You need a ticket and tie to zip your prayers on through

Whew! Just got past the Border Patrol Checkpoint on US 90. What the hell right did that cop in the cowboy hat have to ask me whether I was a US citizen and make me show ID? I mean, I have a full beard, peyos, a black suit and a I wear a "gangster hat," as DovBear calls a fedora. And I speak very fluent Yeshivish. All the US Citizens I know are like that, though down here, everyone seems to have a Spanish surname and speaks something that's like a Spanish version of Yeshivish, they must all be Sefaradim.

Anyway, now that I didn't attract the attentions of the drug-sniffing doggie, my mind wanders back to the immortal lyrics of Kinky Friedman:

Well, I walked on in to my house of God
Congregation on the nod,
Just chosen folks are doin' their weekly thing.
Hear, o Israel, yes indeed,
My book was backwards, couldn’t read,
But I got a good rise when I heard that rabbi sing,
Boruch atoh Adonoi,
What the hell are you doing back there, boy ?

We reserve the right to refuse services to you,
Your friends are all on welfare
You call yourself a Jew ?
You need your ticket and your tie
To zip your prayers on through,
We reserve the right to refuse services ... unto... you.

With these lines, the Kinkster captures entirely why the Baby Boomers get alienated from the Jewish establishment. Too bad there weren't any granola-crunching chavurot in Texas back in the early 1970's. Though what I think America (and Conservative Judaism) really needs are shit-kicking granola-crunching chavurot. Are you reading this "Rabbi Jack?"