Dave Deutsch

By Dave Deutsch

He’s been said to have “calm of the Dalai Lama, and the charm of David Niven,” but lately, Luke Ford’s apple has definitely lost its blush. Whispers following recent appearances by the former male model manqué once known as the “glossy Aussie” hint that his increasingly erratic behavior and physical deterioration are signs of some sort of severe mental and/or physical condition—most likely syphilis. A phone call from a close personal friend of Ford’s, however, suggested a different reason. “Luke is distraught,” revealed my source, one of the coterie of distaff journalists who flock around the handsome expat, “It’s all because of David Deutsch. Deutsch is a funny guy, but sometimes, he goes too far. And his comments regarding Luke and Mexican immigrants are just way off base. He cares so much for legal Mexican immigrants, and Deutsch’s comments really hurt him, but he’s too much of a tsaddik to talk about all that he does for them.”

This reporter, for one, was dubious. Luke Ford, caring about Mexican immigrants? Luke Ford, who, after one wag dubbed him “the kosher Pat Buchanan,” quipped “No, he’s the treyfe Luke Ford?”

“I know it seems hard to believe,” I was told. “But don’t take my word for it. Go to Boyle Heights and ask around.”

Still waiting for the punchline, I did just that. Hungry, and hoping to kill two birds with one stone, I stopped by the unassuming Gonzalez Taqueria, and found myself eating the best burrito I ever had. I informed the gentleman behind the counter who I assumed to be Mr. Gonzalez of that fact, and was stunned by his answer.

“Gracias, but don’t thank me. I owe it all to my friend, Senor Luke.”

“Not Luke Ford?” I inquired.

When he heard the name, his face lit up. “Si, si, you know Senor Luke? He’s an amazing Mexican chef, and he not only showed me how to make this burrito, he got me to switch from lard to vegetable oil.” He turned to show me his profile. “I’ve lost 50 pounds. And he provides the kosher certification.” He pointed to the wall, and sure enough, there was a certificate bearing Luke’s own kosher symbol, the “Porn K,” a silhouette of a well-endowed young woman with a “K” in the middle. I asked the gentleman if Luke’s position on illegal aliens bothered him.

“Bother me?” he exploded. “It’s because Luke cares so much about us legals that he feels that way. Look, there used to be this woman who sold food from a cart down the block from my tacqueria. She paid no taxes, she paid no rent—she was killing my business. Luke called a contact of his in La Migra, and the next day, she was gone. He’s a savior, and I’m not the only one who says so. Go over to Gonzalez Garage and ask them about Luke.”

I did just that. As I entered, the crowd of vatos working on the low-riders started to size me up, and it was clear that they found me wanting. It was an uncomfortable moment, until I mentioned Luke’s name.

“Ese, you asking about El Jefe? Why didn’t you say so,” said the group’s apparent leader, a young man named Chino who, unlike his peers, had no tattoos. “El Jefe is our man. When I was in prison, Luke came around to counsel us—he’s the one who convinced me that it was wrong to make marks in my flesh, and paid for my tattoo remova. And when I got out, and I couldn’t get a job because employers would rather higher a damn illegal than an ex-con, Luke talked to his peeps in the industry and got me a job as a key grip, and now I’m learning to be a best boy, so I’ll be an’ effin’ double-threat. You wanna know how we feel about El Jefe? Look around this garage. What kind of cars we drive?”

I looked around, took it in, and he smiled, proudly.

“That’s right…all Fords. But hey, you really wanna get the 411 on him, check out the Gonzalez School for Children of Legal Immigrants. El Jefe is probably there right now.”

And indeed, he was, but by the time I got there, he was absent. Fulsome praise for Mr. Ford, however, was definitely in attendance. The school’s headmaster, Jorge Ochocoa told me that without Luke, the school wouldn’t even exist. “These are children who weren’t being served by the public schools. Not only were those schools understaffed and ungodly, but the children of illegal aliens were taking all the good education. By the time it came around to these kids, all that was left were gerunds and antonyms. How are they going to succeed with that? But El Angel—that’s what we call Luke here—arranged with somebody in his synagogue to donate this old building as a tax write off—he was going to burn it for the insurance money, anyway, and, until we could raise the money, Luke taught the kids.”

Luke Ford, teacher? Even after all I’d heard, I was skeptical…until Mr. Ochocoa showed me the pictures, and the awards Mr. Ford had won.

“But you know, when Presidente Bush gave Mr. Ford this “Points of Light” award, Luke said to him. “Mr. President, you have it wrong. I’m not teaching them, they’re teaching me.”

As I drove away from Boyle Heights, I couldn’t help but thinking that all of us—and especially David Deutsch, whose support for illegal aliens may have something to do with allegations that he employs low-wage Dominicans in Washington Heights to grade papers for him—have a lot to learn from El Angel…Luke Ford.

2/14/05

The Big Book Of Jewish Conspiracies

Dave Deutsch, the world's worst Jewish comedian, writes:

Luke Ford watchers have long been wondering about what happened between him and David Deutsch.

Deutsch, the charming Humor Editor of Heeb Magazine, was once a frequent Ford correspondent, perhaps both his most imaginative and unimagined.

