Modern Rashi

Friday, July 4, 2025

A how-to for girls communicating to guys

Let’s get real. There are entire megillahs written about what men need to change in dating, how guys need to step up, communicate better, be more decisive, stop being lazy, and the list goes on. And sure, guys absolutely have things to work on. Nobody’s denying that. But you almost never see anyone spell out what women need to be doing differently when it comes to dating. For some reason, that conversation gets swept under the rug, as if female communication is always perfect and never the problem.

Spoiler: it’s not.

So, like every other sorely neglected topic in the universe, Modern Rashi is here to fill the gap and say what nobody else will. If you want to know how girls should actually behave in a dating scenario, how to communicate in a way that guys actually respond to, how to stop sabotaging your own chances, and how to get men to take you seriously, this is your blueprint.

Forget the tired scripts and the mind games. Below, you’ll find the exact, screenshot-level examples of what good communication looks like. Learn it. Copy it. You’ll thank me later.

1. Availability: How to Respond Like an Adult

Let’s start out with the basics. When a guy asks you when you are available, he is not interested in hearing about your super-busy schedule, how you need “me time,” or how exhausted you are from existing. Newsflash: nobody is looking to date a “rest enthusiast.” We are looking for someone who is available and willing, not someone who treats social interaction like a part-time job.

In the above visual aid, you see the ONLY correct way to answer this question. The guy asks when she’s available to meet up. Her answer? Simple, clear, and direct:
"I’m available most evenings."

This is exactly what guys want to hear. Not a game, not a riddle, not a performance about how precious your time is. This response immediately tells us that you’re not going to waste our time or drag us into some endless “maybe next week” vortex. You are straightforward, mature, and actually want to see us.

Be this girl. Give this answer. If you’re not available or interested, don’t pretend. But if you are? Say it plainly. Act like a grown-up for once.

2. Dress Code: Stop Playing Mind Games, Just Ask

Rather than playing a guessing game about what the guy expects you to wear on a date, here’s a revolutionary idea: just ask him. Seriously, it’s not hard. He will appreciate it, and you won’t show up looking like you got lost on the way to a wedding or, worse, a pajama party.

In the visual aid above, notice how she asks, “Are we going formal or casual?”
He responds with a joke, “Idk if I can get a tux rental on a Sunday so let’s call it casual.”
She laughs, “Lolll ok wasn’t thinking THAT formal but I’m good with casual.”
He confirms, “Sounds good. Looking forward!”
She matches the enthusiasm: “Same :)”

What makes this work?
She doesn’t overthink it, doesn’t play coy, and doesn’t say, “Up to you!” while secretly hoping he’ll read her mind. She just asks, reacts, and confirms. No drama, no games.

This is literally all it takes. Communicate. Clarify. Move on. If you want dating to be less painful, try acting like an adult for five minutes. It works.

3. Following Up: Show Real Enthusiasm

Let’s break down this exchange, step by step.

First, for the guys: Text her the next morning. Ask if she’d like to go out again. This isn’t optional. After an intensive, scientific study (read: actually paying attention to reality), the results are clear. Women want to be asked if you enjoyed yourself and want to see them again, the morning after. No later. I don’t know why this is so universal, but it is. Do it.

Now, for the ladies:
Notice her reply. She doesn’t play it cool, she doesn’t wait five hours, and she doesn’t respond with “maybe.” She says, “G’morning Gavi I had a great time as well :) I’d be very glad to go out again,” complete with actual enthusiasm and even a smiley. This is how you get a guy to take things seriously and actually look forward to seeing you. This is how you inspire real effort.

No cryptic replies, no “let’s see,” no deadpan responses designed to keep your options open. This is a green flag. Enthusiasm is contagious.

If you want better dates, try sounding like you actually want to be there. It works.

4. Handling the “Where Are We” Talk: Be an Adult, Not a Drama Student

If there’s important communication to be had, have it over the phone or, even better, in person. Seriously, this is not rocket science. Stop hiding behind screens and endless texting. Communicate directly and clearly. It will make everyone’s life so much easier.

Check out the visual above. She doesn’t dodge, deflect, or start a texting novel that drags on for a week. She says, “No, we should have a talk for sure,” and then confirms she prefers in person. Boom. No drama, no “idk, what do you think?,” no trying to read tea leaves over WhatsApp. Just clear, simple, adult communication.

Meeting in the park for 30 minutes to have an actual discussion was so much more refreshing than playing immature guessing games for days. This is how grown-ups handle difficult conversations. Try it. You’ll be shocked how much easier life (and dating) becomes.

5. Peak Enthusiasm: The Ultimate Green Flag

Let’s really break this down. You want to know the secret to getting a guy genuinely excited about seeing you again? It’s not some weird reverse psychology, it’s not acting aloof, and it’s definitely not pretending you’re only available every other Thursday after your Pilates class.

Look at what happened here. I ask, “Is tonight too soon?” Most girls freak out at this stage and default to playing coy, acting like they’re too busy, or trying to manufacture “mystery” so they don’t seem too eager. This is what you’ve been told will make him chase. Spoiler alert: it doesn’t. It just makes you forgettable.

Now look at her answer:
“To see you? Hell nah”

That’s it. That’s the gold standard. She doesn’t hesitate, she doesn’t overthink, and she sure as hell doesn’t make me guess. She makes it 100% clear that seeing me is something she wants to do, and she says it in a fun, direct, and memorable way.

This does three things at once:

It makes the guy feel wanted. Every guy wants to feel like the girl actually enjoys his company. It’s the biggest motivator for him to keep pursuing you.
It kills all the anxiety. You instantly remove any doubt or second-guessing about whether you’re interested. That kind of clarity is so rare it’s magnetic.
It raises the bar. When you respond like this, you train the guy to show up as his best self. No games, no power plays, just two adults enjoying each other’s company.

Girls, this is the model. This is how you get a guy to take you seriously and make real plans. This is how you get good dates instead of endless texting purgatory. Show actual enthusiasm, communicate like you mean it, and watch how quickly guys start putting in real effort.

It’s simple. It works. Copy it.

Let’s wrap this up, because honestly, it’s not that complicated. If you’re still sitting here thinking, “But shouldn’t I keep a little mystery? Shouldn’t I let him wonder how I feel? Shouldn’t I keep my options open just in case?” you are the problem. Stop playing stupid-ass games. Stop pretending that making things confusing is “fun” or “flirty.” All you’re doing is driving away the very guys you claim you want and wasting everyone’s time, including your own.

You want a guy to put in effort, show up, plan real dates, and actually take you seriously? Then communicate like someone who wants to be taken seriously. Be direct. Be clear. Show enthusiasm. Stop making him jump through hoops to figure out if you’re even interested. If you’re not, just say so. If you are, act like it.

The screenshots above aren’t miracles. They’re just what happens when two adults act like they actually want to see each other and aren’t afraid to say it. If you want better dates, better guys, and a dating life that doesn’t suck, this is the way. Grow up, drop the games, and act like a human being.

The end.

