Inverted morality

I carefully chose the location of where to compose this latest piece, specifically in a shul, so that I am in an appropriate environment where I will understand and fully appreciate the seriousness of this topic. Most people running around today, even in religious circles, have a severely warped version of morality and hashkafa in the lens that they view the world around them. Much of this is negatively influenced by both Hollywood and Hellenistic ideas introduced by false prophets in our community.

To the question of which one influenced the other is not really a topic that matters. What does matter is correcting this false perception of reality, both in our community and our world at large, so that we may live in a more just and moral world. As it says in Devarim, "Justice, justice shall you pursue" (Deuteronomy 16:20)

Let’s begin with a few examples of the issue and a few ways in which this moral rot has infested us.

One of the most popular movie (and now TV) franchises around today is Star Wars. Most people in the developed world have seen Star Wars content in one medium or another. The premise is popular, it’s filled with action (until Kathleen Kennedy messed it up, at least), and it focuses on a universe not completely different from our own, and still realistic in nature. The world is united by The Force, which is essentially the moral arbiter of the universe, with both the dark and light sides available. Obviously, the light side is good and the dark side is bad, and the implication is that we should accept this version of morality unto ourselves in the real world. Both anger and aggression are dark side emotions. Compassion and serenity are good, light side emotions.

But if we use our oft-neglected brains to actually process the clear subliminal messaging involved here, are anger and aggression actually “bad”? Are compassion and serenity actually required and necessary in all situations? If someone mugs you on the street, are you supposed to thank them and offer bus fare home? Obviously, one who operates with a Just mind would not think this way. You have just been wrongly wronged. When Ari Fuld is murdered, is the appropriate response to feel compassion?

We can clearly learn from Torah, "You shall not stand by [the shedding of] your fellow's blood. I am the Lord." (Leviticus 19:16) What has to be wrong in your head to feel compassion in such a time and situation for anyone but the victims and their families?

Hashem created us with a wide spectrum of emotions and feelings to use with precision, not performance. We are meant to experience different emotions at different times, each in the appropriate situation. If one has a relative that passes away, is that the time to feel joyful? I mean, unless it’s your mother-in-law...

But in general, we were created with emotions to assist us in navigating and processing life. The catch is that they must be used in the correct time and place. We can go back to the wallet example. Experiencing joy or elation is not the appropriate emotion for that moment. Despair, anger, or sadness is. Hashem gave us those tools for a reason.

Regarding October 7th terror attacks, or even the Ari Fuld murder, the healthy and appropriate response is anger, a desire for vengeance, and severe aggression. While false prophet George Lucas has brainwashed the majority of our generation to believe otherwise, that is not morality. Anger is necessary, healthy, and natural in such circumstances. A lack of anger in that context denotes a brain that has clearly gone to mush.

Another pop culture dichotomy I'd like to explore is where doing what is necessary is "bad" and allowing society-demolishing degeneracy to run rampant is a moral “good.” An easy example is when Batman faces off with the Joker, an evil madman intent on killing many innocent people. Batman makes the repeated clear intentional miscalculation that killing the Joker is morally worse than letting the Joker kill more innocents. Why Bob Kane thought this was a good moral message to impose upon the masses is beyond my extensive wisdom. I’m sure he had a really dumb reason for doing so.

This moral psychosis, pushed by those with “good intentions,” where “restraint” is elevated above justice and “compassion” is weaponized to shield the wicked, has infected even religious Jews. The Batman example is just a sanitized metaphor for the actual mindset infecting our communities. When a terrorist is killed, you’ll hear the tortured, mealy-mouthed sermonizing about “the sanctity of life.” As if murdering the murderer is some ethical gray area. As if Hashem didn’t say, “And you shall destroy the evil from among you.” (Deuteronomy 17:7)

Let’s make something clear: mercy for the wicked is cruelty to the righteous. That’s not a new idea. That’s Shmuel killing Agag. That’s Pinchas spearing Zimri. That’s Hashem Himself commanding war against Amalek. But the soy-fed moral philosophers of the modern world would clutch their pearls and sob into their lattes if they read any of that in a Torah scroll. (Spoiler: they wouldn’t read it. Actual Torah makes them feel unsafe.)

So no, “compassion” is not always good. Sometimes it’s a sin. And “anger” is not always bad. Sometimes it’s a mitzvah. The modern avodah zarah is the worship of feelings. Not correct feelings in the correct time, as I laid out above. All feelings. All the time. So long as they’re soft, submissive, and ultimately cowardly. Righteous indignation? That’s violence. Firm standards? That’s judgmental. Intolerance of deviancy? That’s hate. You’re not allowed to hate anything, unless it’s truth, masculinity, or Hashem Himself. Then hate away.

We live in an upside-down world, where weakness is inverted as virtue and strength is castigated as extremism. Speak plainly about justice and you're a zealot. Demand consequences and you're “radical.” But call for “tolerance” of drag shows in Jewish schools and suddenly you’re brave. That is not morality. It’s rot dressed in drag, posturing as the language of virtue.