While a Ford spokesman insists that the drop-off in Deutsch's submissions are simply due to increased demands on his time in other areas, people are beginning to wonder whether there might be something more, given that the effeminately rugged Australian (voted "Mr. Oceanian Expatrate" 1992-94 and again from 96-99) has yet to make reference to the book Deutsch and Heeb editor Joshua Neuman just penned, The Big Book of Jewish Conspiracies, available at Barnes & Noble, Borders, Amazon.com, and anywhere works of remarkable comic genius are sold.

Is it because Ford considers reading a work of high-quality satire to be bitul zman, a waste of time that would take him away from his important misanthropic works?

Is it resentment that, having asked Deutsch to pen one of the innumerable forewords for one of his innumerable books, he was wounded by the fact that Deutsch didn't reciprocate for his own alarmingly funny work?

Is it because the notoriously stingy Angeleno, living up to his nickname "The Outback Jack Benny," refuses to buy the book, depite its brilliant wordplay, while the equally miserly Deutsch refuses to send him one?

Is it because the clever and witty Big Book of Jewish Conspiracies just came out last week and he didn't hear about it?

Or is it that Ford, famous for his iconoclasm and independence, has given in to pressure by the Jewish Establishment to keep silent.

According to one source, Ford, when asked why he hadn't read or reviewed the book yet, allegedly responded "ADL money can buy a lot of Air Supply Reunion Tour '05 Tickets and Dr. Reynardo's Magical Monkey Gonad Hair Restoration Treatment."

The eyes of your adopted homeland are upon you, Mr. Ford. What will you do?

The Big Book of Jewish Conspiracies Is Pure Torture

Big Book is the worst book on Judaism I've ever read. It's even worse than Nothing Sacred by Douglas Rushkoff.

A page into the first chapter, I felt a depression settling over me as I realized I would have to struggle through another 256-pages of these lame jokes simply because this book was written by my friends (friends in the loose Los Angeles sense).

Yes, there were a few moments where I chuckled but oy ve this thing was heavy lifting without reward.

It reminded me of being stuck in Kalamazoo?, waiting around for desserts I couldn't eat because it was Passover and for women I couldn't touch because of my religious beliefs (and the fear that they'd call the police on me if I did).

I found Big Book to be a tiresome exercise akin to writing an essay (a form I hate) for somebody else who's going to have ultimate authority over my words, have me rewrite them several times, then force me to come up with a conclusion (at which point I quit because I do not want to be didactic about parts of my life). OK, this was my experience with Dave Deutsch as my editor at Heeb magazine, but that's not why I am being nasty now. I just really hate this book on its own demerits.

I fear that Heeb Editor/Publisher Joshua Neuman created a monster when he called Dave "the world's worst Jewish comedian." To any normal man who wanted to be funny, this title would've been taken as the grossest insult, but for Dave it only encouraged him...and now we have this awful book destined for remainder shelves.

Halfway through, I lay down on my floor and took a nap, hoping to rid myself of the burden I felt to compose questions for Dave in our upcoming interview. But there's absolutely nothing I want to know. In fact, the less I know about the composition of this book (like the composition of Kalamazoo?) the better. The less said about this book the better. I shouldn't even be writing this entry.

I felt so upset I couldn't rest and was driven to my keyboard by my commitment to truth (and that verse in Leviticus about not standing by while your neighbors are bored) to warn my readers about the sheer awfulness of Big Book. Frankly, the works of the late William Pierce are much more entertaining.

It's because of books like Big Book that gas chambers were built.

I won't be surprised if some rednecks tie Dave and Josh to a pickup truck and drag them around Manhattan until they promise not to publish anymore.

I am not endorsing this type of behavior. I just say that I would understand it.

In This Week's Torah Portion We Learn About The Exodus From Egypt

Rabbis Dave Deutsch and Joshua Neuman translate the ancient Hebrew into the modern idiom in their new work, The Big Book of Jewish Conspiracies:

As the Hebrews passed by, organizers for the United Hebrew Trades convinced the Nubian slaves working the buckets to join them. In a last act of defiance, they broke open the Reed Sea Dam, and the swamp began to fill in again, just as the Egyptian army arrived. Trapped in the rapidly filling swamp, the army soon became the navy, and a very unsuccessful navy, what with the drowning, poor navigation skills, and discomfort with the whole situational homosexuality thing.

Every Saturday morning in a traditional synagogue, we read aloud the Haftorah (which translates into English as the Book of Profits). In this week's portion, we cover the story of David Vs. Goliath:

"David's so beautiful, so pure," sighed an Israelite woman.

You should have seen him three years ago, thought Samuel the Prophet, as he nodded to one of his runners to go and lay another bet on David.

When Samuel -- who was known as "the Prophet" because of his seemingly uncanny ability to predict the outcome of sporting events...

Rabbis Deutsch and Neuman tackle the Jesus story in their new book:

He was known for his smooth tongue, a skill that translated to great success with the ladies, as an epidemic of "virgin births" during his two years on campus would confirm.

Then there was the time that he was caught in Flagrante Delicto with Cindy Magdalene, Mary's sluttier young sister. Although it wasn't grounds for expulsion, it could have resulted in Galilee House losing its charter, but when Jesus defended himself by asking the council, "Let he who has been without Cindy cast the first stone," even Dean Pilate had to look away shamefacedly.