treppenwitz

... a nation like any other.

There is a quote that is usually attributed to Chaim Nachman Bialik, the great modern Hebrew poet (and great-great-great-grand uncle of actress Mayim Bialik), who said, ''We will be a normal state when we have the first Hebrew prostitute, the first Hebrew thief and the first Hebrew policeman". 

That quote always bothered me.  After all, why set the bar so low?  Aren't we supposed to be 'a light unto the nations'?

It wasn't until I was watching the Eurovision finals last night that something clicked, and I finally understood the context of his quote.

In order to be a ‘normal state… 'a national like any other'… Israel has to not only accept, but also embrace, its normalcy.  More than that, we have to make the rest of the world see and accept us as completely normal.

It's great to have brilliant Israeli Nobel laureates and scientists so we can point and say how erudite we are. 

It's great to have achingly beautiful Israeli models and actors so we can point and say how attractive we are.

It's great to have a healthy, thriving democracy so we can point and say how evolved and civilized we are.

And it's great to have impressive military and intelligence capabilities so we can point and say how powerful and self-reliant we are.

But Bialik understood that a 'normal' state is the average of its people, not its top 1-2%; That the typical citizen - the everyman/everywoman - is not necessarily a scientist, a model, a legislator / jurist, a spy / commando… yet can still excel, impress and astound!

The average citizen of a 'normal’ state is a work-a-day person, struggling valiantly to carve out a life for him/herself and family.  That means an endlessly normal list of normal occupations including bus drivers, bank clerks, secretaries, insurance agents, telephone operators, ad executives, rear-echelon soldiers, entertainers, policemen and yes, thieves and prostitutes.

Israel has been participating in the annual Eurovision Song Contest since 1973. 

Including last night's triumph, we have won a total of four times.  On the face of it, that feat would seem to be fodder for our list of bragging rights along with Nobel laureates, models, military heroes, etc.

But look at the Israelis who have won:

Our first win was in 1978 with Alphabeta, sung by Izhar Cohen the child of Yemenite immigrants (considered at the time to be an underprivileged minority).  We won the following year with Hallelujah, sung by Gali Atari, another child of Yemenite immigrants.  Our third win came in 1998 with 'Diva' sung by Dana International, a transgender individual.  And last night's winning song, 'Toy' was performed by Netta Barzilai. 

While I was watching Netta peform, a few things hit me all at once:

First, although Barzilai is a fairly typical surname among Jews from Morocco and other North African communities, I hadn't seen or heard one person categorize her by ethnicity.  That's huge for us Israelis that Netta's family origin is such a non-ssue that nobody feels compelled to hyphenate her Israeli-ness.

Next, while almost all of the Eurovision performers in last night’s program were talented singers / performers, most looked like they could easily moonlight as runway and print models.  In the back of my mind I couldn't help wondering if some of them might not have been selected if they hadn't first won the genetic lottory.

Netta, like most of us, doesn't come close to conforming to the prevailing - and certainly flawed - modern ideals of beauty as sold to us by the entertainment and fashion industry.  She is a plus-sized woman with a larger-than-life stage presence that is at first a bit shocking... but very quickly quite appealing.  She is so completely at home in her skin that she practically forces the viewer/listener to recalibrate in their head what ‘normal’ is for a star.

And the lyrics of her song reinforce her moral authority to take up the #metoo banner in the name of everyone who has ever been objectified, harassed, victimized or assaulted... deftly and rightly taking it from the manicured hands of Hollywood A-listers who, let's face it, look better the morning after an all-night pub-crawl than most of us looked on our wedding day.

When Christina Aguilera sings, "I am beautiful no matter what they say, Words can't bring me down...", it's honestly a little hard to feel her pain...or reflexively, to believe that she truly understands the self-image issues that the 'normal' woman (or man), wrestles with.

But when Netta sings, "Look at me, I’m a beautiful creature... I’m not your toy. You stupid boy”, you instantly get that she is not talking about some subjective external criteria of beauty... she is talking about the intrinsic beauty & value of every human being, and the right we all have to not be reduced to a kind of object, prize or plaything.

What a powerful yet obvious message!  And it carries extra gravitas because it is delivered by a 'normal' everywoman.

This is the 'normal' that Bialik was talking about.  This is the 'normal' that Israel consistently projects. 

We Israelis are worthy and valuable, not because we have accomplished all these wonderful things through the luck of being born exceptional... but rather in spite of the fact that we were not.

There can be extraordinary things to be proud of in being ordinary.  But to do so, one has to first be prepared to embrace and celebrate being 'normal'.  Last night’s Eurovision performance /win was all that, and more!

New York Times Report Card: D-

Last night just after midnight, Iranian military forces in Syria launched a missile strike on Israel using between 18 and 20 Fajr-5 rockets. 

