This year I am observing a Treyf Pesach.
Help me sweep the chometz back into the house, for we need to get dirty.
Help me replace the wine with whiskey, lots of it, so we can forget the horror.
Once we were slaves, and now we are slaves again.
Instead of matzo symbolizing the haste in which we fled slavery, stack up slices of white bread, any kind of leavened bread because now Pharaoh Bibi holds our people in thrall.
Chop up the apples and nuts to represent all the Palestinian houses blown up.
Eat the bitter herbs to remember how the beauty of our culture has been infused with hate.
Slap down a pork chop rib to remember how all of the hopes and dreams of freedom have turned ugly, have turned to blood, have become a vile joke.
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