An only recently discovered (and perhaps written) ancient text revealing the true Jewish roots of Dr. Seuss has just been made available to a very select few.  And just in time for the Purim festivities this month…

Dr. Seuss’ phone rings, and he is heard to have had the following conversation:  Hello?  This is the doctor.  May I help you? No, I’m not hoarse.  I feel Fine.  Oh!  You’re looking for Doctor Horse?….  Well, there’s no Dr. Horse here.  I am Dr. Seuss. Yes, yes.  I see.  Seuss means “horse” in Hebrew.  But I still don’t see how…Oh, I see.  You are from Israel and you aren’t looking for Dr. Horse, you are looking for Dr. Seuss!  Well, that’s a horse of a completely different color.  Why didn’t you say so in the first place? You would like me to write a story perfect for Purim?  Say, who’s calling anyway?  Sam-I-Am? (pause) but in Hebrew you are called “Ani Shmu-eel?”

Listen here, Ani Shmu-eel.  I’ve never written a Purim shpiel. I’ve never written one on a river nor while eating my chopped liver.  Not even while noshin’ some prune hamentaschen. So, listen here, Sam-I-Am, me and megillah?  We’re like green eggs and kosher ham. Just to think it, Ani Shmu-eel, Makes my brain, like a grogger, spin and reel.
I cannot do it in Hebrew or in Persian. Even if you send me on a far out excursion.
I only know about green eggs and ham, to shpiel about Esther would sure be a sham! Just ask me to yurtle a turtle or hop on pop – I can do that and not even stop.
But the Purim story I’d write wouldn’t make us laugh only scare us, if I had to shpiel about old Ahashuerus.
I can spin a yarn about whomever you choose, but none of my characters seem to be Jews.
My friends are the Lorax, dear Horton and the Grinch, but I guess I could whip up a shpiel in a pinch. I am rather good with a tale and a rhyme I suppose a megillah could be a fun time.
For you see there could be a beauty with looks – and a foolish old king whose surrounded by shnooks.
There could be a brave uncle who acts with great care – And a courageous young queen who takes on a big dare.
To save all her people she’d stick out her neck To every grave danger she’d say, “What the Heck!”
And the wicked old Haman would surely meet defeat – and  to think that it all happened on Mulberry street, In Shushan, that is, Persia.
But what could we call this tale of delight? I have a few titles I was soon going to write.
Perhaps we could call it “How the Grouch Stole Purim.” Surely the Jews could never endure him.
Or maybe it’s better to name who were blamen’ And call our sweet story “Green Eggs and Haman”
But now that I think of it Here’s one that’s so perfect and true I’ll call my Purim Shpiel “Mordy hears a Jew!”
So thanks for your call Mr. Ani Shmu-eel – You’ve helped me discover the Purim appeal.
But I hope you won’t ask for another that’s hipper For I’m takin’ a break,… at least til yom kipper.

Be sure to join us for all the fun and festivities this Purim season! (Get more purim info here.)
May the joyous blessings of Adar be available to you and your family,