While we generally leave journalists and political pundits to discuss and predict what the immediate future may bring, there are scores of nerdy, computer-literate, and otherwise “indoor” types who formulate what will happen in the next millennia, instead of in the next fiscal quarter. These are our dear and not-so-near science-fiction writers, whose pimply-faced audiences are turning their inventions into realities as we tweet. One of their more lighthearted prophecies is the satirical animated series Futurama, created by David X. Cohen and The Simpsons’ Matt Groening, which addresses the issues of life in 31st-century “New New York.”

The series, which was canceled by Fox in 2003 and revived by Comedy Central in 2008 due to high DVD sales and a committed fanbase, much like Family Guy, follows the dysfunctional misadventures of the crew of Planet Express, a dismally inefficient intergalactic delivery service. Under the auspices of the geriatric mad scientist Prof. Farnsworth, the business serves as a courier for such futuristic items like dark matter energy, alien aphrodisiacs, and honey from giant space bees. In this not-so-advanced landscape, aliens and mutants live alongside humans, hovercars and pneumatic tube travel are realities, and the preserved head of Richard Nixon is President of Earth.

The world of Futurama can also provide us with some foresight on what the Jewish legacy might be like in a thousand years through Dr. John Zoidberg: The pathetic and klutzy lobster-like extraterrestrial with questionable medical skills and a strong Yiddish accent, who also happens to be the resident doctor of Planet Express.

Disliked and ignored by virtually everyone on the show, this lab coat-donning crustaceous alien is perpetually scavenging for garbage scraps as well as any iota of sociable interaction and approval—(he is so unlikeable that you might get punched in the face for even imitating him. Unlike most other secondary characters on the show, Zoidberg is rarely seen engaging in any dialogue with others—he exists mainly as an entertaining and foolish sideshow, recalling Chaplin-esque misadventures and the reckless blunders of the Three Stooges. His eager desire for attention has even found its way into Internet culture with the popular “Why not Zoidberg?” meme—something that he never actually says in the show but was created as a pastiche from his need for recognition and Yiddish rhetoric.

Despite Zoidberg’s accent, which voice actor Billy West claims was influenced by “marble-mouthed” Jewish actor George Jessel as well as other “rabbinical” and Bronx voices (which is complemented by telltale grammatical constructions along the lines of “You want I should put it here?”), he and others of his species are never explicitly referenced as Jewish. We get many clues, however, such as the episode featuring his burnt-out movie star uncle Harold Zoid—who was voiced by the inimitable voice and character actor Hank Azaria (the same year he starred in a TV movie about the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising)—that recalls the golden, and largely Jewish, age of Hollywood.

A later season showcases Zoidberg’s home planet Decapod 10, full of even thicker-accented Ashkenazi shellfish (perhaps planet Decapod 9 is full of Sephardic crabs?). Further solidifying his Jew cred, in my personal favorite Zoidberg moment and one particularly telling of his cultural and stereotypical Jewishness, he has a flashback of his mother reprimanding his dream to become a comedian and suggests he become a respectable doctor—yet she later reprimands him once more for being spineless and giving up his dream of becoming a comedian by going to medical school.

Yet aside from accents and behavior, nowhere does it ever mention that Zoidberg or his fellow trayf crustaceans are Jewish. Interestingly enough, the only explicitly Jewish characters on Futurama are a handful of robots—we witness a “Goldborg Bot Mitzvah,” complete with robot hora dancing, a banner reading “today you are a robot” in Hebrew, and a rabbi explaining his attitude toward Robot Jesus—he believes he was built, and well programmed, but not the robot messiah.

The Jewish robot life cycle also includes “Robanukah,” a holiday that spurs Bender, Planet Express’ mischievous robot, to sing a song explaining the traditional six and a half weeks of oil wrestling—which eventually faces a crisis when his oil supply runs short two weeks, prompting Bender to descry that he needs oil for the whole holiday since it isn’t a “lousy Reform Robanukah.” Although Zoidberg’s Jewishness is less explicit than the robots’, he is still clearly Jewish. As others have noted, unlike the Irish vaudeville comedy of The Simpsons, Futurama is pervaded by the Jewishness of its borscht-belt comedy and Woody Allen-esque despair, giving Zoidberg and others their distinct and not-so-kosher personalities.

Given his disguised yiddishkeit, Zoidberg appropriately plays the parts of the Jewish character types the schlemiel and schlimazel—the one who spills the soup and the one who gets spilled on. While one could lament that the legacy of Jewishness in Futurama is embodied by Zoidberg’s overwhelming ineptitude, it’s clear that the series serves as one more atomic bond in the ever-strong molecular chain between Jews and geekdom. And above everything else, I’m certainly glad that at least according to Futurama, Jewish humor has survived for another thousand years.

Previously on Network Jews:

Jean-Ralphio, the status-obsessed sidekick on Parks and Recreation.

Shoshanna, the scene-stealing afterthought on Girls.

