So I figure that Jason’s baseball game was in April 1981 (Baseball is a spring sport but April can still be kinda cold, hence Trina’s long sleeves and Mendel’s sweater). If we assume that Marvin and Whizzer got together again THAT DAY, they would be a couple during Passover, because Passover was late that year. So the TKF was all together! Yay!
Marvin, Trina and Mendel all argue over what haggadah to use. Marvin’s family has used the Maxwell House Haggadah for years, Trina’s parents always had to wing it because her father is Ashkenazi and her mother is Sephardi and they compromised by creating their own haggadah together but Trina doesn’t want to go all the way out to Westchester to get copies of it, and Mendel wrote a version of the haggadah with the Jewish student union at Columbia when he was an undergrad and it’s full of typos and Whizzer is like “what is this hippie shit?” and Mendel’s like “oh, please, your mother’s name is Mary Kate Catherine McCatholic, don’t come after me about my haggadah.”
They decide to compromise: they’ll use Mendel’s haggadah, they’ll serve the foods that Trina’s family had at their seders when she was growing up, and Marvin gets to read all his favorite parts.
Cordelia is super interested in all things Jewish, and asks Jason a ton of questions about the holiday. Because Jason’s still studying for his bar mitzvah at this point, he’s in hardcore Jewish Mode and tries his best to answer the questions so he can tell Trina he’s doing something Jewish but still avoid having to learn his Torah portion. Cordelia finds out that it’s another one of those “they tried to kill us, we survived, let’s eat” holidays and offers to help Trina cook. Because most Passover food is pretty narsty even before Cordelia’s influence, Trina doesn’t notice how atrocious Cordelia’s attempt at Jewish cuisine is until after the holiday, which is why Trina hires her for the bar mitzvah.
Trina and Marvin also argue about matzah ball soup. Marvin likes his matzah balls light and fluffy, Mendel and Trina like theirs heavy and dense, Jason prefers to have multiple small matzah balls that he can launch across the room with a spoon into the dog’s mouth, and Charlotte is very confused by the idea of matzah balls in general.
Charlotte has a bunch of medical books and Jason decides it’s appropriate to show everyone what boils look like when they get to the “Plagues” part of the seder. Nobody wants to eat after that.
Whizzer makes a lot of constipation jokes. He is in charge of dessert and brings those gross kosher-for-Passover rainbow cookies, and Marvin’s like “that’s too gay, even for me,” and Jason refuses to eat them after Trina tells him that they won’t make his poop rainbow.
Jason is in charge of the after dinner entertainment. He subjects all six of his parents to a two hour long stuffed-animal reenactment of the Exodus story, complete with musical numbers. At the end, he gives out autographed copies of the script and it is revealed that he and Whizzer have been working on it together for six months over the phone (Jason dictates because Whizzer is a much faster typer).
The dog finds the afikomen before Jason does. Jason’s not even mad because the image of the dog running around with a big sheet of matzah in his mouth is so funny. It’s less funny when the dog tries to bury the matzah in Jason’s bed and Jason spends the next three months finding crumbs everywhere.
Charlotte has a lot of Jewish friends, but this is the first seder that she’s been to and she reads everything as it’s written, figuring that any typos she sees are just Hebrew words she doesn’t know. Marvin has to correct her and be like “no, that’s a typo, it’s ‘boils,’ not 'bolis,’ and that’s salt water, not 'slat water,’ Mendel’s just a sloppy typer.”
Whizzer smiles through the whole seder, and Jason’s happy because he thinks it’s because Whizzer and Marvin are back together, but really Whizzer is just trying to hold back laughter at the various ways Cordelia pronounces “Charoset.”
Jason is sick of always having to be the one reciting the four questions, so Cordelia asks if there’s anything she could do to make it better for him. He says yes, and that’s why she beatboxes while he recites them.
Charlotte reads Ms. Magazine and passes her old copies on to Trina. Trina discovers a “Women’s Haggadah” in a 1976 issue and decides that she’ll have a “lady seder” one year if she and Mendel have a daughter together (my headcanon is that they eventually have several).
Happy birthday to Barbara Kruger! Kruger began her career in the late 1970s as a graphic designer and quickly gained recognition in the art world for her signature style of photo-based images overlaid with blocks of text in black, white, and red. The visual strategies she borrowed from the mass media later returned to their sources on covers she created for magazines such as Newsweek, Esquire, and, here, Ms. magazine.
[Barbara Kruger. Rage + Women = Power, cover for Ms. magazine. January/February 1992]
Astoria Greengrass for Bewitching Fashion Magazine
Ms. Greengrass is one of forty-seven inductees into the Metal Charmers Guild known as the Class of 2021. Her sister Daphne Greengrass was among the Class of 2008 and is one of the five nominees selected to create the golden snitch for the 2020 Quidditch World Cup. Enhancing her international portfolio, Astoria is set to design the Quodpot Stadium in Atlanta, GA for the Quodpot National Championships.
