men of truth,
those who hate dishonest gain;
and you shall place these over them as leaders of thousands, of hundreds,
of fifties and of tens.
Book of Exodus
Last week I wrote about the glass half full
and building our houses and chopping our wood
and growing our gardens and staying up-beat and P*O*S*I*T*I*V*E
even when we’re wallowing in shit in this
BEST OF ALL POSSIBLE WORLDS
yada yada yada.
Today, not so much.
Today gloom reigns.
Today the weather is dreadful, an ice storm looms,
my fitful sleep is alive with faces of the dead.
Today I see soiled sheets shorts shirts I don’t want to launder
and dirty dishes I don’t want to scrub
and the empty package of Oreo Doublestuffeds I ate
in one sitting
thus my jeans don’t fit
and I see my aging face.
Damn. Rats. Aargh. Blechhh. Feh.
I could blame my blahs on bad weather and housework and wrinkles
and other ordinary woes,
but let’s get real.
Since Tuesday, November 8, 2016,
my gut’s been in a knot,
not because of ordinary everyday regular shit.
By the pricking of my thumbs
I know something wicked this way comes.
Yesterday in shul we read the final chapter of the Book of Genesis.
Next Shabbat we begin the Book of Exodus.
Today I see this progression as the eerie segue from the past eight years
to whatever the hell comes next.
Sort of like unicorns morphing into monsters under the bed.
Consider this. The words bless or blessing are found eighty-eight times in the Book of Genesis. Which means bless and blessing are the most frequently occurring words in Genesis (except for God and God’s name), and there is no other book of the Bible in which the words bless and blessing occur more often. Eight years ago President Barack Obama represented (to me, at least) the promise of a new beginning for our country, for the world, for the whole damn universe, actually. A beginning filled with promise and warm fuzzies and red licorice jump ropes and rainbow flags and health care in every pot and buckets of blessings. BLESSINGS up the gazoo. And (to continue the Bible/Barack analogy) when we arrived yesterday at the end of Genesis (and on Friday at the end of Obama’s term), the Israelites (read: Americans) are safe and secure and each of Jacob’s twelve sons, plus two of his grandsons, have been blessed which, (again by my Bible/Barack reckoning) means we’ve ALL been blessed during the past eight years so put that in your smipe and poke it.
But open the Book of Exodus, brothers and sisters, and ZAP. The story races from the positive to the negative. Here comes ole man persecution and slavery! Enter stage right the oppressive tyrant! Watch out for the hardened hearts! Run from the plagues! Does any of this sound familiar, people? Does any of this smack of the America we live in today, folks? In the bible story we escaped with our lives and made it to the Promised Land, but it took forty frigging years fer crissake and at my age I can’t wait that long for another Moses with a magic staff to lead us in the right direction and I’m too old to march with other women wearing a knitted pink pussy hat and I’m too tired to phone my congressman or petition my representative and I’ve almost given up on any network ever throwing open the windows and yelling
I’m mad as hell and I’m not going to take this any more.
The best I can do is go to the movies on Inauguration Day,
not listen to one word of his speech,
not watch his parade or his balls
(oh, you know what I mean)
and remind everyone within earshot
that Proverbs teaches
When the righteous are in authority,
the people rejoice.
But when a wicked man rules,
the people groan.
Call me stiff-necked. A sore loser. A snowflake. That’s fine.
Thanks for wading through this rant.
I feel better now.
Might even sneak a peek at Melania’s Inaugural outfits . . .
copyright Ozzie Nogg 2017