For this week’s StoryTime segment on Dave’s Gone By, host Dave Lefkowitz reads Laurie Keller’s “Potato Pants.”
This segment aired April 11, 2026 as part of episode #1028 of the “Dave’s Gone By” video podcast program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz. Full episodes also available on youtube, Facebook (davesgoneby), and on DavesGoneBy.com.
All content (c)2026 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
Highlights of The Greeley Tribune’s weekly Cop Log column, plus odd stories from elsewhere.
This segment aired April 4, 2026 as part of episode #1027 of the “Dave’s Gone By” video podcast program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz. Full episodes also available on youtube, Facebook (davesgoneby), and on DavesGoneBy.com.
All content (c)2026 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
For this week’s StoryTime segment on Dave’s Gone By, Rabbi Sol Solomon reads “Jacob and Bunny: The Magic Easter Bunny Comes to Passover Seder” by Leslie Sandler.
This segment aired April 4, 2026 as part of episode #1026 of the “Dave’s Gone By” video podcast program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz. Full episodes also available on youtube, Facebook (davesgoneby), and on DavesGoneBy.com.
All content (c)2026 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
Rabbi Sol Solomon’s Rabbinical Reflection #206 (4/4/2026): PASSOVER TODAY
This Rabbinical Reflection first aired April 4, 2026 on the Dave’s Gone By video podcast.
Rabbi Sol’s Rabbinical Reflections are heard on the long-running Dave’s Gone By radio/video podcast program (davesgoneby.com) and then archived as text and audio on the Rebbe’s blog, Shalomdammit.com, where a transcript of this Reflection may be read.
Rabbi Sol is also the creator of the stage show, “Shalom Dammit! An Evening with Rabbi Sol Solomon,” which played in NYC in Nov. 2011 and Aug. 2012.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
More on Rabbi Sol: shalomdammit.com
TRANSCRIPT: RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #206 (4/4/2026): Passover Today
(c)2026 David Lefkowitz. aired April 4, 2026 on Dave’s Gone By. Watch:
Shalom, Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon, with a Rabbinical Reflection for Passover 2026.
My friends and acolytes, I hope you are savoring a safe and pleasant Pesach: carbing up on matzoh, guzzling down the Manischewitz, feeling gratitude that however cruddy things are for Jews right now, at least we’re not slaves to Pharaoh in Egpyt. We’re wage slaves to one-percent billionaires, but still, an improvement.
If you were at a Seder this year, you saw all the important symbols of Passover – objects on the table, all representing aspects of our exodus. I would like to recap those, but instead of the typical symbolism explained in the Haggadah, I intend to connect the Seder plate items to our modern situation as Jews today. So pay attention, dammit!
We begin, of course, with the matzoh. This is the unleavened bread our forefathers ate when they were scrambling out of Eretz Mitzrayim because there was no time to make baquettes. Matzahs are flat, ugly, and tasteless – like Billie Eilish. We eat matzah to remind us how afflicted we are by pop stars who anoint themselves as political oracles and then bash Israel while defending murderous, backward Arab regimes. Discouraged? Just remember: in the first part of the seder, we pay much attention to matzah. But then we break it up, it crumbles, and soon it’s forgotten. Are you listening, Chappell Roan? Couple months, no one’s listening to you.
Next on the Seder Plate we have a roasted shankbone, which represents sacrifice, the animal sacrifices our ancestors made to HaShem, and also what they had to give up to wander in the desert for 40 years. Please add to that the sacrifices Israelis are making now to rid the world of Iranian nukes and knuckleheads. Also, the tzuris all Jews are enduring because Israel’s very existence is seen as a colonial catastrophe. The z’roah, therefore, symbolizes the boner that liberals get when they can let their pent-up anti-Semitism loose under the guise of anti-Zionism.
Also on the plate: a egg. Hard-boiled, like Bibi Netanyahu. The beitzah makes us think of birth, growth, renewal. We can also equate the egg with speeches of Bernie Sanders because like an egg, they come out of an asshole.
