Want to learn about the inner workings of the Jewish community? Skip the Pew Report. No need to attend any plenary conference panels. The real action takes place week after week in the letters-to-the-editor section of Jewish publications. Here you’ll find poignant considerations on contemporary Jewish issues, lost raincoats, feedback on controversial editorials, some non-FDA-approved homeopathic suggestions, criticism of an article that was far too progressive, or criticism of an article that was far too restrictive. Regardless of the issue, these letters share something in common — creative pseudonyms. We Jews have serious opinions, but we also have our reputations to uphold. No problem — here are my Top 5 pseudonyms. Feel free to use one.

A Concerned Reader

There are two types of outraged readers in letter sections: A concerned reader and a pained reader. What’s the difference? A concerned reader has serious shittos that the article may have discounted or slighted. Right now it’s just a concern, but — look out! — if those preciously held shittos are outright contradicted, a concerned reader can quickly become pained. The real unspoken concern and pain in Jewish publications, however, is not the reader’s — it’s the editor’s. So, let’s take a moment to appreciate all of the concern, pain, outrage, and umbrage soaked up by our editors. Trust me, given what I try to sneak into this column, I’ve caused enough concern and pain to merit sending Mishpacha’s editor flowers for Shabbos every week.

E. Moskowitz

“That was a really wild letter to the editor you wrote — I can’t believe it got published and honestly I’m surprised you were willing to use your name. It was, how should I say it, interesting…” There’s a dilemma every letter writer faces. On the one hand, if people like your letter, you want them to know it’s you. On the other hand, if your letter basically reveals that you’re a few miles off the reservation, you need plausible deniability. Enter the abbreviated first or last name. “Oh, that letter? You think that was me?! No, no, no, that was Eleanor Moskowitz — she’s from Beit Shemesh.”

Brachakowsky

Here’s the issue. For those in shidduchim, being featured in a magazine section can be risking a red flag that some people are unwilling to take. So, you need a Jewish publication name generator. It’s easy! Just take the first letter of your last name and create a generic first name and then turn your first name into a weirdly concocted last name. Tova Mandelbaum can easily become Moshe Tovstein. This way you can publish your wildest opinions without ruining the surprise during that shidduch date conversation that — guess what!? — not only am I familiar with the letter you’re talking about and hated — I was the one who wrote it!

Generic Signature

Nothing throws off scrutinizing readers trying to find out the identity behind a pseudonym like a super generic name at the end of a letter. So, here’s to all the actual Goldsteins, Berkowitzes, Cohens, and Kleins who have lent their surnames as sobriquets to anxious letter writers in all our publications. It’s surely an unspoken frustration, having such a last name and having to respond to all the queries as to whether you wrote that letter or was it your cousin, but it does protect the identities of quirky letter writer identities throughout the Jewish world. So, to the actual Moshe Cohen, thanks so much for your generosity. Sincerely, Fake Moshe Cohen.

Name Withheld Upon Request

On the bottom floor of a darkened parking garage, someone in a trench coat steps out from the fog and hands the editor a sealed manila envelope containing a furiously written letter regarding the article in Family First about stroller prices. The editor, grasping the envelope, anxiously asks the mysterious trench-coated figure, “What should we call you?” The letter writer, face obscured from the fog, responds in a hushed tone, “They can’t know my name — ever. The information in this letter uncovers something that goes all the way to top.” Name Withheld Upon Request is the Woodward and Bernstein of Jewish letter writers, whether the writer is weighing in on an important social issue or knows who lost that raincoat in last week’s issue of the Neshei weekly. It transforms any letter into a mysterious expose.

(Excerpted from Mishpacha, Issue 743)