Southern District police chief, Commander Moshe Caradi said: “We knew that once the security barrier was constructed in the North and Center, there would be terrorist attacks in the South. This is a very grave attack and one we had feared would happen”.
Saturday, February 28, 2004
Do as we say, not as we do
A few days ago a young lady of my acquaintance took a stand against her English teacher. Finding a minor assignment the teacher gave the third grade class tedious, the nine year old wrote something on a piece of paper and held it up. The piece of paper read "Strike". The teacher said it wouldn't make any difference. The young lady said "No, but it's fun".
But it did make a difference. That piece of paper caused a complete break down of discipline in the class, which ended in uproar, the whole class chanting "Strike! Strike!"
Were the young lady's parents upset by their daughter's actions? No, they were highly amused. They both thought the teachers deserved a bit of their own medicine.
Israeli teachers go on strike, or threaten to strike, at least three or four times a year. Their favorite strike times are the first days of the school year, after the summer vacation, and following the long Passover vacation in the springtime. This is, of course, putting cruel pressure on working parents.
Sometimes they make do with sanctions. These can go on for months. In protest against the government decision to cut the education budget, the high school teachers have recently decided not to take part in activities outside of school. This includes school trips. Of course, this is probably very popular with the teachers. Would you like to spend three days on the road, leaving your children at home, to sleep in nasty hostels, looking after a bunch of horrors? No, neither would I, but then I'm not getting paid to do it. It's not my job to teach children about knowing and loving their country, besides my own that is. The thing with these sanctions is that they don't just harm the kids. There is a whole industry that relies on these school trips: Bus companies, hostels, guides, and caterers, among others. These sanctions, thoughtlessly and selfishly, leave all these people without livelihoods. It's really very nasty of the high school teachers association, when you think about it.
Well, the school kids, bless 'em, are fighting back this time. And they know exactly how to do it - they've been taught by the best. The high school students in some schools held sanctions and strikes (Hebrew link) of their own last week, some even held demonstrations and burnt tires! From tomorrow it?s a nationwide strike. For a start, they're coming in an hour late tomorrow morning. This is one strike I support. Good for them! Enough is enough!
A few days ago a young lady of my acquaintance took a stand against her English teacher. Finding a minor assignment the teacher gave the third grade class tedious, the nine year old wrote something on a piece of paper and held it up. The piece of paper read "Strike". The teacher said it wouldn't make any difference. The young lady said "No, but it's fun".
But it did make a difference. That piece of paper caused a complete break down of discipline in the class, which ended in uproar, the whole class chanting "Strike! Strike!"
Were the young lady's parents upset by their daughter's actions? No, they were highly amused. They both thought the teachers deserved a bit of their own medicine.
Israeli teachers go on strike, or threaten to strike, at least three or four times a year. Their favorite strike times are the first days of the school year, after the summer vacation, and following the long Passover vacation in the springtime. This is, of course, putting cruel pressure on working parents.
Sometimes they make do with sanctions. These can go on for months. In protest against the government decision to cut the education budget, the high school teachers have recently decided not to take part in activities outside of school. This includes school trips. Of course, this is probably very popular with the teachers. Would you like to spend three days on the road, leaving your children at home, to sleep in nasty hostels, looking after a bunch of horrors? No, neither would I, but then I'm not getting paid to do it. It's not my job to teach children about knowing and loving their country, besides my own that is. The thing with these sanctions is that they don't just harm the kids. There is a whole industry that relies on these school trips: Bus companies, hostels, guides, and caterers, among others. These sanctions, thoughtlessly and selfishly, leave all these people without livelihoods. It's really very nasty of the high school teachers association, when you think about it.
Well, the school kids, bless 'em, are fighting back this time. And they know exactly how to do it - they've been taught by the best. The high school students in some schools held sanctions and strikes (Hebrew link) of their own last week, some even held demonstrations and burnt tires! From tomorrow it?s a nationwide strike. For a start, they're coming in an hour late tomorrow morning. This is one strike I support. Good for them! Enough is enough!
