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Ten levels of speech were given to the world and women took nine. So sayeth the Medrash. Mohammad peered into the ten levels of hell to find nine inhabited by women. So sayeth Islamic lore. Misogynistic, you say? Well, shed your burqa and eat a boraka and let’s move on because I can’t rewrite folklore.Legend has it that human’s have been given a finite amount of words to utter in their lifetime, after which, said-person would expire in an instant just like your parking meter did when the DOT officer came by. You may have even recognized her from Mohammad’s vision. But don’t even think of having words with her or any woman, for that matter, because you can’t win. The message is to be cautious with your speech. So save your words for productive purposes and ultimately for your fate. It is said that we can shape our own destiny and one sure fire way to survive is to keep the lip zipped.
The concept of Divine word allotment got me wondering. Not only wondering but also worrying. Worrying about the scarcely mentioned legend of Alot. The one where you thank God a-lot for it but unfortunately can’t get it a-lot (no, not that). You see, I went on a date last night. Incredibly, every stop we made in Manhattan, I found excellent parking. I found it by her apartment, TWICE (don’t we all wish to experience it twice…), by the concert hall, by the two cafes we checked out. Maybe, just maybe I was using up my parking allotment. For some reason, God isn’t as generous with city parking as with the gift of gab. I just knocked off a lifetime of parking passes without uttering a word.
Kill me now.