Uncategorized
A jingle inspired a show about dueling lawyers. Two synagogues helped bring it back to the stage.
(New York Jewish Week) — For any New Yorker, the background noise of the 2000s may well have been marked by the numbers 800-888-8888, the ubiquitous jingle for the Buffalo-based personal injury law firm Cellino and Barnes.
The renown of Ross Cellino and Stephen Barnes grew even more when the pair contentiously split up in 2017. Their acrimonious business divorce included clashes over managing the business, a restraining order against Cellino, claims of “bullying” by Barnes and a complaint that Barnes refused to let Cellino hire his own daughter.
Naturally, comedy writers Michael Breen and David Rafailedes needed to write a show about what might have gone down, including a scene about how that infamous jingle came into existence.
Breen and Rafailedes had performed the show, “Cellino v. Barnes,” a handful of times in New York in 2020 before the pandemic shut it down. Breen moved to California and Rafailedes headed to grad school and the play they wrote about a unique New York sensation almost faded into the ether.
But this isn’t that story. This is the story of how two 25-year-old high school buddies and amateur theater producers made sure that didn’t happen — and how they leaned on their synagogues to get the job done.
David Pochapin and Cameron Koffman were 22 when they saw “Cellino v. Barnes.” They loved the show for the way it spoke to their sense of humor, their New York childhoods and their love of niche theater. The pair would eventually take on the task of producing the play and teaming up with Breen and Rafailedes to bring it to a wider audience, this time in a vacant office space in Manhattan to really give audiences the feeling of authenticity.
Now 25 and a year into producing “Cellino v. Barnes: The Play,” Pochapin and Koffman are admittedly amateurs — Pochapin works a day job in FinTech and Koffman in city government.
“When we are trying to get people to come see the show, we say, ‘we’re doing this not because we saw a business opportunity but because we genuinely saw a story that more people needed to see,’” Pochapin said. “It’s hard to imagine finding another project quite like this. It’s been a wild ride and we’re super excited for the show.”
(On Oct. 2, 2020, Stephen Barnes and his niece were killed in the crash of a private plane in upstate New York. Pochapin said there is “absolutely no comedy about the plane crash” and the show centers around the creation, success and break-up of the firm.)
Ahead of the show’s opening, the New York Jewish Week spoke to Koffman and Pochapin about why they love the show, how their synagogues and Jewish communities have supported them in this process and what changes they are most excited about.
This interview has been lightly edited for length and clarity.
New York Jewish Week: How did you get involved as producers with the show?
Cameron Koffman: We first saw the show in January of 2020. We had no involvement — we had just seen an article from the Buffalo News: “Show about Cellino and Barnes is an 8.8888 out of 10.” It sounded fun and it was playing in New York City for just a couple shows in January at the Bell House in Gowanus. It was the absolute funniest thing. Then COVID hit, obviously, six, seven weeks later, and life moved on.
I got an email from the venue that the show was back for two performances in August of 2021. David and I dragged more of our friends. It was a big group activity because we had been talking about the show for a year and a half at this point. I mean, it’s Cellino and Barnes, iconic New York names and a jingle that everybody recognizes. We saw it again and it was even funnier.
We had a mutual friend with one of the actors and pushed to get a drink because we just really wanted to tell them, “We thought the play was so funny. It was so great that someone wanted to tell this story.” When we met up with him, we asked if he ever had aspirations to make a permanent run out of it. He said yes, but COVID happened, he ended up having a kid and the other co-writer and actor moved out to the West Coast. Basically, life got in the way. When we talked to [Breen and Rafailedes], it really just sounded like more than anything they needed people to help initiate the process, which we thought we would be able to handle.
We certainly didn’t have experience in production, but we were so passionate about the story and we like to get our hands dirty with logistics. We just thought it was so fun that we wanted to take it to another level and really create a full run of this. We put our heads down, worked on a proposal and here we are.
How did your Jewish communities step in to help get the show back on its feet again?
