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All Bar, No Mitzvah

The Bar Mitzvah was being held in the Royal Box at the Grand Concourse Catering Hall in the Bronx. The room was decorated lavishly with beautiful flowers. The smorgasbord table was overflowing with hot and cold delicacies to tempt any appetite.

Statues of ice, spewing forth pink punch, were at either end of the long table. Mr. & Mrs. Harry Teitlebaum arrive a little late. They surveyed the situation and were annoyed by the ostentation. They were civil rights workers and it bothered them to see so much money spent in the name of religion. But their cousin Bruce's Bar Mitzvah was a must or Mama Teitlebaum would never forgive them. As they walked to one of the three bars for a drink, the hostess greeted them warmly and gushed, "Isn't this a beautiful affair?" And pointing to a small round table topped with a life-sized sculpture of the Bar Mitzvah boy made of chopped liver, she asked, "And what do you think of the gorgeous statue of my Bruce?"

This was just too much for Harry Teitlebaum. In a voice dripping with sarcasm, he snarled, "Why, I've never seen anything to equal it. Who did it? Lipschitz or Epstein?"

"Lipschitz, of course, darling!" boasted the proud mama, "Epstein works only in gefilte fish!"

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