Tucked away in the biblical account of Abram (before he went all P. Diddy and changed his nom de robe to Abraham), a brief-yet-important reference is made to a priest-king named Melchizedek. Brief, because his cameo-like appearance happens over three verses (18-20) in Genesis 20. And important for several reasons. Namely that Abram, God’s chosen, actually pays Melchizedek a tithe from the spoils of war. Obviously, King Mel had some righteous status with YHWH to receive such props. Also, in Hebrews, Christ is identified as “a priest forever in the order of Melchizedek” as opposed to a priest in the Levitical order.
What this means from a theological standpoint is undoubtedly significant, but not as significant as discovering the personal foibles and sundry body issues Mel the Mensch may have attempted to change come the new year. Which, 3,000+ years before the Romans wouldn’t have been January 1, but work with me, people. I’m trying to make the Old Testament funny.
So here forthwith are the recently discovered Lost New Year’s Resolutions of Melchizedek, King of Salem, Priest of the Most High God, Owner/Chef of Mel’s Manna Diner & Roadside Tabernacle:
- Think of a new name for the city. I’ve been feeling some bad juju lately that “Salem” might not always have a connotation of peace. Nightmares involving bonneted sorceresses and flaming sticks promising the “refreshing taste of menthol” haunt my dreams. I’ve had my eye on that Queen Jeru from across the dessert. Hmmm.
- Collect and destroy the last remaining copies of “Eezy Melcheezy,” including all karaoke versions.
- Finally become a “triple threat” hyphenate of priest-king-media mogul like that Saul Seacrest fellow.
- Find an ointment that works.
- I simply must finalize the design of the Lot’s Wife Salt ‘n’ Pepper Shaker Set. People just won’t get the joke this time next century. Plus, those laggards at the Jericho Potters’ Union will take months to get production up to speed. “Kiln issues” my beard! If I weren’t the King of Peace I’d take my finest stoners and…
- Deal with anger issues.
- Begin the search for a new PR firm. Shlomo Rubenstein’s been a good friend, but his “Blessing of the Goats” event didn’t generate any kind of buzz and left me hanging out all day with a gaggle of Samaritan carnies who didn’t even have Dippin’ Dots. And how am I supposed to recruit the next generation of Melchizedekian priests with a bunch of temporary tattoos and acid-washed sackcloth? Sorry, Shlomo.
- Continue spurning Flo’s invitation to kiss her grits.
- Find out what grits are.
- Work on getting “tithe” to mean 10% of cash or other liquid assets and not 10% of whatever random livestock you find grazing on your property on your way to temple. Who needs another donkey? Seriously, if you know someone, I’ve got about 1,200 out back. Wait, I’m writing this to myself. Gar.
- Invent knew way to trim luxurious-yet-increasingly-unruly beard. Traditional hungry rabbit technique doing nothing for my angoraphobia.
- Once more fit into the priestly vestments of my youth. I shall cut out (okay, down) the tasty, tasty candied figs of Beersheba and also switch to low carb wine. But I’m not doing squat thrusts.
- Smack down more pagans. This is a gimme, but I need the motivation.
- End the heartbreak of sand chafing for all peoples of the world. Starting with me.
- Clear up this whole cherubim versus seraphim issue. Is there really a difference? Can’t we just call them flying monkeys and be done with it?
- Turn “Holy Melchizedek!” into the hip catchphrase that all the kids are tweeting about.
- Read Stephen King’s latest without soiling priestly vestments of my youth.
- Develop a representative government that permits all people to vote for officials charged with representing them in a legislative body. Said body will be charged with passing laws, but its power will be checked by both a court of supremely wise friends of mine and an executive also elected by the people. It will be called a republic or representative democracy and change the face of the world…oh, who am I kidding? I’m the king and I like it that way.
- Convince Robertizek Schneider to sire offspring. I believe the future of comedy depends on it.
- More LOL’ing and less OMG’ing.
- Try that new frozen yogurt place Herschel keeps yammering about. They better have twist cones and sprinkles. Just sayin’.
- Get on with some begetting, if you know what I mean.
Sadly, the papyrus ends here and no further records exist indicating Melchizedek’s success or failure regarding these resolutions. Although we can be fairly certain that he was successful with number 19. And for that we can all be eternally ungrateful.