MAY THE CURSES OF ONE YEAR CONCLUDE, AND THE BLESSINGS OF ANOTHER BEGIN
The Jewish year aligns almost perfectly with the American political year. It begins in September, covering election season, and ends in late August, in the hazy, lazy days of the ending summer.
The Jewish year of 2020-2021, which began 12 months ago and is ending in a week, is also known as Tashpah. Which is an alpha-numeric contraction telling us this is the year 5781 since the creation of the world. The year which is about dawn upon us will be known as Tashpab, or 5782.
The alignment of the Jewish year with the political year is useful. We like to say, “May the curses of one year conclude,” and indeed the curses of 2020-2021 were a terrible bundle.
It had been a horrific year. A true rolling catastrophe for our American nation. Beginning in September (going by the Jewish year here), we had the media and the Democrats ferociously attempting to shield the public from any negative impressions about Joe Biden. The daft half-brained senile imbecile had been lauded as a seasoned father-of-the-nation figure, while Trump had to endure a cold and fetid shower of an ever-flowing media sewer.
To top it off, we then had the media’s complete forsaking of their duties by burying the very troubling facts confirmed by a review of Hunter Biden’s laptop – that the Biden family is corrupt and regularly benefits from its crooked political ties to China and other foreign powers. Grotesquely, we saw how a meth addict had become “Business Man of the Year!” cutting deals of high global finance with the Chinese and Ukrainians, thanks to nothing but the influence of his father.
As an aside, this reminds me how as an intelligence officer I came to notice with amusement the way in which the fawning Egyptian press had celebrated the “genius” of Gamal Mubarak. The son of the former dictator, Mubarak Jr. was an utterly corrupt money man, with tentacles pressed upon every government-owned company. Yet the Egyptian press could never get enough of him. Year after year they nominated him as “Economic Leader of the Year!” or “The Young Business Boy Wonder!” (despite his even then noticeably receding hairline).
Anyhow, we then had the presidential election itself, where shielded from criticism and abetted by shenanigans of mobilization, resulted in the triumph of the Left. The American republic, once a polity of discerning citizens had transformed in front of our eyes into a mobilized democracy, where the twerking masses are solicited to vote, ballots are harvested, and discerning thought is not required at all.
Some had hoped that when finally in power, the Left would normalize and pipe down. Alas, life is a graveyard of hopes, as Anne Shirley had wisely observed. The election was followed by a long procession of hysteria: The moronic pearl-clutching over the January 6th trespassing of the Capitol (once again, as an IDF officer during the 2nd Intifada, I can tell you a few things about what a real “insurrection” looks like), the continued panic over Covid with its ever more bizarre mandates to double mask, to coerce vaccination, and to deny ownership of private property.
All the while the southern border had remained completely open, with sensible programs such as “Remain in Mexico” terminated for no reason. Even as the public was encouraged to panic over the pandemic, in Animal Farm it was completely unadvisable to complain about 150,000 monthly border crossers, unvaccinated and unsanitary, who had been washing up on our side of the Rio Grande.
The North American summer, once idyllically celebrated through camping, fishing, and time spent outdoors was instead heralded by the sanctification of “Juneteenth.” Like Jews always mindful of the destruction of the Temple, we can now be permanently mindful of the fact that in all seasons, through rain, storms, and sun rays, everything must always be black, black, blackity, black. Our exciting new liturgical calendar takes us through Martin Luther King Jr.’s Day, then to St. George Floyd Day, then to Black History Month, and then Juneteenth.
We still get a sort of summer break, but if you live in a big city, that break too is much disrupted by black self-expression, such as the summer flash mobs of Chicago rendering a weekend visit to the Loop a calculated risk, and the good old weekend shootings by wholesome youth now in control of the inner city. It’s OK. Archie and his pals used to enjoy milkshakes at the soda shop, LaQuan and his gang prefer to smoke crack and shoot one another. Boys will be boys!
And now, as the year concludes (sticking to the Jewish year here!) we’ve been gifted with the excitement of the disaster in Afghanistan. If the Afghan catastrophe can be forgiven against the general stupidity of our being there in the first place, it is fast becoming an excuse to dump tens of thousands of “refugees” on America. And remember, with our system of chain migration, every third-worlder brings in on average an additional 3.5-4 relatives. That’s how you get from a few Somalis to the charming Mogadishu on the Mississippi of Minneapolis, where girls can celebrate the meaningful rite of passage of female-genital-mutilation.
For some reason, the formula has become “Vermont or bust!” Meaning, either a migrant is settled in Vermont, or there is simply no other option! Why not Turkmenistan, or Turkey, or Pakistan, or Azerbaijan? Or maybe enrich a little bit the diversity of Shanghai? Don’t ask, bigot!
And so, with sincere yet careful hope I wish you all a very happy new year. Or as we say, may the curses of one year conclude, and the blessings of another begin.
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