We take for our text Hosea chapter one, verse two: “And the LORD said to Hosea, Go, take unto thee a wife of whoredoms and children of whoredoms: for the land hath committed great whoredom, departing from the LORD.”
And Hosea went and married Gomer, a harlot.
An allegory. Hosea stands for the Lord, godliness, obedience, righteousness. Gomer stands for the people of the land, Israel. Or perhaps Hosea is Israel, and Gomer is the lying polytheism of the Canaanites, and it's a case of bigamy, polygamy, since Israel is already married to the Lord. Whatever. And an allegory of an allegory: Hosea stands for America -- honor, loyalty, valor, hard work, sacrifice. Nobility. Common sense. Who chased after, well, many many whores, no need for marriage, which America has ... forgotten, abandoned, perverted ... redefined.
Gomer does not stand for Trump. Trump is not a harlot: a hustle rather – selling, say anything, hurry hurry hurry. Harlots sell themselves. Hucksters sell trash. The beliefs of harlots have no relevance. Hucksters have a necessary contempt for truth and for their, well, voters. Trump, Hillary, Obama – say anything. Walls, and Benghazi, and evolving positions on “gay” “marriage”. Lie, be brazen, double down, be shameless.
But I apologize. It is an inept allegory of an allegory. America has not been instructed by the Lord to go a-whoring. If not the Lord, by what god then? Which is the god of appetite? Ashtoreth? Belial? I forget. My comparative religion studies have been neglected of late. Islamism, Atheism, Satanism -- all these celebrations of diversity, myriad paths to god, blend together in my distracted mind. My dull brain is wrought with things forgotten.
A spirit more lewd
fell not from Heaven, or more gross, to love vice for itself, attended by priests turned atheist, who fill with lust and violence the house of God. In courts and palaces he reigns, and in luxurious cities where the noise
of riot ascends above their loftiest towers,
and injury, and outrage. When night
darkens the streets, then wander forth the sons
of Belial, flown with insolence and wine.
Witness our own streets of Sodom, here, now.
So then. There have always been Trumps, aggressive self-promoters who will sell you a can of air or a pet rock, or gilt-edge stock certs to molybdenum mines on the fabulous island paradise of Vanuatu, or a sure-fire faith-healing cancer cure, twenty thousand dollars please, pay the “nurse” on the way out. Not to mention the off-the-rack poli-hacks of the past few and current election cycles. Shall we be dismayed by this inevitability? Were we asleep, to be rudely awakened? Something about every minute, suckers born ... I forget. Ah. Now I remember. Can you believe P. T. Barnum’s middle name was Trump? Freaky, dude. And, yes, you can believe that.
Let us reassign or assert our gender for a moment, and create a consanguine unity of instant convenience, and agree that we are Fates or Norns or Pythonesses or Weird Sisters of this Fluid New Age, and let us prophesy, a drum, a drum: Something wicked this way comes. By the pricking of my, heh, “thumb”. (Git it?)
Were kin ah git mahy sum uv theym mayjik bayeenz?!?
Can you believe I used to think America was "noble"?