20/4/01

High Noon in the Holy Land

This's kinda how it'd be if the Jewish State happened to be in the Midwest instead o' the Mideast.

    "Mornin', Zeke."
    "Mornin', Sarah-Lou."
    "Whatcha doin?"
    "Whittlin'."
    "S'nice. Hey, shoon you be in shul right 'bout now? Ol' Man Coop's puttin' on a kiddush, y'know, fer Yom Hatzmoot. Th' whole town's a-comin'."
    "Naw. Think I'll follow the tumbleweeds downa El Aviv, n' git some action."
    "On Shabbos? Ezekiel Levy, yer Paw'll whup ya fer sure!" 
    "Yeah, well, least it'd be sump'n to do. When's the last time anythin' happened here in Jew'salem? Not in my lifetime. Heck, only thing that ever raised dust is when a coupla guys went joyridin' and that was 'cross the border in Wyoming. This gotta be the most boringest country in the world, everything all peace'n'quiet like. Ain't nobody ever gits riled for nuthin'. Ain't nuthin' to talk about. Ain't nuthin' to see. Last time a tourist came through here, it was front-page in the Post fer two weeks."
    "OK, so it's quiet. Druther be livin' here in poky Israel than some insane place, like out there in Palestine."
    That's kinda how it'd be if the Jewish State happened to be in the Midwest instead o' the Mideast.    

MEANWHILE, HALF a world away, the Palestinians, looking for someone to fight with, are whuppin' each other. Only no one in the world cares. One thing's for sure: they're not blaming the Jews, cuz there ain't any.
    Over in Kansas, and South Dakota, and Idaho, they are blaming the Jews, but nobody's sure exactly what for. Some say it's because the price of pork-belly futures is so low. Could be jealousy, because the Jews are better farmers. Lot of people say the Jews are Commies, because of all the kibbutz communes there.
    "It's our fault," Jedediyah Ben-Lulu said over a glass of botz at Brachiyahu's Bagel & Barber Shoppe, "on account o' we're different. We're strangers in a strange land, like the Good Book says. An' I tell you who's ta blame -- ol' Moses, thas who. I don't know why he hadda take us outta Egypt, part th' waters an' walk clear across the 'lantic fer forty years and forty nights, to set down Eretz Yisrael here in the middle o' goddam nowhere. He coulda just, I dunno, hang a right, walk a week and save hisself a whole hatful o' bother."
    "Sure, Jed," Matthias snorted, "an' right now we'd be smack dab ina middle o' all them scufflin' Ayrabs."
    "Naw, we'd a been there first, we'd a kep them bastards clear outta there. First hint o' trouble, pow."
    Matthias howled. "A Jewish army! Oh, yeah, tha's a good one! Y'ever see a Jew fight? Jed, you got the jawbone of an ass!"
    "Which jus' proves th' wisdom oג€™ the Lord," Uriah piped up, as everyone knew he would. "Not for no reason the Promised Land's right here in the Midwest."
    Matthias yawned. "Anybody know what time it is?"
    Brachiyahu said: "The clock ona wall say three o'clock."
    "What we gonna do the rest o' the day?"
    "Same as usual. Nuthin'."
    Because that's what usually happens in this here Jewish State.  

AT THE town synagogue -- there was only one, cuz there's only one God, an' all Jews are alike, so who needs more than one place to pray? -- the li'l uns were festooning the walls with blue-and-white decorations. Reb Caleb Abraham, had nuthin' else to do anyway, was preachin' to the chillun all about the upcoming holiday.
    "Let us give thanks, O Children of Israel, for the doin's of the Lord, who hath brought us out o' the Gehenom of slavery, who led us away from the evil lure o' Sodom 'n' Gomorrah, to the safety of the Holy Land, where we established dominion remote from our enemies. Praise the Lord!"
    "Praise the Lord!" the children repeated.
    "And that is why," the rabbi continued, "we celebrate this here Yom Hatzmoot. Even after 3,513 years of independence, of peace, of prosperity, we still give thanks to the Holy One, Blessed Be He."
    "Rabbi, can we take a break now? We'd like to watch ג€˜Pokemon.ג€™ "

