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Fwd:Re: Fwd: FW: Meyer's parrot



Dear Chazzonim, etc.
        I hope you enjoy this bit of humor that was just sent to me today.

Regards,
Richard Wolpoe

______________________________ Forward Header __________________________________
Subject: Fwd:Re: Fwd: FW: Meyer's parrot 
Author:  Baruch Volkov at IBI-Cor2
Date:    12/12/97 3:16 PM


Rich,

I got it from my daughter

Baruch

____________________Forward Header_____________________ 
Subject:    Re: Fwd: FW: Meyer's parrot 
Author: <mirit_volis (at) fluids(dot)ittind(dot)com > 
Date:       12/12/97 1:33 PM




Meyer, a lonely widower, was walking home along Delancey Street one 
day wishing something wonderful would change his life, when he passed 
a Pet Store and heard a squawking voice shouting out in Yiddish, 
"Quawwwwk...us machst du...yeah, du...outside, standing like a 
schlomazel...eh?" Meyer rubbed his eyes and ears.  He couldn't 
believe it.  The proprietor sprang out of the door and grabbed Meyer 
by the sleeve.  "Come in here, fella, and check out this parrot..." 
Meyer stood in front of an African Grey that cocked his little head 
and said, "Vus?  Ir kent reddin Yiddish?" Meyer turned excitedly to 
the store owner.  "He speaks Yiddish?" "Vuh den?  Chinese maybe?"
In a matter of moments, Meyer had placed five hundred dollars down 
on the counter and carried the parrot in his cage away with him. 
All night he talked with the parrot in Yiddish.  He told the parrot 
about his father's adventures coming to America, about how beautiful his 
mother was when she was a young bride, about his family, about his 
years of working in the garment center, about Florida.  The parrot 
listened and commented.  They shared some walnuts.  The parrot told 
him of living in the pet store, how he hated the weekends.  Finally, 
they both went to sleep.

Next morning, Meyer began to put on his tfillin, all the while,
saying his prayers.  The parrot demanded to know what he was doing, and when 
Meyer explained, the parrot wanted to do it too.  Meyer went out and 
hand-made a miniature set of tfillin for the parrot.  The parrot 
wanted to learn to daven, so Meyer taught him how read Hebrew, and 
taught him every prayer in the Siddur with the appropriate nussach 
for the daily services.  Meyer spent weeks and months, sitting and 
teaching the parrot, teaching him Torah, Mishnah and Gemara.  In 
time, Meyer came to love and count on the parrot as a friend and a 
Jew.  On the morning of Rosh Hashanah, Meyer rose, got dressed and 
was about to leave when the parrot demanded to go with him.  Meyer 
explained that Shul was not place for a bird but the parrot made a 
terrific argument and was carried to Shul on Meyer's shoulder.  
Needless to say, they made quite a sight when they arrived at the 
Shul, and Meyer was questioned by everyone, including the Rabbi and 
Cantor, who refused to allow a bird into the building on the High 
Holy Days. However, Meyer convinced them to let him in this one time, 
swearing that the parrot could daven.  Wagers were made with Meyer. 
Thousands of dollars were bet (even money) that the parrot could NOT 
daven, could not speak Yiddish  or Hebrew, etc.  All eyes were on 
the African Grey during services.  The parrot perched on Meyer's 
shoulder as one prayer and song passed - Meyer heard not a peep from 
the bird.  He began to become annoyed, slapping at his shoulder and 
mumbling under his breath, "Daven!" Nothing.  "Daven...feigelleh, 
please! You can daven, so daven...come on, everybody's looking at 
you!" Nothing.  After Rosh Hashanah services were concluded, Meyer 
found that he owed his Shul buddies and the Rabbi over four thousand 
dollars.  He marched home quite upset, saying nothing.  Finally 
several blocks from the Shul, the bird, happy as a lark, began to 
sing an old Yiddish song.  Meyer stopped and looked at him.  "You 
miserable bird, you cost me over four thousand dollars.  Why?  After 
I made your tfillin, taught you the morning prayers, and taught you 
to read Hebrew and the Torah.  And after you begged me to bring you 
to Shul on Rosh Hashanah, why?  Why did you do this to me?"

"Don't be a schlomiel," the parrot replied.  "Think of the odds on 
Yom Kippur!"

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<color><param>0000,0000,ffff</param>David

dh62 (at) cornell(dot)edu</color>








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