DP: When we first got into this, which was over a year ago now, we talked to everyone we could, every person that would hear us out and offer an opinion. We reached out to people at my synagogue and they offered to provide chairs for the audience and books for the set, so now we have chairs and books. We’re both very involved in our synagogues — mine is Sutton Place Synagogue and Cameron’s is Temple Emanu-El. My first exposure to theater at a young age was not only in school, but during the Purim spiels at my synagogue. It is because of our communities and our upbringing there that we have the confidence that we’ll be able to do this.
CK: It really is. So many people that we know, that we rely on, that we talk to and the time that we spend with them have helped us put this show together. For example, I lead a couple of lay-led groups at Temple Emanu-El. Through that, I’ve become friendly with dozens of people, I’ve met other people through the young members circle, through becoming friendly with the rabbi and actually leading Shabbat once last year. So — for both of us — one of the main reasons we knew we could do this was because we’re deeply embedded in a large Jewish community and we knew that we could tap into people that would be able to sort of help and guide us with advice and knowledge along the way. Also, we knew we’d be able to blast out the show to a lot of people. David could tell you, one of the first people to buy a ticket for the play was the rabbi [Rachel Ain] from Sutton Place Synagogue, she and her whole family.
As producers you have a little more control than you did as audience members. What changes are you most excited about since the first production?
CK: Not much had to change about the story. Breen and Rafailedes had done the play and certainly the story of Cellino and Barnes is still ever present in the cultural milieu of today. For a large swath of people, millions of people in the New York area, and even in California, where Cellino and Barnes worked too, that jingle just rings a bell and it seared itself into our brains, so our vision didn’t have to be focused on making sure there was name recognition.
When we saw it at The Bell House, the show was very bare bones. The venue had a stage, but it’s a big hall with 200-250 seats and you don’t really feel like you’re at a theater venue — you certainly don’t feel like you’re at an experiential venue. The space that we got on West 23rd is a vacant commercial space that feels like you’re actually in a law office. That was one of the key things we brought — we thought, “if we’re going to really lean on the vibe and the aura of Cellino and Barnes, we want to make you feel like you’re stepping into a dingy personal injury attorney’s office, with plaques on the wall and all of it.”
Why should people see it?
CK: I’m deeply passionate about my love for New York. A couple years ago, right out of college, I actually ran for the New York State Legislature. I love the city. It’s just such an amazing place. Cellino and Barnes is very much a part of New York’s cultural fabric. There are just certain things that resonate with all New Yorkers. It’s Roscoe the bedbug dog from Bell Environmental, it’s Sandy Kenyon from the Eyewitness News “movie minute” in the back of the taxi cab. All those sorts of things that people who grew up in New York or who have spent significant time here will know and recognize.
So many people come from different backgrounds, but there are still these unifiers — everybody’s seen the billboards and subway ads. And although it is a very New York production, we do think that it can resonate with everybody. Every city seems to have their own version of Cellino and Barnes — the mysterious personal injury lawyer who’s on every billboard, on every bus, and who has their slogan.
DP: When you’re in the theater and you’re laughing at these two people that are so nostalgic and are two of the easiest people to laugh and make jokes about, it’s just an unforgettable night. It’s hilarious, and even though it’s a comedy it also makes you think. Cameron and I have had several discussions about who’s right or wrong and Team Cellino or Team Barnes.
“Cellino v. Barnes: The Play” opens on April 13 at 320 W 23rd St. Tickets start at $40.
—
The post A jingle inspired a show about dueling lawyers. Two synagogues helped bring it back to the stage. appeared first on Jewish Telegraphic Agency.
Uncategorized
Everyone can be a war profiteer in Gaza or Iran, thanks to online betting markets
At any moment, an alert might pop up about a catastrophic world event. Maybe Israel has bombed Iran, or Iran has bombed Israel. Maybe the U.S. has bombed Iran’s nuclear programs, or its capital of Tehran. That’s the world we live in.