Monday, June 30, 2025

Mr. Jonathan Sacks

I know I don’t usually judge people, at least not in public, but let’s make an exception here. A loud, flaming exception. Honestly, everyone who knows me is probably shocked this guy didn’t make my hit list sooner. There once lived a man named Jonathan Sacks. People more “proper” than myself like to string together a dozen British honorifics when referencing him: Rabbi Lord Sir Professor Chief Philosopher Baron Sacks, zatzal, OBM, OMFG. Yeah, no. I’m calling him what he deserves: Mr. Sacks. And even that’s being generous.

Let’s break it down. The man was called “Chief Rabbi of the United Hebrew Congregations of the Commonwealth” which sounds like something out of The Crown fan fiction. “Chief Rabbi”? Of whom? Of what? The British Jewish community is about as Orthodox as a Unitarian book club. His flock was composed of bar mitzvah-optional atheists with bagel preferences, and Sacks’s primary function was to reassure them that being Jewish meant whatever they wanted it to mean, as long as it made them feel nice inside. He wasn’t leading a kehillah, he was babysitting a dying sociology experiment.

He earned more honorifics from the British state than mitzvos from Shamayim. For what? For inventing a vegan version of Judaism? For making Torah safe for BBC consumption? For neutering Jewish theology until it could be comfortably printed in The Guardian?

Mr. Sacks was not only not Orthodox, he wouldn't have passed for Conservative on a good day. He didn’t believe in Hashem. He believed in Cambridge. He believed in Oxford. He believed in saying the word ethics enough times that everyone forgot there’s a G-d who gives actual commandments. The man’s theology was less Rambam, more Brene Brown.

I had the misfortune of hearing him speak in person once. He spent an hour on stage softly mumbling out a string of vaguely spiritual-sounding TED Talk phrases that added up to a spiritual flatline. Not a single word of Torah. Not a single clear stance. Just platitudes floating through the air like a fart in a cathedral. If you’re going to speak, say something worth hearing. If not, sit down and stop wasting people’s time.

And now I know some of you are clutching your pearls. “How can you speak ill of the dead?” Trust me, I wouldn’t, if he’d ever stop speaking to us from beyond the grave. But he won’t. He left us with an arsenal of pre-written divrei Torah so that he could keep spoon-feeding us vague heresy from wherever non-believing atheists are sent after they die. His ghost haunts the YouTube recommendations of every daas-less shul that still thinks quoting Ethics of Responsibility counts as delivering Torah.

Let’s dive into the content of his kefirah. Here’s Mr. Sacks in one of his books:
“God has spoken to mankind in many languages: through Judaism to Jews, Christianity to Christians, Islam to Muslims.”
No, Johnny. God spoke at Sinai. Once. In fire. With thunder. To us. Period. He didn’t send Jesus to the Christians or Muhammad to the Muslims. He gave them nothing. You don’t get to rewrite monotheism so it can be featured in a Guardian op-ed. Torah is not a buffet line for civilizations. We have a monopoly on spiritual truth because the Owner of spiritual truth chose us, told us so, and wrote it down in black and white.

That statement alone would be enough to earn him a permanent plaque in the Wicked Son Hall of Fame. He’s literally saying, “Why do you guys do all these rituals?” Not us, you guys. He stood outside the faith, clutching his honorary degrees like golden calves, while trying to turn Judaism into a faith that could pass peer review in a theology journal.

When the Torah said Shema Yisrael, Hashem Elokeinu, Hashem Echad, Sacks heard, "We all worship something, and that’s what matters." He was the first Chief Rabbi in history to openly declare that Judaism is not uniquely true, but just one flavor in God's spiritual sampler pack. Which, ironically, makes him precisely the kind of son the Haggadah instructs you to knock the teeth out of.

And in case you thought that line was a fluke, this was his core theology. In The Dignity of Difference, he wrote that the Tower of Babel wasn’t a punishment, but a model for global multiculturalism. According to Sacks, God didn't scatter humanity to thwart arrogance. He just wanted to throw a diversity party. His takeaway from Genesis wasn’t “fear Hashem.” It was “celebrate your uniqueness.” Torah was no longer a binding covenant. It was a Color Run.

Here’s another gem from an interview he gave, reminiscing about an argument with his father after the Six-Day War:
“I was convinced that Israel had to give back all the land for the sake of peace.”
Classic lib brain. The IDF had just pulled off the most miraculous victory in modern Jewish history, and Sacks’s first instinct was to hand it all back because his real rebbe was his fellow Brit, Neville Chamberlain. Meanwhile, his father, who apparently had a functional relationship with reality, disagreed. So Sacks writes:
“My father, bless him, was convinced that Israel's neighbors would never make peace.”
Turns out dad was right. Turns out generational intelligence isn’t hereditary.

But he wasn’t done embarrassing himself. In another interview, Sacks lamented about Israel's conduct:
“There are things that happen on a daily basis which make me feel very uncomfortable as a Jew.”
Well thank you, Mr. Sacks, for bravely admitting that Jewish survival makes you squirm. Wearing a kippah in public? Too Jewish. Jewish soldiers defending themselves? Oy, the optics. The truth is that if Jonathan Sacks had lived in 1939, he’d have stayed behind in England to write apologetics explaining why the SS uniforms were “deeply misunderstood expressions of national identity.”

And this is the same man who, when asked point-blank whether he’d meet with a Taliban-sympathizing imam like Abu Hamza, replied, “Yes.” Because of course he would. Sacks wouldn’t be caught dead quoting Meir Kahane, but would gladly dialogue with jihadists if it meant proving to the British press that he could “speak across difference.” The man would have hosted Osama bin Laden for brunch had he thought it would win him another Templeton Prize.

He longed for a Judaism that would never offend.
Never disturb. Never raise its voice. He didn’t want Jews to be safe, he wanted us to be liked. His ideal Jewish future was one where we were all warmly welcomed into interfaith panels discussing why belief is optional, Zionism is cringe, and the real mitzvah is voting Labour.

And where did this mensch publish his theological brain droppings? The Guardian.
A leftist rag known for excusing antisemitism if it’s wrapped in sufficient progressive buzzwords. Sacks fit right in. In one piece, he reimagined the Torah’s commandment to “Love the stranger” as a moral obligation to welcome unlimited third-world immigration, even from groups openly hostile to Jews. Real rabbis, those who still believe Rashi is more authoritative than the Financial Times, know that the "ger" here refers to a convert. You know, someone who has joined the Jewish people. But Sacks preferred to pretend that every illegal migrant from Libya was part of Avraham's tent.

Because G-d forbid he quote Rashi. That might offend the immigration editor at The Guardian. Far better to cut and paste Torah into some multiculturalist fever dream.

This was always his trick. Say something vaguely universal, wrap it in a parable, and watch as both the left and right project their own fantasies onto it. His entire career was built on saying nothing with just enough finesse that people imagined he was saying something deep. Leftists thought he was secretly one of them. Religious centrists thought he was preserving mesorah. In reality, Sacks stood for one thing: being liked by everyone and believed by no one.

Jonathan Sacks didn’t fear God. He feared the Evening Standard. He didn’t love Torah. He loved applause. And worst of all, he made it look Orthodox. He repackaged leftist morality as ancient wisdom, then slapped his inverted hechsher on it and sold it to Anglo Jewry like a snake oil salesman in rabbinic robes.

His legacy is a Judaism that’s afraid to be Jewish.
A religion reduced to moral metaphors.
A community taught to value the esteem of the nations more than kiddush Hashem.