Barbara Kruger. Rage + Women = Power, cover for Ms. magazine. January/February 1992 | MoMA
Today is Women’s Equality Day, honoring the day the Nineteenth Amendment was certified into law. Celebrate the power of women with artist Barbara Kruger’s cover for a 1992 election issue of Ms. magazine.
To say Isaac was infatuated would be an understatement, that is, if you asked his roommates. He had at least ten Forbes magazines with Ms. Y/L/N printed on the cover. He followed your rise to fame near religiously, and had interviewed you once or twice for a school paper. That’s why, when your secretary paged your office, announcing that a Mr. Lahey had requested an interview for his semester paper for his journalism class, your lips twitched upwards into a smirk, more than willing to oblige. You leaned forward, pressing the small black button on the intercom, “Schedule a meeting for a five o’clock dinner at my estate this Saturday,” your voice was calm and even as you spoke. “Yes, ma’am,”a sweet voice chirped from the device. You sat back, legs crossed, and hands clasped beneath your chin.
Isaac Lahey had always piqued your interest.
He walked around with this faux confidence, a smirk always plastered to those pink lips. Since the moment you saw him, you felt the need to crawl under his facade. The quiver in his voice when he’d first stepped into your office hadn’t gone unnoticed, and you itched to hear it again, to be calling out to you. Unbeknownst to your colleagues, you had a dark side. It was no secret you craved control in all aspects of your life, the bedroom being no different. Your latest craving being to control Isaac Lahey; to make him writhe, and moan, and ache to feel your touch. Oh yes, you were going to get what you wanted, as always.
I asked several women to talk with me. They refused even to
look at me. Whoever managed them disciplined them well. They
were a wall of silence. Finally I approached a man sitting on an
aisle. I said that I was from Ms. magazine and would like to ask
him some questions. I was wearing overalls and a T-shirt, and a
press pass with Ms. in large inked letters was hanging from my
neck. The man laughed and turned to the woman next to him,
whispered in her ear, she laughed and turned to the woman next to
her and whispered in her ear, she laughed and turned to the
woman next to her and whispered in her ear, and so on down the
row of delegates. The man did not turn back to me until the identification
had been passed to the end of the line. Some of the women
had not laughed; they had gasped.
I asked the man why he was at the conference. He said that his
wife had wanted him to be there to protect women’s right to procreate
and to have a family. I asked him if he was a member of the
Klan. He claimed high office in the organization. He talked about
the Klan’s militant role in protecting women from all kinds. He
himself was physically rather slight, not particularly tall, wore
glasses; I suspected I was physically stronger than he was. Many
times during the interview I realized that it would take a white
sheet and all that that white sheet symbolized to hide this man’s
own physical vulnerability to attack. He himself was nondescript;
the Klan was not. When I recognized the fear this man inspired in
me, and measured that fear against his own physical presence, I
felt ashamed: and yet I was still afraid of him. *
He said that women needed the protection of men. He said that
the Klan had sent men to the convention to protect their womenfolk
from the lesbians, who would assault them. He said that it was
necessary to protect women’s right to have families because that
was the key to the stability of the nation. He said that homosexuality
was a Jew sickness. He said that homosexuality was a lust
that threatened to wipe out the family. He said that homosexual
teachers should be found out and run out of any town they were
in. They could all go to Jew New York. Trying to keep up my end
of the conversation, I asked him why he was against homosexual
teachers, especially if their homosexuality was private. He said that
there was no such thing as private homosexuality, that if homosexuals
were in schools, children would be corrupted and tainted and
molested and taught to hate God and the family; homosexuality
would claim the women and the children if they were exposed to
it; its presence at all, even hidden, anywhere, would take people
from family life and put them into sin. His description was almost
voluptuous in that no one, in his estimation, would remain
Are you really saying, I asked slowly and clearly and loudly (so
that the women delegates could continue to overhear the conversation),
that if homosexuality were openly visible as a sexual possibility
or if there were homosexual teachers in schools, everyone
would choose to abandon heterosexuality and the family? Are you
really saying, I asked carefully and clearly and slowly, that homosexuality
is so attractive that no one would choose the heterosexual
family over it? He stared at me, silent, a long time. 1 am afraid of
violence and the Klan, and I was afraid of him. I repeated my
questions. “You’re a Jew, ain’t ya , ” he said and turned away from
me, stared straight ahead. All the women in the row who had been
looking at me also turned away and stared straight ahead in utter
silence. The only woman whose head had been otherwise engaged
had not looked up except once: she had taken one hard stare at me
in the beginning and had then turned back to her work: knitting
blue baby booties, the Klan’s own Madame Defarge; and I could
imagine my name being transferred by the work of those hands
from the press pass on my chest into that baby-blue wool. She sat
next to the Klansman, and she knitted and knitted. Yes, I am a
Jew, I said. I repeated my questions. He memorized my face, then
stared straight ahead.
Right-Wing Women, Andrea Dworkin
*Klan and Nazi groups threatened violence at the convention: we were promised bombings and beatings. Some women were in fact beaten up, others were physically threatened, and the possibility of being hurt was considered both real and immediate by all the conference participants with whom I talked.