Next, we have bitter herbs – not to confused with bitter guys named Herb who lose everything in a divorce. No, bitter herbs are sour veggies or horseradish meant to evoke tears for our enslaved antecedents. If, at your Seder, you convince a gentile to eat a spoonful of white horseradish that he has mistaken for pudding, that’s a great way of getting revenge for the Inquisitions, one goy at a time.
But don’t put away the vegetables yet. There’s a spot on the Seder plate for other leafy greens. These are to remind us – well, me — that no matter how much this world makes me want to hide in a corner consuming brisket and Joyva ring jells until I reach a food coma, that would merely delay the issues I must confront eventually. Herbs and flora remind us: first the spinach, then the chocolate lollycones. It’s delayed gratification, which is, let’s face it, the whole fucking history of Judaism.
Speaking of gratification, at last we get to something edible – charoset! It’s a kind of chutney made from apples, cinnamon, nuts, and wine. If you balance the ingredients, it’s unbelievably delicious. If you use too much of one item…it’s still frickin’ delicious, it’s charoset! – which represents the sweetness of freedom. Also, it looks like a hybrid of shit and cement. When we persecute immigrants, legal or otherwise, just because they’re foreign, we’re forgetting that this country was built by these people out of shit and cement: plumbing, sewers, agriculture, and the concrete of roads and buildings. By all means, let’s keep tabs on our migrants, but acknowledge they usually make our lives pretty sweet.
Lastly we get to karpas, or parsley, which is another goddamn vegetable, which makes me pine for brisket even more.
There you have the essential items on the Passover seder plate, a mix of bitter and sweet, hard and soft, smooth and crunchy, eggy and whatever the opposite of eggy is. These foods encompass the contradictions of life and the variety of our Judaic experience. They also remind us that while the goyim celebrate Easter with glazed ham, lamb shanks, and roasted potatoes, we’re eating this crap. No wonder Herb is bitter.
Still, I wish you a peaceful Pesach, with next year in Jerusalem or any place in Israel because it’s ours.
This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches. Kol b’seder.
Dave’s Gone By Skit (3/21/2026): STORYTIME – The Story of Baby Moses
For this week’s StoryTime segment on Dave’s Gone By, Rabbi Sol Solomon reads “The Story of Baby Moses” by Alice Joyce Davidson
This segment aired March 28, 2026 as part of episode #1026 of the “Dave’s Gone By” video podcast program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz. Full episodes also available on youtube, Facebook (davesgoneby), and on DavesGoneBy.com.
All content (c)2026 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
Rabbi Sol Solomon’s Rabbinical Reflection #205 (4/1/2026): APRIL FOOLING
This Rabbinical Reflection first aired March 29, 2026 on the Dave’s Gone By video podcast.
Rabbi Sol’s Rabbinical Reflections are heard on the long-running Dave’s Gone By radio/video podcast program (davesgoneby.com) and then archived as text and audio on the Rebbe’s blog, Shalomdammit.com, where a transcript of this Reflection may be read.
Rabbi Sol is also the creator of the stage show, “Shalom Dammit! An Evening with Rabbi Sol Solomon,” which played in NYC in Nov. 2011 and Aug. 2012.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
More on Rabbi Sol: shalomdammit.com
TRANSCRIPT:
RABBI SOL SOLOMON’S RABBINICAL REFLECTION #205 (4/1/2026): April Fooling
(c)2026 David Lefkowitz. airs March 28, 2026 on Dave’s Gone By. Watch here:
Shalom Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for April Fools 2026.
My sermons have often been called inexcusable. But that’s okay; I don’t need an excuse – especially when given the opportunity to tell Jewish jokes. And what better time to fool around than April Fools Day?
So, no fooling, my first joke is about Miriam and Ida, two 70-year-old widows who are stepping back, gingerly, into dating. In fact, they’re both gonna go out with the same guy from their senior center: Miriam on Monday night and Ida on Tuesday.
So Tuesday morning rolls around, and Ida’s at breakfast with Miriam. “Nu,” she says, “how was your date with Leo last night?”