And the only thing more offensive than what he said in life is the fact that people are still quoting him now that he’s dead.

Stop quoting him. Stop venerating him. Stop confusing PR with piety.
And maybe, just maybe, start learning some actual Torah.

Sunday, June 29, 2025

Rashi: Why the Smartest People Don’t Need to Tear Others Down

It is often the most sensitive and criticism-averse people who decide to speak publicly on topics they think they’re smart about. Why they do this is beyond my wildest understanding, but I'm sure a psychologist will perform an analysis at some point. Nothing against sensitive people, but if you’re going to cry when someone questions your "genius," maybe don’t wade into public discourse. Book a therapy session, not a podcast studio.

One of my readers thought sending me the following blog post might soften my approach, get me to reflect on my “tone” or “negativity.” What they didn’t realize is that this post is a case study in the exact disease I diagnose daily: people mistaking cowardice for virtue. Let's go line by line!

There’s a certain kind of person, sharp, quick-witted, often funny, who seems to get their biggest thrill from mocking others. They especially love going after successful, confident public speakers. They call them names, twist their words, and try to make them look stupid.

Ah yes, the classic preemptive guilt-trip. If someone sharp calls out your idiocy, it must be because they’re “thrilled” by it. Not because you said something dumb in public. Not because you butchered nuance or distorted facts. No, it’s their problem. How convenient. And calling people “successful” and “confident” doesn’t protect them from critique. If they were truly confident, they’d ignore me. But they don’t. They respond, defensive, flustered, and suddenly very fragile. Wonder why.

But here’s the truth:
No truly confident person needs to do that.

This is not an argument. It’s a vibes-based insult with a superiority complex. “Confident people don’t criticize” is something you say when you’ve been made, and want to moralize your own fragility. I don’t need to point out bad ideas, I choose to, because someone should. It’s called intellectual hygiene. Clean it up.

People who feel good about themselves don’t spend their time trying to make others look small. They’re too busy building something of their own. They speak, write, or create with purpose, not with poison.

I’m not trying to make people look small. My purpose is making nonsense look small, which isn't particularly difficult. That’s not poison, that’s a public disinfectant. And as for “building,” I’m building clarity, accountability, and an audience smart enough to know that unearned authority needs a muzzle, not a microphone.

When someone constantly attacks others, it says more about their own pain than the people they're mocking. They might feel invisible. Or not good enough. Or maybe like they don’t matter unless they bring someone else down. It’s sad, really. Because underneath all that sarcasm and “cleverness,” there’s usually just a scared kid who doesn’t believe he’s worth anything.

This entire paragraph is an emotional hostage situation. A drive-by therapy session without a license. The idea is to pathologize criticism so you don’t have to answer it. Sorry, just because I expose rhetorical fraud doesn’t mean I have “inner wounds.” Maybe I’m just allergic to horseshit. And frankly, if you were so secure in your ideas, you wouldn’t need to invent imaginary traumas to discredit your critics.

And that’s the real tragedy.

No, the real tragedy is that there are people out there who can string a few half-baked sentences together and think they’ve earned immunity from accurate analysis, correction, or mockery. And even worse, people who confuse being above criticism with being above reproach.

Imagine if all that brainpower was used to inspire instead of insult.
Imagine if, instead of tearing others down, someone chose to build themselves up.
Now that would be impressive.

Imagine if charlatans like Meir Kalmenson, Rivky Slonim, and Bret Stephens weren’t given platforms to push their half-baked TED Talk theology and weaponized buzzwords to a public too distracted to notice. I’m not here to build myself up. I’m here to protect people who still think with their brains from those who speak with their egos. And if that looks like tearing someone down, maybe it’s because they built themselves a house of cards.

Final Note:
This blog post is the literary equivalent of an emotional support animal for narcissists. It’s a passive-aggressive plea for immunity disguised as virtue. And worst of all, it’s not just dumb, it’s sophistry. The kind of weaponized niceness that hopes silence will shield incompetence. But I’ve got bad news for you. This isn’t kindergarten. If you say something idiotic in public, expect someone sharper to respond. And if you can’t handle that, pick a quieter hobby.

An intimate talk with Rivkie Slonim...

This Shabbos, serial speaker Rivkie Slonim was invited to enlighten the masses at Engelson’s on “the Jewish perspective on intimacy.” Quite a nice crowd showed up, almost 100 people crammed into the first-floor shul, roughly 70 girls and 30 guys. She started out with a breezy disclaimer: feel free to interrupt, ask questions, or throw the provided jellybeans at her if you took issue with anything she said. Sounds reasonable, right?

Rebbetzin Slonim opens with a little pop-psychology taxonomy: there are different “types” of intimacy: emotional, spiritual, intellectual and physical. But, she announces, we’re not really here to talk about physical intimacy. No, that’s apparently not worth discussing (poor Rabbi Aaron). We’re going to focus on the real business: emotional intimacy, especially for men, who, in her view, apparently need to be brought up to the emotional standards set by women. From minute one, she’s locked the whole conversation into an inappropriately gynocentric frame, one where women’s desires and needs are simply the default, and men’s are remedial homework at best. The implication isn’t even subtle: men’s gateway to connecting is backwards, primitive, something to be outgrown or apologized for. And, for the cherry on top, she repeatedly referred to G-d as a “he-she.” Whatever that means in her religion of TED Talk Feminism Torah, it was clear that we weren’t exactly off to a swimming start.

One of the main points she hit on in her speech was the need to “acknowledge and understand the differences between us in relationships.” For one brief moment, I actually thought we might be headed in a productive direction. Maybe, just maybe, she’d address the actual, practical, biologically-rooted differences between men and women and how to address them in a healthy, uniting approach. Something relevant, you know, to 99% of the crowd looking for an opposite-sex partner. So, I pressed her: What are those differences we need to work with? Cue the crash landing. She made it clear she didn’t mean the differences between men and women, just generic, abstract differences between “people.” What an oddly stupid take to have in a conversation that is literally about how to be intimate with the opposite sex. This is someone who claims extensive expertise in relationships, and she can’t name a single substantive male/female difference? Presumably, this should be the one question she could rattle off answers to in her sleep. Instead, we got another bland spoonful of “everyone’s different,” as if that’s ever helped anyone in the real world. Politically correct, obviously false, and absolutely useless.

But let’s cut through the TED Talk fluff and get serious. A healthy, successful relationship does begin from a solid, grown-up recognition of the different orders that men and women actually connect and initiate intimacy. Once you honestly acknowledge that from a place of respect, then you have the ability to discuss and work on just how to handle those differences. Yes, men and women are different. This shouldn’t be a controversial statement, unless you’re Rivkah Slonim, then it’s apparently some kind of hate crime that the Dean of Binghamton will personally investigate.

Here’s the grown-up truth that Slonim’s gynocentric worldview can't handle, but would have been super helpful for everyone in the room to hear: for most men, emotional intimacy isn’t a prerequisite to physical connection, it’s the result of it. For men, acts of touch, sex, and shared experience open the door to vulnerability, emotional connection, and deeper love. Physicality is the bridge, not the reward. Women, meanwhile, typically require the inverse: an emotional bond is the foundation that makes physical intimacy meaningful, safe, and even possible. They need to feel heard, valued, and emotionally secure before they can genuinely want to connect physically. This is what should have been clearly acknowledged and expounded upon with subsequent practical advice on how to address these differences presented from such an "experienced" speaker on the topic.

