I was reading Ecclesiastes, which opens like a live interview on the evening news: “The words of the Teacher, son of David, king in Jerusalem.”
Pan in to a set of solid gold double doors. They’re closed. Voiceover: “Here’s Solomon, master of 5 PHDs, international spokesperson for Israel, gardener extraordinaire, winner of Guiness’ “world’s largest harem,’ wisest man in the world, son of David, the most popular King in Isreali history, your current leader….”
Cue doors to fling open, zoom in on Solomon. Solomon is banging his head against the wall of his bedroom. There are pizza boxes everywhere, empty beer cans, peanuts, and five scantily clad women trying to cover themselves and make for the bathroom.
“Sir! Sir! You’re on!”
Solomon pauses, then sighs. He turns to the camera. His eyes are wild. His hair is unkempt. He’s mute.
“Sir. Say something.”
Solomon laughs. Not a guffaw, not a giggle, mind you — I’m talking a maniacal, over the top, scary laugh. All eyes are on him. The camera’s red light is blinking. And he speaks.
“Meaningless! Utterly meaningless! Everything is meaningless!”
“Uh, cut to commercial. Harem boy’s lost it.”
“NO! I’m the King. I say, ‘roll it.'”
“Sir, have you been drinking again?”
“Yup. A lot. And having sex ten times a day and building stuff knocking it down and indulging myself, and…”
And the camera keeps rolling. He’s the King, after all. For twelve chapters, the guy drones on and on. And somehow, his rant gets into the Bible. Somehow we’ve spiritualized Solomon’s backsliding, envisioning him dispassionately taking a tour of the Playboy mansion as a scientist without a pulse. But be honest: This has “Chris Crocker YouTube moment” written all over it. It isn’t pretty. But we can learn from it.
Yes, let’s. See you tomorrow for my thoughts.