For reference, each of these unguided rockets is about 6.5 meters long (a bit over 21 ft), has a range of approximately 75Km (about 50 miles) and can carry a warhead weighing 175 kg (385 lbs) – consisting of either high explosives (HE), fragmentation, submunitions, incendiary, smoke, or chemical payloads.

Here's a glimpse (lest anyone confuse it for a home-made Kassam):

Israel's Iron Dome system intercepted 4 of the incoming Iranian rockets, and the rest reportedly fell short/wide of military bases and civilian areas in the Israeli Golan Heights, causing no damage.

Naturally (and justifiably under international law), within an hour, Israel launched air and missile strikes on a number of military targets in Syria, destroying nearly all Iranian military and strategic facilities in the country.

Equally naturally, The New York Times reported the Israeli aggression... and soft-pedaled the Iranian attack.

Let's check the highlights:

Headline:

"Israel Strikes Iranian Targets in Syria as Tensions Escalate"

Hmmm, to anyone skimming the headlines it sounds like Israel is the aggressor here, no?

First paragraph:

"JERUSALEM — Israeli fighter jets struck dozens of Iranian targets in Syria overnight, Israeli officials said, following soon after what the Israeli military described as an unsuccessful Iranian rocket attack against its forces in the Golan Heights."

Again, the Times leads with "Israel struck...".  Always Israel attacking, never 'allegedly', 'reportedly', etc.... and always 'targets... never 'military targets', and always active verbs. 

Then as a follow up, whatever Iran may or may not have done is not confirmed, it is only what "...the Israel military described"... and even then it is important to point out it was a "failed Iranian rocket attack against forces in the Golan Heights". 

According to the Times, not only did the Iranian attack not hurt anyone or anything, but it was absolutely, certainly an attack on 'Israeli forces'; a good trick for a rocket that has no guidance package, a range of 50 miles, and which was fired at an area dotted with civilian communities!

The article then spends two paragraphs trying to connect the violence to Trump's withdrawing the US from the Iran Nuclear deal.  Then, and only then does the patient reader find out more clearly what happened.  and the Times doesn't disappoint:

Fourth Paragraph:

"Overnight, Iranian forces fired around 20 rockets into the Israeli-controlled Golan Heights, targeting forward positions of the Israeli military, according to an Israeli military spokesman. The rockets were all either intercepted or fell short of their mark, the spokesman said, but were nevertheless a significant escalation in Iran’s maneuvers in the Middle East. Though Israel has hit Iranian forces in Syria with a number of deadly airstrikes, Tehran has been restrained in hitting back, until now."

Yes, Iran fired rockets.  But not approximately 20 rockets... but rather "around 20 rockets".  I hate to split hairs, but the former is the accepted word when the exact number is not known in a  professional setting or a military conflict.  'Around' is more commonly used when discussing how many rocks your son may have thrown at your neighbor's dog.

Again, the certainty on the part of the Times that the Iranian rockets were "targeting forward positions of the Israeli military" despite there being no way to actually aim them with an accuracy of less than a few kilometers (at best).  

And the paragraph ends with a real whopper, even by NYTimes standards, pointing out that even in the face of punishing Israeli airstrikes, "Tehran has been restrained in hitting back, until now".  No context.  No reporting of the constant Iranian threats to wipe Israel off the map.  No mention of Israel's clearly stated red line of moving Iranian advanced weaponry into Syria.  Just 'Iranian restraint'.

I won't continue to parse the article, even though it continues to reinforce Israel as the aggressor and Iran as the mature, patient, statesman-like victim.

Overall Grade for today:  D-

Why not a big red F?  

Well, whether by accident or design, The Times used 'Jerusalem' in the dateline instead of Tel Aviv.  Also, instead of using the usual formula of 'Israeli occupied Golan Heights', they called it "Israeli-controlled Golan Heights'.

Baby steps.  If they can include a couple of accuracies in each article - even accidentally - I'm willing to give them a barely passing grade.

 

Seeding Winds of Change

Over the past few weeks Palestinians in Gaza have begun using low-tech incendiary devices  suspended from kites and helium balloons to set fire to crops, trees and infrastructure on the Israeli side of the border.  So far the fires cause by these improvised flying devices have caused millions of Shekels in damage to the Israeli agricultural communities along the Gaza border.

I'll leave it to others to waste their breath trying to explain to an uninterested world why every sovereign country has the right to protect its borders (not to mention the responsibility to protect its citizens), from demonstrably hostile invaders.  

I've gotten to the point where I just don't have the patience or headspace to explain what should be obvious to a hostile audience that is actively rooting for the people carrying out the mayhem.

