Don't blame me, I voted for Jezebel

The history behind the plot in Skinny Legs and All goes as follows: Israelites and Arabs have been fighting for centuries over the religious and occupational rights to Jerusalem. Though this book was written sometime in the early 1990s, it reminds me every day that American soldiers are nothing but fleas trying to intervene in a classic war between feral cats and Bull Mastiffs of the gigantic, rabid sort. The war we're in is nothing but a loud "Hey!" in response to a serious but comparatively short burst of crossfire. Hey, indeed.

What can be done? All I know how to do is turn off the news and cancel my newspaper subscription, sit at my desk, look around at all the trivial crapola I hold dear, and feel insignificant in the light of the universal brouhaha going on in older countries between people much, much older than the oldest American who ever lived.

Jezebel plays a huge part in the book. It fascinates me to think that much of the turmoil I've referenced is either caused by or a direct result of -- either way, it's close -- a shift from a matriarchal religion to a patriarchal, well, phenomenon. The ladies had the cards and now it seems we'll never get them back, in part because we're all, fine, take 'em if you're gonna be such a goddamn baby about it. And then there's Jezebel. Who painted her face in preparation for the grave and will forever be associated with the eye of Hurricane Whoredom despite the fact that face painting has little to do with sexuality. I guess it could be associated with the act of spreading (paint spreads, right?) but that's a stretch.

So here we are. The women standing back, watching. Nodding in some cases, shaking our heads in others, but always standing back.