30-year-old Manhattan native Josh Ostrovsky, AKA The Fat Jew, is a thrice-kicked-out-of-college performance artist with 1.3 million followers on Instagram. He’s what your parents might call a meshuggeneh—but a very rich one. The 6-foot-2 humorist, known for his vertical ponytail and absurd public antics, gained mainstream notoriety last summer when a video of him leading a group of homeless people in a Citi Bike ‘Soul Cycle’ class went viral.

Only in America can The Fat Jew be everything that The Fat Jew is: over-indulgent and borderline-psychotic, but with an original, twisted wit that has companies like Virgin Mobile paying him big bucks to sit in a bath of ramen noodles. With an “anti-how-to” book in the works and scripted shows sold to both Comedy Central and Amazon, The Fat Jew is more than just an Instagram sensation—he’s the CEO of an ironic personality cult based on utter insanity.

We met at the DMV on 34^th st and 9^th ave, where Ostrovsky takes meetings and “gets things done” thanks to the roomy seating and arctic air-conditioning (and also because he can scream on the phone about anything). Post-interview, I got him to do some killer yoga poses outside Penn Station, where we breathed in the glorious fumes of passing buses and a halal cart.

What’s a day in the life of the Fat Jew?

I wake up, sometimes in my bed, sometimes face down in Queens. I don’t know how—sometimes I just end up in Queens. I’m like, where I am? Oh yeah, in fucking Queens. Cause like, how did you get to Queens? I can imagine how I got to Brooklyn, but how did I get to Queens? I basically avoid doing adult shit at all times.

What about when you have to pay your bills? Do you sit down and do that?

No, I have an intern. Chu Chu, my bisexual Filipino intern. He goes to the New School and gets college credit for this. I sign some paper and write him a performance review.

I spend most of the day just thinking of awesome shit to do. Now I have a book deal, so I’m doing that. It used to be that just Virgin Mobile would pay me to fill a Jacuzzi up with ramen and sit in it.

How did it get to the point where Virgin Mobile wanted to pay you to sit in a ramen Jacuzzi?

Because brands are just into crazy shit now, because the kids are into that. There’s so much shit on the Internet; nothing is ever crazy enough. At this point I have a loyal following of runaways, weirdos, and goths.

You’re like their god.

Totally. A brand will say: “You have a big following of gothic Hispanic millenials, which is a demographic we really would love to try to target,” and then they’ll just pay me to do some shit. At this point, they don’t even care; I can pretty much do whatever I want. If I want to fill a hot tub with gazpacho, that’s fine—if I want to rent a Ferrari and throw a cheetah in it for no reason, down—they don’t care.

Does that surprise you?

Yeah, it wasn’t always this way. Even five years ago they didn’t really get it, now they do.

Well, now you’ve built yourself up to the point where people besides freaks know you.

Totally. It’s not all just goth Dominican teens. Now there are moms and dads.

And you must have all the Jewish girls on your shit thinking you’ll be their big Jewish baby daddy.

Yes—I’ve got Rachels and Laurens for miles. I’m the Magellan of Rachels. I also have a lot of Liats and Yaels; got it all.

And now you have a book deal. Cha-ching.

Yeah, so now I’m getting paid to basically write, so I’m trying to develop my methods. I’ll light a bunch of scented candles and sit naked and work on my book.

It’s basically going to be the anti “how-to” book. I’ll tell you what you shouldn’t be doing; you shouldn’t use a Doritos bag as a condom with a rubber band—it’s not going to work to prevent pregnancy. I’m like the fuck-up older brother you wish you had who could have told you what not to do. If you wouldn’t have done it, your life would have been amazing. I’ve professionally made bad decisions; so learn from that.

Did the book people contact you?

A bunch of people reached out and said I should probably be writing some of this shit down. At this point there’s so much ridiculous shit, and the world needs to see this. I’m basically the new James Joyce.

You sound like Kanye right now.

Yeah, that’s what I’m trying to do. He’s like, ‘I’m the new Shakespeare meets Steve Jobs meets Hilary Clinton,’ which is a dope thing to say. Like, what? But me, I’m basically the new Shel Silverstein—who by the way, my mom fucked.

No way.

Swear to god. In like, 1970.

What’s the deal with your TV show?