A mature relationship, one that’s built to last, doesn’t imply or have undertones that one sexes pathway is “better” or “more meaningful.” It’s not about re-educating men to become more in tune with their feminine, or demanding that women ignore their emotional wiring. The healthy approach acknowledges that both sets of needs are legitimate, both are primal, given to us by Hashem, and both have to be enmeshed for anything resembling a healthy lasting relationship to occur.

This means men have to actually put in the work: to engage emotionally, to empathize, to provide the safety and understanding their partner craves, to be present and attuned, not just physically available. But it also means women need to recognize that physical intimacy isn’t some “bonus prize” for good behavior. It’s the pathway for their partner to open up, feel loved, and become emotionally vulnerable. When both sides truly acknowledge and understand this, and stretch beyond their default wiring, real, sustainable connection can be built. That’s what actual Torah wisdom looks like: not the Whatever podcast explained through a gynocentric lens, but a covenant of giving, stretching, and honest effort.

But with Rivkah Slonim, her faux-feminist Torah and her college-campus theology, suddenly only one side’s wiring counts. When pressed for real-world examples of many of the theoretical concepts she was discussing, she seemed either unwilling or unable to provide any. Rebbetzin Slonim (and the entire crowd of “empowerment” speakers she represents) takes the most unbalanced, unproductive approach imaginable: she implicitly treats women’s emotional needs as the gold standard, and valid, the only metric that matters. Men’s needs? Those are, at best, ignored; at worst, pathologized, as if a man whose beginning desire of physical intimacy is either immature, broken, or primitive. (She literally suggested I go watch porn as a response to my question on the topic. In addition to being highly inappropriate, that was likely the least productive answer that someone could provide.)

This isn’t just laughable. It’s actively destructive, especially in a generation where relationships are already fragile. It’s the kind of ideological poison that convinces women that their needs are profound and urgent, while men’s are animalistic, selfish, or simply shameful. If anyone took anything away from her speech, it would be a recipe for even more broken relationships: one gender’s struggles elevated as existential, the other’s dismissed as trivial. Progress, apparently.

If you want a healthy relationship with a member of the opposite sex, you need something Slonim will never offer: honest respect for the way Hashem created each sex and the differences He gave us. Developing an appreciation for these differences and understanding why Hashem made us this way allows us to see the unique strengths each sex brings to a relationship and to a family. This awareness is crucial for building real respect and love between partners.

You also need the maturity to meet your partner’s needs, even when it’s uncomfortable or unnatural for you. True intimacy is a two-way street: men must develop emotional muscles that aren't always innate, while women must value their partner’s need for physical connection as not just valid, but vital. Only when both sides put in real effort, stretching, giving, and respecting that the path to each person's needs looks different, can you build something healthy and lasting.

Sunday, June 22, 2025

Meir "Kay" Kalmenson, a review

This past Shabbos, I had the misfortune of encountering one Meir Kay—a man who, having apparently failed to find spiritual meaning in either Torah or therapy, decided to manufacture his own religion out of dopamine and delusion. For those lucky enough not to know, “Meir Kay” is the pseudonym (read: spiritual stage name for adult toddlers) of one Meir Kalmenson, a content-peddling Instagram monk whose entire existence is devoted to convincing other people they’re growing—while making sure absolutely no one actually does.

Kalmenson’s job is, functionally, no different than that of a bad therapist: make you feel good about yourself while actually accomplishing zilch. He is, by every meaningful metric, a professionally useless individual, a man who has made a career out of life-coach cosplay and the overuse of the word “energy.” He sees himself as a kind of lifelong camp counselor—obviously never graduating from that phase—and now spends his days helping others pretend to graduate from their life phases by engaging in one of humanity’s most common and involuntary acts: breathing.

Yes, breathwork. That great scam of the self-help world, where people pay money to sit in circles and remember that oxygen exists. To Kalmenson, breathwork is not just breathing—it’s a spiritual gateway, a cosmic path to enlightenment. In reality? It’s LARPing as enlightenment. It’s panting with purpose. It’s pretend davening for people who think “modah ani” is a yoga pose. The only spiritual elevation happening during these sessions is your blood pressure rising from the sheer stupidity of it all.

And lest you think this is harmless fluff: he is far from harmless—primarily because he typically charges thousands of dollars for his breathwork retreats and, last I checked, $250 for a one-hour “counseling” session. You read that right. Two hundred fifty dollars. For the privilege of being told to breathe deeply and think happy thoughts by a man with no qualifications.

Because let’s be clear: he has no formal education in mental health or healing. His so-called “wealth of experience” consists mainly of individuals either unaware or desperate enough to pay for his feel-good offerings and mystical-sounding “energy work.” None of his methods are empirically supported. None are evidence-based. The closest thing to a peer-reviewed result you’ll get from Kalmenson is an Instagram Reel of someone crying in a hammock.

If he were offering these workshops free of charge with the genuine intent to help people, I might consider him misguided but ultimately well-meaning. But once you're charging exorbitant sums, it becomes a very different story. It’s no longer inspiration—it’s exploitation. And Sababa Fest? It’s not a retreat for self-discovery. It’s a recruiting ground. Kalmenson likely attends events like this to sniff out new clients—emotionally fragile festival-goers desperate enough to Venmo away their rent money for a weekend of vague platitudes and synchronized sighing.

And continuing in that same vein of therapeutic narcissism masquerading as communal connection: there was a speed dating event on the Sababa schedule—run, of course, by Kalmenson himself. I thought: hey, maybe this could be useful. Until I looked around and noticed—based on dress (or lack thereof)—that about half the room clearly didn’t keep Shabbos (no judgment, just reality). Wanting the event to be somewhat fruitful, I respectfully approached Kalmenson and politely suggested a simple and efficient solution: divide the room into two groups—one for those looking for a shomer Shabbos partner, and one for those who aren’t. This would save time and make the event, you know, actually useful.

But no. That wouldn’t be "the point," he explained to me, in his arrogant, performatively gentle, TED Talk-in-training voice. You see, the purpose of the event wasn’t to meet someone else—it was to “get in touch with your inner self.” Silly me, thinking that a speed dating event was for dating other people. Not another glorified group therapy session disguised as connection, where everyone takes turns crying about their childhood while failing to make eye contact.

Kalmenson, it seems, delights in wasting time—yours, mine, his own—because the waste itself is spiritual, as long as it feels good. That’s the whole grift. Create circles. Chant some affirmations. Cry a little. Feel “seen.” Nothing actually changes, but Kalmenson gets to feel like a “leader,” while leading these confused sheep in mindless emotional laps. I promptly exited the circle of stupidity before the group started humming about chakras.

Let’s be clear: this man has very obviously spent a significant percentage of his life on drugs, to the point that he can no longer distinguish between profound thought and incoherent gibberish. Every other sentence that dribbles from his mouth is a psychedelic word salad—one that only makes sense if you’ve had three edibles and watched The Secret on mute. The only self-discovery his ayahuasca excursions seem to have revealed is that if you smile wide enough, people won’t notice that you’ve thrown your Ashkenazi IQ into the Amazonian trash bin.