So as I read yet another article about Gazan helium balloons lofting flaming payloads into Israeli wheat fields, I was struck by a thought:

These oversized balloons, and the Helium to fill them, are relatively cheap, widely available and can carry a modest payload.  And they go wherever the wind takes them.

What if Israel were to set up assembly and launching points along the Gaza periphery for our own helium balloons, and wait for a  favorable change in the winds? 

But instead of carrying fire and destruction into Gaza, the Israeli balloons would carry small humanitarian payloads; first aid kits, asperin/tylonol, candy, toys, flashlights, toiletries, cosmetics, batteries, spices, etc..

The Hamas military government would almost certainly try to foil such grass-roots gestures by forbidding Gazans from touching things flown over the border by 'the Zionist enemy'.  In fact, they would probably claim the items were booby-trapped with explosives or poison (perhaps planting a bit of both to frighten their population into compliance). 

But if enough balloons were launched... and enough Gazans received a glimpse of humanity from the people they've been indoctrinated to believe are completely lacking in that quality... it can't help but influence the winds of public opinion, at least in a small way.

Just floating an idea...

Feel free to take this idea and run (fly) with it!

Imitation is the sincerest form of... colonialism?

Taking offence seems to have been raised to an art form these days. 

Don't believe me?  Just take a peek at the Sturm und Drang over a young woman in Utah who committed the unforgivable sin of 'cultural appropriation' by wearing a prom frock modelled after a traditional Chinese dress known as cheongsam or qipao.

Kindly also note that in the previous sentence I have brazenly committed an act of cultural appropriation by using the German 'Sturm und Drang' rather than a less objectionable (but also less descriptive), English equivalent.

So what was the fuss about?

Like pretty much every prom attendee since the dawn of social media, the young woman in the article shared pictures of herself online wearing the Asian-inspired dress... and was immediately crucified by the cultural sensitivity police.

"My culture is not your prom dress.." wrote an outraged gentleman; presumably of Chinese ancestry.  He continued his tirade in a follow-up post, “For it to simply be subject to American consumerism and cater to a white audience, is parallel to colonial ideology.”

Wow, a Utah high schooler furthering colonial ideology with her sartorial choices!  Who knew?

Another guardian of cultural purity named 'Jeannie' wrote: “This isn’t ok.  I wouldn’t wear traditional Korean, Japanese or any other traditional dress and I’m Asian. I wouldn’t wear traditional Irish or Swedish or Greek dress either. There’s a lot of history behind these clothes. Sad.”

Note that this upright, sensitive person is Asian and says she wouldn't even wear traditional Asian clothing!  GIve me strength!  And as if there isn't enough to hate about her already, ending a post with 'Sad' makes me want to Photoshop Trump hair onto all her online pictures!

Also, I'm a little offended that her presumably Asian parents appropriated American culture by naming their hyper-sensitive little angel, 'Jeannie'.  But let's stick a pin in that for the moment (assuming that isn't somehow appropriating Haitian Voodoo culture).

One would think that in today's shrinking world, multiculturalism (also known as ethnic pluralism) would be a welcome change from the old days where minority cultures were expected to shed their cultural identities by diving (or being thrown) into of the great melting pot.  And to a certain extent, it is.  But at the cost of taking those cultural touchstones - particularly clothing - and turning them into quaisi-sacred vestments that can be wielded/worn only by authentic members of the source culture.

I've written in the past about my unfulfilled kilt-envy, and how I've adopted wearing a lungi in extremes of hot-humid weather.  In the former case where I don't think I could get away with it; and the latter where, at least in semi-privacy, I can, I see no problem whatsoever.  

Truth be told, the couple of times that Indians have seen me wearing a Lungi (in my hotel room or out by the pool), the reactions were unanimously positive.  And considering that Queen Victoria, a British monarch, was largely responsible for popularizing traditional Scottish culture and costume, you'd have to take a lot of upper-crust Brits to task over alleged cultural appropriation before attacking me for lusting after a Utilikilt.

So why is it that people are so uptight about Caucasians adopting the fashions of Asia and Africa?

When Zahava and I hosted an African visitor several years back, he gifted me a beautiful Dashiki which I have been, frankly, terrified to wear outside the house because of exactly the sort of foaming-at-the-mouth-PC nonsense mentioned above.  I'm white.  So what?!  I didn't colonize Africa.  I work and travel extensively in Africa and am friendly with many wonderful people there.  Why is wearing a bit of their cultural kit considered insulting; particularly to non-African people who have never set foot in Africa and are likely projecting their white guilt onto me?

My wife and daughter enjoy the style and comfort of wearing Indian Shalwar Kameez here in Israel; especially in the summer.  And Ariella has even worn a Sari I bought her.  In neither case were the garments worn ironically or in any way meant to be insulting or demeaning to the people of India.    

