A Bupkes Purim story

When you're too drunk to know between good and evil, who's to say whose genocide that was.

Another Purim festival just passed us by, and if you’re wondering why The Bupkes is only getting around to telling the holiday’s story now you clearly don’t understand the holiday’s story. And how could you? The Bupkes was too much in the Purim spirit to tell you about it. What a paradox!

So come closer, dear subscriber, because we’re not getting off the sofa. Please bring the magnesium tablets with you and keep the curtains drawn; the debilitating dizziness is only just starting to wane. No one said a mitzvah wasn’t a headache.

The Bupkes has a special tale to tell you, which involves clever Yids, zero miracles, and definitely no allusions to contemporary experience.

Here comes the whole megillah …

It begins, and ends, in Persia. … Oh, seriously? Persia? A little on the schnoz, don’t you think?

Fine. We’ll roll with it.

OK, Persia. At the time, which was sometime before time was common and in no relation to the more common way of counting time, it was a mighty and sprawling empire. King Ah…