THE ISRAELI embassy in Palestine was also preparing for Independence Day, but for the first time in memory, Israel was the focus of controversy. The embassy in Gaza was planning separate diplomatic receptions for warring Christian Arabs and Moslem Arabs, and the international community was outraged. This sort of thing was simply not done, anywhere, ever. It was not like Israel to create a stir.
    Nonetheless, Palestinians were excited about the Israeli national holiday. Gaza newspapers ran banner headlines: "Happy 3,513th birthday Israel!" and "Palestine Sees Israel as Model for Peace Formula."
    Out of respect for the Jewish State, the Arabs agreed to a ceasefire for a day.
    In Ramallah, a special citizens' committee was set up to receive Israeli visitors.
    Little Palestinian children threw flowers at the Israelis.
    Nuthin' what you wouldn't expect, mind you.

THEN, TROUBLE.
    Coupla them swarthy ranchers from th' other side come over to Sheriff Barak's farm an' say, "Git." They got guns, they sez they gonna need his land for grazin' purposes, ya got till sundown t' skedaddle. He sez, whoa there, we been on this here land 3,513 years, and they say, huh, we wuz here first, even afore th' injuns, an' Barak sez, "Oh."
    An' so we all git downa Arik's Bar fer a town confab. It don' look good. The sheriff, he don' want trouble. Ain't never had none, till now. He sez, boys, it ain't right we got their land, an' a whole big fooferaw starts up. Then Arik, he's a big fat ol' feller, he starts a thunderin', an' then that Missy Limor, she's a-hissin' an' a-cussin', she git up an' call the sheriff a spineless yella-belly coward, an' a whole lot worse, an' then the both o' them sez this means war, we gotta fight. Fight! Well!
     Right then, a bunch a them swarthy fellas appear out on Main Street, armed to the teeth, jus' like in the movies. The womenfolk round up all th' chillun an' go indoors an' shut all the trissim, and su'nly, ev'body's quiet as a shulmouse.
    Sheriff Barak sez he got a plan. Well, other guys got a plan too, but hey, he's the sheriff. An' Missy Limor, she's a-squawkin' that they got fifty American states an' we got but one Jewish state, an' we gotta scrounge up a posse t' git out there guns blazin', but the sheriff don' pay no never mind.
    The plan calls for him goin' out there an' talkin'. Talkin'! This ain't jus' like in th' movies no more. An' Yael, she's his girl, she's a-hangin' on his arm screechin', "Don' go out there! They'll gun ya down fer sure! Jus' give 'em what they wants!" An' then pow, Missy Limor whacks her upside the face and there ain't no more screechin'.
    Then someone hollers, th' shul's on fire!, an' we know who done it, and the sheriff sez,  now we gonna show 'em, now we gonna talk double.
    Stroke o' noon, the sheriff goes out there, an' the bad guys think fer sure he's gonna take up the reg'lar showdown position, but the sheriff comes over t' the wrong side, like as if he don' propose to shoot it out. First time ever, ya got two gunslingers over on th' one side!
    An' then the sheriff sez, I don't got no gun, see, I got this here pen instead. Well, th' other fellas, they start laughin', an' shootin' all over, an' the sheriff sez, we don' want no trouble, ya got what ya came fer, now take it all an' gwan home. But what they came fer is shootin'.
    So here comes Shimon, the sheriff's deputy, and he sez, OK, stop the shootin' an' y' kin have our guns too. It's agreed, an' they writes their John Hancocks with that there pen, an' dang if they don' start shootin' again but with our own guns! An' the sheriff gits hisself outta there with his deputy on his heels, an' they come back and say t' ev'body duckin' under the tables, we won, they surrendered. Only nobody's shoutin' "Yeee-ha!"
    So they're fightin' us, and next thing y'know, we're fightin' usselves too. Shimon sneaks up behind the sheriff an' pulls a fast one on 'im, an' ol' Arik steps up, lays 'em both out cold, an sez, "I'm the new sheriff 'round here, and I sez we fight them varmints."
    Anyhow, half us guys sez let's, half sez let's not. Half sez it's our fault anyway. Other half sez yer crazy, we been persecuted; half sez we gotta pray, an' half sez there ain't no God so what fer, an' half sez Deri is innocent, whatever that means, an' su'nly all th' Jewish people is split in half lotsa ways, which's too bad, i'n it?