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There’s been a lot of talk lately about the Judeo-Christian values on which our country was founded. A lot of talk about how people are unpatriotic if they don’t force these values on the rest of the nation. And even more talk about how people are going to go to hell if they continue to allow women do decide what happens to their own bodies.
At first, I was a cynic. And, well, a little frightened. Organized religion scares the crap out of me. But then I saw God’s big beautiful light of love and purity, and I became a believer. BRING ON THE JUDEO-CHRISTIAN VALUES! Cleanse my soul with them, please. Only, I mean more the Judeo side? Because that’s really not getting enough play. And, well, scares me a little less.
I’m thinking a state-mandated Shabbat is in order. So from sundown on Friday until sundown on Saturday there will be no driving, no electricity, no nothing. Think about the energy we will save! The number of cars that will be off the road for 24 whole hours! God really will hug us just a little bit closer.
Next up, a state-mandated celebration of Yom Kippur. Everyone has to atone for the crimes they have committed against their fellow human. (I’m thinking Sarah Palin’s list of those offended would include all women ever. But I may just be projecting).
Finally, if we really embraced our inner American Jew, we’d never again have to worry about this “lipstick on a pig” nonsense. No more talk about pork-barrel spending, either. Washington would be cleansed. Sadly, though, then we’d probably try and put lipstick on a Moose. And Bullwinkle spending. Because *sigh* Moose is kosher.
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Just because you can’t eat pigs doesn’t mean you can’t beatify them.
Actually, it’s mostly the Jews I know that are the biggest fans of pork. Not the Kosher ones, obviously, but the ones that are one or two generations removed from their strict dietarily orthodox relatives. To them, the “other” white meat has become a forbidden fruit — mana from heaven that only they in all their assimilated glory can appreciate.
However, I think that even the jesus-leaning population of this nation can appreciate the notion (that was mine and joy’s first, blair waldorf’s later) of sitting shiva directly after a breakup. Not only does covering the mirrors help you not think about that puffy-eyed nonsense that used to be your face, but what better way to, spiritually at least, tell the man who broke your heart that he’s “dead to you?”