Jellybeans

Jellybeans


Well, the hostages are home, Jimmy Carter is out of the White House, and Ronald Reagan says he can pull us out of this economic mess we’re in, bolster our national defenses, safeguard Social Security, cut government spending, reduce taxes by 30 percent over the next three years, increase the gross national product without merely inflating it, and replace the peanut with the jellybean as the national quick-energy snack.

As much as I share in the national euphoria, rejoice in the return of the hostages, and wish our new President unbounded success in his program to revitalize the American economy, I abhor jellybeans. If you eat jelly beans too frequently you are apt to develop an abnormal craving for them. If you eat too many jellybeans you are apt to become sluggish. And if, once having gotten the habit, you are denied your jellybeans, you are apt to develop rude, overbearing, and even violent proclivities until your source of jellybeans is restored.

You probably are saying to yourself that Old Man Moses, unable to stand so much good news all at once, simply has got to find something to complain about. Perhaps you are right. Grasping at jellybeans, you might say.

But all this good news all at once, you know, it does make me a bit nervous. It’s like setting’ on yer front stoop in Denver, Colorado, in the middle o’ January with the sun beatin’ down on ya like t’was the middle o’ summer with the air still and the Fahrenheit creepin’ up toward 75 or thereabouts and as much as y’er enjoyin’ the sunshine and sippin’ on a cool glass o’tea ya jes’ cain’t avoid thinkin’ that it’s gonna be a might dry June a comin’.

But there’s more than one way to look at a drought, or a jellybean for that matter. In the words of poet James Whitcomb Riley

“It hain’t no use to grumble and complain,
It’s jest as easy to rejoice;
When God sorts out the weather and sends rain,
Why rain’s my choice.”

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