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Replaced Sharon....
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In dreams begin those
dreary responsibilities
By MURRY FRYMER
of TheColumnists.com
I had this dream the other night where I got a call from Israel, I can’t remember exactly from whom. The person said they wanted me to become the prime minister of Israel.
I think I said, “Why me?” And I think the person said “Because you are Jewish.”
“Israel is full of Jews,” I said, though I was already thinking of my first action as prime minister.
“We have searched the land and nobody seems qualified,” the person said. “Nobody knows what to do.”
Naturally, I thought, they would come to me. Well, maybe not “naturally.” After all, I don’t know what to do about most things. Make that “all things.” More and more I can’t figure out my choices. But enough about me as small-time indecisive schlubb and let me get back to me as the prime minister of Israel.
“Okay,” I said. “I happen to have some free time now and I will take the job. What does it pay?”
“Does that matter?” the person said. “The future of Israel is at stake. The future of world Jewry is in your hands. You are going to quibble about salary?”
“Okay,” I said. “I’ll take what Sharon was getting. He looks fat and sassy. It must be a good salary. Also, is there a house that goes with this job?”
“House shmouse,” the person said. “Get an El Al flight and come here right away. Goodbye.”
I hung up and began packing, wondering exactly what I would wear as prime minister. I hate to wear ties, now that I am retired. Of course, as prime minister I would no longer be retired, but I don’t think anybody in Israel wears ties. Sharon is a really bad dresser, but it’s hard to find pants in his size. And he still looks good next to Arafat with his napkin wrapped around his head.
I wondered where I might get a cheap flight to Tel Aviv. But then I had this typical nightmare situation-where the heck do I go when I land in Tel Aviv? Would anyone know I was the new prime minister? If they didn’t know, how would I inform them?
Well, I’d worry about that in Tel Aviv. I’ll just wear some tan slacks and a sports shirt. Maybe take a yarmulke, though I could probably get one in the airport. Actually, I’ve never seen Sharon wear a yarmulke. Maybe that just upsets the Arabs.
My big concern, of course, would be how to bring peace to the Middle East. I thought I could figure that out on the plane. Though, truly, I can never figure out which of the assortments of drinks offered on most plane I prefer.
OK, peace is not choosing from an assortment. To have peace in the Middle East, the prime minister must convince all the ultra Orthodox Jews who live in the West Bank and Gaza settlements to leave by next Thursday. Maybe offer prizes. Or, I thought, it would work just as well if I could convince all the Arabs in the West Bank and Gaza to leave. That would take a lot of prizes. What sort of prizes do Arabs like? That was a big policy decision.
No, the Arabs would not leave. And I guess the Jews would not leave. Okay, can I start a campaign with the Rodney King slogan: “Can’t we just get along?” I don’t know how that slogan turned out for Rodney King. Again, I was doubtful it would work in the West Bank and Gaza.
“This is hard work,” I thought, echoing the concerns of George W. Bush, as expressed in his debate. Bush apparently gave up on the Middle East and I understand why. The Middle East is hard work.
I figured I needed a plan to 1) stop mortar fire from Gaza into Israel, 2) stop Israel from retribution killings in Gaza, 3) stop suicide bombers in Israel, 4) stop all the Arabs from hating the Jews and the Jews from hating the Arabs, 5) stop all the Jews from hating the Jews, and 6) stop Syria and Iran from building weapons of mass destruction for attacks on Israel. Maybe, I thought, I should attack Syria and Iran in a preemptive war. I would ask President Bush how to go about that,
My head was beginning to hurt and I was equally concerned whether I should wear sandals in my new job. Or maybe go barefoot like a prophet. Image is very important when you are trying to lead a people.
Then I had a radical new thought. What if the phone call I got from that person in Israel was a wrong number? What if when I tried to take over the government there, somebody threw me out of the Knesset? I don’t remember the person on that phone call actually calling me “Murry.” It could be another Frymer who, maybe, had a few more ideas and connections than I did.
I also realized I could not call this person back because I didn’t get his phone number. Also, I can’t afford phone calls to Israel on my AT&T wireless plan.
Well, I started to feel
depressed because I really did want to solve the puzzle in the
Middle East and I am sure I could do it as well as Sharon, and
I could use the money.
I lay back down and stared at the ceiling and soon I fell asleep.
Until the phone rang:
I picked it up and said
“Hello?” The voice said: “Where the hell are you?”
©2004
by Murry Frymer. The Murry
Frymer caricature is ©2000 by Jim Hummel. The illustration
includes elements taken from IMSI's Master Clips Collection,
1895 Francisco Blvd. E., San Rafael, CA, 94901-5506, USA.
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