And, as long as things are so bad, you might as well profit on the start of World War III.
You may have noticed a sky-high number of ads for gambling sites. DraftKings, an online sports betting site, advertises during pretty much every game for every kind of sport. But the real game is on unregulated betting sites like Polymarket and Kalshi, where users can, from the comfort of their couches on their phones, bet on pretty much anything — what phrases Trump will use in his next social media post, or when the next snow will hit New York City.
Many of the bets are frivolous, but there’s a darker world. Betting on Middle Eastern geopolitics has become hot on the platform; the likelihood of the U.S. striking Iran is currently the top trending market on Polymarket, with $313 million wagered. Bets on Israel’s geopolitical moves are also hot.
Polymarket says its intent, “in gut-wrenching times like today,” is “to harness the wisdom of the crowd to create accurate, unbiased forecasts for the most important events to society.” (Kalshi has fewer Middle Eastern betting markets — though not none.)
But it all seems rather ghoulish. Sure, war always leads to some profiteering, but the prediction markets have made profiting on death pretty literal. Over $3 million has been placed on dates Israel might strike Gaza in the month of February, with Polymarket users hotly debating what, exactly, counts as a strike and celebrating drone hits with the hope of a payout. One commenter posted that they’d heard a Palestinian man was killed on Feb. 16; “Let’s hope,” another excitedly replied.
People who wagered on Israel striking Gaza have already won on nine different days in February. Rates depend on the bet’s odds when placed; shares are priced between 1 cent and $1 based on the going odds, with a payout of $1 a share for a win. Based on February’s odds, most people doubled or tripled their money.
There’s a lot of fine print, however. Artillery fire does not qualify as a “strike,” according to the rules of the market. Neither does a ground or naval invasion. The rules are extensive and include the types of sources that can count as confirmation — government confirmation or “a consensus of credible reporting” is required. Reporting exclusively from Palestinian outlets seems not to count, making the resolution to each wager a fraught issue.
And the markets are easy to manipulate or game with insider information. Two Israelis — a civilian and a reservist — were charged by the IDF for betting on a geopolitical market based on classified information. And Israel is investigating this as a wider problem after one user on Polymarket cashed out on numerous correct bets related to Israel’s June 2025 strike on Iran.
Shayne Coplan, the founder of Polymarket, has called the site a “truth machine,” framing it as a source of knowledge on world events. And, in some ways, the markets do have access to a certain type of truth: public opinion. One market on Kalshi, worryingly, is betting on whether Nick Fuentes will become president in the next 20 years. His chances are currently sitting at 16%.
Yet the wisdom of public opinion is fallible. People can only make their best guesses based on public information, which can lead to big losses; users lost hundreds of thousands of dollars on the Romanian presidential election. Some traders, who make a living on Polymarket and Kalshi, rely on short delays in confirmation, managing to sneak in on a bet after news has happened but before it is officially confirmed. The best way to win, however, is insider information — without regulation, there’s nothing to prevent, say, Trump’s speechwriter from wagering on what topics the president will cover in his State of the Union.
Still, there are some zealots who will always bet on their favorite, though, no matter how bad the odds. The devout have put Jesus at a 4% chance of returning before the end of the year.
Everyone else is happy to bet against it. Sure, it’s a safe bet, but the “no” bettors still made a tidy 5.5% return last year.
The post Everyone can be a war profiteer in Gaza or Iran, thanks to online betting markets appeared first on The Forward.
Uncategorized
Why the Jews Survived When so Many Civilizations Collapsed
Pro-Israel demonstrators gathered at Bebelplatz in central Berlin on Nov. 30, 2025, before marching toward the Brandenburg Gate. Participants held Israeli flags and signs condemning rising antisemitism in Germany. Photo: Michael Kuenne/PRESSCOV/Sipa USA via Reuters Connect
Arnold Toynbee, the great 20th century historian, devoted his life to studying civilizations — how they rise, how they flourish, and then, inevitably, how they fall.