Of course, one could argue that it is possible to go too far when trying to 'go native', making it seem a little, um, forced (as Canada's Prime Minister and his family found out):

So getting back to the article that sparked this little rant, why, if a caucasian woman decides to wear a dress in the Chinese style should it be considered cultural appropriation and culturally insensitive?   We enjoy so many other aspects of Chinese culture - cuisine, games, frgrance - in our day-to-day lives.  Why not clothing?

We're not talking about black-face minstrel shows or lawn jockeys! 

We're not talking about native American buckskin and feathered head-dresses!

We're not talking about dressing up like a 19th century coolie with clogs, buck teeth and a long queue (braid)!  

And we're certainly not talking about dressing up in religious garb (although, I find it ironic that none of the PC police seem to be bothered by religious garb being forced upon non-native visitors by certain countries):

So, yeah... I'm honestly curious what harm can come from someone wearing clothing or accessories that come from (or were inspired by), other cultures.  How is it insulting to the source culture?!

Call me old fashioned, but to my way of thinking, imitation is still the sincerest form of flattery.  

Have We Learned Nothing?!

Did we really learn nothing from the tragic death of ten precious teenagers last week?!

There were clear weather warnings and strongly worded recommendations from various government agencies that, if followed, would have saved those precious lives.

Yet here we are a week later and I am seeing the same “yihye beseder” (It'll be okay) attitude among decision-makers who should really know better.

Tonight is L'ag B'Omer (the 33rd day of the counting of the Omer period between Passover and Shavuot), and it is a well-loved tradition to light Medurot (bonfires).  Among Israel's youth, it is arguably the highlight of the social year.  After all, what kid doesn't like staying up all night with his/her friends at a bonfire?!

Only one problem.  There is a strong storm warning for much of the country, with unseasonably warm temperatures (read dry everything) and high winds.  Exactly the things you don't want when people are lighting bonfires.

The fire departments and many civil administrations are strongly recommending limiting or even cancelling bonfires due to the weather.  The mayor of our town is among these sensible voices.

Yet there are those who are saying that since bonfires haven't been outlawed outright, that it should be okay to go ahead and have them.

What the hell, people?!  Do we need to burn down the entire country (and maim or kill a bunch of kids in the process), before we learn that not being forbidden from doing something doesn't mean it is a good idea!

I'm not one of those people who screams every year about air polution and poor supervision.  I think the annual bonfires are a wonderful tradition.  But not at the risk of lives and property!

 

Just because someone doesn't share your views doesn't necessarily make them your enemy!

Can everyone please tone down their righteous indignation over Natalie Portman?

It seems like everywhere you look these days, people are out for a stroll in public with their sacred cows; just daring anyone to even think about taking a whack!

Last week we had the Holocaust and Memorial Day zealots who saw it as their sacred duty to call out entire segments of the Jewish population for not standing at rigid attention during the requisite minute (or two) of silence.  "Here, look at my Facebook feed... I have a video of two Hassidim walking during the siren, so the entire Haredi world must be spitting on the graves of every holocaust victim and fallen soldier.  They are worse than the Muslims!!!"

And once the siren zealots get themselves worked into a lather... why should they limit themselves to siren-policing when they can ignore the verified enlistment and employment statistics altogether and accuse the entire black-hat-wearing community  - a community that is struggling valiantly to find their place in the modern world without sacrificing the essence of all they hold dear - of being blood-sucking parasites!!!

Give me strength!

And this week we have people tripping over each-other to shout the loudest, most incendiary insults at Natalie Portman for saying 'no thank you' to a third-tier prize that was made up out of whole cloth by a Prime Minister (and his cronies), that she dislikes and distrusts.  "Revoke her citizenship!"... "Bar her from entering the country!"... "She married a non-Jew and hasn’t lived in Israel since she was five, so of course she's a self-hating Jew and a BDS supporter!!!"

People, people, puleeze!  Do you even hear yourselves?  You aren't the thought police, and have no moral authority to be rounding up a posse!

Many of you have likely heard of my friend Allison Kaplan Sommer.  If not, go ahead and Google her.  I'll wait. 

She and I rarely see perfectly eye-to-eye on matters of Israeli politics.  But not because she is wrong-headed or misinformed.  On the contrary, Allison is one of the brightest people I know and brings the facts to back up anything she has to say.  We both love our country deeply, but hold different views about the exact route to where we hope our country should be.  She's one of the people I routinely check myself against... not the raving lunatics at the two extremes of Facebook political shouting matches!

Today she had quite a bit to say about the orgy of Portman-bashing going on, and I have to admit that much of what she had to say was as new to me as it was refreshing to read.

I recommend you follow that link and read her well-written case for why Natalie Portman's reluctance to accept the Genesis Prize is, at best, a tempest in a teacup. 

