Pastor, I Have this Friend

Well, several friends actually. They can't decide whether they are living in a dystopian novel where everyone is either crazy or miserable, one of those historical dramas that take place in some opulent but corrupt court, or a Marx Brothers comedy.

And they have the sinking feeling that if they did know, they wouldn't know how to handle it.

At first, it was terrible. They would wake up in the morning depressed or even more depressed than usual with the state of the world piled on top of their own problems.

Then it got worse. The talks about collusion and impeachment increased. (Of course they had been going on months before the election on both sides.) One very liberal friend says that she supports impeachment, but she doesn't want to hear any more about it. For awhile Trevor Noah started every Daily Show shouting, “And Trump is getting impeached!” and the audience went wild. For Joy Behar's birthday, The View presented her with a rendition of “Joy to the World,” about impeachment and a special birthday cake shaped like a giant peach with a mop of yellow icing hair and a spring of mint on top. (By the way, remember Testa-mints that come individually wrapped with Bible verses? Now, you can get “Impeach-mints.” The flavor is peach and mint. Not your grandmother's after dinner snack..)

Then things turned absurd. Last time, Bernie Sanders, that favorite uncle your parents disapprove of, was the major (perhaps the only Socialist). Now, the New Socialists, proclaim, “America wants Socialism.” Venezuela wanted socialism too, once. Some of it sounds great: free college, free medical care, guaranteed jobs. But then some Dylan Downer (Debbie's gender neutral-cousin) will want to know who is going to pay for it all.

I'm not going to comment on any of the leaders of the movement for fear the PC police will come after me.

On top of everything, candidates too numerous to keep track of (about fifteen) are competing to see  who is the most socialist, the most politically correct, and the most honest. Apologies are flowing, some for indiscretions committed years ago, some for mere existence, none of which will be good enough. 

But who can stay mad at such lovable transgressors?  After all, they are just folks, having a beer in the kitchen, riding skateboards, dancing, getting a flu shot. That might be worthwhile as a public service announcement. Getting an haircut not so much.

Well, Pastor, that's the way it goes.  There's more, but I don't have the energy to go into it.

It was good talking to you, Pastor. I'll pray for you, too.