We offered you some of our most ingenious ideas; here we present a few more. Here’s to a peaceful, prosperous Purim!

Last Week

At Ballot Box, we’re all about keeping the peace. So as Purim approaches, our antennae are on high alert for the tension that sometimes erupts between well-meaning bochurim and the decent human beings they wish to transform into philanthropists.

We offered you some of our most ingenious ideas; here we present a few more. Here’s to a peaceful, prosperous Purim!

Clothes Make the Man

It’s a well-kept secret that we bochurim actually don’t love our costumes. Those dashing army fatigues… they lie all year in the yeshivah’s basement, and they smell like it. So while I’m  not a full-blown psychologist yet, I did start a Dale Carnegie book, and here’s what I think.

The hot, stuffy, smelly, ill-fitting costumes are the real cause for our misbehavior. Call it “enclothed cognition” if you will; the undesirability of the clothing negatively affects our own self-perception, resulting in lots of trashed carpets and very stained tablecloths.

And so, to the philanthropists out there looking for new tzedakah opportunities, here’s one to consider. A costume grant. For just a few million dollars, you can have the zechus of allowing bnei Torah to adorn themselves in Purim attire that would simultaneously promote human dignity and self-confidence.

And think about it, you’re not really losing that much money — ultimately, you save on the carpet cleaning.

Hit the Right Notes

I’m just a middle-class computer programmer, but I think my advice is worth real money. The sour faces you’re getting from potential donors? Nothing to do with you. It’s just that your donors are remembering their yeshivah days and the hangovers they suffered after Purim every year. The loud, hoarse, way-off-tune rendition of “Chayiv Inish” triggers deep PTSD.

Unfortunately, once a donor hits an advanced stage of Chayiv Inish Syndrome, it becomes nearly impossible for him to give more than $18. So here’s my humble suggestion. Try singing something as polar opposite to “Chayiv Inish” as possible. Beethoven’s Moonlight Sonata for example. Or Rosenblatt’s “Vehu Rachum.”

I might be wrong, but it’s certainly worth a try.

Carpet Conspiracy

As a longtime researcher of yeshivah bochur culture, I’ve spent many decades writing up various theses on yeshivish trends. My research involved silently observing bochurim on the day after Purim. I felt that this might shed light on some of the perplexing behaviors that had transpired in the previous 24 hours. What I discovered was truly concerning.

One bochur, who was clearly a leader of sorts, slipped out of yeshivah and headed straight to the local carpet cleaning company. He placed his finger in his mouth, let out two short whistles, and was whisked inside a moment later by the owner of the company, who locked the door and shuttered the windows. But they were no match for me. I climbed onto the roof and placed my ear next to the chimney. This is what I heard.

“So, Haim. How many did you get this year?”

“We did well this year, Mr. Nguyen. Eighteen got totally rammed. Another thirty got soiled. Presumably enough for a cleaning.”

“Good, very good,” Mr. Nguyen said, his voice dripping with evil greed. “So how much do I owe you?”

“Well, we discussed a flat fee of twenty bucks per carpet attempt, and a ten percent commission for all jobs that actually come in,” said the bochur-turned-entrepreneur.

“Yes, yes, that’s correct, Haim.” Mr. Nguyen nods eagerly. “That gets you nine hundred and sixty for now, and come back in two weeks to discuss commission. Pleasure doing business with you, Haim!”

And with that, Chaim sprinted back to yeshivah.

Feel free to draw your own conclusions.

(Originally featured in Mishpacha, Issue 951)