But if you need the Cliff Notes version, suffice it to say that people are allowed to look at who wants to give them an award and say, "Um, thank you for the offer, but I feel that publicly accepting your prize would seem like publicly accepting your views."

And frankly, that's fair. 

Could she have been a little smarter about heading off the dog and pony show before they actually announced her as the awardee?   Of course she could have!  I'm sure she was approached well in advance to suss her out... if only to check her scheduling availability.  That would have been the smart time to say 'Thanks, but no thanks'.  But there are different kinds of smart... and a Harvard degree doesn't confer upon anyone the full set of smarts (just Google 'Noam Chomsky' if you need any more proof of that).

And while we're at it, let's try to quantify just what kind of a 'big deal' this prize is she turned down, and what refusing it has to say about her views on Israel.  People are acting as if refusing the Genesis Prize is akin to tongue-kissing Roger Waters during a press conference to announce an endorsement of a wall-to-wall boycott of the entire Zionist enterprise. 

Get a grip!  The Genesis is not the Israeli Nobel!!! It's not even in the same league as the The Israel Prize (which actually is considered 'the Israeli Nobel'). 

The Genesis Prize itself is only a couple of years old (they gave out the first one in 2012),, has had only four previous recipients, and by all indications, seems to have the same rigorous eligibility standards as the honorary doctorate degrees we see handed out like Mardi Gras beads at commencement ceremonies everywhere this time of year.

The entire Wikipedia article about the Genesis Prize is exactly one paragraph long, and consists of two short sentences (not counting the list of awardees).  Here it is (don't thank me, I'm a giver):

"The Genesis Prize (פרס בראשית‎) was founded in 2012 as a US$1 million award given annually to Jewish people who have attained recognition and excellence in their fields. The prize was founded with the objective of inspiring and developing a sense of pride and belonging among young unaffiliated Jews throughout the world." [source]

Nothing about Zionism, the State of Israel or Religious Identity.  And as Ms. Portman likely learned long ago in Hollywood; there's no such thing as a free lunch (or award dinner).  Very few organizations give out anything without expecting something in return.

Just as the Genesis Award seems designed to hitch a ride on the coat-tails of Jewish celebrities in an effort to show unaffiliated Jews how cool and important some of their co-religionists are... it has only slightly more gravitas than Adam Sandler's catchy Hannukah Song, and significantly less likelihood of convincing any unaffiliated Jews to change a single thought or feeling they may have about their Jewishness or the State of Israel.

Add to that the fact that the award is the brainchild of a politically conservative Israeli Prime Minister (and various oligarchs whose friendship Netanyahu enjoys), and it isn't hard to understand that accepting the award isn't exactly a great fit for a politically liberal Israeli/Jewish actress.  Let's just say that I'd be just as unlikely to fly to Washington to accept an award from J-Street (not that they are banging down the door to give me anything).  Just sayin'.  

What can I say, call me oldfashioned, but I still feel that everyone is allowed to choose their favorite flavor of ice cream without being told they have no taste.

... In The Eye Of The Beholder

Many towns and villages in Israel have email and/or Whatsapp groups to allow their respective residents to ask for/seek rides, post important community news, give-away/seek furniture and household items, and exchange other information; both urgent and mundane.

And within regions, it is not uncommon for these email lists and whatsapp groups to have a certain amount of overlap.  Meaning that residents of neighboring communities often have members signed up for more than one community's lists.  This ends up being helpful if anyone wants to spread a message or seek information beyond the borders of their town or village, since anything posted ends up having a ripple effect outwards geographically.

So it is with us. 

My town — Efrat — has a lively email group (sometimes too lively, if you ask me), and there exists a fair bit of overlap with other communities in Gush Etzion and the southern Hebron hills.  This offers a sense of extended community throughout the heart of Judea.

The reason I'm sharing this bit of communication esoterica is that last week word went out from one of the other communities that a hitchhiker had caught a ride from one of the villages south of Hebron, to the Gush Etzion junction, and had accidentally left his cell phone in the car.

Now, anywhere else in the world, a hitchhiker leaving something in a stranger's car would simply kiss it goodbye and move on.  The anonymity of the brief hitchhiker-driver relationship combined with the long distances that the lost property could potentially travel once the passenger gets out of the car, would usually be insurmountable obstacles to recovering forgotten property no matter how urgently the driver and hitchhiker may want to locate one another.

But because of our overlapping network of email and whatsapp groups, the young man who forgot his phone didn’t lose hope.  He simply tossed a pebble into the regionalal pond, and within a short time, word had spread the length and breadth of our part of the country.

