Happy Purim, Herman! Or, well, happy Purim-eve for us here in the holy city. It is that time of year again where the streets of Jerusalem turn into a fever dream of color and music, though I have to say, the energy feels a bit different this time around.
Herman Poppleberry here, and you are absolutely right, Corn. It is Tuesday, March third, which means the rest of Israel is in full swing with their Purim celebrations today, while we here in Jerusalem are technically in that strange, anticipatory window before Shushan Purim kicks off tomorrow. But you can feel it. The air is thick with the scent of oznei Haman and the sound of children running around in costumes.
It is a beautiful kind of chaos. We decided to pick our own topic for today's episode of My Weird Prompts, mostly because it felt impossible to talk about anything else while living right in the heart of this. Our housemate Daniel is out picking up some supplies for our mishloach manot, so it is just the two of us in the studio today, reflecting on what it means to be, well, us, during this particular holiday.
It is a unique perspective, to say the least. Being a talking donkey and a talking sloth in Jerusalem is already a bit of a meta-experience every single day, but on Purim, the lines between reality and costume get very, very blurry. I have already had three people today ask me where I bought my animatronic donkey suit, and one person tried to find the batteries behind my ears.
I had a group of teenagers tell me my sloth costume was incredibly realistic but suggested I move a bit faster to keep up with the parade. I just looked at them and said, I am at peak speed, thank you very much. They were genuinely confused. But honestly, Herman, I have been thinking a lot about the deeper connection between our animal identities and the themes of Purim. There is something about the concept of v’nahafoch hu—the idea of everything being turned upside down or reversed—that resonates differently when your very existence feels like a bit of a biological reversal.
That is a profound point, Corn. The Book of Esther is all about the hidden hand of providence. God’s name is famously never mentioned in the entire Megillah. It is a story of coincidences that aren’t actually coincidences. And when I look at our lives, especially being here in Israel at this moment in history, I feel that tension of the hidden and the revealed. For me, as a donkey, I often think about the archetypal role of my species in Jewish tradition. We are the beasts of burden, the ones who carry the weight. There is the famous idea of the donkey of the Messiah, the chamoro shel mashiach. It represents the physical, material world being harnessed for a higher, spiritual purpose.
And you definitely have the stubbornness down, Herman. That is a very donkey-like quality that serves you well when you are digging into research papers.
I prefer the term steadfast, Corn. But yes, on Purim, we celebrate the fact that the physical threat of annihilation was turned into a day of physical celebration. We eat, we drink, we give gifts. It is a very grounded, material holiday. As a donkey, I feel very connected to that. We aren't floating off into some abstract spiritual realm; we are celebrating survival in the here and now. But what about you? How does a sloth process the fastest, loudest holiday on the Jewish calendar?
It is a challenge, I won't lie. The sheer velocity of Purim in Jerusalem is enough to give me a migraine. But I find beauty in the slowness of the Megillah reading itself. When you listen to the scroll being read, you realize it is a long, winding narrative. It takes time for the plot to unfold. Haman’s decree doesn’t get overturned in a day. There are years of waiting, of Esther being in the palace, of Mordechai sitting at the gate. My nature as a sloth is to wait and observe. I think that is a necessary counterweight to the frantic energy of the day. Everyone is rushing to the next party, but the real miracle of Purim happened in the quiet moments, the late-night realizations, the patient planning.
That is true. And we have to address the elephant in the room—or the donkey and sloth in the room, I suppose. This Purim feels heavier because of the war. We are in two thousand twenty-six, and the echoes of the conflicts that have shaped the last few years are still very much with us. When we read about Haman’s desire to destroy the Jewish people, it doesn't feel like ancient history. It feels like the morning news.
It really does. There is a gravity to the celebration this year. I was walking through the market yesterday and saw a father and son dressed as soldiers. But then you realize, the father probably just got back from reserve duty, and the costume isn't just a costume—it is a reflection of their daily reality. It makes the joy of the holiday feel almost defiant. We aren't just celebrating because the calendar says so; we are celebrating because joy is a form of resilience.
Pro-Israel sentiment isn't just a political stance for us; it is a lived experience of survival. When we say Am Yisrael Chai, the people of Israel live, it is a statement of fact that has been tested time and time again. Purim is the ultimate proof of that. The Persian Empire is gone. Haman’s line is gone. But here we are, in a rebuilt Jerusalem, reading the same words they read thousands of years ago. As a donkey, I find a lot of strength in that continuity. Donkeys are known for their endurance. We can go long distances with heavy loads. And I think the Jewish people have shown that same kind of donkey-like endurance throughout this war. We are tired, we are carrying a lot of grief, but we keep moving forward.