His conclusion was disarmingly simple: Civilizations rarely collapse because they are conquered from the outside. They collapse because they fail to adapt. They mistake their moment in the spotlight — even if it lasts for centuries — for permanence.
And almost always, that confidence attaches itself to a particular place — a city, a capital, a sacred center that seems to radiate eternity.
For the Aztecs, that center was Tenochtitlan — an island city rising out of Lake Texcoco. Majestic white temples gleamed in the sun, with the great central shrine, the Templo Mayor, dominating the skyline.
Priests in feathered headdresses moved through the sacred area with ritual precision. This was an empire utterly convinced that heaven and earth met right there — in the middle of its city.
Then, in 1519, a few hundred Spaniards appeared on the horizon. At their head was Hernán Cortés, a young, ambitious, calculating adventurer who had no interest in the Aztecs’ view of themselves as an eternal people. Within two years, Tenochtitlan was rubble. The sacred precinct was stripped — its stones repurposed to build churches.
Today, if you stand in Mexico City, you can see excavated fragments of the Templo Mayor beside traffic lights and fast-food stands. The empire that believed it stood at the center of the world survives only in stone, in memory, and in the scattered descendants of a civilization that long ago lost its sacred center.
It’s a similar story with the Incas — a civilization of perhaps 12 million people stretching down the western spine of South America. They, too, had their version of eternity. Their bustling center, brimming with wealth, was Cusco, in the Peruvian Andes. Their vast empire stretched across mountains, deserts, and jungles — all radiating outward from Cusco, which they called the “navel of the world.”
Then, in the 1530s, another small Spanish expedition arrived, this one led by Francisco Pizarro. The timing could not have been worse. A brutal civil war was already tearing the Inca empire apart. Smallpox — a disease carried unknowingly by Europeans — had spread ahead of them, weakening the Inca population and destabilizing their leadership.
But even that did not prepare the Incas for the ruthless rampage of the conquistadores. Pizarro seized the emperor, Atahualpa, holding him hostage until an enormous ransom room was filled with gold and silver. The ransom was delivered as promised, but Atahualpa was executed anyway, and by 1533, Cusco was in ruins.
As in Mexico, temples were stripped of their treasures, and the gold was melted down and dispatched to Spain. Churches rose where sun temples once stood. The imperial order that seemed as solid as Andean granite unraveled with astonishing speed.
And this is not just a story about the New World. It is the rhythm of history. Mesopotamia believed itself to be eternal. Assyria did. Egypt did. Greece did. Carthage did. Rome certainly did.
Each, in its moment, assumed it stood at the gravitational center of human civilization. And then it didn’t. Monuments rise. Architecture declares permanence. Believers insist: “We are not going anywhere.” And then the center of gravity moves. It always moves.
The Jewish story should have followed the same pattern. In fact, by any reasonable civilizational metric, we were the least likely people to survive.
We began in Egypt as slaves. We wandered through the desert. We settled in the Land of Israel. We split into two kingdoms. We were exiled by the Assyrians. Conquered by the Babylonians. Rebuilt. Destroyed again by the Romans. Scattered across continents. Ruled by ruthless powers we did not control, living under laws we did not write.
No nation in history has experienced so many shifts in its center of gravity. And yet — we are still here. The question is not only why – it is how. The answer, I think, begins in Parshat Terumah. Before there was even a single stone laid on the Temple Mount, we were given something else — a sacred center that was real, but not fixed.
At the beginning of Terumah, God commands the construction of a sanctuary — not a monumental edifice carved into mountains or anchored to bedrock, but something built of curtains and poles, rings and sockets, designed to be dismantled and rebuilt wherever the people found themselves.
You might imagine the Mishkan as a temporary solution — a stopgap until the “real” thing in Jerusalem could be constructed. But that is to misunderstand it entirely. The Mishkan was not a placeholder. It was a principle. Long before we had a permanent Temple, we were taught something far more revolutionary: Wherever you are, build Me a center there — and I will be among you. As the Torah puts it (Ex. 25:8): “Let them make Me a sanctuary, and I will dwell among them.” Not in it — but among them.