The pebble/message was a simple one:

"I was in a 'tremp' (ride) from Susya to Gush Etzion Junction this afternoon and left my mobile phone in a grey Renault driven by an old man with glasses and hearing aids."

Within minutes of him posting that, the ripples of that tossed stone spread from community to community, until someone from a town near ours who knew the route I drive to and from work, called my wife and asked her if I happened to have found a cell phone in my car.

FIrst of all, while I do wear glasses and hearing aids... and I do drive a grey Renault... I'm not 'an old man'!!!

But when I checked, it turns out that a cellphone had, indeed, been left in my car.  Which leaves me with decidedly mixed feelings.

On the one hand, it feels nice to have been able to return lost property to its rightful owner.  But on the other hand, the fact that I was 'that driver' shines a glaring light on how someone under 25 actually sees me.

[sigh]

I guess age, like beauty, is truly in the eye of the beholder.

Happy 70th Birthday, Israel,

Every Israeli has their own holiday traditions.  I’m no exception to the rule.

I haven’t mentioned it over the past few years, but I’ve continued to volunteer every Yom Ha’Atzma’ut (Israel Independence Day), at the Pina Chama; literally a warm corner not far from our house which provides food and drinks throughout the year for soldiers serving in the area.

On Yom Ha’Atzmaut a big group of volunteers throws a big BBQ (locally referred to as a 'mangal’) for the soldiers on duty throughout the region.  Hundreds come in during the day to eat and relax, and we send out meals to hundreds more to wherever they are stationed. 

This is my 15th straight year working the first shift on the grill.  And after I finished my 3 hour shift, I went home and grilled up a nice meal for my family and some friends who joined us.

Here are some photos from the Pina Chama today:

 

If you look closely at that second to last photo; the one of the guys working on the grill... that’s me in the middle in the light blue shirt (Zahava would call it turquoise)

Oh, and a neat feature of the place is that many of the thousands of soldiers who have enjoyed the Pina Chama's hospitality hang their unit flags, shoulder tags and other insignia on the walls and ceiling. 

 

We Saw what You Did There!

Who doesn't love watching a well-executed magic show or a dexterous card sharp at work?

But since I think we can all agree that there is no such thing as real magic, what we all know with absolute certainty is that anyone carrying out a convincing illusion of something magical in front of an audience must get everyone to look - at least momentarily - away from whatever it is that would reveal how the trick is done.

So even though we're all dazzled and amazed by the deft practitioner... on some level we understand that sleight of hand and misdirection are at the core of any card sharp or stage magician's success. 

This knowledge makes us look even closer... trying to catch them out at their trick.  And when we do catch them out, we all want to be the first one to jump up and shout, "Ahah!  I see what you did there!!!".

So why do we have such low standards when it comes to what we hear and see from political and military leaders when they perform the very same tricks?  All the same elements are present:  Not only do we know from experience that what we are hearing and seeing can't possibly be true.  But we should know from long expereince that the more exagerated the gesture, the more likely it is to be designed to take our eye off of what is really going on.

Take, for example, the news today that Israel has uncovered and destroyed yet another huge terror tunnel that extended into Israeli territory.  None of the newspapers or media outlets that condemned Israel for the deaths and injuries of the Palestinians rushing the border fence last week have seen fit to make mention of the incredible coincidence that the discovered terror tunnel went under the border AT THE EXACT LOCATION along the border fence where that huge 'spontaneous' Palestinian march took place (causing all those poor people to be killed and injured!).

Am I the only one who thinks that, just maybe, those thousands of people were sent there to that exactly location by Hamas in a cynical attempt at misdirection in order to mask the sounds of the digging and drilling going on just a few meters below the protester's feet?

Seriously, just how bad does the magician or card sharp have to be before the audience stands up en masse and yells, "We saw what you did there", and walks out?

Hurts So Good

Thanks for the incredible feedback on my remarks from the Bar Mitzvah.  Not to humble-brag too much, but I had really good material to work with. 

I honestly don't know how school principals and community leaders do it.  I mean, it's easy to speak about exceptional people.  But what the heck do you say about the village idiot? 

I guess what I'm saying (badly) is that anyone who knows Netanel could have nailed that speaking opportunity.  He's a truly exceptional young man from a truly exceptional family.  People are instinctively drawn to him and want to be part of his life.  Saying nice things to him - and about him  - was effortless.  That speech practically wrote itself!  I was just lucky enough to have been asked.

That said, I'd like to share a deep dark secret that I've often wanted to reveal... but always held back because I couldn't figure out how exactly to express it without sounding, well, a little nuts.

I have no frame of reference to know if others experience anything like this, but I've lived most of my life with a cruel paradox: Two things that I'm actually pretty good at - writing and public speaking - cause me to experience something so close to physical pain that it would probably be measurable if I were to do either in a clinical setting while hooked up to complex, 'House M.D.'-worthy diagnostic machines.

