Last night, I dreamt that I befriended Michael Vick.
I had him over to Shabbat dinner with some girls and my rabbi.
After dinner, I got up on the couch with a couple of girls and mounted them (one at a time, I’m not a freak) right in front of my rabbi.
As he walked out the door, my rabbi paused, pulled me aside for a quiet word, and said, “Levi, that meeting we were going to have about returning to the shul, let’s put that on hold. When you’ve got your life together, let me know and we’ll talk.”
I walked out on to Pico blvd to Michael Vick. He was being traded. He showed me his camper van and said he wanted to sell it. It wasn’t parked right. It was jutting out into traffic. I should be holy on my own time, I thought. Now I must act for God and moved this. So I got in and moved it.
And I was sitting there in the driver’s seat as scores of my community walked by. I was guilty of violating the Sabbath and dishonoring two young women. Oy vey!