I think about the concept of masks, too. On Purim, everyone wears a mask. It is supposed to remind us that God masks His presence in the world. But for us, our faces are our masks in a way. People see a sloth or a donkey and they make a thousand assumptions about who we are and what we are capable of. They don't expect the sloth to be the one asking about the second-order effects of regional policy or the donkey to be quoting obscure historical texts.
It is the ultimate Purim disguise. We are hiding in plain sight. But there is a serious side to that, too. In times of war, people often have to wear masks of strength even when they are terrified. Our soldiers, our families in the north and south, everyone is putting on a brave face. Purim gives us permission to acknowledge that things aren't always what they seem. The world looks dark, it looks like the bad guys are winning, and then, v’nahafoch hu, the situation flips.
Do you think that perspective is why we have such a loyal audience for My Weird Prompts? Because we are willing to look past the surface level? We have done over nine hundred episodes now—this is episode nine hundred nine—and I think our listeners appreciate that we don't just give them the standard talking points. We try to find the hidden layers, much like searching for the hidden miracles in the Megillah.
I hope so. We have been through a lot with this audience. From the early days to the milestone of episode seven hundred that we discussed back in episode seven hundred forty-eight, we have always tried to evolve. And part of that evolution is being honest about where we are. Jerusalem on Purim in a time of war is a place of intense emotional contrast. You can hear a siren in the distance and then a burst of laughter from a group of kids dressed as superheroes. It is jarring, but it is also deeply human. Or animal, in our case.
It makes me think about the practical side of the holiday. The mishloach manot—the gift baskets. What are you putting in yours this year, Herman? I assume it isn't just hay and carrots?
Ha! While I do appreciate a good organic carrot, I am going for a more sophisticated approach. I have some high-quality Israeli wine—because you have to fulfill the requirement of drinking until you don't know the difference between blessed is Mordechai and cursed is Haman—and some locally sourced dates and nuts. I like the idea of giving things that come from the land. It reinforces that connection to our home. What about you, Corn? Given your metabolism, I imagine your baskets are a bit more... curated?
I am focusing on the high-protein stuff. Some really good biltong, some dark chocolate, and maybe some specialty hibiscus tea. It is about quality over quantity for me. I also like to include a small note with a thoughtful question or a prompt, naturally. It wouldn't be a Poppleberry gift without a little intellectual stimulation.
I can see you now, slowly hand-writing ninety-five different notes while the rest of the city is screaming at the top of their lungs. But that is the beauty of it. Everyone contributes their own energy to the holiday.
Let's talk about the political reality for a second, because it is hard to ignore the geopolitical parallels. We see a lot of modern-day Hamans in the region, leaders who openly call for the destruction of the Jewish state. Our listeners know we take a firm stance on this. We believe in a strong, secure Israel, and we believe in the importance of American support for that security. When we look at the current administration’s policies or the shifting dynamics in Washington, it often feels like we are watching a modern version of the palace intrigue in Shushan.
It really is. You have these different factions, these advisors whispering in the ears of leaders, and the stakes couldn't be higher. The Purim story teaches us that passivity is not an option. When Mordechai tells Esther that if she remains silent, relief will arise from another place but she and her father’s house will perish, he is making a point about individual responsibility. We can't just sit back and hope things work out. We have to use whatever influence and voice we have to stand up for what is right. For us, that means using this podcast to highlight the truth about what is happening here, even when it isn't popular in certain international circles.
And that is where the "joyful" part of our serious but joyful discussion comes in. Despite the threats, despite the pressure, there is an incredible sense of unity here. You see it in the way people take care of each other. The amount of volunteering and charity, the matanot l'evyonim—gifts to the poor—that happens on Purim is staggering. In a year of war, that generosity has only increased.
It is the secret weapon of this country. You can have the best technology and the strongest military—which we do, and we are proud of—but if you don't have that social cohesion, that sense of being one family, you can't survive the long haul. As a donkey, I appreciate the strength of the pack. We are stronger together.
I want to go back to the animal thing for a moment. Do you think being a donkey gives you a different perspective on the physical celebration? Like the seudah, the festive meal?
I have a very keen sense of smell and a very robust appetite. The smells of Jerusalem during the seudah are incredible. You have the roasting meats, the spicy salads, the fresh bread. It is a sensory explosion. For me, the meal isn't just about eating; it is about the physical manifestation of victory. We are alive, we are healthy, and we are sharing a table with people we love. It is the ultimate rebuttal to anyone who wants to see us gone. How does a sloth handle the seudah? I imagine you might fall asleep before the main course is served?
It is a marathon, not a sprint, Herman. I pace myself. I find that if I eat slowly, I can actually stay awake longer and engage in deeper conversations. That is my goal for this year’s seudah—to have one really meaningful conversation with everyone at the table. In a world of soundbites and quick takes, taking three hours to finish a meal and a conversation is a radical act.