If I say that Christianity and Jesus make me feel uncomfortable, am I sounding racist or intolerant? It's fear, you know, not intolerance. I meant no offense to anyone.
I suppose that is why I can't think what I feel about a film that may or may not stir up Christian anti-Semitism. It's a bit scary to think about it. We've got enough on our plate.
John says that the modern dichotomy about football in Liverpool is only partially related to religion and much less than in times past. Well, that's good news.
I suppose that is why I can't think what I feel about a film that may or may not stir up Christian anti-Semitism. It's a bit scary to think about it. We've got enough on our plate.
John says that the modern dichotomy about football in Liverpool is only partially related to religion and much less than in times past. Well, that's good news.
Friday, February 27, 2004
Still no comment
Until a year or two ago, Bish used to correspond with a professional colleague in the States, I think from a small town in the MidWest, or in the South, I forget exactly. She was really nice. Single mother, daughter in the military. When she discovered Eldest played the flute (she doesn't any more), she wrote to her to tell her about her younger daughter, who played the flute too. When violence erupted here in the fall of 2000, she wrote to Bish and suggested we came over there. What a lovely person. She said she’d help us get settled and find work. We were very touched.
In the aftermath of 9/11,when people she knew were blaming Israel, she stood up for us, although she knew little about Israel. She said it can’t be a bad place if there are people like her friend Bish living there.
I’ve read stuff since, on blogs and in other places, suggesting relocating Israel’s Jewish inhabitants in some remote area of the States. A few American Jews have written about the USA being their refuge, their solution to the danger of another Holocaust, of Jews being without defense. Their safe, happy, and affluent lives prove that Israel is not necessary, and that, as a refuge for the Jews, Israel is superfluous, more trouble than it’s worth.
Are you opposed to Zionism? Do you think Israel is unnecessary?
My world is predominantly Jewish, what do I know about living as a minority among people who are not Jewish, besides faint, distant childhood memories, and stories my parents have told me?
I bought a CD of Gospel music. I like the sound, I like that it’s sort of happy soul, blues-less blues, positive about life and accepting of death. But I feel uncomfortable to be listening to songs that repeatedly promise me that Jesus loves me. I don’t feel particularly loved by Jesus. My upbringing has left me uneasy about Christianity, some sort of ingrained insecurity.
I know so very little about Christianity. I have no idea what a Gospel is.
I am interested in people’s reactions to Mel Gibson’s Passion. Everyone is talking about it. Could this be the most interesting thing that is happening at the moment? It's a Hollywood movie for goodness sake.
Here is my friend John Williams’ reaction. He was brought up Catholic, in a country where Catholics are a minority, in a city where there were still inter-religious street fights seventy years ago, and where even today people support the local soccer teams according to their religious affiliation. Here is something “Tom Paine” wrote (pointed to by Judith Weiss who has other interesting links). He was once a Christian (I assume) and twenty years ago, as a young adult, chose to become a Jew.
I have been struggling to work out how I feel about this film, and have come up with nothing. I feel nothing.
I don’t need to worry about these things. I live in Israel.
I live in Israel so that I won’t need to worry about these things.
Shabbat Shalom.
Update: Lynn has posted in full an editorial in the Jpost which says, more or less, that maybe I'm wrong. As an Israeli, I should have an opinion in this matter. This could be true, but I still can't think of one.
Until a year or two ago, Bish used to correspond with a professional colleague in the States, I think from a small town in the MidWest, or in the South, I forget exactly. She was really nice. Single mother, daughter in the military. When she discovered Eldest played the flute (she doesn't any more), she wrote to her to tell her about her younger daughter, who played the flute too. When violence erupted here in the fall of 2000, she wrote to Bish and suggested we came over there. What a lovely person. She said she’d help us get settled and find work. We were very touched.
In the aftermath of 9/11,when people she knew were blaming Israel, she stood up for us, although she knew little about Israel. She said it can’t be a bad place if there are people like her friend Bish living there.