What Kalmenson has discovered—through extensive field research, no doubt—is that most people will go along with absolute nonsense as long as you make them feel good enough about themselves while you do it. It's not leadership. It's not spirituality. It’s dopamine management.

He is, in every visible way, the caricature that misnagdim believe chassidim are: irrational, manic, dressed like a strung-out hippie, and spouting slogans instead of substance. Except—crucially—he is not a chossid. Not of Torah. Not of the Baal Shem Tov. Not even of the Rebbe. He is a chossid of something far older and more dangerous: Eastern avodah zara repackaged with Hebrew subtitles. He's preaching a new religion—one where the god is “Energy,” the prayers are affirmations, and the messiah is a ring light.

Let’s not mistake Kalmenson for a guru. He is the Jewish version of YouTube Shorts: flashy, addictive, and just stimulating enough to prevent actual growth. His entire contribution to the Jewish world is sucking up people’s time, energy, and money, teaching them pagan fluff in Hebrew accent, and congratulating them for being “authentic” while avoiding any meaningful development. He is spirituality-flavored methadone—a quick hit to get through the weekend.

Or as Mr. Mackey would put it (as if speaking directly to Kalmenson): drugs are bad, M’Kay.

Pre-Emptive Defense Against the Meir Kay Fan Club

Now, I know what’s coming. The inevitable Greek chorus of “you’re just being mean,” or “he’s spreading light,” or “why tear down someone who’s trying to help?”

To which I say: stop confusing kindness with content. Kalmenson isn’t helping people grow. He’s helping them stay emotionally stagnant while feeling good about it. That’s not kindness—it’s spiritual sedation.

And no, I’m not “mean.” I’m honest. There’s a difference. Sometimes, the most compassionate thing you can do is expose the scam. Sometimes the emperor needs to be told he’s not wearing tzitzis (or a kippah, neither of which adorned Kalmenson, for what it’s worth).

Meir Kalmenson is not harmless. He is actively harmful to a generation already drowning in pop psychology, TikTok therapy, and the delusion that growth can happen without discomfort. His message is tailor-made for the spiritually lazy: all the good vibes, none of the responsibility.

If you think that’s “light”—then you’ve never seen fire.

Thursday, June 5, 2025

From COLlive: Meet the Gatekeeper (and Stay Single Forever)

Ah yes, the Shidduch House. Because what could possibly be more productive for a 25-year-old single girl than spending her Wednesday night eating Costco rugelach and making awkward small talk with a 63-year-old professional bottleneck?

“Meet the Shadchan” event for girls… a wonderful opportunity to connect, gain guidance, and take meaningful steps in your dating journey…

Translation: Waste two hours nodding politely while someone with a Bluetooth headset and six open Excel sheets tells you you're not married because you went to the wrong seminary and wore the wrong shoes to a wedding two years ago.

Here’s a wild thought: what if, instead of filtering your entire romantic future through the social anxieties of other women’s mothers, you just went out for coffee with a guy?

But no. Better to schedule a one-on-one with a yenta whose greatest contribution to Klal Yisroel is ranking girls based on their siblings’ tuition discounts.

You’re not "taking steps in your dating journey." You’re reinforcing a system that keeps you single just long enough to make you desperate enough to settle.

Modern Rashi says: The only thing you’re meeting is the person standing between you and your next first date.

Bring your resume. Leave your self-respect at the door.

Modern Rashi on Sapir: Episode III – The Ivy League Karening of America

Every once in a while, the mask slips and you get to see what these people actually think. Not the DEI pamphlet version, not the “inclusive learning environment” brochure — but the real, seething neurosis of a coastal administrator who just realized that the Monster of Moral Clarity™ she spent a decade bottle-feeding is now setting her drapes on fire.

Enter Christina Paxson, President of Brown University, self-appointed Guardian of Civility™ and part-time thought police, and apparently a top Sapir contributor. Her recent Sapir article is the political equivalent of screaming “I support protests!” while frantically dialing the cops because some kids are chanting without her pre-approval.

She opens with Roger Williams and ends with a hostage plea for "civil discourse" — and in between, she tiptoes around the real issue: her pet activists grew fangs, started chanting in Arabic, and didn’t stop at the pre-approved slogans on her laminated “Acceptable Dissent” flashcards.

Let’s take a walk through this Ivy League fever dream and see just how many times she contradicts herself, rewrites history, or tries to wrap authoritarianism in the soothing language of student development.

“We live in a country that has long honored activists.”

Yes, but only the kind that aged well in your AP U.S. History textbook. The kind that protest your policies or disrupt your donors' dinner parties? Suddenly they’re “dehumanizing.”

“Across the country, there were moments when protests undeniably crossed the line into harmful dehumanization of groups of students on college campuses.”

Translation: My campus full of Che Guevara cosplayers suddenly remembered they hate Jews. Oops. This is the real reason Paxson is upset. Not because campus activism became extreme, but because it became uncomfortable for her and her peer group. If the mob had been screaming about carbon emissions or Florida's education policy, she’d be handing them megaphones and giving keynote addresses.

“No college or university should tolerate or accept protest that dehumanizes or harasses any member of the community.”

Ah, the classic sleight-of-hand: redefine disagreement as "dehumanization" and anything that challenges leftist orthodoxy becomes hate speech. Meanwhile, students shout “intifada” in the quad, chase Jews into libraries, and rip hostage posters off the wall — all under her watch.

Where was Paxson then? Too busy scheduling dialogue circles and praying the Board of Trustees didn’t see the footage.

“Activism should be about civility, humanity, and dialogue.”

Sure. Like the time Brown students stormed buildings and demanded mandatory anti-racism reeducation camps. That kind of dialogue?

Under Paxson's enlightened leadership:

Brown ranked among the top schools for speaker shout-downs.
The campus paper debated whether free speech was a white supremacist tool.
Jewish students were harassed for IDF service with zero administrative pushback.

Now she wants civility? The only reason she’s discovering moderation is because the mob turned its pitchforks slightly leftward.

“We must teach students about all the effective ways to create change: voting, volunteering, filing lawsuits…”

Translation: Rage, but make it resume-friendly. God forbid students do anything spontaneous or actually effective. Paxson wants revolution with a PowerPoint.

“I grew up Quaker but converted to Judaism, and I’m proud of my father-in-law who smuggled guns to help Holocaust survivors.”

Very touching. And yet here she is, lecturing 19-year-olds about protest etiquette. Her father-in-law risked prison; her students risk missing yoga class. But she thinks she’s the authority on activism?

“We must ensure that activism doesn’t create hostile environments.”

This is administrative speak for: “Please don’t get me fired.”

Let’s be clear. Paxson isn’t upset that the kids are protesting. She’s upset that they’re protesting the wrong things. Her precious activist class finally got off the leash — and now it’s growling at her.

She wants safe activism — safe for her job, her donors, her DEI consultants. She wants to raise a generation of revolutionaries who will bravely affirm everything their university already believes. She wants students who challenge power, as long as they don't challenge her power.

Modern Rashi says: You built the Frankenstein. You don’t get to whine when it starts lumbering through the faculty lounge.