I sold a show to Comedy Central. It’s basically about what you’re asking me about. When you take a piece of social media and the end result is me in a nacho cheese fountain with Tyrese—how did I get there?

And sometimes the process leading up to that is not that hilarious—it’s kind of dark—it has a Louie element to it. Sometimes it’s fucking weird. Basically when you’re of the Internet and you don’t do one thing in particular—like, I’m not solely an actor or a writer—you can kind of do anything. Stella Artois just flew me to Cannes to pour rosé on myself and stand around.

So everyone was just super rich and doing crazy shit?

It was just so ridiculous. These Saudi dudes found me and were just like ‘we want to be around him!’ and inducted me into their entourage. I ended up on a yacht party with them, and they told me to come to the back room. So I assumed it was going to be a room full of gold bullion and missiles, and whatever they do in Saudi Arabia, and there was just a live ostrich, and they said, ‘look at it.’ You couldn’t even touch it; they just wanted people to look at it.

Did you always think you’d be famous for just being you?

Yes, sort of. I felt like it would come around. This is still relatively a new thing. Even 10 years ago, to be famous, you had to be on a reality TV show.

Instagram has really skyrocketed your fame.

Initially I thought Instagram was the wrong medium for me, because it has so many rules. I got kicked off three times, and the last time I protested outside their offices and chained myself up. And then I was like, maybe this isn’t right for me—I can’t put up my crazy photos. But then I realized that toning it down a little bit was opening me up to a more mainstream audience. I just can’t put up photos of birthday candles jammed into somebody’s dick hole, lit. That’s won’t fly, but I can still put up kinda crazy shit. Crazy enough for most people.

When you put up tweets from certain celebrities—are they real?

A lot of the tweets are fake. I had some 16-year-old build a program that generates super-authentic looking tweets. Some of the celebrities who I’ve made fake tweets for have come up to me and said they were ridiculously awesome. Like Snoop. He said, “Yo, I’ve seen some of your fake tweets, and I wish I was tweeting that stuff.” There were a couple he wasn’t feeling, but he was much more up on it than I thought.

Now that I’m writing a book, everything is just for inspiration. I’ll put up on Twitter, “If you’re under 20, and Puerto Rican and want to go boogie boarding today, meet me at the beach.” And 12 kids will show up, and we’ll just chill. And that could be inspiration for a chapter. I also do some serious stuff; I run a soup kitchen in Brooklyn.

Are you serious?

No I’m just kidding. Come on; stop. I mean someone should do that, but not me. Also, my dog has a popular Instagram. I’m running a full-scale business of insanity. A sex toy company in Belgium recently hit me up and asked me to be the face of their company; they said I could have a custom toy. Last year we released 1,000 shirts to homeless guys with my face on it. My mom, in her old Jewish woman accent said, “I think I just saw a homeless man in a shirt with your face on it.”

Were your parents really chill growing up?

No, they were uptight doctors. Then they retired and moved to Santa Fe and got so weird. They’re all leather bracelet, bolo ties, denim, and cowboy boots.

I think they’re swingers. They’ll smoke a quarter of a joint, walk the dog for two hours; they’re very Santa Fe. There’s a lot of Jews there. It’s kind of like pre-Boca. My parents retired when they were 50. You go to Santa Fe to tide you over for 20 years. Ten years ago my dad was wearing sensible Rockports and doctors gadgets.

Do you think that has to do with you being so openly insane?

I think it helps. But he’s fucking Russian, like for real. The idea for him, that what I do can be something someone does for a living—for him it was literally like, ‘I don’t even know what you’re saying, what are you trying to do?’

And then one day—I used to be in a rap group called Team Facelift, and we laid a lot of groundwork for shit that people do now, like Riff Raff and Odd Future, we rapped with transvestites, we were on MTV a whole bunch of times. We did all these spots for The Hills, and after that, a check came to my house. I was out all night at a rave, and he opened the check, and it was a Fed Ex thing for $15,000. And I think at that moment he realized I wasn’t just a psycho.

I’m sort of being taken seriously, and sort of not, and it’s so fucking weird, everyday. And that’s all I ever wanted. I wanted everyday to be different. And every day is massively different—except that bowl of cereal in the morning.

You have to have some daily rituals.

