You goyim may be familiar with the High Holy Days (Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur) as well as the Popular Trash Holiday (Hanukkah), but we save the best Jew holiday for ourselves. And now that it’s over, I can reveal it: Purim. Despite the lack of publicity, Purim is absolutely fucking awesome- it has a sexy backstory, bloodshed, Iranians, funny hats, and massive drunkenness. Really, what else can you want?

Dude, where's my scroll?

The Megilla

The holiday’s story is told in the Book of Esther, which is the Pluto of the Bible’s solar system: unlike every other book, it’s written on a single scroll (called The Megillah), rather than the usual double. And although, like the other books, it’s read in song, it has a wholly different set of notes and tunes than any other book. Set in ancient Persia, the story starts out on the right foot with a massive nationwide drinking binge. The king, a guy named Akhashveros (I’ll call him Heshie), based in a city called Shushan, had been joining in the celebration, accompanied by a bunch of his carousing buddies.

As drunk sausage-fests tend to do, the conversation turned to pussy. Heshie was married to some fine trim, housed in the body of Queen Vashti, and to prove why she was kingworthy, he directed her to strip and show the goods to his friends. OK, so far, this sounds like a typical Glibertarians get-together, but things took a bad turn- Vashti told him that he and his friends could go fuck themselves, SHE was keeping the clothes on. As was the custom in those days when royal women disobeyed, Heshie had Vashti de-queened and then set about finding some equally fine arm candy.

He organized the Iranian equivalent of Miss Teen USA, and had all the Persian girls who scored above a 9 brought in for judgement. This presaged several reality TV shows, another case of successful Biblical prophecy. Unlike Trump, Heshie didn’t have to barge into the dressing room to catch some young female nudity, they were happy to show it off to him. It’s good to be the King.

Of all the table pussy in the room, the standout was a Jewess named Esther. Not that you could tell that she was a Jewess, given the lack of female circumcision in those days. And she would have had pubes, anyway, and Jewesses tend to be a bit forest-y down there, especially Iranian Jewesses. Heshie spotted Esther and declared, “OK, that one!” and suddenly she was Queen of Persia. This came as a pleasant surprise to her Uncle Mordechai, who had raised her. Morty thought, “This is almost as good as winning the lottery!”

With a sudden interest in the goings-on at the Court, Morty caught wind of an assassination plot against Heshie. Sensing the possibility of reward, he informed the Iranian equivalent of the Secret Service, and the guys who were plotting were arrested, read their rights, and then hanged. As a reward, Morty’s story was recorded in the Congressional Record. And that… was it. Fuck.

What’s worse, Morty pissed off Haman, the Iranian Jeff Sessions, by refusing to bow down to him. Ever the vindictive bastard Haman, who decided, “Well Morty is a Jew, these Jews are annoying fucks, let’s just kill them all.” He wheedled Heshie about this idea, and Heshie, who really didn’t give a shit one way or another, said, “Sure, Haman, kill ’em if that will get you to stop bugging me.” Haman, always the planner, decided to roll dice to pick the day that the Hamancaust would happen. The reason for this is completely mysterious, but the word for dice is “purim” so if he hadn’t done that, we would have had to name the holiday Pussy or Bunch of Guys Getting Shitfaced or something like that.

Esther – Artist’s Depiction

The ever-snoopy Morty found out about the planned Jewkill, and understandably freaked out. He asked Esther to talk to her hubby. “Heshie hates when he’s nagged by his bitches,” she replied, “but seeing as how this is a bit of an emergency, let me see what I can do.” She set up a dinner with Heshie and Haman, during which she said, “Heshie, isn’t this fun? Let’s do it again tomorrow and maybe, you know, bumpetta-bumpetta after?” Heshie, always the horndog, eagerly agreed. In the meantime, Haman got dissed yet again by Morty, so he arranged to have a gallows built to give Morty the Big Drop the next day.

Heshie had trouble sleeping that night, perhaps because of a boner thinking about the next night, though that’s purely my speculation based on experience. “I know,” he thought, “I’ll have the Congressional Record read to me by a manservant and if that doesn’t put me to sleep, then three Seconal wouldn’t do it, either.”  The reading began, and when the manservant got to the part about Morty saving Heshie’s life, Heshie asked, “Hey, did we end up doing anything for that guy? Cash award, Medal of Freedom, whatever?” “Nope,” was the answer.

Now, though Heshie was a horndog, he was actually a pretty decent guy. Feeling bad about this oversight, he called Haman in. “Haman,” he asked, “suppose there was someone who I wanted to reward for a great service to me, how would you do it?” Haman, being a bit groggy from being awakened by King Heshie’s whim, thought Heshie was talking about HIM and replied, “Well, dress him up like a king and lead him around on one of your horses as an honor.” Incentives in those days were apparently pretty lame, but still, when Heshie said, “Cool beans, the guy’s name is Morty, get ‘er done!” Haman could only think, “Fuuuuuuuck! This puts a crimp in my plans to hang the dude. Well, I can put it off for a day or two.”

The next evening, at Esther’s second dinner party, she told Heshie, “Haman wants to kill all the Jews, you know.” Heshie responded, “Yeah, whatevs. Are we doing the nasty tonight or what?” Esther said, “Well, that’ll be kinda hard since you’re going to kill all the Jews, and since I’m one of ’em…” “Wait, WHAT???” “Yeah, I’m a Jewess, and you told Haman to kill me and all of my relatives.” Heshie, who (unlike Justin Trudeau) was not a slow fellow, realized that this kill-the-Jews thing might not have been his best idea, then remembered that it was Haman’s idea. And with that, well, it’s always the underling who gets thrown under the chariot, so in a coincidence worthy of O Henry, Haman got hanged on the gallows he had intended for Morty. Yayyyy! Oops, not so fast, what about the Jewkill?

Heshie said, “There’s a bit of a problem. I gave the orders to kill the Jews and because of Article 3 subsection A of the King’s Rules, I can’t take that back.” With some Jewess trim hanging in the balance, Heshie came up with an inspired idea: “Hey, I can issue an order that the Jews can all be armed and kill the Iranians who are coming for them!” Actually, it was Mordechai and Esther’s idea, but one of the secrets to managing your manager is to convince him that your great idea was actually his.

So the Jews armed and killed a fuckton of Persians. If we’re to believe the Megillah, something like 76,000 of them. And that was OK because Heshie got laid.

Poppy seeds- beware the drug testIn honor of killing a fuckton of Persians, every year (((we))) have the Purim celebration, in which (((we))) are commanded to get drunk, make a lot of noise in the synagogue, exchange gifts, get drunk, fuck, make noise, and get drunk. Oh yeah, we also eat some little triangular Danishes called Hamantashen. But really, who cares, get drunk and fuck.

This is a great holiday.