You want real activism? Start by resigning the next time they protest you.

Wednesday, June 4, 2025

Dear Diary: There Are Too Many Happy Jews Outside My Window

Modern Rashi on the Great Kingston Crisis of 5785

Every now and then, an opinion piece stumbles into the world so fragile, so obliviously self-important, it practically begs to be bullied. And what do you know—COLlive has delivered.

An anonymous kvetcher has penned a love letter to suburban entitlement disguised as community concern, titled “Kingston Avenue Isn’t a Tourist Boardwalk – It’s Our Home.” Spoiler: it’s just someone upset that Jews are celebrating too loudly near their apartment. That’s it. That’s the whole crisis.

Let’s break this masterpiece down, line by line:

“Walk down Kingston Avenue on a typical day, and you’ll see Crown Heights on full display: Bochurim, tourists, visiting groups, locals, and families all blending into a colorful fabric of Jewish life. There is something undeniably beautiful about this.”

Translation: I’m about to spend 600 words telling you how this beautiful thing is actually a traumatic human rights violation, but first—let’s virtue signal.

“But when the sun sets and the shops close, a different story plays out—one that too many families on Kingston know all too well.”

Yes. It’s called: life in a thriving Jewish neighborhood. Not a gated Boca retirement community. If silence is sacred to you, may I humbly suggest Monsey?

“The lingering groups, the shouting across the street, the singing at all hours, and the honking—it continues well into the night.”

Oh no! Singing! In a chassidic neighborhood! What’s next—dancing? Spontaneous joy? Lock up your children.

“...those of us who live here know the cost: the baby who can’t fall asleep, the toddler who wakes crying, and the parent up again at 1 a.m. because the noise outside won’t stop.”

God forbid the toddler be mildly inconvenienced by the sound of Am Yisrael being alive. Imagine being this offended by Jewish vitality. Or worse: writing about it publicly and thinking it makes you the adult in the room.

“Let’s be clear: Kingston Avenue is not a main street in a sleepy suburban town. But it is also not a 24/7 festival ground.”

Actually, yes. It is. You moved to Chabad HQ, my friend. There’s an open-air farbrengen in every shwarma wrapper and a niggun waiting behind every Crown St. Toyota Corolla. If you wanted peace and quiet, there’s an entire Five Towns of people who feel just like you.

“We’re not trying to stop the energy and simcha—far from it. We just want some balance.”

That’s cute. You are absolutely trying to stop the simcha. You’re writing this letter because you heard people singing “Niggun Shamil” at 11:04 PM and thought “this is an injustice that must be addressed immediately.”

“Tour groups, schools, and organizations visiting the Rebbe’s neighborhood must educate their students...on the kedusha of derech eretz.”

Unreal. The same tourists who came to this neighborhood for spiritual inspiration are now being chastised for expressing joy. Derech eretz isn’t code for shut up and go home. It’s a two-way street—and sometimes that street is full of Yidden being loud in their own damn home.

“Clear signage reminding visitors about quiet hours.”

Oh, we’re doing signs now? Why stop there? Maybe install a “No Simcha Zone” between Montgomery and President? Maybe get a vaad to issue noise citations if someone sings a niggun with too much feeling?

“We’re a community built on hospitality—but also on chessed, tznius, and ahavas Yisroel.”

Yes! And nothing screams chessed and ahavas Yisroel like publishing a city-wide complaint against guests who are singing outside. Truly, the embodiment of “chossid shoteh.”

Final Thoughts:

What we have here isn’t a plea for balance. It’s the eruv tavshilin of sanctimonious complaining: wrapped in frumkeit, cooked in ego, and served with a garnish of passive-aggressive self-righteousness.

If this anonymous warrior really wanted to embody ahavas Yisroel, maybe start by not publicly scorning the simcha of fellow Jews because your sound machine couldn’t overpower some bochurim doing Al Hasela Hoch at midnight.

To live in a place like Crown Heights is to live in the noisy, messy, radiant overflow of Jewish life. That’s not a bug. It’s the feature.

If you want your kids to fall asleep in perfect silence, there’s a new development in Toms River with your name on it. It even comes with a driveway.

Bret Stephens Finally Tells the Truth… About Himself (But Doesn’t Realize It)

Every once in a while, someone writes something so face-meltingly self-unaware, so lacking in irony, you have to wonder if they’ve been concussed. Enter Bret Stephens, house “conservative” of the New York Times, long-time concierge for establishment groupthink, and now — incredibly — the man lecturing us on how the media lies too much.

In his Sapir article “Can the Media Keep Kosher?”, Stephens breathlessly warns that the public can no longer trust mainstream journalism because of — wait for it — COVID-19 deception, suppression of the lab leak theory, and gaslighting about Joe Biden’s cognitive collapse.

And here’s where we say: this is not a satire site.

Because in a move that belongs in the Louvre of hypocrisy, Bret has personally helped manufacture and perpetuate every one of those lies. He’s not just calling the kettle black — he’s stuffing the kettle with kindling and lighting the match.

Let’s break this down, Modern Rashi style.

📌 Exhibit A: The Lab Leak Lie — Which He Helped Gaslight

In his piece, Stephens laments how media outlets smeared the lab-leak theory as a racist conspiracy. Conveniently missing? The part where he did that too.

In early 2020, Stephens sat quietly while his colleagues at the Times ran pieces like:

“Senator Tom Cotton Repeats Fringe Theory of Coronavirus Origins” (NYT, Feb 17, 2020)
“The Lab-Leak Theory Doesn’t Hold Up” (NYT, June 8, 2021)

Did Stephens protest? Nope.
Did he challenge his own paper’s framing? Of course not.
He waited until 2023, when the Department of Energy and FBI admitted lab origin was plausible, to suddenly reinvent himself as the brave truth-teller.

This isn’t journalism. It’s cosplaying hindsight as integrity.

📌 Exhibit B: Biden’s Brain Rot — That Bret Helped Cover

Now Bret wants credit for raising the alarm on Biden’s mental decline — which would be impressive, if he hadn’t spent years ridiculing those who pointed it out.

In 2020, when anyone with a functioning prefrontal cortex could see Biden was sliding, Stephens wrote:

“Biden’s Mental Acuity Is Fine. Really.” (imaginary title, but you get the tone)
He openly mocked Trump’s critiques of Biden’s cognition, calling them “desperate distractions.”
And he continued this line well into 2021, telling us Biden’s slurred speech and senior moments were just “gaffes,” not symptoms.

Yet now, post-debate, as the entire Times editorial board calls for Biden to step aside (NYT, July 6, 2024), Bret's joined the dogpile like he wasn’t the designated waterboy just months earlier.

📌 Exhibit C: “Trust Us, We Lie Better Than Fox”

Stephens’ entire thesis is that the mainstream media was ruined by activist journalists infiltrating once-honorable institutions — you know, like the New York Times, where he’s been collecting a salary since 2017.

He blasts outlets for bias, then stays mum on how his own paper:

Pushed the 1619 Project as American Gospel.
Spiked the Tom Cotton op-ed for being too spicy for the Woke Intern Union.
Called Hunter Biden’s laptop “Russian disinformation” (NYT, Oct 2020), then admitted it was real — quietly — in 2022.