I smoke cigarettes a lot. So that happens everyday. The writing is going to be a bit more foreign. They’re going to give me an advance check, and I’m renting an office building in Detroit. Fifteen stories, completely abandoned, but with all the shit in it—dazzling—for $8,000 a month. I’m going to do it for three months. One floor to write my book, and others to do whatever I want. I’m going to turn it into a factory of fucking insanity. I’m going to have a whole floor of garbage, sand, kiddie pools, nectarines… It’s sort of a twist on people renting a cottage in Montauk to write their book; I’m getting an office building in Detroit, because why the fuck not?

What’s the best thing about being Jewish?

Jewish summer camp. There are basically no Jews who don’t go to camp. I learned every single thing I know at Jew camp. I haven’t learned one thing since the day Jew camp ended. How to unhook a bra with your teeth, how to do a roundhouse, how to jerk off on your top bunk so silently and with so little motion that they guy doesn’t wake up on the bottom. I was so Jew camp scene; I went to Eisner Camp.

And your name was inspired from a counselor at camp, right?

Yes, him and this famous pornographer, NYC legend, Al Goldstein. Him and that dude were my inspiration. They were just fat, loud Jews who gave no fucks. Like ‘most people are gonna hate me, but I’m going to do whatever I want.’

What’s the worst part about being a Jew?

Having a dick that looks like a rock shrimp. Also being an old Jew. If you’re an old Christian dude, you can get old, get a motorcycle, and still do killer shit. But the older you get as a Jew, the more you’re just in bad shape. All you talk about is the humidity and how expensive New York is. You just can’t help yourself. As much as I know that I don’t want to be like that, it’s in the genes. Can’t escape it. My parents are always taking about the weather. So not looking forward to that.

I think being an older Jewish woman is cooler. But I’m not down with the chunky-funky necklace Jewish mom jewelry scene. My mom will wear a chunky necklace that looks like it’s made out of found garbage, and it’s like $8,000 from some Dutch artist. It literally looks like trash. So Santa Fe.

What would be your pre-electric chair meal?

I’d want an oil drum full of chopped liver, and cigarettes. If I could chain smoke and be eating chopped liver—kill me; take me now. If I had one more option, I’d probably have a Chilean seabass in a wasabi reduction with a saffron risotto. And a nice vintage Shiraz with hints of leather, oak, and fruit. I’m super tasteful.

http://youtu.be/24jiCZpdNZI

(Images by the author)

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Wanna do a mitzvah? You’re reading a Jewish blog, of course you do. So, consider donating a few shekels to a very worthy cause: the Indiegogo fundraising campaign for OMGWTFBIBLE, Jewcy’s very own in-house bible/comedy podcast, hosted by David Tuchman.

Here’s the backstory: a little over two years ago, Tuchman, a writer/comedian/Yeshiva dropout, decided that he wanted to translate the bible. It would be a frank, funny, no-holds-or-sexual-metaphors barred shtick, covering all the material your Hebrew school teacher nervously glossed over in the lead-up to your bat mitzvah. (What pre-marital sex?)

Not only that, Tuchman decided he would present his translation at monthly readings to a room full of drunk people (A.K.A. a bar), with a different guest each time (who he would interrupt constantly to make jokes, but that’s the point). Cherry on top: he decided to record the mess and put it on the internet! Thus the podcast OMGWTFBIBLE was born, which we’ve been proudly co-hosting on Jewcy since March 2014. (Disclaimer: the podcast is not a mess at all but actually quite coherent and funny.)

The Indiegogo campaign will help fund season two of the project—Exodus!—and, if we’re very, very generous, a second podcast focused on the weekly Torah portion. Prizes include: mugs, t-shirts, signed scripts, professions of love across multiple social media platforms, and home visits for biblical role play.*

Now, go forth from this website to this other website I will show you and donate some money electronically.

*So stone me: I made that last one up.

A new episode of OMGWTFBIBLE is being recorded in NYC tonight! If you’re not able to be physically present, check back here in a couple of days to hear the recording.

Related: David Tuchman is Translating the Bible into a Comedy Podcast

The post Help OMGWTFBIBLE Complete Epic Comedic Torah Translation appeared first on Jewcy.

So, when Jewcy was briefly offline this morning I was wiling away the downtime on YouTube (uh, not that the site needs to be down for me to get trapped in a YouTube vortex) and stumbled across Postmodern Jukebox‘s awesome klezmer cover of Jason Derulo’s “Talk Dirty to Me.”

