The Messiah Is Coming

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This morning on the way to work, an old Israeli guy in an undershirt and suspenders was standing outside, watching the building super load heavy crates off a truck. The super was Jamaican, with a build that fell somewhere between the Incredible Hulk and Fat Albert — although he was doing some pretty heavy lifting, so let’s give him the benefit of the doubt. I was motoring by, lost in this book that I’ve talked about way beyond acceptable boundaries.

“Hey, Michael,” calls the Israeli guy. “When the Messiah is going to come?”

Without missing a beat, the super gestures at me and says, “When his wife get home!”

I spin around and throw both my arms to the heavens. “Hey, how did you know?” I shout back at them. “She got home last week!”

They both chuckle, and the super nods knowingly. “You see?”

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