So the other night, I’m walking past this double protest a few blocks from the White House. I wander up to a corner on the other side of the street, next to another onlooker, and wonder aloud, “what the hell is this?”
This girl, she turns to look at me in a most curious way, part stunned, part respectful, and part mirthful, part something else. “Well,” she says, “we got the Palestinians waving their flag on one side, and the Israelis with their flag on the other, and they’re chanting slogans at each other. Oops, now the Israeli flag is crossing the street.”
Swear it happened just like that, as best I can recall her exact words. That was a highly accurate description of what was actually happening, but I could see it just as well as she. That’s a hell of a fucking metaphorical commentary she just gave me, I thought, but why is she still staring at me like that? Then I noticed there were several other people watching our conversation instead of that catachrestical shit going on across the street, all with that same weird look.
That’s when the thought hit me. Dude, you forgot your hair-tie again. You look like Jesus, and these people want to hear your answer.
I suppose I look a little bit like Jesus. If I were running from the cops and shit, they wouldn’t need an identikit to find me. I’ve got the standard Euro-Jesus light hair, goes about halfway down my back, and a goatee, and I’m kind of scrawny. And I used to be a carpenter, and I just turned thirty-three. Oh, yeah, and I’m a Reverend in the Universal Life Church, as if you ain’t.
But that’s where the resemblence ends. Did I throw up my arms, say, “let’s all love one another,” walk into the middle of K Street, and bring the flag bearers into each others’ arms, like Jesus might do?
Fuck, no, dude! I got the fuck out of there!
Sometimes when I’m in Jesus mode, you know, with my hair down, I swear people think I’m going to say or do something that’s somehow spiritually important. It ain’t gonna happen. I’m about as spiritual as a wrench. You probably don’t want my opinion.
You want some advice? Here’s the word of the guy who merely resembles Jesus. Pay for your damned advice, motherfuckers! I don’t see anyone sliding me the greens for saying that, so you shouldn’t even consider the shit I just said without a second opinion. Now go forth and do whatever the hell it is you people do.