Now, I know I’m a bit late to the game on this one (it came out in March) but it’s so clever and fun I thought I’d post it here, just in case y’all had missed it too. Singer Robyn Adele Anderson actually translated 2 Chainz’s rap into Yiddish. Bitchin’.

Amazingly—because Jews, internet—there’s another Yiddish cover of “Talk Dirty to Me,” aptly titled “Talk Yiddish to Me.” This one was recorded by Hasidic comedian Mendy Pellin, the force behind Jewish humor site Jewbellish, back in April. The delightfully silly Yiddish and English lyrics satirize Orthodox Jewish life and reference the two major food groups, fish sticks and cholent.

But you can’t really assess the merits of these covers without comparing them to Derulo’s hit single, which has accrued a mind-boggling 215 million views since it was uploaded in August 2013 (still, that’s peanuts compared to Psy’s “Gangnam Style,” which just hit the 2 billion mark). And you can’t really appreciate Derulo’s hit single without listening to Balkan Beat Box‘s “Hermetico,” the Hebrew language Klezmer/Gypsy track sampled throughout (they’re the ones behind that catchy, sexy horn riff).

See what I mean? YouTube vortex.

(Image: Jewbellish / YouTube)

The post Jews Love Jason Derulo’s “Talk Dirty to Me” appeared first on Jewcy.

Ever wondered where the iconic Seinfeld phrases ‘yada yada,’ ‘shrinkage,’ and ‘double-dip’ originated? I mean, can you believe there was a time when ‘double dip’ wasn’t part of America’s vernacular? How did grumpy couples passive-aggressively chastise each other at parties before the concept entered our cultural consciousness? (The Jews have actually been double dipping for centuries (see: Passover), but I guess the word ‘matbilin’ doesn’t roll off the tongue quite so easily.)

Anyway, wonder no more! The answers to those questions (OK, some of them) can be found in Vulture’s fascinating interview with Seinfeld writer and producer Peter Mehlman, the man who coined the phrases ‘yada yada’ and ‘double dip,’ among others. Apparently he once heard ‘yada yada’ used by the editor of a women’s magazine (heyyy ladies!), then decided to adopt it as a catch-all term for things you can’t be bothered explaining:

… A couple of times she used the words yada yada and I don’t think I had even heard anyone say it after. And I don’t know why, but it just popped back into my mind. At first, I just thought of it as some little quirk that I could throw in, but then all of a sudden, I started thinking of all of the things you could just gloss over using yada yada.

Seriously, what a goddamned gift to the world. To Mehlman’s surprise, the popularity of ‘yada yada’ quickly usurped ‘anti-dentite,’ which was his personal favorite: “I love when Kramer goes, ‘You’re a rabid anti-dentite!’ I really liked that one more than ‘yada yada.'”

Alas, an ironic professional slur which pokes fun at Jews’ preoccupation with anti-Semitism is no match for a phrase which can mean anything from “we had sex” to “my fiancée died licking our wedding invitation envelopes.”

Related: ‘Seinfeld’ Saw the Future, And it Was Facebook
Now You Can Take a Virtual Tour of Jerry Seinfeld’s TV Apartment

The post Meet the ‘Seinfeld’ Writer Who Popularized the Phrase “Yada Yada” appeared first on Jewcy.

The New York Times shined its spotlight on novelist Austin Ratner, the Brooklyn-based Jewish writer whose first novel, The Jump Artist, won the $100,000 Rohr Prize for Jewish Literature. The article mostly focuses on Ratner’s connection to Brooklyn’s other Ratner (for another look at Ratner, Austin, check out Marc Tracy’s 2009 profile for Tablet), but it does include this descriptive flourish:

Mr. Ratner recently gave a reading for his latest novel, “In the Land of the Living,” at Book Court, a bookstore in Cobble Hill, Brooklyn, that drew a respectable crowd for a mid-list author reading from his sophomore effort. There were lots of Ratners (though no Bruce), some family friends and a few disaffected youth cadging free Champagne.

Mr. Ratner, who combines the boyish handsomeness of Clark Kent with the nebbishness of Woody Allen, stood at the rostrum. His glasses were thick; his hair neatly combed. His book, heavily annotated, lay open in front of him.

