“Undead. There’s a word I really hate,” I sighed. “It’s phony. I could puke every time I hear it. And furthermore, what’s with all these vampires?”
“I like them,” said Phoebe.
“Vampires are alright, I guess — but they don’t appeal to me,” I said. “I mean they’re alright if they go around flying off with lonely girls all the time, and like that, but you don’t do that kind of stuff if you’re a vampire. All you do is stay in your mansion and buy cars and drink blood and look like a hot-shot.

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Seders get predictable. The wine’s way too sweet, “Chad Gadya” has had too many verses for millennia, and your overage cousin Chayah always finds the afikoman. That’s why Seders need emotionally unintelligent innovators like you to bring a little life into old traditions. We’ve written up a handy guide to help you lead your Seder out of the desert of mediocrity and into the Promised Land of not passing out from predictability.

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