I’ve read stuff since, on blogs and in other places, suggesting relocating Israel’s Jewish inhabitants in some remote area of the States. A few American Jews have written about the USA being their refuge, their solution to the danger of another Holocaust, of Jews being without defense. Their safe, happy, and affluent lives prove that Israel is not necessary, and that, as a refuge for the Jews, Israel is superfluous, more trouble than it’s worth.
Are you opposed to Zionism? Do you think Israel is unnecessary?
My world is predominantly Jewish, what do I know about living as a minority among people who are not Jewish, besides faint, distant childhood memories, and stories my parents have told me?
I bought a CD of Gospel music. I like the sound, I like that it’s sort of happy soul, blues-less blues, positive about life and accepting of death. But I feel uncomfortable to be listening to songs that repeatedly promise me that Jesus loves me. I don’t feel particularly loved by Jesus. My upbringing has left me uneasy about Christianity, some sort of ingrained insecurity.
I know so very little about Christianity. I have no idea what a Gospel is.
I am interested in people’s reactions to Mel Gibson’s Passion. Everyone is talking about it. Could this be the most interesting thing that is happening at the moment? It's a Hollywood movie for goodness sake.
Here is my friend John Williams’ reaction. He was brought up Catholic, in a country where Catholics are a minority, in a city where there were still inter-religious street fights seventy years ago, and where even today people support the local soccer teams according to their religious affiliation. Here is something “Tom Paine” wrote (pointed to by Judith Weiss who has other interesting links). He was once a Christian (I assume) and twenty years ago, as a young adult, chose to become a Jew.
I have been struggling to work out how I feel about this film, and have come up with nothing. I feel nothing.
I don’t need to worry about these things. I live in Israel.
I live in Israel so that I won’t need to worry about these things.
Shabbat Shalom.
Update: Lynn has posted in full an editorial in the Jpost which says, more or less, that maybe I'm wrong. As an Israeli, I should have an opinion in this matter. This could be true, but I still can't think of one.
Tuesday, February 24, 2004
We’re still apartment hunting. We saw the coolest place this afternoon. I’ll tell you about it if we get it. I don’t want to jinx it. So far every place we have seen as suitable has fallen through for the stupidest of reasons. This place, however, is just us.
(Our Sis, it reminds me a bit of the place you had before your current apartment.)
(Our Sis, it reminds me a bit of the place you had before your current apartment.)
Monday, February 23, 2004
Jerusalem: A bus. 8 murdered. 66 wounded.
We have every right to defend ourselves.
You have no right to tell us not to.
We have every right to defend ourselves.
You have no right to tell us not to.
Saturday, February 21, 2004
A few months ago, a friend at work told me that they were making a film version of Cold Mountain, and if I hadn’t read it yet, I should do so before seeing the film. Even if it turned out to be an excellent production, he said, it could hardly be as good as the book. I’m afraid I revealed my ignorance by looking at him blankly. He gleefully looked down his longish nose at me, obviously satisfied that he was far better read than that Imshin person with all her airs and graces (It’s a lie, I tell you!). In his presence, I politely jotted down the names of book and author, meaning to look it up, and promptly forgot about it the moment he was no longer in the room. Don’t you hate it when people take pleasure in making you feel small, so they can look clever?
A week or two ago, he asked me if I’d read Cold Mountain yet, the hint of a sneer on his upper lip (or was I just imagining it?). By now I’d heard of Cold Mountain, those pretty blue eyes were already advertising the film on every street corner.
So I ordered it from Amazon.co.uk. It’s faster delivery. On Thursday, I went to the Post Office across the road to pick up the parcel. Parcels aren’t usually delivered to the door in Israel.
