The Shrub

Posted 02:25 GMT
Several years ago Mangala was strolling along the beach in Florida when he happened to bump into his colleague Jehovah.

"Oh, Mangala," said Jehovah, with a look of great sadness. "I am sore wroth. At last with America my creation had a achieved a slight degree of goodness and civility, and look what they have done." He pointed at a slight man bathed in bright light as he stammered answers to questions. "This man George hath taken that which is not his and brought doubt and cynicism to this fine land."

"How sad, Jehovah," said Mangala with the great sympathy he is famous for. "What shalt thou do?"

Jehovah pondered, then raised his right hand and said with an air of grim satisfaction, "I shall turn him into a burning Bush, and thus shall he pay for his overweening ambition."

"Stay thy hand, friend Jehovah," said Mangala with some alarm. "Let him not suffer so. Show mercy!"

Jehovah gave Mangala a glance and thought of his friend's kindness. "I relent, Mangala," Jehovah said. "I shall not turn him into burning Bush. I shall make him merely a Shrub. And while he shall not burn, the world around him will. For mark this well: People are responsible for their governance. As they choose, so shall be their lot."

"A harsh philosophy, Jehovah," Mangala said to his friend, shaking his head, and as he took his leave, he glanced back and saw his friend Jehovah staring hard at Miami and muttering "Alas, alas, Babylon, thou might city Babylon," and much more in that vein.