_(excerpted from original article)_
Go ahead and don’t read this article. That’s fine. You spent your money on _Heeb_’s “Guilt Issue,” but why would you want to read the cover story? Read the colorful sidebars and go watch some television instead. It’s not like I spent countless hours writing this piece or anything.
The cudgel is called guilt, chosen ones. But you already know that. Jewish guilt. It’s a thing we’re famous for. Like an aversion to paying retail. As in: the reason you spent a recent Sunday traveling an hour and a half to spend time with someone who bores the hell out of you and starts every sentence with, “You know what you should really do is…” You’re sitting in that airless living room on a scratchy sofa because this person is related to you distantly or was very nice once, a long time ago, to your grandparents. You’re nodding, hoping that the movement of your head will keep you awake, and you’re thinking that what you should really be doing is what you want to be doing—hanging around your apartment in an old T-shirt, drinking ice wine, burning mix CDs and having slow, highly experimental sex with your significant other.
Other than seasonal allergies, guilt is often considered the greatest plague to afflict the Hebrew nation. But it may not be that simple.
While guilt is still routinely vilified as a demon that needs to be permanently exorcised from the Jewish heart, the news-you-can-use is that in the correct dosage, guilt can be a glorious gadfly, as invigorating to the Jewish spirit as the rush of being led to a well-situated restaurant table.
Perfecting the dosage, however, can be a bitch.