Ruxin, the fantasy football-obsessed jerk on The League.

The post Network Jews: Dr. John Zoidberg, the Klutzy Jewish Crustacean on ‘Futurama’ appeared first on Jewcy.

Like most of the great TV shows of my generation—Freaks and Geeks, Futurama, Family Guy—Arrested Development was unlovingly canceled by curmudgeonly executives to the chagrin and disappointment of nerdy fans everywhere. Yet in its time off the air, Arrested Development has gained an unprecedented cult following, with fans producing such Tumblr gems as Arrested Decision 2012 (which mashes up campaign photos with some of the best AD lines) and Lucille and Mitt (which does the reverse); fan-made documentaries, and enough uproar to convince executive producer and narrator Ron Howard to revive the series for a fourth season on Netflix next year, which some boldly claim will change the way we watch TV.

Before this announcement, I had pushed back such dreams to the part of my brain occupied by fanciful delusions—the next time I’d see the Bluth family would be when the Chicago Cubs made it to the World Series (them actually winning is beyond delusion) and when Led Zeppelin announced a reunion tour.

Now that my fantasy is a reality, what I’m most looking forward to laughing at again are the constant personal disasters inflicted and received by the Bluths, caused by their evil genius, well-intentioned foolishness, or, often enough, both—Maeby’s (Alia Shakwat) attempts at fraud by pretending to be suffering a rare illness or a Hollywood executive, the fiasco behind “There’s always money in the banana stand!” or my favorite, Tobias’ (David Cross) fusing of his analyst/therapist skills to become an “analrapist.”

While the manipulations of those like Gob (Will Arnett) and Lucille (Jessica Walter) are often shallow and unintentional, George Sr.’s (Jeffrey Tambor) are the most successful, as he manages to manipulate every situation he finds himself in, even pitting his sons Gob and Michael (Jason Bateman) against one another for personal gain in a perverse rendering of the Jacob and Esau story. Sent to solitary confinement after an escape attempt from prison, George Sr. witnesses a sign from above—a shadow on the wall in the shape of a Star of David, complete with that schmaltzy clarinet music—and decides to become a Jew, crafting an improvised yarmulke out of his felt shoe (leaving an amusing tan line).

What this Judaism actually accomplishes is not much at all—he speaks slower and softer, he is exempt from the infamous “no touching” rule, but he’s still an unrepentant and self-interested liar (the producer, Mitchell Hurwitz, and several cast members are in fact MOTs—including Tambor, something he discussed with Marc Maron earlier this year.

Despite any signs of a moral turn-around, George Sr.’s turn to Judaism is insincere—as we’ve come to expect from any attempt at change from the Bluths. He informs Michael during a visit that it’s the first day of Yom Kippur, but even Michael knows that the holiday only lasts one day and that it was “back in September.” And although he calls himself a scholar, much of what he cites as Jewish religious insight, either in his Torah study group in prison or his gimmicky video series “Caged Wisdom” is not particularly serious or Jewish at all. One would be hard-pressed to find Rabbis debating how to spell “Hanukkah,” and as far as I know, finding joy in solitude—the basis behind his conversion—is not a particularly Jewish value at all, considering that much of Jewish life consists of being part of a group, either in a minyan or a mahjongg game.

Perhaps the only instance of anything particularly Jewish, aside from the ritual prayer shawl and tefillin that George Sr. dons in the “Caged Wisdom” infomercial, is when he mentions in a prison yard confrontation with “White Power” Bill that Jews believe that a part of heaven can be attained on Earth (i.e., the Sabbath). However factual this bit of info really is, we find that it’s probably artificial, telling Michael that he must get ready for the Sabbath, even though “it’s only Tuesday.”

Judaism, a religion that highly prizes morality and wisdom, are the two values that the Bluth family fundamentally lacks—and when George Sr. adopts the faith, we instantly (and correctly) suspect him of conniving some manipulative plan, twisting his conversion to serve his own needs. In Season 2, when he’s hiding in the family’s attic as a fugitive, his readiness to adjust to new circumstances is evident when he briefly adopts Christianity after finding a pamphlet on Jesus and a cross-shaped scar on his forehead. Converting various inmates and creating self-help tapes has very little to do with the fleeting faith George Bluth Sr. may have dabbled in, and is instead used to command respect as a leader of converts in his new prison environment.

While most of the family is either indifferent or at least tolerant of his conversion, the only one who calls him out—and the only one equally, if not more, capable of such funny self-interest—is his wife, Lucille. It seems that George Bluth’s foray into Judaism is one part of the family’s characteristic Chicken Dance—just another display of hilarious cruelty and stupidity.

Previously on Network Jews:

Fran Fine, the nasal-voiced star of The Nanny


Noah Puckerman, the coolest Jew in school on Glee

Andy Botwin, the promiscuous playboy on Showtime’s pot comedy Weeds

The post Network Jews: George Bluth Sr. From ‘Arrested Development’ appeared first on Jewcy.