That’s it. If any doubt had remained, it’s gone. Donald Trump, the randy provocateur in the White House, is way greater than the Lord our God.
How do we know that? Well, first of all consider that the One on High and the One in Washington use the very same instrument to create worlds: their mouths. Words. They say things.
The Almighty, as is said in the Shaharit morning prayers, spoke and a world came into being.
World, singular. Our God created only one world — between you and me, it’s a pretty lame beta version — and quit.
The Almighty in the White House, on the other hand, is a serial world creator. He has already created innumerable worlds and his mouth isn’t anywhere near done moving. Indeed, our Lord “spoke” and the Trump “tweeted,” but that’s just another proof of the state-of-the-art efficiency of the Blessed be Donald versus the outdated primitivism of the Blessed be He.
Here is just a taste of the worlds created by the occupant of the Oval Office.
In one sentence, he abolished global warming and created a cooler world, a world that needs warming by burning wondrous, healthful black coal.
Immediately thereafter, he devoted his attention to dealing with North Korea’s nuclear arsenal. Two tweets, a cup of coffee in Singapore, a crow of victory and ta-da! A new denuclearized world arose. Children can smile again.
But the world wasn’t good enough yet. Putin, the Adversary from Russia, continued to do with the world whatever he pleased. D. rode in to the rescue. A tweet, a hug, an especially steamy vapidity and the Adversary was transmogrified into one of the 36 righteous ones. A brave new world was born.
And Jerusalem, of course, that hallowed pain in the Middle East’s buttocks. Some quick tapping by the Lordly finger on the virtual keyboard and lo, Jerusalem was rendered virtual too. There is no more Jerusalem. It’s off the table. A world that is all peace was created with a presidential belch. The people who imposed monotheism on the world, who casually embraced another god, shouldn’t be surprised — a god whose salvation is momentary and who springs miracles upon us at least twice a week?
Lest there remain a handful of heretics who reject the deification of the Blessed be Donald, the events of the last few days have closed the case. In a single Trumpian hiccup he created yet another wondrous new world — one without Palestinian refugees. Nada. They’re off the table too. Holy! Holy! Holy! the entire state chanted, tears of gratitude springing from its eyes.
It’s easy to see why. Aside from being perennial victims, we are also eternal refugees. We have been passing down our refugee status to our young for 100 generations. From mother to son, from daughter to grandchildren. For over 2,500 years we have been carefully preserving our victimhood, celebrating our mourning days and vowing to begrudge the memory for all time. Suddenly these guys come along with their lousy 70-year exile, their piddling Nakba, and say “Refugees are we, and so are our sons.” What chutzpah! The only ones with inheritable rights of refugeeism are us. We have the monopoly.
And then the Trump came along, our Donald ex machina, and freed us of these pests.
Not to be a party pooper, but as in all faiths there is an awkward gap between belief and reality, and between the world where all is good and the world where all is reality. And thus, despite all the presidential baaing, the world is still getting warmer, North Korea still has nuclear weapons and Vladimir Putin is still an international thug. Jerusalem remains on the table and 5 million Palestinian refugees are still perched right alongside it.
How sad. How terrible. It turns out that even two gods can no longer be trusted.
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