Thingish Things

Speaking of Yom Kippur…

Written By: William F. B. O'Reilly - Oct• 06•11

Every year at Yom Kippur I’m reminded of an old friend who was raised an Orthodox Jew, but somehow strayed from his appointed path. He was a great guy. A real degenerate in the best sense of the word, and a big-hearted one.  He worked hard, drank hard, and gambled hard. He was one of the most generous people I’ve ever known.

Anyway, back around 1983 or ’84 we were working at a banquet hall together — I was living in the coat room of the place (don’t ask) — and at the end of a wedding we were working I asked him if he wanted to go out for drinks with a bunch of the waiters, as was customary. He looked at me like I had four heads.

“Do you know what day it is?,” he asked incredulously. “It’s Yom Kippur.  I’m not even supposed to be here.”

“Then go home,” I told him. “The last thing you need is God getting mad at you.”

Then, with a completely straight face — because he was completely serious — he said: “No, I’m heading down to Atlantic City. Blackjack takes my mind off food. I’ll go straight through to tomorrow night without a bite. Just Dewars and sodas and Marlboros. I’m strict about it.”

I’m glad God has a sense of humor, because this guy deserves his spot in heaven.  

May have to dig up a number for him in the morning, just to remind him:  Eights and Aces. Split ’em.

Easy fast. 

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  1. Daniel Suib says:


  2. Daniel Suib says:

    Oh…yeah. Right on with the description…LOL.

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