Miracles are some of the most fascinating features of the Bible. Few are more riveting than the Great Exodus of Israel from Egypt, the crossing of the Red Sea, and God sustaining the refugees with food, water and basic necessities for forty years. For those who doubt the credibility of this Scriptural chronicle, a modern duplication is in the works. A reported caravan of thousands are marching from Central America to the Promised Land of perpetual welfare. No information has come forth about how they are being fed or who or what is paying for the usual human essentials. The obvious conclusion is manna is falling from the heavens, various rocks are spewing forth water, and none of Egypt’s diseases are plaguing the fugitives. It is glorious!
Our new story has a reverse application to the original in that the wicked Pharaoh Trump has vowed to station his army at the Rio Grande to prevent its parting. If it does separate and the asylum seekers cross on dry ground, Nancy Pelosi will be declared Cleopatra and all borders will be dissolved. In the meantime, an occasional glimpse into the telescope of common sense may be helpful for even the casual spectators.
Shouldn’t science, since it’s held in such high esteem by the Left, be an arbiter of sound logic in all matters of necessary discernment? For example: bees return to the hive and do a dance that tells the other bees not only where the pollen is but how much is there and how far away it is. Isn’t evolution marvelous? But the Italian honeybee’s dance will confuse an Austrian honeybee’s dance even though the two countries join on the border and in spite of the fact that they are the same species and interbreed!
For some fun, allow me to parrot an old mentor of mine when he satired the scene…..
To Bee: “What is that crazy nut doing out in front of the hive?”
Not to Bee: “Beats the fire out of me; I think he has a hornet in his pants.”
BB (the one doing the dancing): “You stupid idiots! Can’t you see I’m doing the Watusi?”
To Bee: “It looks like some kind of a break dance or a jitterbug, but I can’t figure it out for love nor money.”
Not to Bee: “It looks to me more like a samba or a tango, bit it’s 10:00 pm, and there’s no dance scheduled for tonight as far as I know.”
BB: “You fools, look! Look! See this? Umph! Ugh! Aaeyaagh! Oops!”
To Bee: “Call the Beeveedee over here and see if he can tell what’s wrong with that bee.”
Beeveedee: “Poor fellow. He has St. Vitus’ dance. I’ll go get Dr. GillesBee and we’ll take him down to the infirmaBee.”
They did. After much “exploratory research” and “tests,” they found that BB was a catatonic schizophrenic” whose obsessive compulsive neuroses coupled with erotic libido impulses had produced an involutional melancholia: he was dancing to get rid of emotional stress triggered by a relocation syndrome. For those failing to catch the nuances of the parody, the lesson is obvious. Bees have been coming to America for over 300 years, all with their specific cultural dance. Until recently the first priority was to learn the national dance, rendering the ability to blend into the hive, but now all too often the emphasis is a retention of all their former flags and distinctives with no desire to assimilate. They get angry and protest when the longtime residents cannot interpret their dance.
Even though the Libs have missed the message of the Bees, they have evidently learned from the California grunion. The female lays eggs in the sand exactly fifteen minutes after high tide (she reads the tide tables and sets her watch according to the observatory in Greenwich, England) the night after the “fortnight” high tide. The egg has to be fertilized by the male within thirty seconds (don’t worry…they all carry stopwatches, and they have a repair shop just forty miles off Santa Barbara.) By this method the eggs are safe until the next high tide. By that time the egg has hatched, and the newborn “small fry” are washed back into the sea to swim when the saltwater touches them on the next tide.
Even though we have never found a biology professor who could explain how the grunion learned these things, the Democratic media has observed just enough to know that timing is everything. Consequently, we wait for the next “bombshell” news alert just prior to the upcoming election.
Please consider just one evolutionary postscript question: How did the reptiles learn to sing after turning into birds? Perhaps, just perhaps, birds have always been birds, and reptiles have remained low lifes. “O generation of vipers, how can ye, being evil, speak good things: for out of the abundance of the heart the mouth speaketh” (Matthew 12:34).