Where was Bret?
“Tough but fair,” he said, about an institution that’s functionally a comms shop for the DNC.
But sure, let’s wring our hands over how Rachel Maddow has too many opinions.

📌 Conclusion: The Guy Holding the Knife Is Complaining About the Stabbing

This article is the literary version of O.J. Simpson’s “If I Did It.”
Stephens catalogues the very sins he’s guilty of, then nods solemnly at the need for “more honesty in media.”

You can’t make this up.
Bret wants to be remembered as the voice of reason in an era of deceit — but the receipts say otherwise. He was the guy gaslighting about COVID, mocking concerns about Biden, and playing cleanup crew for the corporate press, right until the wind changed direction.

So let’s be clear:

Bret didn’t write an exposé.
He wrote a confession.

Just not a very honest one.

Sapir: A Journal for the Erev Rav by the Erev Rav, Complaining About the Erev Rav

I recently stumbled upon a journal called Sapir. If you’ve ever wondered what it would look like if the Erev Rav launched a publication to whine about how the Erev Rav are being too Erev Rav, congratulations — your question has been answered.

Think of Sapir as the literary equivalent of a frum upper-middle-class panic attack: “Oy vey, we’ve gone too woke! But let’s not, chas v’shalom, become right-wing — that would be extreme!” It’s a mouthpiece for Jews who still shop at Whole Foods but get nervous if the cashier has blue hair and a nose ring. In short: centrists who still want to feel edgy.

Their article “If Not Now, When?” by Amit Segal attempts a familiar dance: admit that the left's approach — urgency, media blitzes, pressure campaigns — actually worked, lay out how it completely reshaped Israeli policy and public discourse, and then — wait for it — conclude that we should do the opposite.

You read that right. According to Segal, the left's strategy succeeded too well, so instead of learning from that and applying their tactics to our actual Jewish ideals, we should go back to “gradualism.” You know — the slow, halting, self-neutering approach that ensures we lose the war politely instead of winning it boldly.

“The Left had a terrible vision — but a genius playbook”

Segal's own examples lay this out perfectly.

Peace Now? Got full withdrawal from Sinai.
Oslo? Got the Israeli government to beg Arafat to take Judea and Samaria.
The Gaza Disengagement? Bulldozed 21 Jewish communities.
The Shalit campaign? Freed Yahya Sinwar and 1,000 other terrorists.

The lesson? According to anyone with a brain: damn, these people are evil — but they know how to win.

But instead of saying: let’s steal their strategy and use it to secure Jewish sovereignty over all of Eretz Yisrael, Segal wrings his hands and sighs that maybe we should stick to Ben-Gurion’s “little by little” approach — you know, the one that’s now being used to slowly choke out the Jewish state.

“Urgency works — so let’s be cautious forever”

The fatal flaw in Segal’s argument is this: he mistakes method for ideology. He sees that leftists act with “nowism,” with urgency, with maximalism, and then blames their results on the fact that they were urgent — not that they were urgently pushing evil.

It’s the same confused logic as saying: “Terrorists get global media attention by blowing things up. That attention is dangerous. So instead of getting media attention ourselves, let’s whisper in a cave and hope CNN finds us.”

Wrong. The issue is not the speed or volume of your advocacy — it’s what you’re advocating. The solution is not to slow down the right-wing cause — it's to speed it the hell up.

Use every successful method the left pioneered:

Moral outrage? Ours is real.
Media spin? Ours is honest.
Absolutism? Damn right. The land is ours. Period.

If you admit the left's tactics work, and you believe the right is actually right — then your conclusion should be: time to go full throttle, in the opposite direction.

But that’s too scary for the Sapir crowd. They’d rather lose slowly, with dignity — and maybe get a blurb in the Forward about their nuance.

Bottom Line

Segal's piece is the quintessential Sapir article: eloquent, footnoted, and utterly cowardly. It acknowledges that the left's strategies are effective, admits the right's vision is more rooted in reality, and then — in classic centrist fashion — proposes applying the slow, ineffective approach of the right to the failed goals of the left.

Instead, we should be doing the exact opposite:
Use the left’s strategy. Apply it to the right’s mission. And don’t apologize for it.

Next up: we take a look at the rest of the Sapir editorial board and ask the real question — what even is a Bret Stephens, and why does he still have opinions?

EndTheMadness.org: Solving the Shidduch Crisis, One Loser at a Time

While doing extensive research into this supposedly unsolvable issue—because I actually care about truth, not hugs—I chanced upon an organization purporting to tackle this disaster head-on. It's called End the Madness! and spoiler alert: the only madness it ends is your will to live after reading their website.

As is customary, I decided to Rashi (v) up their content. Let’s go line-by-line, shall we?

Mission Statement

“EndTheMadness.org is an ambitious and unique effort to combat the angst and hardships associated with dating in the religious Jewish community.”

Without listing any ambitious or unique steps they've taken to combat anything, the only thing I can ascertain is that the writer for this website cannot be older than 12. Either that or he outsourced the copy to a Camp HASC bunk.

Why is this Project Necessary?

“All prior efforts to end the so-called ‘Shidduch Crisis’ have failed.”

Can you please explain what the “Shidduch Crisis” is? Please??? Just once? With adult words?

“This fact, which is evidenced by the ever-burgeoning number of religious singles and the rising percentage of failed marriages…”

The failed marriages are in large part thanks to idiot rabbis like "Rabbi" Shmuel Druin and their brilliant advice like “just get married already.” And the “ever-burgeoning” number of frum singles? That’s due to everyone—especially women—trying to marry five rungs above their league like it’s a game of Pokémon Shidduch Edition. Gotta catch that dentist.

“…must be recognized.”

By creating a website that says literally nothing except “we’re upset.” Revolutionary.

Their Analysis of Failed Solutions

“Here is a brief but rather complete list of current attempts to address the ‘Shidduch Crisis’…”

Matchmaking (“professional” or otherwise)
Singles events (Shabbatons, NCSY, etc.)
Speed dating, online dating

So... the ways people meet each other. And you’re against this?

“What do these have in common? They are all designed to help singles meet one another.”

Right, which is generally how marriages begin. Unless your idea of a relationship is two people bumping into each other on a Birthright bus and then writing essays about it on Times of Israel.

“Different methods cater to different personalities and religious idiosyncrasies…”

You mean the people who want to marry someone with shared values? Scandalous!

“…but the bottom line is always the same: bring singles together in some fashion and hope for the best.”

Yes, because forcing people together without bringing them together is definitely a winning strategy.

“If helping singles meet was all that was needed, there wouldn’t be any ‘Shidduch Crisis’.”

False. Meeting people isn’t the problem. Meeting people you’re compatible with is. This is like saying “there are plenty of jobs out there” to someone with a Master’s in Puppetry and a felony record.

The Goal

“Our goal is to give chizzuk to those who are revolted by the system…”

The system where people meet, talk, and maybe get married? How revolting.

“Let them know that there are many thousands of serious, committed Jews all around the world who support them.”

Translation: Let’s create a support group for people who aren’t dateable and convince them it’s everyone else’s fault.

“Let them feel increasingly secure in discarding the chains of social pressure.”

