Why write a book called
Yes, But Is It Good for the Jews? Does
Yes, But Is It Good for Islam?, or
Yes, But Is It Good for Native American Indians? work in the same way?
Yes, I think it would work, but differently. I think it is a peculiarly Jewish way to look at the world ? be so concerned, nay paranoid, about how the world views you. Some might say there are 5,000 years of reasons why Jews should be so nervy. But the Jews can't help but think whether something is good or bad for them. I'll give you an example: when a Jewish politician comes to prominence, the Jewish community tends to feel nervous in case they say something wrong, become entangled in some scandal, or become a Republican. When Jack Abramoff was indicted for bribes in Washington last year, Jewish households everywhere shuddered. When Joan Rivers opens her mouth, we all await the next pogrom...
I am convinced this is a natural reaction. One that every nation, color, creed or community shares. In the UK, if a natural disaster happens somewhere, like in South East Asia, headlines in every national paper will read "DISASTER: EARTHQUAKE KILLS 1000. ONE BRITON FEARED MISSING" and then everyone will become obsessed with the missing British person, who, of course, ends up found in a bar somewhere, pissed, a week later.
Let's face it, there is a lot of humor to be had by finding the Jewish in everything; from colonic irrigation to Star Wars, from Sudoku to the Madonna, there is a Jewish component to almost everything ? should you wish to look for it.
Do Non-Jews look at the world this way? I don't know, but I suspect they do. However, there are definite differences in the ways of looking. For example, in the book, under the heading Complaining: Is It Good for the Jews, I tell these stories:
A Jewish grandmother is watching her grandchild playing on the beach when a huge wave comes and takes him out to sea. "Please, God, save my only grandson. I beg of you, bring him back." Suddenly, the rage of the sea quietens and there, as if by miracle, the little boy is delivered to her on the seashore. Grandma looks up to heaven and says: "And the Hat?!"
A devout Christian joins a monastery, a new Order where the vow of silence is only broken every seven years when he is allowed to say two words. After the first seven years, he is summoned to the Brothers and quietly says his two words. "Very Draughty." Brother Augustus nods. Seven more years pass. The young man coughs and whispers his words, "Hard Floor." Brother Augustus nods. Seven more years pass. "I quit," he says. Brother Augustus sighs and says, "Well, that's no surprise, you've done nothing but complain since the moment you got here."