“You must hate us now,” a woman called Miryam said in English to a lovely looking woman, standing behind me in line. The other woman looked slightly familiar, petite, blonde, forty-ish. Where had I seen her before? Was she famous? “No! No! I don’t hate you!” She answered, obviously embarrassed, in a gentle German accent, and proceeded to tell her friend about moving back to Europe with her child and getting settled. Maybe the son was in school with Youngest last year? Miryam, who looked about sixty and should have known better, was not deterred. “Because I feel so ashamed about what we are doing…,” she pressed on. Thankfully, the familiar looking blonde woman refused to be sucked into a discussion about “the situation”, with the thoughtless Miryam, in such a public place. Queuing up in the Post Office is so boring, everyone was hanging on every word of this, the only diversion. I was ashamed too, but not of “us”, of Miryam.
Anyway, the book is wonderful. I am still at the beginning, third chapter, and feeling fortunate that I read so slowly. I can savor every word. Magnificent, it says on the cover. Indeed. Even though it is about the horrors of a terrible war, one that people of the same country waged against each other.
I am reminded of a night, many years ago, at a friend’s apartment. After having one two many, a young man with short fair hair, a strong, square shaped face, and gentle, sad eyes, began telling of his experiences from the battlefield; terrible, nightmarish recollections of face-to-face combat during the Lebanon war. I was young. I had never heard such graphic descriptions before. The young man was dating the friend’s pretty sister, at the time. She chucked him, a month later, for the longhaired, extremely cool, hippy type, she later married and headed off to India with. I would have stuck with Sad Eyes, if I were her. Longhair was fun, a real charmer, and I liked him, but Sad Eyes had soul. I never saw him again, and I wouldn't recognise him in the street, but, every so often, I find myself thinking of the things he said that night.
A week or two ago, he asked me if I’d read Cold Mountain yet, the hint of a sneer on his upper lip (or was I just imagining it?). By now I’d heard of Cold Mountain, those pretty blue eyes were already advertising the film on every street corner.
So I ordered it from Amazon.co.uk. It’s faster delivery. On Thursday, I went to the Post Office across the road to pick up the parcel. Parcels aren’t usually delivered to the door in Israel.
“You must hate us now,” a woman called Miryam said in English to a lovely looking woman, standing behind me in line. The other woman looked slightly familiar, petite, blonde, forty-ish. Where had I seen her before? Was she famous? “No! No! I don’t hate you!” She answered, obviously embarrassed, in a gentle German accent, and proceeded to tell her friend about moving back to Europe with her child and getting settled. Maybe the son was in school with Youngest last year? Miryam, who looked about sixty and should have known better, was not deterred. “Because I feel so ashamed about what we are doing…,” she pressed on. Thankfully, the familiar looking blonde woman refused to be sucked into a discussion about “the situation”, with the thoughtless Miryam, in such a public place. Queuing up in the Post Office is so boring, everyone was hanging on every word of this, the only diversion. I was ashamed too, but not of “us”, of Miryam.
Anyway, the book is wonderful. I am still at the beginning, third chapter, and feeling fortunate that I read so slowly. I can savor every word. Magnificent, it says on the cover. Indeed. Even though it is about the horrors of a terrible war, one that people of the same country waged against each other.
I am reminded of a night, many years ago, at a friend’s apartment. After having one two many, a young man with short fair hair, a strong, square shaped face, and gentle, sad eyes, began telling of his experiences from the battlefield; terrible, nightmarish recollections of face-to-face combat during the Lebanon war. I was young. I had never heard such graphic descriptions before. The young man was dating the friend’s pretty sister, at the time. She chucked him, a month later, for the longhaired, extremely cool, hippy type, she later married and headed off to India with. I would have stuck with Sad Eyes, if I were her. Longhair was fun, a real charmer, and I liked him, but Sad Eyes had soul. I never saw him again, and I wouldn't recognise him in the street, but, every so often, I find myself thinking of the things he said that night.
The basic problem
Excellent post by Shai. A must read. It is his reaction to an article by a mainstream Palestinian journalist, that appeared in the Jpost.
You really should read the lot.
Excellent post by Shai. A must read. It is his reaction to an article by a mainstream Palestinian journalist, that appeared in the Jpost.