Ratner wrote an essay for us last month about his distinctly Jewish sense of humor, where he notably called the Internet “bullshit at the speed of light.” Here’s his take on the role of comedy, and comic relief, in Jewish culture.

Jewish comedy equals tragedy plus comedy in a hurry. That is, Jewish comedy takes place in the midst of tragedy and despite tragedy. I don’t mean theater of the absurd or any other form that treats existence itself as a sort of sick joke. (More than sick, I’d say it’s longwinded.) By Jewish comedy I mean joyous, meaningful human laughter pressed into service amidst sorrows and by sorrows, laughter engaged in subversive work upon sorrows to leaven and defy them.

Read the rest of Ratner’s essay here.

(Photo credit: Nina Subin)

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The old saw that “comedy is tragedy plus time” has been attributed to everyone from Mark Twain to Lenny Bruce, Carol Burnett, and Woody Allen. That’s according to the Internet, a.k.a. bullshit at the speed of light. But whoever authored the line was working from a different formula than the Jewish one I grew up with. Eric Jarosinski’s funny Twitter feed @NeinQuarterly says, “Tragedy + time – comedy = German comedy.” In the Jewish formula, I think, there isn’t enough time between tragedies for ‘tragedy plus time’ to apply.

The formula probably runs something more like this: Jewish comedy equals tragedy plus comedy in a hurry. That is, Jewish comedy takes place in the midst of tragedy and despite tragedy. I don’t mean theater of the absurd or any other form that treats existence itself as a sort of sick joke. (More than sick, I’d say it’s longwinded.) By Jewish comedy I mean joyous, meaningful human laughter pressed into service amidst sorrows and by sorrows, laughter engaged in subversive work upon sorrows to leaven and defy them.

Here’s an example:

A matchmaker introduced a bridegroom to his bride and the bridegroom was shocked. He pulled the matchmaker aside and whispered, “What have you done? She’s ugly and old. She squints and even has a hump!” The matchmaker cut in, “You needn’t lower your voice, she’s also deaf.”

Physical infirmities and helpless calamities beset the poor woman and the poor bridegroom in a way that’s certainly tragic but for the joke’s irreverence for the infirmity and calamity. Far from being polite about it, the matchmaker flaunts the woman’s misfortune, perhaps to his own detriment; he acts as though the infirmities are no impediment to the match he’s trying to make. The ultimate result is that he disregards the tragedy before him. Isn’t the disregard and disrespect for the tragedy what make the joke funny?

Some Jews disdain the tragic sensibility nowadays. Lately there’s Israel, the theory of relativity, Seinfeld—things are generally looking up, kein ayin hora. For a long time, though, we had kind of a rough go there. Our sense of humor has long been a survival tactic in the face of tragedy, and I’ve personally found that vein of anti-tragic humor to be a valued resource in coping with my own troubles.

My novel In the Land of the Living is about those actual troubles: My father died from a very unusual and aggressive cancer at the age of 29, when I was three and my brother was six weeks old. After that, things got easier for my family (kein ayin hara—you see how this works?), thanks to good people. But those events and that severed relationship did project a certain despair over my childhood which remained even into my adulthood. Irreverence before tragedy, black humor—or gallows humor, as some people call it—has been a survival tactic for me, and also influenced the writing style of my new novel. In that sense, In the Land of the Living is as Jewish a book as I could write.

The novel does not summon irreverence by punchline, but more often by certain tonal incongruities. When an emotionally deprived Eastern European immigrant hits his children, it’s “a technique he’d presumably learned at the Kishinev School of Cossack Child-Rearing.” When a taciturn uncle misses New Year’s Eve (because he’s dead), it’s noted that he’s even more quiet than usual.

The incongruities can work the other way too; that which ought to be happy and funny is sometimes polluted with darkness in the world of this novel; a game of basketball has the specter of death within it. The mix of light and dark may be uncomfortable for some people, but I consider these basic human rights: to spurn the darkness, and also to spurn the light when it shines too little or too late.

Austin Ratner is the author of the novels In the Land of the Living and The Jump Artist, the 2011 winner of the Sami Rohr Prize for Jewish Literature.