The Temple in Jerusalem would later become the focal point of Jewish life. It was magnificent. It was the beating heart of the nation. Pilgrims streamed toward it three times a year. The Divine Presence rested there in revealed intensity.
And yet here is the astonishing fact: When the First Temple was destroyed, and the nation was exiled across the Persian Empire, we survived. When the Second Temple was destroyed by Titus in 70 CE, and the nation was scattered across the Roman world, we survived again.
Civilizations do not usually survive the destruction of their sacred center. The Aztec temples fell — and their world collapsed. Cusco fell — and the Inca nation unraveled. When Jerusalem fell, the Jewish people did not disappear. We regrouped. In Yavneh. In Sura. In Pumbedita. In Toledo. In Aleppo. In Frankfurt. In Warsaw. In Vilna. In New York. Even in Los Angeles!
The Temple may have been our center of gravity, but it was never the source of our gravity. That source had been implanted much earlier — in the wilderness — in the Mishkan.
The Mishkan precedes permanence. Long before we possessed a fixed center, we were taught how to create one that moves with us. Portable holiness was written into Jewish DNA. While other civilizations anchored holiness to geography, Judaism anchored holiness to covenant.
This does not diminish our longing for the Temple in Jerusalem. We pray daily for its rebuilding, and we turn toward Jerusalem in every Amidah. The Temple matters profoundly. But our survival without it proves something radical: God’s presence — and our identity as God’s people — was never confined to masonry.
The prophet Ezekiel, speaking in exile, refers to the synagogue as a מִקְדָּשׁ מְעַט — a miniature sanctuary (Ez. 11:16). In other words, a Mishkan. Wherever Jews gathered — in Babylon or Spain, in Poland or America — the portable sanctuary reappeared. In a synagogue. In a study hall. Around a Shabbat table. And God dwelt in our midst.
Which is why it is no accident that our first national sanctuary was made of curtains and poles, dismantled and reconstructed again and again over 40 years of wandering. Exile was written into the Jewish story from the beginning — but so was the architecture of survival.
And so today, as the global center of gravity threatens to shift yet again, the Jewish people remain what we have always been: a nation capable of carrying its center with it.
Wherever Jews gather — in Los Angeles, New York, London, Sydney, in a grand synagogue or a makeshift minyan in a dorm room, a hospital ward, or even a military base — if there is prayer, if there is Torah, if there is yearning for God — then God dwells among us.
The author is a rabbi in Beverly Hills, California.
Uncategorized
Qatar’s Olympic Ambitions: Soft Power Meets Hard Questions
Qatari Prime Minister and Foreign Minister Sheikh Mohammed bin Abdulrahman Al Thani speaks after a meeting with the Lebanese president at the presidential palace in Baabda, Lebanon, Feb. 4, 2025. Photo: REUTERS/Emilie Madi
As athletes gather in Italy for the 2026 Winter Olympics, an unusual presence should be sparking concern. Over 100 Qatari public security officers, along with 20 camouflage SUVs and three snowmobiles, arrived in Italy this month to help safeguard the Winter Games, though the country has no athletes competing.
The presence of US Immigration and Customers Enforcement (ICE) officials in Italy has drawn much of the flack around the Olympic security forces. But on a global level, it’s the chasm between Qatar’s carefully cultivated image and its actual conduct that deserves greater scrutiny.
The Qatar contingent’s arrival in Milan – marked by the Qatari military cargo plane hitting a lighting tower upon landing – is the latest example of Doha’s expanding role in global sports event security. That role reflects a calculated strategy to position the small energy-rich Gulf state as securing global cultural events while obscuring a troubling record of supporting Islamic fundamentalism.
