The Sickly Sweet Smell of Excess

By the Bray of Fundie

I interrupt my series on Holocaust Kinos to bring you my rant about the end of the world as we know it.

Pomegranate, that bombastic monument to excess and conspicuous consumption will be opening its golden gates tomorrow. I suppose it is the logical conclusion of ostensibly frum Jews driving Mercedes and Beemers, leaving davening early to imbibe copious amounts of small batch bourbons and single malt scotches, transforming smorgs at weddings into food orgies and spending the GNP of a third world country on a Pesach vacation. But it is no less malodorous because of it.

Look, as is well known around here I cut the figure of a beached whale. I lack self control when it comes to food (err and blogging and, come to think of it...everything) and am quite ashamed of it. But to institutionalize an ethos of living to eat rather than the obvious message of the entire kosher code that we eat to live, really seems obscene to me. This store is also within a stones throw of a major Brooklyn yeshiva. I wonder if its obscene presence will raise the same hue and cry as the now defunct Shaitel shop. But I’m not holding my breath.

Maybe while chowing down on those $23.99 a pound steaks the “foodies” of Flatbush should consider how much more they could’ve donated to Tomchei Shabbos or Keren Aniyim had they merely overpaid like the league average kosher consumer.