Democratic License by Edward Drobinski - HTML preview

How I Got Here

Thursday, October 17, Big Boss Man’s Day, the Second Year of the DOJ/FBI Disenfranchisement of the American People, the Decade of the Largely Peaceful Fires, in the Century of the Bot Takeover Dear diary; you might be wondering how I got involved in all of this. Probably not, but since I’m in charge here, I’ll tell you anyway. It’s primarily an at-the-core personal disinterest combined with a wish to stay out of trouble.

You laugh. Au contraire.

Out of a professionally tested lack of interest in any particular subject, at the suggestion of my Yiddish mama I majored in Accounting at Tel Aviv University. When I discovered that university attendance did not protect you from military conscription, but that being a Haredi did, I immediately joined Edah HaCharedis, the sound of the word most compelling.

I recall this one sided conversation with my White father, or at least the guy who was periodically with my Ashkenazi mother when I was at that age. “I’m not telling that klafte. Dad, I’m pouring out my broken heart. Say something already. ...... I’m not a jew despite Mom and everyone is laughing when they call me one. Dad, dad, I’m here feeling like a schmaltzy shlimazel

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trying to schmooze with you and getting bubkes. Dad! Dad! Can’t you understand? Dad? I love you dad. Please tell me you do. I just don’t want to be incorrectly seen as Jewish in a world full of goyishe schlemiels. Nu?”

I supposed that the contradiction between my joining the Edah HaCharedis and stating that I didn’t want to be seen as jewish confounded him, and resulted in him saying nothing. I later learned that his IQ level didn’t support the ability to pay any attention, so I subsequently felt better.

I got a BS in that Accounting, and found out that would best qualify me for a position in MOSSAD’s Nerd Division; you know checking the books of those who ran afoul of the government, and submitting my findings, always of “irregularities,” to the prosecutors. Look, I’m not some kind of schmuck looking for trouble.

Having said that I married my first wife not long after becoming the Under Assistant Western Haifa Book Man. We lived in an apartment in Haifa on the Mediterranean coast. She was jewish and said and thought that I had potential, but I quickly realized that she didn’t. So we split, and since her income as a Synagogue Guard was higher than mine, she has to send me money every month.

Democratic License