“My God,” says Miriam. “Where do I begin? I wore my best dress, the one I got at Bergdorf’s. Leo picks me up, eight o’clock on the dot. He’s in a beautiful tailored suit, so handsome and well-groomed, and he greets me with flowers and chocolates. We go to his fancy-schmancy Porsche where he opens the door for me like a gentleman. Then it’s dinner at this cozy, delicious restaurant where he’s so funny, so witty, and he listens to me, Ida, really listens. Then he pays the check – big tipper – and takes me out for dessert where we share a huge ice cream sundae. Like teenagers we were.”
“That’s wonderful!” says Ida. “You know I’m seeing him tonight at eight.”
“Wait,” says Miriam. “There’s more. We take a stroll in the moonlight. Talking, laughing, holding hands. Then he’s driving me home and we’re singing along to all these great songs. In front of my door, we talk and flirt and I invite him in for coffee and the chocolates. He takes my coat, he pours the wine, and as soon as we get to the couch, he jumps on me. Tears my dress off, pins me down, pawing and clawing and humping and pumping and raping me like a wild animal!”
“Gevalt!” says Ida.
“I know,” says Miriam. “So I warn you as a friend. Don’t wear a fancy dress tonight; put on a schmatta.”
Now, what do we learn from this joke? First, we are reminded that old age is not the same as death. It’s close, but not identical. Septuagenarians can have a sex life. They have desires, longings, fantasies, and special moves that can be erotic without dislodging a hip. We all know the bromide: you’re only as old as you feel, or as old the person you’re feeling.
To be sure, this joke also cautions us. In business, in love – it is easy to be seduced by surfaces. After all, if you see a wolf in wolf’s clothing, you run away crying “Wolf!” But if a wolf is dressed as a sheep, now you have temptation . . . for a fetish that I don’t want to get into.
But let me tell you about a problem I had last year with my Temple, Sons of Bitches: mice and rats. Oy! Every day we would see a dozen of these things scampering around, eating the drapes, climbing the chairs. I tried everything: traps, exterminators, poison cheese – nothing stopped them. It got so my parishioners were afraid to sit through services.
Just so happened I was meeting with the Grand Rebbe of New York that week, and I told him the crisis. He thought for a minute and said, “Simple solution. Have a miniature, rat-sized Torah made and buy the rats little kippas and talises. Then dress them up, call them one by one to the bimah, and make them all Bar Mitzvah. After that, you’ll never see them again.”
You probably have to be Jewish to understand that joke, but suffice it to say, for far too many young Yiddlach, religion starts with the bris and ends with the first boner. It is incumbent upon us people of the cloth to make communal observance a welcoming, lifelong pastime. There is something you don’t get from Facebook or Netflix or Xbox that you do get from being in a room full of Jews: Strep.
Awright, one more joke. Levi Rothschild, multi-multi-millionaire, dies and has this lavish funeral. Amidst the mourners, a news reporter sees one man sobbing, tearing his hair, screaming, “Why, God, why?”
The reporter says to him, “Excuse me, I don’t mean to intrude. Are you related to the deceased?”
“No, I’m not,” wails the guy.
“But if you’re not related, why are you so distraught?”
“Because I’m not related!”
This joke tells us two things: One, you can’t take it with you. Wealthy you might be as a Rothschild; the second you kick the bucket, you don’t even own a bucket. Also, it is human nature to envy and to ask, like Tevye, “Would it spoil some vast eternal plan to make Warren Buffet my uncle?” The answer is, try and appreciate what you have, and if you have more than you need, share some with the envious. If you have a lot more than you need, write me a check – my shul has rats!
And speaking of that, what do you call a rat who sings showtunes? Ethel Vermin.
Okay, I should have stopped with the Rothschild joke, but as I said, I’m inexcusable. Now if you’ll excuse me, it’s time to end my sermon. I wish you a happy April Fools and much April foolishness all year long.
This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches in Great Neck, New York.
For this week’s StoryTime segment on Dave’s Gone By, Dave reads Margaret McNamara’s “The Luck of the Irish”
This segment aired March 14, 2026 as part of episode #1024 of the “Dave’s Gone By” video podcast program hosted by Dave Lefkowitz. Full episodes also available on youtube, Facebook (davesgoneby), and on DavesGoneBy.com.
