This story was originally published in the Forward. Click here to get the Forward’s free email newsletters delivered to your inbox.

As far back as he can remember, Noah Rinsky dreamed of becoming an Old Jewish Man — but it wasn’t always a good dream.

Growing up in Colorado Springs, his parents would take him and his brother to an Orthodox Shul on the High Holidays, where they saw elderly gents loudly blowing their nose during the Torah reading, cutting in line at kiddush and sneaking rugelach in their pockets for later.

“It was like looking at another species,” said Rinsky, 35, the mind behind the viral Old Jewish Men social media empire (he was wearing a rumpled OJM t-shirt with the Polo logo and the original name of that company’s founder, Ralph Lifshitz). “It was hard to imagine that you’d one day grow into this.”

But the early signs were there. Peers in elementary school told him that he dressed like an old man — though his mom was in charge of his wardrobe. When as a 20-something he lived on East Broadway with his brother — who was president of the Stanton Street Shul — he started hanging out with senior members of the congregation at kosher eateries like Colbeh in Midtown. His wife now jokes that he hunches and is “built like a fruit peddler.” 

In 2015, Rinsky began documenting Old Jewish Men, beginning with his own father and expanding to a cast of colorful shlubs who stage protests about the lack of public bathrooms and the price of pastrami. 

What began as a pet project has since become a scene: OJM has over 6000,000 followers between TikTok and Instagram and in recent years has become a lifestyle brand with a shmatta business. Stylist Mel Ottenberg has been seen sporting their merch and Larry David wore OJM-branded shorts on the farewell season of Curb Your Enthusiasm, signaling acceptance from luminaries of Old Jewish Men fashion and folkways. 

On Sept. 17, Rinsky will be releasing the essential literature for his movement The Old Jewish Men’s Guide to Eating, Sleeping & Futzing Around.

Far from a dashed-off novelty book, Rinsky conducted extensive interviews with Jews — both old and young — about how to reach the stage in one’s life cycle where he may spend all day schmoozing, eating deli and voicing strong opinions about the spread at shul.

Illustrated by cartoonist Dick Carroll, the guide comes bundled with nifty recommendations for restaurants and jazz clubs in cities from New York to London and Tel Aviv. True to Rinsky’s initial impression of OJMs as another species, he tries to provide a comprehensive taxonomy of geriatric Hebrews — even if it may fall short in its minyan of 10 archetypes.

“There’s going to be people that don’t find their parents in this thing, including my own father,” said Rinsky. (He toyed with having him be something called “The Gentle Jew,” a less obstreperous order, but decided it was too close to another archetype — “Possibly Gentile.”)

Rinsky knows that he is leaning into some less than positive stereotypes. He writes “Old Jewish Men’s hands are utterly useless, as if solely designed to turn the pages of the Talmud and damage fine machinery,” “Packing is like lying on your taxes —it’s gotta be done the right way,” and in a dictionary of terms defines the phrase “(Jewish) lightning.”

The OJMs featured may come off as slovenly, loud, transactional, riddled with ailments and inclined toward “tuchus-watching,” but Rinksy doesn’t see much harm done. Instead, he views this good-natured ribbing as part of a great inheritance of Jewish self-deprecation. And, he’s not doing it for people who hate Jews.

“If you’re an antisemite, you’re probably not going to like the book,” Rinsky said.

But, if you aspire to reach the zen that comes with claiming your table at Barney Greengrass with your bottle of Lipitor, the guide shows you how. 

“I think that these guys kind of exude truth,” said Rinsky. “That’s the kind of ethos of what we’re doing — we’re giving it to you straight.”

That straight-talking, and all the wisdom therein, can be yours for $17.99 (discounted from $19.99 if you pre-order). An Old Jewish Man knows a bargain when he sees one — but may well still kvetch about the markdown.

This story was originally published on the Forward.