If mainstream Palestinian thinking truly sees building a settlement outpost as equivalent to blowing up a bus, then there's no hope for progress. Settlements can be evacuated; the children murdered on the bus can never be brought back. If you can't see this essential difference then there's not much point talking to you.
And this brand of moral equivalence has led the Palestinians to shoot themselves in the foot. There is a majority -- albeit a slim one -- in Israel that supports withdrawing from the Territories. But this support has become eroded over the years by Palestinian suicide bombing. By supporting suicide bombings (and poll after poll indicate that the majority of Palestinians do), the Palestinians effectively undermined the Israelis who were sympathetic to their cause.
Worse, by sticking to this line that settlements=terror, the Palis ensure that their fears become self-fulfilling. Israeli support for the government's hard line against the Palestinians (and by extension in support of the settlements) is a direct result of the Palestinians' war of terror.
And this brand of moral equivalence has led the Palestinians to shoot themselves in the foot. There is a majority -- albeit a slim one -- in Israel that supports withdrawing from the Territories. But this support has become eroded over the years by Palestinian suicide bombing. By supporting suicide bombings (and poll after poll indicate that the majority of Palestinians do), the Palestinians effectively undermined the Israelis who were sympathetic to their cause.
Worse, by sticking to this line that settlements=terror, the Palis ensure that their fears become self-fulfilling. Israeli support for the government's hard line against the Palestinians (and by extension in support of the settlements) is a direct result of the Palestinians' war of terror.
No cause for alarm, but thanks for the concern.
Commenters on Asparagirl’s new site think we shouldn’t be in such a rush to give back our gas masks. Fear not, my friends, the army promises that even after they have recalled the seven million* gas masks, they will still be available for us, should we need them again in a hurry. It’s just that they won’t be cluttering up our usually smallish dwellingses**.
____________________________
*I’ve been wondering about that – if there are six and a half million of us, and there are seven million gas masks (Hebrew link) out there, what happened to half a million gas masks? Were they all lost? Good grief! Actually, on a personal basis, this is quite an uplifting thought. It means that I am not the most irresponsible person in the country, after all. I never lost even one, and I’ve got four to look after. Some of them could have been sold to Palestinians (to be used in violent mass demonstrations, should tear gas be employed), or to foreign workers (who had to give a deposit for theirs). Still, half a million sounds a lot for that. Even Israel doesn't have that many crooks (although some might not see selling them as an ammoral act). No, far more likely people left them at the back of "boydems" when they moved apartment, didn't take them with them when they left home on reaching adulthood, or neglected to give them back posthumously (some people have such a nerve).
**More bloody foreigner-ness.
Commenters on Asparagirl’s new site think we shouldn’t be in such a rush to give back our gas masks. Fear not, my friends, the army promises that even after they have recalled the seven million* gas masks, they will still be available for us, should we need them again in a hurry. It’s just that they won’t be cluttering up our usually smallish dwellingses**.
____________________________
*I’ve been wondering about that – if there are six and a half million of us, and there are seven million gas masks (Hebrew link) out there, what happened to half a million gas masks? Were they all lost? Good grief! Actually, on a personal basis, this is quite an uplifting thought. It means that I am not the most irresponsible person in the country, after all. I never lost even one, and I’ve got four to look after. Some of them could have been sold to Palestinians (to be used in violent mass demonstrations, should tear gas be employed), or to foreign workers (who had to give a deposit for theirs). Still, half a million sounds a lot for that. Even Israel doesn't have that many crooks (although some might not see selling them as an ammoral act). No, far more likely people left them at the back of "boydems" when they moved apartment, didn't take them with them when they left home on reaching adulthood, or neglected to give them back posthumously (some people have such a nerve).
**More bloody foreigner-ness.
Friday, February 20, 2004
So the sun will become a gigantic diamond when it burns out in a few billion years' time. Sadly, no aging billionaires will be around to buy the love of any dumb blondes with it. What a waste. (Erm, excuse the un-PC stereotype. Make that: no dumb blondes will be around to buy the love of any aging billionaires with it. Is that better? Okay, how about rich brunettes? Highly-intelligent redheads? Destitute billionaires? I'm just making it worse, aren't I?).
