Everybody’s doing it. Bill Clinton’s got one. Zachery Levi’s is even online. They’re “bucket lists” or “things I want to do before I kick it”. Celebs to bloggers are writing “bucket lists” which has become a trendy cultural past time since the 2007 Rob Reiner film, “The Bucket List” in which two terminally ill men (played by Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman) take a road trip with a wish list of things to do before “kicking the bucket.”
Gen-Xers, who not only refuse to age, but are determined not to die at all (well, at least without having done “it all”), have grabbed onto it with a fervor I usually reserve for buffets.
Ironically, most of the lists I’ve read are filled with stuff that can kill you (crocodile hunting, skydiving, bungee jumping). No doubt, they think if they make the list long and meshugge enough the Grim Reaper will wait until they’ve lugged down Mt. Kilimanjaro before tap tapping. Many of these idiot bucket lists are really bucket avoidance lists.
Many of these idiot bucket lists are really bucket avoidance lists.
For over 3,000 years, Jews have lived a “bucket list” life through not only our mitzvahs, but our occasional experience with lousy neighbors, major tsouris, and distinctive DNA. When it comes to the future, we’re optimistic. For now? We stick with evil eye avoidance through enough poo poos to revive the Dead Sea.
The Jewish lists are definitely different, and mine from yours. For example, We Jews generally tend to be … realistic, do-able (well mostly), and don’t involve winning an Olympic Gold Medal for the ski slalom.
So, for you dear readers, I’ve created …
MY JEWISH “FARFLUCKET” LIST: The First 14
(“FARFLUCKET” is a made up Yiddish term. Cross that off my Bucket List!)
(NOTE: Peace and a safe Israel are all there, but the IDF turned me down.)
1- When a loved one has a wart, a beauty mark, a mole, to once before plotzing, say: “It’s nothing mamala. Put on a little duct tape and it will disappear, one, two, three” – before sending a sample to the Mayo Clinic.
2- Spend one day looking like Christie Brinkley. Be honest. What Jewish female isn’t curious to know what it feels like to be a 6 foot 4 gorgeous ostrich, with blonde bangs that don’t resemble fucilli, and an actual waist? True, we can straighten but we can’t heighten, so I’ll settle for a day with Christie, telling everyone we’re identical conjoined twins who were separated at birth – and do an article on their reactions.
Spend one day looking like Christie Brinkley.
3- Go on a worldwide deli tour. I want to (forgive me) pig out on pastrami from Peoria to Prokopyevsk and bask in blintzes, brisket, and corned beef from every single coast. When I finally go, I want the cause of death to be a bursting kishke – from too many kishkes.
4- And while we’re on the subject, I want to be the one who figures out how to make the carrot cake 20 calories, and the carrot, 2,000.
5- Just once I’d like to tell the following joke to a gentile who doesn’t look at me quizzically:
Sheld’n told mama and papa: “I’ve found my bashert. For fun, I'm going to bring over three women and you guess which is “the one.” The next day he brought three beautiful women who chatted with Mama and Papa over a little cake. After they left, he challenged, "Okay, Guess which one I'm going to marry?"
“The one in the middle with the red hair,” his parents replied instantly.
"Right! But ... how did you know?" asked Sheld’n, amazed.
Mama said, "Simple. Her, we don't like."
(Is the gentile laughing? No. “If his parents don’t like her I don’t get it.” Oyyyy.)
6- Say to my son, “Darling, you’re an adult now. If you want to go away for a week without telling me … I say ‘OK! I know you’ll be fine rock climbing in Thailand, even though you threw up on the Ferris Wheel at Coney Island. And to prove it, you can take the timer with the alarm off your little belt.”
7- Be a contestant on “Who Wants To Be A Millionaire” when the big gelt questions are: a) “Who started life as Goldie Mabovitch?” b) “Which is cholent?” And for the mil, c) “Who designed the Lincoln penny? (Jew, Victor David Brenner.)
8- Move to a place in the world where it doesn’t cost $750 a month to get the right temperature. Like Golde-lox, I want to spend a little time without shvitzing or icicles hanging. Seventy-two degrees (without a budge) is nice.
9- Go to a meeting at the Shul and when they ask: “Any questions?” I say “ eh … forget about it.”
10- Promote cellulite as a positive thing, proving we women have lived. In fact, anyone without it, should cross thighs in shame. Then, get a $500.000 investment from The Shark Tankers, but only for distribution. Between me, my family and friends, we have enough free raw material to supply the U.S., Western Europe, and half of Asia.
11- Lie on a beach and not once worry about whether I left the water running, who my son is dating, why I haven’t received a text from cousin Marvin about his hernia, or whether terrorists will target my apartment.
12- Write a film about a functional Jewish family where the kinder call the parents “Sir” and “Ma’am,” “dope” is reserved for the yutz next door who thinks “Philadelphia” starts with an “F,” the “machatanim” are a gift from God, and when a grandchild is born, no one says: “About naming the baby after grandpa Irving, may he rest in peace ... listen, if you want to name him Luke Picard Lispshitz, that's fine with us.” (PS. It’s a drama not a reality series.)
13- Stroll into Saks in a shmatte and casually buy a $5,000 bag retail – and return it … a week later.
14- Kill off reality shows and bring back real newspapers and magazines; inky, sweaty, smelly ones, so writers like me won’t have to return bags to Saks a week later.
So dear readers, should you care to share your Manischewitz wishes and stuffed derma dreams, by all means, post!