But... and here's the part which may send you mental health professionals running to the DSM-5 (or as I like to call it: 'The Family Album'), the aftermath of both writing and public speaking leaves me with an endorphin rush akin to what elite athletes experience in the wake of a punishing workout.   Or at least that's what I've heard they experience. 

Personally, I've never gotten anything more than smelly clothing and sore muscles from even the most arduous physical activity.  So as far as I'm concerned, that whole athletic-endorphin-rush thing remains entirely anecdotal... up there with urban legends, like the existence of courteous Israeli drivers or teenagers that wash dishes without being threatened.

So yeah... that's my dirty little secret.  Writing and public speaking really, really hurt when I do them.   

But it's a good hurt. 

On Being a 'Dutch Uncle'

Last night Zahava, Yonah and I attended the Bar Mitzvah celebration of a someone about whom I've written in the past.  

He was a great kid back then.  He's a fine young man now.

I was privileged to be asked to be among those who spoke at the party.  Afterwards, I received emails, whatsapps and in person requests for a copy of my remarks from a bunch of people.  So, to save time, I'm posting my speech here:

 

"Last year Zahava and I went to the states to attend the wedding of a young man who had lived with us here for almost four years as a ‘Chayal Boded’ (lone soldier).  And when I was asked to speak, I realized that before I could even begin to think about what I wanted to say, I had to figure out in what capacity I was going to be speaking.

I certainly wasn’t this young man’s father.  His father is my age.  And I was too old to really be considered his friend.

So I was torn, because I felt an odd combination of friendship and fatherly protectiveness towards the groom… but I was neither!

So I was forced to go searching for a hybrid relationship; some sort of close connection that combined fatherly protectiveness with friendly intimacy. 

What I discovered at the end of that search was something called a ‘Dutch Uncle’; an American expression that has mostly fallen out of use.

For you amateur lexicographers:

Dutch Un·cle

noun

NORTH AMERICAN informal

a person who gives firm but benevolent advice.

[By the way, benevolent is just a fancy word for ‘kind’]

 

So, getting back to my story, when I was called up to the Chupah at our Chayal Boded’s wedding this past year, it wasn’t as a father or as a friend… it was as the “Dutch Uncle of the chatan”. 

So why is that story relevant tonight?

Netanel, when I think of you – and I think about you more than you will ever know – I feel that same combination of fatherly protectiveness and friendship.   

On the one hand, I want what any father would want for a son:  To shield you and advise you and hug you close while at the same time giving you your wings setting you free on a course towards success. 

But I’m not your father.  Your father was far smarter, far more patient… and understood you far better than I can ever hope to.

I also want for you what any true friend would want:  To see you happy, confident, having fun, to be completely natural and at ease with you, to earn your trust and loyalty… and to offer those things effortlessly in return.

But I’m much too old to play the role of friend to you. 

You are blessed with lots of good friends much closer to your age; friends who can pass endless hours with you, completely immersed in that secret world of looks, gestures, signals, jokes and mind-reading that comes naturally to teenagers… but which is a complete mystery to anyone as old as myself.

And as much as I’d like you to consider me an uncle-figure, you have real aunts and uncles who love you deeply, and deserve to enjoy that special relationship with you without competition.

So I think what’s left for me is that odd title I mentioned:  ‘Dutch Uncle’; someone who is always ready to offer firm but kind advice.

And I am far from alone in that role. 

You don’t even have to look beyond this room to see more Dutch Uncles – and Aunts – than you can shake a stick at!   Just the few I can see from where I’m standing are as impressive a list of ‘Dutch Aunts and Uncles’ as anyone could ever want in their life:

You have people like Rav Moshe Aberman, who casually dispenses his Torah knowledge each week in shul as effortlessly and easily as you or I might share a pocket full of candy.  From that first Friday evening more than two years ago when you began saying Kaddish for your father, Rav Aberman quietly stood next to you, helped you find your place and your voice… and made sure you never, for a single moment, felt alone.  You probably didn’t notice it, but months after he was finished with his own Kaddish obligation, Rav Aberman continued to stand with you whenever and wherever necessary.

You have people like Ari Greenspan who helped teach you to daven for the amud, and who, without you noticing, has quietly been placing more and more responsibility on your shoulders and Yonah’s shoulders… to the point where you two are now essentially helping to run the early minyan as assistant Gabbais.

You have people like Johnny Finn, who asks after you constantly and proudly shares stories of your progress and successes with anyone who will listen.  He is a relentless, but quiet force for good in your life who would move heaven and earth to clear even the smallest obstacle from your path.  Don’t let his jokes fool you.  If things ever get tough… Johnny’s the guy you want in your corner.