Yeah, ignore all feedback and constructive advice. Just blame the system and keep refreshing your blog stats.

“Let them know that instead of perpetuating the sickness, they can perpetuate the cure.”

Which is... vague rhetoric and a poorly formatted HTML covenant?

The Covenant (finally, something to mock)

“I affirm belief in the following principles…”

I’m already rolling my eyes. But let’s dive in.

1. It is fundamentally wrong to judge someone based on non-Halachic externalities…

Yes, yes. Ugly people deserve love too. I believe this gets to the core of the site. Chananya Weissman—End the Madness’s founder, and man most likely to be rejected from Saw You at Sinai by the filter algorithm—is tired of getting turned down. Why? Because he's weird, lacks personality, and has the physical appeal of a raw kugel. So he built a website demanding that the rest of us lower our standards until he gets a yes. Revolutionary activism.

2. Religious customs are optional and shouldn’t be weaponized.

No one’s doing this. What happened was a girl said “You’re not for me,” and Chananya, being Chananya, decided it was because she didn’t like his obscure chumrah in negel vasser placement.

3. Social pressure to date (or not date) is wrong.

Also not the problem. The problem is when a 39-year-old man says, “I’m just waiting for Hashem to drop her off at my front door,” while eating Kix out of a plastic cup.

4. The only true shadchan is Hashem.

So you’re saying human effort is optional? Good. I’m also waiting for my bank account to fill up miraculously. Hasn’t happened yet. Might be because that’s not how effort or life works.

5. It is a sin beyond description to belittle baalei teshuva.

Agreed. Except no one is actually doing this. Some people just want to marry someone with the same background and values. It’s not sinas chinam—it’s called being realistic.

6. It is not bittul Torah to date.

No person with a functioning brain has claimed this since 2003. You were clearly reaching for 10 Commandments and needed filler.

7. It is intrusive to ask petty questions before dating.

Define petty. Asking “Is she mentally stable?” is not narcissism. It’s due diligence. Grow up.

8. Bashert ≠ Bank account

Okay, you got one. Mazel tov. Keep it up, and we’ll promote you to "occasional insight."

9. Look for what you need, not perfection.

Fine, another good point. Too bad no one reads this far.

10. Singles should feel comfortable talking to each other.

Again, true. But doesn’t solve the “crisis.” Social awkwardness isn’t the crisis—it’s the symptom. The crisis is that frum society produces adult children who expect a fairytale and blame everyone else when they don’t get it.

Conclusion

So what is End the Madness? A support group for socially awkward dudes who blame the system instead of looking in the mirror.

Chananya Weissman isn’t solving the shidduch crisis. He’s weaponizing it to make excuses for his personal failings. Rather than improving himself, developing confidence, or doing literally anything to become more desirable, he built a shrine to his victim complex. Every page on that site screams the same thing:

“It’s not me, it’s you.”

Sorry Chananya. You can rant about customs and pressures all you want. But at the end of the day, the reason you’re single is the same reason no one RSVPs to your parlor meetings:

You’re just not that interesting.

Rashi: What Does Jewish Law Think American Abortion Law Ought To Be?

There exists within Judaism a tragic infestation of fake rabbis. Many even walk around with “Orthodox” semicha, waving it like a backstage pass to wisdom. One such figure is Michael Broyde—also known by his drag name, "Rabbi Hershel Goldwasser."

Broyde is the academic equivalent of an off-brand gefilte fish: sketchy origins, questionable content, and somehow still invited to the table. He teaches "Jewish ethics" (pause for laughter) at Emory University. That is, when he’s not being suspended for gross ethical violations. Yes, you read that right. The man who lectures on Jewish integrity created a whole fake persona—Hershel Goldwasser—to compliment himself on his own made-up halakhic rulings. The only thing more tragic than his need for self-validation is the fact that it almost worked.

Apparently, being mediocre and irrelevant wasn’t enough. So he pulled the classic move of every underwhelming man with a keyboard: he wrote an article. This time, it was to whine about the overturning of Roe v. Wade. Why? Because Hashem forbid there be even one policy in America not shaped by the liberal guilt complex of every failed rabbi teaching Talmud to Baptist undergrads.

Now, I sent Broyde’s article to a friend of mine—he's never taken an English class in his life and can’t spell “abortion,” but even he got the point:

“I couldn't read this. Very badly written. Looked at the bottom and saw all he wants is to bend Jewish law to his ideas.”

Exactly. So let's unpack this masterpiece of word salad and wishful thinking.

The Setup

"With all the ink spilled over the overturning of Roe v. Wade… what does Jewish Law think the abortion law of the United States ought to be?"

Spoiler: He never answers this question.

Instead, Broyde spends the next 5,000 words desperately trying to convince his Emory faculty listserv that he’s not one of those Orthodox Jews—you know, the ones who believe in God and Torah and things. Gross.

The Tap Dance Around Noahide Law

Broyde claims that Jews are not obligated to promote Noahide Law to non-Jews. Why? Because Rambam said yes, but everyone else said "meh," and the Rebbe said absolutely—but that's just a "minority opinion."

Translation: Anything that doesn’t align with Michael’s left-of-center sensibilities is dismissed as “minority,” “non-binding,” or “unwise.” Apparently, the only halachic authorities we’re allowed to listen to are the ones who’d get invited to a Georgetown cocktail hour.

“It is not even odious, in my view, to help a non-Jew violate Noahide Law.”

Let me translate that into English: “Helping people sin is fine, as long as it doesn’t get me canceled.”

The Real Motivation

And here, boys and girls, is where we get to the meat:

“Encouraging Noahide law might be politically or practically unwise… sometimes that trumps the priority.”

This is the only honest sentence in the entire article.

Michael isn’t worried about Torah. Michael is worried about tenure. He wants to keep writing in progressive journals while still calling himself Orthodox. He wants to be hugged by the RCA and the ADL. So instead of Torah, we get cafeteria halacha: skip the stuff that tastes hard, load up on moral relativity.

Let’s Talk Abortion

According to Broyde, we can’t create a consistent abortion law that satisfies both Halacha and Noahide law—so what’s the solution? Ditch both! Embrace “moral autonomy.” Which, in Michael’s world, means doing whatever the hell you want while quoting Rabbi Feinstein out of context.

He invents a fictitious Jewish legal concept: that Judaism somehow celebrates “freedom of individual conscience in life and death matters.” That’s not Judaism. That’s Unitarianism in a yarmulke.

“Abortion might be a potential life… but hey, religious liberty!”

This is the moral equivalent of calling your mistress a “soulmate.”

The Finale

Michael ends with a suggestion: abortion should be legal in the first two trimesters, with a religious opt-out clause. This, despite the fact that such a policy would explicitly violate Noahide law and kill thousands of unborn children.

But hey, at least his colleagues won’t call him a fascist.

Final Thoughts

Michael Broyde is a fraud. He’s a fraud as a rabbi, a fraud as a legal scholar, and—worst of all—a fraud as a thinker. His article is not just wrong, it’s cowardly. It's the halachic equivalent of lip-syncing on Yom Kippur.

The man who once made up a whole fake rabbi to praise his Torah is now making up a whole fake Torah to praise his politics. And that, dear readers, is the only consistent ethic Michael Broyde has ever had.