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Rabbi Sam Rosenblum was a motorcycle enthusiast. After he got his new cooling gear at Eagle Leather, he rode south, through Mexico, past the Panama Canal, into the Amazon jungle. There he found a remote tribe called the Trids. The Trids were a friendly people and, by some miracle, spoke English.
While the Trids prepared a welcoming feast, Rabbi Rosenblum caught sight of a distant mountain. Instead of coming to a peak, the mountain seemed to be sliced off, leaving a huge mesa.
“What’s up there?” he asked one of the Trid elders.
“We don’t know. Every time one of us goes up there, he or she gets kicked off by a giant just as soon as they get near the top.”
Of course, the next morning found Sam hacking through the jungle, toiling up the mountainside, up and up, until finally he found himself on the mesa. He beheld the most lovely garden, like a new Eden, with every kind of fruit tree and all the good-tasting vegetables. And a giant!
The giant looked ferocious and he was at least twelve feet tall. But cool-headed Sam stood his ground. “Hello, giant. Why haven’t you tried to kick me off your mesa?” he asked.“Silly Rabbi, kicks are for Trids.”