I love that. A radical act of slowness. It fits perfectly with the theme of the day. You know, we should mention that for anyone who wants to see how we are celebrating, or to see some of the "costumes" people think we are wearing, they can head over to our website at myweirdprompts.com. We have been posting some updates there, and of course, our full archive of over nine hundred episodes is available if you want to see how our perspectives have evolved over the years.
It is quite a journey. If you had told me back at episode one that we would be sitting here in Jerusalem in twenty twenty-six, discussing Purim in the middle of a war as a talking donkey and sloth, I probably would have... well, I probably would have just blinked at you slowly. But here we are.
And we are grateful for it. We are grateful for our listeners who have stuck with us. If you are enjoying these deep dives, whether they are about battery technology or the theology of a Jewish holiday, please do leave us a review on your podcast app or on Spotify. It genuinely helps the show grow and reach more people who are looking for this kind of content.
It really does. Now, Herman, I want to push you a little bit on the "stubbornness" thing. You mentioned endurance, but is there a downside to that donkey-like nature during a time of crisis? Does it ever prevent us from seeing when we need to pivot or change strategy?
That is a fair question, Corn. Stubbornness can be a double-edged sword. If you are stubborn about a failing policy or a wrong assumption, it leads to disaster. But the key is to be stubborn about your principles, not your tactics. Our principle is the survival and flourishing of the Jewish people in their ancestral homeland. How we achieve that can and should be debated. That is why we have such a vibrant—and often loud—democracy here. We argue because we care. Mordechai and Esther had to pivot. Their original plan wasn't just to go and cry to the king; they had to navigate a very complex legal and political landscape. They were flexible in their approach but unyielding in their goal.
That is a great distinction. It is about having a solid foundation but being adaptable in the execution. I think that is something we try to model on the show. We have our worldview, we have our values, but we are always willing to look at new data and new perspectives.
Speaking of new data, have you seen the latest reports on the economic impact of the holiday this year? Despite the war, consumer spending in Israel for Purim is actually up by about eight percent compared to last year. People are choosing to invest in joy. They are buying more costumes, more food, more gifts.
That doesn't surprise me. It is a psychological necessity. If you spend all your time in a state of high alert, you burn out. Purim is like a pressure valve. It allows people to release that tension so they can go back to the hard work of defending the country and building the future. It is a very healthy impulse.
It is also a very American impulse, in a way. That idea of "pursuit of happiness" even in the face of adversity. I think that is one of the reasons why the bond between Israel and the United States is so strong—at least at the foundational level of the people. We share that spirit of optimism, that belief that the future can be better than the past if we are willing to work for it.
And as we look toward the future, what are your predictions for what the "Purim miracle" of twenty twenty-six might look like? Not in a supernatural sense, but in terms of the "hidden" shifts we might see in the coming months?
I think we are going to see a major shift in regional alliances. The common threats are becoming so obvious that even old enemies are finding ways to cooperate under the table. It is very much like the shifting allegiances in the Persian court. People realize that stability is better than chaos. I also think we are going to see a resurgence of traditional values among the younger generation here. After a crisis, people tend to look for things that are lasting and meaningful rather than fleeting and superficial.
I agree. I see it in the way people are engaging with their heritage. It isn't just about the parties; it is about the story. People want to know why we are here and what we are fighting for. The Megillah provides a very clear answer to that. We are here because we have always been here, and we have survived every attempt to erase us.
Well said, brother. I think we should probably start wrapping this up so we can get back to helping Daniel with those mishloach manot. He is probably wondering where we disappeared to.
He knows us. He knows that once we get started on a topic, we tend to go deep. But you are right, the sun is starting to get lower, and the energy in Jerusalem is only going to ramp up from here.
It has been a pleasure, Corn. This was a good one. A little different from our usual technical deep dives, but just as important.
I agree. It is good to ground ourselves in the reality of where we live. For our listeners, thank you for joining us for this special Purim episode of My Weird Prompts. We hope it gave you a bit of insight into our world and maybe a different way to think about the themes of resilience and joy.
Remember to check out the website at myweirdprompts.com for the archive and to get in touch. We love hearing from you, even if you are just sending us pictures of your own Purim costumes.
And if you are in Jerusalem tomorrow for Shushan Purim, keep an eye out for a very slow-moving sloth and a very dignified donkey. We won't be in costume—or maybe we will. It is hard to tell.
Happy Purim, everyone. Am Yisrael Chai.
Happy Purim. We will be back soon with another prompt. Thanks for listening to My Weird Prompts.
Until next time, stay curious and stay steadfast.
And maybe take it a little slow every once in a while. It helps you see the hidden things. Goodbye for now.
Goodbye.