And if we’re being honest, this isn’t just the fault of Hollywood or Lucasfilm or DC Comics. This is our own fault too. We have let this garbage enter our homes, our yeshivas, our WhatsApp groups. We let our kids worship cowards in capes who let evil win because they’re too enlightened to pull a trigger. We didn’t teach them what true moral clarity looks like. So now they fight genocidal evil with Canva graphics and TikTok tears.

#StopAntisemitism
#NoPlaceForHate
#StrongerThanHate

So what do we do?

We recalibrate, following the guidelines given to us by Hashem when He chose us those many years ago. We reject the black-and-white childish morality of Hollywood, where all violence is bad and all forgiveness is good. We preach and teach the Torah’s model of moral discernment: mercy when earned, justice when necessary, and holy rage when commanded. We teach our sons that there is a time for empathy and a time to go to war. We teach our daughters that a soft heart is only holy when it beats in tandem with a strong spine.

And above all, we remember: morality is not a vibe. It’s not a personality trait. It’s not a genre on Netflix. Morality is allegiance to Hashem’s definitions, not society’s.

This moral paralysis, this fetishization of “restraint” even in the face of evil, is everywhere. The Batman example is cute. But what it actually reflects is disgusting. An entire generation of idiots raised on the doctrine that doing nothing in the face of evil is somehow more noble than eradicating it. The Joker butchers a busload of kids. Batman ties him up gently and sends him to Arkham again, so he can escape next week and kill even more. Why? Because “we don’t kill.”

Yeah? Well maybe you should.

But the comics are just the smoke. The real fire is in the culture. We’ve taken this garbage in and started quoting it like Torah. Mercy, mercy, mercy. No judgment. No violence. No standards. Just endless empathetic hand-wringing while the wicked laugh and build more rockets. Because dealing with those who try their darndest to kill us would make people who already hate us more mad at us for not dying, and that would be really terrible.

And worse, this moral confusion has metastasized into religious circles. That’s the part that should make your skin crawl. We’ve got frum Jews, rabbis, teachers, speakers parroting this Hollywood morality back at us with a pasuk duct-taped to it for effect. “Oh, but we have to be compassionate, even to the sinner.” Do we? Was that Pinchas’ takeaway? Was that Eliyahu’s great act of kiruv on Har HaCarmel when he slaughtered 450 false prophets with a smile? Imagine the statement the ADL would have to issue to clean that mess up. Whew.

Hashem Himself told us how to think about evil. “And you shall destroy the evil from among you.” (Deuteronomy 17:7) “Whoever sheds the blood of man, through man shall his blood be shed.” (Genesis 9:6)

This is not optional. This is not metaphorical. This is Torah. But we’ve replaced Torah with trauma theory and virtue signaling. And now we’re surprised that our kids have no moral compass.

We’ve bought into the lie that morality is about intention instead of outcome. That as long as your heart is full of fluffy feelings and your Instagram posts say “love is love,” you’re righteous. Mottel Lightstone could not be more excited by that idea. But if you raise your voice to actually defend your people, if you demand consequences, if you exhibit actual strength, now suddenly you’re “divisive.” Or worse, you're giving us a “bad look.” And that is the worst aveirah of them all.

Let’s call it what it is: religion for eunuchs.

In Jonathan Sacks’ perverted version of Judaism, we worship restraint. We glorify passivity. We perform moral indecision and call it “depth,” and "ethics." And then we’re shocked when our communities get steamrolled by people who believe in something.

The Torah doesn’t shy away from strength. Moshe Rabbeinu shatters the luchos. Shmuel hacks Agag into pieces. The Maccabees didn’t light a candle and tweet about antisemitism. They pulled their swords and killed the Hellenizers. You want to talk about real morality? It’s not about staying calm. It’s about choosing the right target for your holy wrath.

And don’t get me wrong. There is a time for compassion. That’s why Hashem gave us those emotions. For serenity. For giving someone the benefit of the doubt. But the Torah puts that time after the blood stops flowing. Not while your neighbors are being raped and beheaded. Not while children are kidnapped. Not while evil is still breathing.

Hashem gave you emotions to wield like weapons, not to swaddle like blankies in a breathwork circle.

Anger is for injustice. Compassion is for the worthy. Fear is for Hashem.

But what the world has done, and what we’ve shamefully mimicked, is flatten all emotion into a single, perpetual virtue-signaling smile. Be nice. Stay calm. Don’t fight. Don’t be mean.

To which I say:
You’re not being good. You’re being pathetic.

We have allowed the morality of sitcoms and superhero comics to redefine Torah. We let Disney tell us that loving the enemy is strength, and hating evil is a flaw. We let Netflix frame vengeance as toxic, and spinelessness as piety. And then we wonder why nobody can think straight anymore.

Here’s a radical idea: maybe Hashem knows more about morality than George Lucas.

We need to stop outsourcing our hashkafa to screenwriters, psychologists, and the ADL PR department. We need to teach our children, and remind ourselves, that morality is not softness. It’s not weakness. It’s not neutrality. It is a sword sharpened by truth, wielded with courage, and guided by Hashem.