Oh well, I hear diamonds are much overrated as an investment anyway.
Oh well, I hear diamonds are much overrated as an investment anyway.
What?! No shredding machine?! All my nightmares were in vain?! (The link is to an article the UK Spectator, which now requires registration. Grrrr).
Thursday, February 19, 2004
Big excitements in the Tennenbaum case.
Apparently.
They're not telling much (or they don't know much), but it sounds exciting. He seems to have failed a lie detector test, and isn't cooperating very well with his interrogators.
You'll remember Tennenbaum, he got exchanged a few weeks ago along with the bodies of three IDF soldiers, for a few hundred live prisoners Israel was holding. Well, he was immediately whisked off to hospital (he came back with all his teeth intact, except one, by the way), and then to interrogation, in a very comfortable police installation (usually used as a training center for police commanding officers or as a holiday camp for policepeople and their families), where he has been ever since, apparently lying through his (not torn out) teeth. It seems things were not exactly as they seemed (I can say things like that, you see, because I'm a bloody foreigner). It's looking like much more than a case of a greedy, stupid gambler-turned-drug trafficker, who bit off more than he could chew. Maybe real bad guy stuff. Real real bad guy stuff. Take-him-out-and-shoot-him bad guy stuff.
Apparently.
They're not telling much (or they don't know much), but it sounds exciting. He seems to have failed a lie detector test, and isn't cooperating very well with his interrogators.
You'll remember Tennenbaum, he got exchanged a few weeks ago along with the bodies of three IDF soldiers, for a few hundred live prisoners Israel was holding. Well, he was immediately whisked off to hospital (he came back with all his teeth intact, except one, by the way), and then to interrogation, in a very comfortable police installation (usually used as a training center for police commanding officers or as a holiday camp for policepeople and their families), where he has been ever since, apparently lying through his (not torn out) teeth. It seems things were not exactly as they seemed (I can say things like that, you see, because I'm a bloody foreigner). It's looking like much more than a case of a greedy, stupid gambler-turned-drug trafficker, who bit off more than he could chew. Maybe real bad guy stuff. Real real bad guy stuff. Take-him-out-and-shoot-him bad guy stuff.
Wednesday, February 18, 2004
growabrain has a new address and has become very bloggy. I like the funny cartoon figure on top left. I have to admit I was asked my opinion of it before it was put there, so I feel a deep spiritual connection to it (Imshin, you're getting pathetic).
Many thanks to M and Joe who explained how to pronounce Columcille, which is apparently an Irish name. I like Irish names. Welsh names too. It's KOL-um-kil or Column-kill. Both the same actually, but interesting how different people thought of different ways to explain. M also contributed this article about the Passion film issue - a different perspective by Rabbi Daniel Lapin.
Tuesday, February 17, 2004
The Shaister has moved!
I am extremely impressed.
It's getting quite roomy over here on the wrong side of the blogging tracks. I am sooooooo cool and un-bourgeois. Well, at least I think so.
I am extremely impressed.
It's getting quite roomy over here on the wrong side of the blogging tracks. I am sooooooo cool and un-bourgeois. Well, at least I think so.
So they’re taking back the gas masks. We’ve had them since the end of 1990, if I am not mistaken. My girls got their first ones on leaving the hospital, when they were a few days old. Every so often we would get an invitation to come have them “refreshened”. We’d go to the distribution center, which seemed to be somewhere else each time, waited in line, and eventually a young soldier girl would replace parts of the kit, and send us on our way. Just part of life, like going to the dentist. And now we don’t need them any more. Nice.
I don’t think anyone will be sorry to see them go. They’re bulky boxes, which you never wanted to bury too far back in your “boydem” (the Israeli equivalent of an attic – a storage space created by a lowered ceiling usually running along the corridor, with an opening in the bathroom, above the door), just in case you needed to get them out in a hurry.
