Today I Am a Jew -- Ouch!
Circumcision: A Dialogue
By Sam Apple


It has come to my attention that there is a small but growing number of
Jewish men who resent that the foreskins of their penises were removed
without their consent. According to these disgruntled men, their sexual
pleasure has been impaired for life because their parents chose to
participate in an archaic ritual under the commandment of a God in whom
these men had never sworn their allegiance. Some have chosen to undergo a
delicate surgery to recover the tips of their penises. Others are content
hoping that by raising their voices now, future eight-day-old boys will not
suffer the same injustice. After much consideration, I have decided that I
too am against unconsentual circumcision. And so I have decided that when
my son reaches his eighth day, he will be allowed to make the decision for
himself.

Of course, my son, no matter how precocious, cannot be expected to carry on
a dialogue after the first week of his life. And so I have assumed my
future baby boy to be, like his father, a rational agent and taken the
liberty of carrying out the dialogue on his behalf:

Me: Hello, my son.

Son: Papa.

Me: How are you doing, my son? I heard you screaming. Do you need a diaper
change?

Son: I'm OK, Papa.

Me: Something to drink maybe? Apple juice?

Son: Papa, I'm fine.

Me: You sure?

Son: Yes! Stop nagging me, Papa.

Me: Stop nagging you? Eight days old and look at the way he talks to his
father! You know what you grandpa would have done if I had spoken to him
that way?

Son: I'm sorry, Papa.

Me: You know, if you weren't so tiny, I'd give that soft tush of yours a
slap right now.

Son: Papa, I said I was sorry.

Me: Where in the hell did you learn to talk like that? From that big mouth
of your mother's sister I bet.

Son: Papa, don't say mean things about Aunt Rifka.

Me: Why shouldn't I? That crazy lady tried to convince your mother not to
marry me. And to this day I swear she gave me the evil eye at our wedding.
I had to spit three times in the middle of the service to wipe off the curse.

Son: Please, just drop it, Papa.

Me: Drop it? That's it! One more smart thing out of your mouth, and I'm
going to cut off the foreskin of your penis whether you like it or not.

Son: The what?

Me: You know, the tip of your weewee.

Son: Oh....well....go ahead. You're the one who's going to be up all night
with my screaming.

Me: Then it's agreed. Your foreskin will be removed.

Based on this hypothetical dialogue, I have decided that when the time
comes I will circumcise my son. My hope is that later in life he will be
thankful to be a part of the Jewish people. And if he isn't, I'll cut off
the rest of the little jerk's weewee.