Care Packages

Originally Posted

So it has been a few weeks since my last post on “The Kosher Revivals,” and I have to give a big and warm welcome back to all of JZuk’s loyal readers…yes, a big Mazel-Tov to all 3 of you out there!

Since my last post there have been quite a few occurrences in my day-to-day activities that could have prompted a memorable blog post.  However, recently, I received one of those special opportunities in which I just had to “grab it by the horns” and go for the Blog Gold (don’t worry Mr. Baaaaston…the previous quoted text was not a low blow in reference to your last Craigslist Casual Encounter Gone Wrong…Tical, nor was that a new masturbation reference for you to patent and add to your treasured collection of spank bank aliases).

So, I’ll admit it…I’m a momma’s boy…so what you wanna’ fight about it?  Dating back to the summers of sleep-away camps I can remember being the little Jewish boy who received the weekly care packages filled with all sorts of items cherished by pre-pubescent boys of the times…hot ticket collectibles such as antibiotics (for the latest epidemics in faraway lands), digital thermometers (before they went mainstream!), band-aids (all sizes), and the occasional morsel of sugar free diabetic candy (I am not even diabetic!).

Well other than the fact that I have not grown much taller since those early ‘90s days of summer (I blame my Tyrone Bogues stature on the sugar free Twizzlers…I was always suspicious of those…) a lot of aspects of my life have changed since then… While my Bar-Mitzvah deemed me a man in my religious community, up to this point I have ventured out in to this world well beyond the reaches of my Charlotte, NC Synagogue.

I graduated from UNC-CH in ’06…yes, that’s right, THE BEST SCHOOL ON THE PLANET!  I then moved to Chicago and settled down for a few years…and now I have landed myself amongst the grips of the most cartoony-masshole characters one can find on this Earth…yes that last description refers to my life since being hired by Ronal McDonald and joining the CAC Basketball Family.

Yes, I have journeyed long and far, but of course my dear Ma’ knows where I am every step of the path…and no matter where I have traveled, a care package has been right there with me…and who would have ever thought that a simple care package could influence JZUK’s latest blog entry…

I awakened on Friday morning in a state of confusion and disarray.  After delivery of an Al Pacino pep-talk to my brain cells to get them together in allowing me to formulate thoughts, I realized that the door bell of the front entrance to my East Arlington penthouse is blaring…

I had been on a 3 day bender with the wild and crazy kids of Co-Ed Basketball.  My head was pounding…I felt like a sniper just targeted my cranium with a rifle that fired off BFAB-sized bullets.  The Celtics had just blown Game 7…and to top it all off I was pretty sure that the person at the front door would be my Census Representative who I had been avoiding like a dive in to the dirty towel bin at the CAC.

I had to face the facts that there would be no way I would be able to evade the Census this time around…I had to report those foreign chicks who I met from the bar a few months back…they had been kept in my basement far too long and I’m pretty sure their rations of mail-sent sugar free tic-tacs and Milky Ways had expired ….I had to let them go.

To my relief there was no Census Representative knocking at my door…rather, it was the UPS guy asking me to sign for a package.  I scribbled down my John Hancockstein and brought the package inside.

I saw that the quadruple barb-wired reinforced package was wrapped up tighter than both The Light House’s ankles and Dave C.’s hamstrings combined…I finally got the box opened up and was in a high state of anticipation to see if the Diabetic taste-testers for Hersheys had finally outdone themselves this time around.

First few tokens in the box were staple items for a Mamma JZuk care package…Vitamins.

We are talking about the latest and greatest in Vitamins people…In fact, the Vitamin labels, themselves, were mesmerizing enough to keep BDubs more entertained than a newborn with a shiny set of keys.

With the sheer volume and variety of vitamins I received this past Friday…I’m confident when I say I may live forever after I have taken every last one.

The vitamin contents of this care package had completed my alphabet vitamin collection…I could finally give back to the CAC community and provide Cuba and T-Spin with the English and grammar lessons they rightfully deserve!  C’mon guys, what do you think I was doing all those free weekends with those foreign chicks in my basement?  Absolutely…I was giving them free English lessons!  How convenient that after they had just left I received a fresh shipment of the chewable Vitamins “N” and “O”…oh well…they’ll learn.

I continued to scavenge through the box’s contents…and then I managed to feel an oddly-shaped thingy…I threw aside all the newspaper scraps, wrapped my fingers around it and removed the plastic-wrapped “contraption.”

I looked at this object for a while…I even thought about calling the FBI’s Bomb Disposal Unit…I had no clue what I was looking at…I marveled and studied at this item harder than Vlade and Tibbs studying the outcome of a fresh roll of the dice….

I saw the medical insignia…and then I saw a small instructional picture of a male scrotum?!!?!


I popped open the little instructional manual…really Ma…f’ing really!  My own ma’ had just sent me a “Do it Yourself Testicular Cancer Kit!”


[Disclaimer: Let me be explicit that I am not attempting to make fun of testicular cancer nor cancer in any general sense as they are awful things in life…but let me also be explicit that my mother mailed her 26-year-old son a testicular cancer tester and this is the only way I know how to deal.]


I started to meticulously look through this instructional manual…they displayed diagramed actions one was to perform on himself…things that would even make Tical gasp in disbelief…yes, these instructions went way beyond giving oneself a “Stranger”…

This manual told me to do things to my beloved set of testes that even a Vegas Stripper would turn down in a heartbeat…

…Several hours later…

I was dripping in sweat…I had successfully labored through the manual’s instructional tasks and had found out I was without cancer…but which one of the CAC Staff could I recycle this to?  Who would find the value in this Care Package item?


Tibbs and Jumpman??? – well…I think it’s just wrong to bet on cancer…so, no…not happening with these two…stick with the dice.


The Commish??? – pretty sure an “at home, do it yourself testicular cancer test” is not a living thing…therefore you could NOT have it sign up for one of your CAC promotional new member events…no matter how good the value…


Carla??? – how many facebook pictures would you take of this “do it yourself” kit until you actually gave the “do it yourself” kit, cancer?


Kappa Don??? – HAHAHAHA!  Dude, we all know this would be useless to you…you have to have MALE reproductive parts bro…


Five Hard Fouls??? – Sorry, but a mammogram would be in order for you before I’d ever lend to you this hot item of the summer…


BFAB??? – this guy has not seen his dingle berries since the falling of the Berlin Wall…no way.


Capitol P??? – sorry, but the carcinogen effects of rolling up and proceeding to smoke a Testicular Cancer Kit would be a burden neither you nor I could live with…


Tical??? – Hell, I could probably sell him the instruction manual, alone, for 5K!  Would entertain this guy for hours…


BDubs??? – I’m confident these medical devices do not hold up well to alcoholism and violence…sorry man.


Really, I’m just not sure if I feel comfortable lending this out to anyone…I feel as if dear ol’ Ma’ intended for me to keep this, but there’s no way in hell she intended for me to write a Blog about it!

Until Next Time!


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