* * * *
They’ve been feeding us horror stories about what Mordechai Vanunu has got in store for us when he gets out of prison, in two months time. A mate from inside, Yossi Harush, a shady character himself, has been telling Yediot Aharonot that Vanunu has got all sorts of new goodies to tell the world about Israel’s secrets. And that he hates Israel and celebrates every time there’s a terror attack, etc.
If you ask me, the guy’s a fruitcake (Vanunu, not Harush. Okay, maybe Harush too, how would I know?). They should have left him alone back then and it all would have fizzled out by itself. Enjoying the limelight, he would have gabbled on and on, until he finally would have tripped himself up, been caught in discrepancies and then would have swiftly been discredited and discarded (a lot of ‘dis’s for one sentence, don’t you think?). This tends to happen to fruitcakes. Everything shows he’s definitely become more of a fruitcake since he’s been inside, but from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t seem to have been too lucid beforehand, either. The real question is how he passed the personality test to get into Dimona in the first place.
So now he’s become this hero of Loonies International, nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize, no less. I’ve been trying to work that one out. I read on the Net that he’s Israel’s Nelson Mandela. Yeah, right. His contribution to peace has been what exactly? He certainly hasn’t contributed to peace in the hearts of Israelis, quite the contrary - he’s probably one of the most disliked people in the country.
Well, a nomination is all very well. Thich Nhat Hanh was nominated in1966, by Dr. Martin Luther King, and he didn’t get it. But these are Scandinavians on the committee, who knows what goes on in their minds? They might end up giving it to Dror Feiler; or to whatsername Jaradat.
I’m so fed up of all this double standard.
Listen to Thich Nhat Hanh read his wonderful poem "Call Me By My True Names" (click on bottom left of page). Here is a printed version of the poem. This is what peace is about.
I don’t think anyone will be sorry to see them go. They’re bulky boxes, which you never wanted to bury too far back in your “boydem” (the Israeli equivalent of an attic – a storage space created by a lowered ceiling usually running along the corridor, with an opening in the bathroom, above the door), just in case you needed to get them out in a hurry.
* * * *
They’ve been feeding us horror stories about what Mordechai Vanunu has got in store for us when he gets out of prison, in two months time. A mate from inside, Yossi Harush, a shady character himself, has been telling Yediot Aharonot that Vanunu has got all sorts of new goodies to tell the world about Israel’s secrets. And that he hates Israel and celebrates every time there’s a terror attack, etc.
If you ask me, the guy’s a fruitcake (Vanunu, not Harush. Okay, maybe Harush too, how would I know?). They should have left him alone back then and it all would have fizzled out by itself. Enjoying the limelight, he would have gabbled on and on, until he finally would have tripped himself up, been caught in discrepancies and then would have swiftly been discredited and discarded (a lot of ‘dis’s for one sentence, don’t you think?). This tends to happen to fruitcakes. Everything shows he’s definitely become more of a fruitcake since he’s been inside, but from what I’ve seen, he doesn’t seem to have been too lucid beforehand, either. The real question is how he passed the personality test to get into Dimona in the first place.
So now he’s become this hero of Loonies International, nominated for the Nobel Peace Prize, no less. I’ve been trying to work that one out. I read on the Net that he’s Israel’s Nelson Mandela. Yeah, right. His contribution to peace has been what exactly? He certainly hasn’t contributed to peace in the hearts of Israelis, quite the contrary - he’s probably one of the most disliked people in the country.
Well, a nomination is all very well. Thich Nhat Hanh was nominated in1966, by Dr. Martin Luther King, and he didn’t get it. But these are Scandinavians on the committee, who knows what goes on in their minds? They might end up giving it to Dror Feiler; or to whatsername Jaradat.
I’m so fed up of all this double standard.
Listen to Thich Nhat Hanh read his wonderful poem "Call Me By My True Names" (click on bottom left of page). Here is a printed version of the poem. This is what peace is about.
Friday, February 13, 2004
As long as I’ve brought the subject up (Mel Gibson’s religious film, that is), you might like to read this article that Roger Simon links to.