All content (c)2026 TotalTheater Productions.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
Rabbi Sol Solomon’s Rabbinical Reflection #204 (3/14/2026): BEGORRAH!
This Rabbinical Reflection first aired March 14, 2026 on the Dave’s Gone By video podcast.
Rabbi Sol’s Rabbinical Reflections are heard on the long-running Dave’s Gone By radio/video podcast program (davesgoneby.com) and then archived as text and audio on the Rebbe’s blog, Shalomdammit.com, where a transcript of this Reflection may be read.
Rabbi Sol is also the creator of the stage show, “Shalom Dammit! An Evening with Rabbi Sol Solomon,” which played in NYC in Nov. 2011 and Aug. 2012.
More information on Dave’s Gone By: http://www.davesgoneby.com
More on Rabbi Sol: shalomdammit.com
TRANSCRIPT: Shalom Dammit! This is Rabbi Sol Solomon with a Rabbinical Reflection for mid-March 2026.
I delight in wishing my Irish viewers – of which I have several, many of them sober – a happy St. Patrick’s Day. Of course, this is not a holiday I celebrate. Patrick was a fifth-century Christian missionary who was kidnapped in England, sent to Ireland, escaped back to England, where he got accused of financial jiggery-pokery. So he hastened back to Ireland and spent his last years baptizing believers and doing whatever missionaries do when they’re not torturing people in Jesus’s name. As Saints go, Paddy was pretty nondescript, but because he helped make Ireland more goyishe, he’s the patron saint of the place.
The Irish have given us great music, genius plays, warm sweaters. Awright, the food (makes a so-so hand gesture), but it’s definitely a country and a culture to celebrate. That being said, I feel bad for “begorrah.” You’ve heard the phrase: faith and begorrah. “Ooh, Irish Spring soap smells like a dead geranium – faith and begorrah!” “My wife is dragging me to see Riverdance on tour: all three nights. Kill me. Faith and begorrah!”
“Begorrah” stands in for a mild oath: By God. By gosh. By golly: begorrah. The sad part is you never hear “begorrah” by itself. It’s always with “faith.” Faith and begorrah. After 200 years, I can’t imagine “begorrah” has any self-esteem. Here it is, knocking around with “faith,” and “faith” is a whore. (The word, I mean.) Faith links up with a million words. It’s out on the town with hope and charity. People have blind faith if they have can’t see or Percy Faith if they can’t rock out. You can take a leap of faith or do something in bad faith. “Faith” is faithless. But begorrah? She’s sitting home alone, monogamous, while her partner is out getting shitfaithed.
Think of begorrah, getting coffee at a Dublin Starbucks. “Your foam latte,“ says barista. “Hey, where’s your better half?” “She’s out.” “Oh, well tell her the gang says `hey.’ She’s the best. No offense.” Poor begorrah shuffles off with her overpriced Mountain Blend. She cries silently in her kitchen, waiting for her partner to return. She flips on the radio only to hear Billy Joel sing, “Keeping the Faith.” “Oh God!”, sobs begorrah. “Who will keep me?”
I make this idiotic spiel because in our lives, we all know faiths and we all know begorrahs. We admire and want to linger in the orbit of faiths who are the life of the party, preternaturally magnetic, effortlessly befriended. Begorrahs? We deal with them when we must, vaguely pitying or patronizing them, wishing they weren’t there. Like street mimes.
Wouldn’t it be nice if sometimes we went to a begorrah and said, “You matter, too. You’re no faith, but you don’t have to be. I’m going to say you all by yourself: `Begorrah, that’s the dumbest TikTok video I’ve ever seen.’ `Begorrah! The dog just crapped on the rug!’”
See? Begorrah, though Irish, need not be the red-headed stepchild. And since begorrah truly means “by God,” then HaShem has placed this word close to him, and by extension, to us. So this St. Patrick’s Day, when you’re wearing the green, having a pint, making believe you enjoy listening to The Chieftains, spare a Euro for the begorrah at the end of the bar. By my faith, it would be a b’mitzvah.
This has been a Rabbinical Reflection from Rabbi Sol Solomon, Temple Sons of Bitches in Great Neck, New York. Lá Fhéile Pádraig sona daoibh!