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There are certain TV theme songs that anyone in their 20s would recognize (and possibly start singing) from the first line: “This is a story all about how/my life got twist-turned upside down” or “Whatever happened to predictability/the milkman, paperboy, evening TV” or “When I wake up in the morning/and the alarm gives out a warning.”*

For me, the top lyrics on that list would be: “She was working in a bridal shop in Flushing, Queens/When her boyfriend kicked her out in one of those crushing scenes.”

Thus begins the story and adorable cartoon that kick off each episode of the ‘90s TV classic The Nanny.

Basically, Fran Fine (Fran Drescher) is a nice Jewish girl in her late-20s from Queens, who’s dying to get married, has big hair, a larger-than-life accent, brightly-colored suits with animal prints and giant shoulder pads, and the loudest, and let’s just say most distinctive laugh you’ve ever heard. Somehow, she accidentally gets hired as a nanny by handsome, posh British Broadway producer Maxwell Sheffield (Charles Shaughnessy).

Her qualifications, according to the theme song? “She had style, she had flair, she was there!” Not exactly a glowing recommendation, but it’s pretty true. Before taking care of the three Sheffield kids—Margaret (Nicholle Tom), Brighton (Benjamin Salisbury), and Grace (Madeline Zima)—she went to cosmetology school, was a foot model, worked in a bridal shop, and sold makeup door-to-door. In other words, Fran had no experience with kids. Yet, somehow, she managed to keep the kids alive for six seasons, and dispense stereotypically Jewish advice like “never pay retail”—Fran is obsessed with discount department store Loehmann’s—and “date doctors.”

Episodes of The Nanny often seem like one big Yiddish joke, especially when Fran’s relatives show up. Fran’s mother, Sylvia (Renee Taylor), is a binge-eater—especially when the food is free—while her grandmother, Yetta (Ann Morgan Guilbert), is senile, loves bingo, and generally has no idea what’s going on. Sylvia and Fran are always arguing, while Yetta is just comic relief. This conversation from a Season 3 episode in which the family goes to therapy sums up their relationship:

Therapist: So ladies, what brings you to therapy?

Fran: I came because my mother has an obsession with me getting married.

Sylvia: I came because my daughter has a delusion that I have an obsession.

Yetta: I came because they brought me and I don’t know how to get home.

The best thing about Fran, and probably the reason she became such a popular character, is that she’s so proud of who she is. The Nanny is a classic fish-out-of-water story. Fran couldn’t be more different from Mr. Sheffield, with his Upper East Side mansion, butler, and kids in private school. She definitely admired their lifestyle, and yet, there was no way she’d ever change. Fran never succumbed to a makeover, even if Fran’s hair got straighter as the years went on, and while her voice became “normal” for a few seconds after eating wasabi, she never expressed hang-ups about it.

While the kids love Fran the way she is almost immediately, and butler Niles is always mildly amused by her and soon becomes her good friend and partner-in-mischief, it takes Mr. Sheffield more time to warm up to her demeanor. Of course, they wouldn’t have hired someone as handsome as Charles Shaughnessy to play the boss if Fran wasn’t going to hook up with him, and finally, at the end of Season 3, Mr. Sheffield tells Miss Fine he loves her. Drama ensues, and they don’t become an official couple for another season, but eventually they start calling each other “Maxwell” and “Fran,” get married, and in the series finale, they have twins.

Not bad for a shop-girl from Queens—oh, and her mother was happy, too.

*Do I really need to tell you? The Fresh Prince of Bel Air, Full House, and Saved By The Bell.

Previously on Network Jews:

Noah Puckerman, the coolest Jew in school on Glee

Andy Botwin, the promiscuous playboy on Showtime’s Pot Comedy Weeds

Saul Berneson, the CIA Middle East division chief on Homeland

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We are excited to premiere the first installment of our new weekly video feature. Every Friday, Bill Army and Audrey Lynn Weston, the young Jews of “Old Jews Telling Jokes” (yes, that’s possible), will bring you behind the scenes at the Westside Theatre for a look at what goes on when the curtain goes down at the hilarious new show.

Check out the first video, “Full Service Operation,” and then head over to Tablet’s Facebook page for a chance to win tickets to see the show.

Related: “Old Jews Telling Jokes Sweepstakes” [Tablet Magazine Facebook] Young Jews Blogging [Tumblr]

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