Qatar has put in a lot of effort – and cash – to look like a solid Western ally, a respectable citizen of the world. But a closer look at the protection Doha has provided for terrorists over decades indicates that the respectability goes no deeper than a chicken costume worn by a fox – and is likely to prove at least as dangerous.
Qatar has made clear its interest in the soft power of global sporting events. In January, Sheikh Joaan bin Hamad Al Thani became president of the Olympic Council of Asia, and Qatar is bidding for the 2036 summer Olympics after hosting the men’s FIFA World Cup in 2022.
Those upstanding roles on the global scene run in parallel to blatant support of antisemitism. As Italy prepared for the Games, Qatar hosted the Web Summit tech conference, which showcased the creator of a new social media platform who told the audience he doesn’t need to rely on “Zionist money” and deployed the classic antisemitic trope that Jews control the media.
Corruption scandals abound, with Qatar standing accused of buying its way into hosting the World Cup. Former FIFA vice president Reynald Temarii was banned by soccer’s world governing body for eight years for accepting hundreds of thousands of euros from a Qatari billionaire, and was indicted by France in 2023 on charges of entering into a 2010 pact to support Qatar’s bid to host the 2022 World Cup. Qatari media also plays a part, with France investigating the role that a $400 million deal between FIFA and Al Jazeera, the flagship network of Qatar’s powerful media arm, may have played in the country’s selection as host.
Qatar’s support for terrorism goes back at least to the pre-9/11 era. Qatar has regularly been in the business of moving money to terror organizations, and was an early supporter of Al Qaeda founder Osama bin Laden, broadcasting his exhortations on Al Jazeera. Top Qatari government officials are thought to have tipped off 9/11 mastermind Khalid Sheikh Mohammed, allowing him to escape an FBI manhunt years before, when he was being investigated for his role in the 1993 bombing of the World Trade Center and plots to blow up international flights.
He was not the only terrorist the country accommodated. In 2013, Doha also became a safe haven for leaders of the Taliban, where they stayed as honored guests living in luxury even after exploratory peace talks with the US broke down, and of course for top Hamas leaders, including Khaled Meshaal, Khalil al-Hayya, and Hamas political chief Ismail Haniyeh.
Qatari officials have expressed support for Hamas, with the mother of the emir eulogizing the architect of the Oct. 7, 2023, massacre in southern Israel. Members of Qatar’s Shura Council declared that the events of Oct. 7 were merely a “preview.”
In another bid for an international leadership role, Qatar recently became a member of US President Donald Trump’s Gaza Executive Board, in one of the Gulf state’s latest attempts to build its reputation as a global keeper of the peace. But Qatar is not a neutral mediator. Giving Qatar a role in the future of Gaza means giving a role to a group that will likely support Hamas’s continued influence over Gaza. This is antithetical to Middle Eastern stability, which requires Hamas to be disarmed and removed from power. Giving Qatar a role perpetuates terrorism and corruption, and puts the security of the Middle East, the US, and the world at risk.
Qatar – which exports more liquefied natural gas than any other country and is one of the richest nations on earth – has managed to maintain good ties with the West, however, in part through the purchase of influence. For example, the US recently announced it will allow Qatar to build an Air Force facility in Idaho, and Doha is a major backer of US think tanks, universities, and politi
Soccer fields and ski slopes may seem like innocent enough playgrounds in which to let Doha romp. But such involvement only allows Qatar to polish its image and extend its influence, letting it build more empty legitimacy of the sort that allows it to be included in the Gaza peacekeeping force. Let’s also not forget that enabling Qatar to bill itself as a safeguard of international sporting events means that a committed sponsor of global terror is actively working to develop a reputation as a protector of some of the world’s most prominent terror targets. Before accepting the next offer of cash from Qatar or inviting the country to participate in peacekeeping activities, it’s well worth considering whether it’s really such a good idea to keep letting the fox guard the henhouse.
Dr. Ariel Admoni is a researcher specializing in Qatari policy at the Jerusalem Institute for Strategy and Security.