That’s right—if you’re reading this, I have some bad news for you. In the grave where you thought your lifelong, god-fearing Christian mother was buried, there lies a short, dead Jewish guy. Indeed, in a concerted effort to protect our own from further desecration and prejudice, we secretly replace all Gentile bodies with dead Jews. Standard procedure within the Conspiracy. We figure the only time you’d allow someone to desecrate your mother’s grave is when the new oil pipeline comes through town.

Confused? Let me explain.

Let’s say I want to make my annual pilgrimage to Jonas Salk’s grave in San Diego. Once I arrive in San Diego, I have to then remember to drive the 1,400 miles to Corpus Christi, TX to Phyllis Nicholson’s grave. Which is not to be confused with Pat Nicholson’s grave; that’s where half of Sammy Davis, Jr. is buried.

If it makes it any easier to digest, this whole process hasn’t been that easy on me, either.

So, I can hear you wondering: if I’m inside your mother’s grave, just what the hell is inside my grave? Good question. And the answer is every single season of Seinfeld on DVD. The original releases, too, when they were like $75 a pop. It seems stupid, I know. But when I died, they weren’t all on syndication on TBS. So take my word for it: every Jewish cemetery is just a bunch of holes filled with DVDs.

I know. It’s probably hard to hear you just desecrated the grave of an outdated home entertainment format. Nobody likes to back their pickup truck into a gravestone at 30 mph, just to discover there’s no Jew under there. And trust me, this isn’t the way I wanted it to be. Life in the Diaspora is very tough, always straddling that line between honoring one’s heritage and assimilating into American culture—whether it’s celebrating Christmas in place of Hanukkah, going out with friends on a Friday night instead of shul, or being buried in the grave of a white supremacist’s mother.

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Oh, jeez, look at me. Isn’t it just like the dead Jewish guy in your mother’s grave to ramble like that? Here I am yacking away, and you’re sitting there patiently wondering where your mother’s body is. The truth is I haven’t the foggiest idea. From what I understand, there was a slight oversight in logistics. The Conspiracy is so vast and intricate, sometimes little details get overlooked. Also, never ship anything UPS Freight. You’ll be on the phone with dispatch all day, and you’ll never see that shit again.

Look, again, I’m really sorry to be the one who has to explain this all to you. If it makes it any easier to digest, this whole process hasn’t been that easy on me, either. Imagine the cemetery caretaker’s surprise when he dug up your mother to have a little bit of fun, only to find an old, dead Jewish guy. Suffice to say, if you’ve already gone that far, a dead Jewish guy isn’t a deal breaker.

And that’s what I want to leave you with. A message of tolerance. A plea for understanding. If a straight necrophiliac can take a chance on me, can you, too, afford this old Jewish guy in your mother’s grave the same opportunity? After all, we are all part of the same family, the human family. And one day, a dead Jewish guy will be in your grave, too.

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