Over at Moses' tiki bar for the annual Passover orgy, Sam couldn't contain himself, snapped as he's passing the horseradish.
"I give Democrats hundreds of millions my whole life and the minute I kick the bucket, they're all Goebbels!" Sam is inconsolable. Elie Wiesel just nods along sitting next to Lot's wife, who, of course, every year, shows up in her "pillar of salt" costume. It's her schtick. We're all supposed to lick her clit when its time for the "bitter herbs".
Ghoulardi, the annual Stranger Gentile at the table, wasn't having it. Another Lot's Wife Salt Lick is finally a bridge too far, tells Lot's wife, "Why this night of all nights do I have to lick that skank, bitch." Sam Miller, needing comfort, just dove right in like a champ. I get jealous.
|love of my life, and afterlife|
Why me. So I jump in and Lot's wife starts tossing bits of salt off her pillar at the gathered Jewry of the Afterlife. Peter Lewis lights a fattie, starts passing around the brisket, shouts "RAISE THE GOBLETS!"
And it's on. Later in the boudoir, Sam pours me an after dinner Old Fashioned, starts whining again.
"I had no idea Democrats hated Jews so much, Dottie. I should never have funded every god damned one of 'em their entire fucking career. Ingrates."
Sam weeps. I hate it when Sam weeps. He did this once at the Theatrical, got all emotional over...what was it again .... oh right, that time I blurted out I was bisexual on live television. Sam said he didn't think that was lady like, but I knew the score - jealous little shit.
So now I have to cheer Sam up. Lean back, open my thighs, get all Mae West, the usual. "Maybe Bernie Sanders...isn't...Jewish?" I coyly growl with a twirl of the extra long hairs of my squeeze box's flowing red mane. Does the trick. Sam's sweaty hairy Jew ass is my world for four hours, then he stops weeping, cheers up. I always had the key to Sammie's heart.
Lot's wife can eat her salty heart out.