Jehovah's Nitwits
Dream 10/3/93


I am Dean Martin for the most part. Jerry Lewis and I get off the train in Texas or somewhere wearing black hats. We're either penniless jugglers heading for our gig at the now-cancelled-due-to-weather county fair or escaped convicts that used to be a comedy team travelling incognito.

Some well-meaning Christians have summoned two rabbis to their small town to participate in a religious conference dedicated to reaching greater understanding among the people. The rabbis have missed their stop. One of the smiling red haired Christians sees us sitting on our suitcases.

Jerry starts to have a panic attack, so I try to calm him down and explain how our plight is all a part of chaos, one of the laws of the universe. I get on a tangent. I'm trying to explain fractional dimensions to Jerry and I draw the beginnings of what is called the Koch Snowflake in the dirt, a fractal that initially looks like the Star of David. We're surprised when the Christians mistake us for two rabbinical scholars, but we play along either to con money off them or so that our identities aren't revealed.

In the car, Jerry starts to remember the snippets of Talmud instruction he had as a youth and begins to pontificate, enlightening them on Judaism, throwing in some made-up parables of his own, that to me sound like cleaned up Farmer's Daughter stories, but on another level are curiously insightful and thought provoking. They take to us so strongly that they ask us to sit on a float in their parade.

Being Dean Martin, I'm at the end of my rope and start drinking and fucking all the young women in the town. I'm on top of this somewhat inexperienced naked French girl and I start feeling her up. She's pretty much lying there like a statue while I maul her. She finally moans for me to enter her, not realizing I've just prematurely ejaculated.

Meanwhile, Jerry has found his true calling. He magically disperses an angry mob of antisemites in the town using only his wits and some very wise words. Some of the Christian women in the town witness this and are so struck by him that they convert to Judaism and Jerry starts his own synagogue. He starts to grow a beard and wears his glasses full time.

As for me, I take a few slaps in the face, and end up hooking up with a woman closer to my age who is the proprietess of a restaurant in town with red checkered table cloths. She puts me to work in her garden and I stop drinking. Now months go by when Jerry and I don't see each other.

And we thought nothing could ever break up the act.