And sometimes, the moral thing to do is to be angry. Sometimes, it’s to fight. Sometimes, it’s to destroy. Because if you won’t fight evil with strength and clarity and unapologetic fire, then you don’t love good. You just love being liked.

In other words?

You’re Batman.
You let the Joker kill more innocents and you still think you’re the hero.

Rashi: We Are Becoming Increasingly Polarized Over Vaccines

Due to my extensive and hard work on this blog, there are significantly fewer stupid people running their mouths on the interwebs. I had to look back in history a bit to find a good next victim. All I had to do was look back a few pages in the COL op-ed section to find this juicy member of a cult which COL eagerly published. Meet Raphael Aron, someone who couldn't have been happier about Australia's handling of covid. The man runs something called Cult Consulting, yet apparently sees no irony, none at all, in being a full-blown missionary for the Church of Fauci & Pfizer. You’d think someone who claims to spend his days helping people out of manipulative mind-control groups would be just a little more self-aware before writing 1,500 words bowing down to a multinational pharmaceutical-sanctified dogma. But no. Instead, he’s here to sell you salvation by syringe.

We are becoming increasingly polarized over vaccines, he cries, as if that polarization just happened like a weather pattern, rather than being socially engineered by exactly the kind of manipulative top-down messaging machines he pretends to fight against for a living. You’d expect a guy who helps people leave cults to recognize what a cult looks like when every institution, every celebrity rabbi, every government panel is screeching in unison: “OBEY THE DOCTOR. JUST ONE DOCTOR. THE RIGHT KIND OF DOCTOR. OR ELSE.” What he really means by this is that rather than being polarized over this issue, we should all just agree with his perspective on the matter and wallah! No more polarization!

This guy talks like a mind-control victim who thinks he’s the therapist.

“The vaccine-skeptics appear to need a place to belong…”

Oh, so now wanting social support makes you a cult member? Funny, because I seem to remember something about Gateway Family Counselling Centre being a "safe space" for confused people looking for identity. I guess forming communities is fine as long as they worship Raphael's brand of state-approved truth. What he really means when he says this is that we wants us to surrender to his biomedical fascism as accept the truths that his (not) cult pushes.

“They are sharing and promoting a range of conspiracy theories…”

Says the guy quoting the Chabad Central Bais Din of Israel like it’s the CDC. You're really going to call other people cultish while appealing to rabbinic authority in Israel as medical evidence? That’s not halacha, that’s halachic cosplay. You can't just slap a beard and hat on the Pfizer memo and call it Torah. The lack of self-awareness in this man is truly stunning.

And then there's this:

“We again turn to the Rebbe’s unambiguous response to questions about medical issues: 'Follow the doctor’s advice.' Not a Rov, a Mashpia… A doctor.”

Cool. Which doctor? Rochelle Walensky? Joseph Ladapo? Dr. Zelenko? Oh wait, not those doctors. Only the ones approved by Raphael’s gospel. He pulls out the Rebbe like a theological vending machine to validate whatever the current Western medical dogma is, which is basically Reform Judaism with more mRNA.

“If they are following the Rebbe, they need to encourage their communities to seek informed medical advice…”

Except you don’t want informed medical advice. You want conforming medical advice. You want doctors who parrot the party line, not ones who rock the boat. And if a doctor does dissent? Must be a quack. Or worse, a heretic. Paging Cardinal Aron of the Australian Inquisition.

“A hospital in Missouri created a private setting for patients afraid to be seen getting vaccinated.”

Ah yes. Brave rebels in hiding. Getting a vaccine is now the new mitzvah sheb’mesirus nefesh. But flip the roles and you’d be screaming about the unvaccinated being threats to humanity. The only acceptable conscience is the one that aligns with yours. Everyone else is either deluded, dangerous, or dead. Not like a cult at all.

Let’s not gloss over this gem:

“People seeking guidance, the vulnerable, others with mental health issues are becoming confused and perplexed…”

You know what’s confusing? A guy whose job is literally to help people identify coercion and psychological manipulation pushing this kind of one-sided fear-mongering propaganda. How do you call yourself a cult-expert when you parrot every talking point of Big Pharma’s emotional blackmail campaign?

This entire screed reads like someone who has so thoroughly internalized the mainstream narrative that he’s become a one-man moisd, not a consultant on cults, but an enforcer of orthodoxy. A religious zealot with a syringe for a scepter.

“This may appear to be a daunting task but it is the call of the hour…”

Here’s a thought, Raphael: maybe the call of the hour is not to become a mouthpiece for medical authoritarianism. Maybe it’s to help people think critically. Maybe it’s to recognize that a group demanding absolute conformity, punishing dissent, shaming non-believers, and excommunicating heretics might actually be the cult.

But of course, that would require introspection.

And that’s not really Gateway’s strong suit, is it?

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:

1. 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.

2. 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.

3. 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.

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.

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.

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.

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.

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.