Balls and Walnuts
more than you ever wanted to know
Curses!
While surfing the cable’s channel guide, Karen paused over Kung Pow Enter the Fist. We both registered the 2.5 stars someone had assigned Kung Pow, and waited with trepidation for our son’s response.
You have to understand that for Jake, Kung Pow is sacred text, quotes from which can be recontextualized to suit any comic circumstance. You wouldn’t believe how many ways he can spin (or — I admit it — how many ways I can spin) “Let me know if you see a Radio Shack,” or “That’s a lot of nuts!” No one fucks with his Kung Pow.
“The guy who gave Kung Pow two and a half stars should die in a fire,” my son declared.
Which cracked me up. My son, whom no one would ever suppose had a Jewish father — I mean, aside from his Yiddishe kopf, what’s Jewish about the kid? Oh. He likes latkes — had just come precariously close to uttering a Jewish curse. Needs a little work, mind you. Like any first attempt, it’s unrefined. Lacks that certain zing.
From this curious site, here are a few good ones that have withstood the test of time.
May they find thousands of new cures for you each year.
May you grow so rich that your widow’s second husband
never has to worry about making a living.
You should be like a chandelier — you should hang and burn.
And the similarly themed
May the sun and the spring breeze warm you and caress you like an apple as you hang from a tree.
Yeah, Jake, dying in a fire can’t hold a candle to growing beets in your stomach and peeing borscht.
D.
Jake, here’s a curse for you and your dad:
Gae in dred and bak bagels. I probably spelled the Yiddish incorrectly, but it loosely translates (or so I’ve been told) to: Go to hell and bake bagels.
There’s always this wonderful dose of irrationality to a Jewish curse.