of it. But when the verbal abuse died down, Simon offered me a bit of advice that went straight to my heart. He told me that I was funny. He told me that I seemed driven. And he said that I had great stage presence. And his advice was this: He told me to use my art to bring people together. He said that love should be the driving force behind humor. And that makes sense. If the driving force behind your art is to find that which is common within us all, it seems you would only appeal to a wider audience. Ergo, an act that brings people together gives you a shot at the big time instead of making a room full of retards laugh for 20 dollars and a six-pack of Fat Tire. I think I just dropped the bit about setting up check-points between my front door and bedroom every time my Palestinian ex-girlfriend used to come visit me. I think I'll add in the one about knowing that the Apocalypse is upon us because the Chengdu Giant Panda Breeding Base is now selling souvenirs made out of panda poop. I think we can all relate to that. In short, it was a life altering visit. I got advice from the genius. I learned that Ben Affleck might be the nicest guy in the world. He went out of his way to stop in and holler at Jacob. He also has the most symmetrical face I have ever seen. Unless that guy runs into a frying pan, I don't see anything keeping him out of the Oval Office if that should ever be his goal. Jennifer Tilly thinks that I have a sexy accent. Well, she said that I have a southern accent. The sexy is implied, right? And I can take a beating from one of the harshest hecklers in the world. But maybe that was just Cirello's way of telling me that he respects my balls. Or maybe it's just his way of saying that I suck.

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Who Doesn’t Want to Kick Andy Dick’s Ass?

Mason Lerner — Thu, 26 Jul 2007 09:25:18 +0000

Is there anybody in the world that doesn't want to kick Andy Dick's ass? "Some people just need hittin." That's what the fat, pervy looking guy in Daisy Dukes that used to check membership cards at the JCC told me once when I was a kid. When Jon Lovitz repeatedly smashed Andy's Dick's face into the bar of an LA comedy club recently, he proved that while the lowly JCC employee of my youth might not have been so good at keeping his nutsack in his drawers, he did know a thing or two about life. Some people just got it coming. And from what I have read, Lovitz had been holding back for years. He apparently blamed Dick for Phil Hartman's murder. And Dick being, well, a cocksucker, apparently rubbed that in Lovitz's face one time too many. It doesn't surprise me so much that Lovitz went ape-shit on him. More so, it caught me off guard that the confrontation between those two could ever escalate past sissy slap-fight into actual bloodshed. So, hey, score one for the Critic. The whole thing doesn't really surprise me. Spend enough hours in comedy clubs, and you will want to beat the shit out of several comedians. It is a by-product of dozens of quirky personalities being forced into awkward relationships with one another as they hit open-mics on the way up the ladder. And by quirky personalities, I mean a lot of people that, for the most part, just really need to get laid. It is an explosive situation. But the violent rivalries between big-time guys like Lovitz and Dick don't even compare to the absurdities of the beefs I have seen on the amateur circuit. Last night over a couple of bowls of my Midnight Mexican Matzoh Ball Soup, my man Jake Flores filled me in on some static he is having with two local comics. First of all, he can't get over the fact that when a fellow comic and his former roommate left the apartment with no warning, he took the giant chickensuit with him. All he left was a "Dear John" letter and an aging jar of pickled jalapeno slices. Jake was really starting to make a name for himself in that chicken suit. It's really a shame. Plus, Jake also has to look out for his girlfriend, with whom he is on a break, because a rival comedian jumped all up on her as soon as Jake posted one of those broken heart icon thingies on Facebook. In true comic fashion, Jake promptly wrote him a biting, witty email to put an end to it. The other dude invited him to talk about it over a beer. We can only all hope it ends with one of them smashing the other's face into the bar.

That's what the pros do.

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What I Wouldn’t Give For Larry David’s Miserable Life

Mason Lerner — Wed, 25 Jul 2007 04:56:31 +0000

It's official. I just read on TMZ (and let's face it, TMZ.com has almost gained Enquirer-like respectability) that Larry David is getting a divorce. And while the news is slightly less disappointing then finding out he is not actually married to the chick who plays his wife on Curb Your Enthusiasm, it is still worth noting. The man is my idol after all. David is always the guy I point to when I am wondering why the hell I keep getting on stage and trying to make people laugh. When I’m on the phone with the electric company asking for an extension, if not for me, than for the room full of sick, fictional babies that I tell them all about down to the last life-threatening, pathetic detail, I think of Larry David. I wonder if he ever had to go through similar travails on the way to creating Seinfeld and earning half a billion dollars. When I’m ringing up a burger at Burger Tex or telling my girlfriend I will cook all week as long as she pays for the groceries, I think of Larry's days of driving a limo and explaining to his parents for the zillionth time why he didn't want to quit comedy and get into textiles. I have no idea if his parents nagged him to get into textiles, but I am sure they did plenty of worrying and nagging, and textiles seems to sufficiently Jewish. I have to wonder how many times he tried to satisfy them by saying, "Don't worry, I have an interview at Vandaley Industries next week. No, Mom, it's not textiles… Yeah, latex. That's right." When I tell a joke that bombs, and another piece of me dies inside, I wonder if I will ever get the chance to steal the response David gave the New Yorker when he was asked if he ever misses doing stand-up. And I paraphrase: "Yeah, I really miss making a room full of retards laugh for $20 a night." The twenty bucks I got paid for my show last Friday is the only reason I ate last weekend. Rather, it was the only reason I was able to dip into several of the four major food groups as opposed to subsisting on the mini-boxes of NERDS they give away in my apartment complex's leasing office. So I can only hope for a day when making a room full of retards laugh for 20 bucks is a funny memory as opposed to a short-term meal ticket. In short, I am upset to hear that things aren't working out for old Larry. I wonder if he’ll break down and get the eye-candy trophy broad that all the other moguls in Hollywood replace their wives with. I wonder if he’ll finally trade in the Prius for a Benz. But most I wonder how much longer I can cling to his legacy for a sliver of hope relating to my career. I don't really expect the divorce proceedings to affect that so much as a stark realization I arrived at recently… Yes, like me, David struggled in ignominy for years. Yes, like me he was a hard-luck stand-up comic with big dreams. And finally, he is a neurotic Jewish guy who seems to be ostracized (at least fictionally) whenever he expresses an opinion. But one thing he had that I don't have is Seinfeld to latch on to. I hadn't figured that part into the equation until about a week ago. I almost cried when I realized that. My best friend in comedy does a bit where he makes his stomach fat sing Jessica Simpson songs with Henry Kissinger's voice. Somebody call NBC. All of this blood, sweat and these tears, and I still have no idea whose coattails I can hitch a ride on to save me.

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