You have Rav Rosenstark who taught you your Parsha and Haftarah, and learned with you all year towards the Siyum you made tonight…and Rav Lewis, Rav Shrader, and Rav Oren… together with Rav Aberman, these Torah sages comprise a vast ocean of learning and halachic experience so broad and deep that you could test their limits with questions and requests for advice on nearly any topic, and never once glimpse the shores.

I could, and should, go on.  There are so many men and women in this room – and far beyond its walls – who have stood with you, and who will gladly jump to your side at the slightest gesture or signal from you; people who care deeply about what you think and feel… what you experience and want… and who are watching with proud anticipation to catch a glimpse of the man into which you will ultimately develop and grow.

You have your Father, who – you must believe me – will never be far away. I am 100% certain that he is here with us tonight.  And each and every time you are called to the Torah by name, Netanel Ben Rafa’el, your father will be proudly standing beside you.  You couldn’t ask for a better role model.  As long as you remember your father and keep him in your heart, he will be there to comfort you in your setbacks, share in your successes and guide you throughout your life’s journey.   

You have your mother who is one of the strongest, most wonderful and sensible people I know.  Her moral compass always points true north.  She will continue to guide you, and love and nurture you unconditionally.  She is your sure, constant link to the past… and your secure, straight shining path to the future.

You have your extended family that will always be connected to you by the bonds of love, shared memories and blood.  You may not see them as often as you’d like, but take it from someone who also has a lot of family living half a world away; never take those relationships for granted.  They’re as much a part of who you are as the color of your eyes and the shape of your face.   Email, WhatsApp, Skype, FaceTime… whatever it takes.  It’s up to you to take care of those relationships and keep them healthy.

And of course you have your friends – really good friends – who would lie down in traffic for you (which, of course, I hope will never actually be necessary). Take good care of those friendships.  In this tiny country of ours you will be connected to them by school, army, and work… through the happiest and saddest of times, for the rest of your lives. 

There’s a reason our politicians call each other Bibi and Boogie and Bougie and Baiga and Moody and dozens of other nicknames.  It’s because Israel is a tiny playground where, through good times and bad, 60 and 70 year olds still call each other by the nicknames they’ve had since gan chovah!

And since I’ve brought it up, it is worth pointing out something you have more experience with than most people your age: bad times.

They say that experience is something you don’t get until right after you need it. 

Netanel, I hate to break it to you, but over the coming years you’re going to fall down and skin your knees – both literally and figuratively – a bunch more times.  That’s an inevitable part of growing up. 

But whenever, and as often as it happens, please try to remember that you will never have to go through any of it alone. 

That’s where we come in…the rest of us… your Dutch Uncles and Aunts.  We will always be here to help smooth your way through the world. Call it protexia… call it connections… call it finding short-cuts.  Call it your own personal ‘plugat si’ur’ (recon unit), walking ahead of you and letting you know what to expect… and rescuing you when you find yourself in a tight spot.

You don’t have to make all the mistakes yourself, Natanel. You don’t have to fall into every single trap that life sets for you.

As luck would have it, looking around this room, we’ve probably made most of those same mistakes already… some of us more than we’d like to admit! 

So feel free to benefit from our life experience, and use us like a map to navigate your way through the minefield of adolescence and life beyond.   

Please rest assured… we, your Dutch Aunts and Uncles will always be here for you day or night; ready with a sympathetic ear if you ever feel like talking. 

And when you are faced with decisions and want to know what we think… we won’t get all judgmental like your friends… or all bossy like a parent. 

Just ask us, we’ll be happy to offer you firm but benevolent advice… to give you enough information to help you make up your own mind.  As Dutch Aunts and Uncles, that’s our job. 

Mazal Tov, Netanel!  I think I speak for everyone when I say we couldn’t possibly be prouder!"

With Deep Gratitude and Much Respect

[A Guest Post by Zahava]

On Sunday afternoon I was devistated to learn that my beloved childhood Rabbi had, in the words of one of his sons, “left us this morning in Jerusalem.”

Since four of his six children make their homes in the US, the funeral was delayed until this morning (Tuesday) to allow the four living abroad time to arrive.

As many people have the custom to wait until after the chessed shel emet of burial to offer comfort to the aveilim (mourners), rather than reach out to the family, I sat down to contemplate the profound sense of loss I was feeling.  Between when I learned of Rabbi Zimand’s (zichro l’vracha), passing and the funeral this morning, I have been sifting through an ocean of warm, happy, and deeply meaningful memories.

I'm sure that my childhood friends have spent the past 24 hours engaged in similar reminiscences and introspection. Such was the impact of Rabbi Zimand’s limitless affection, sense of humor, and ability to connect with people.

There are no words sufficient to describe the tremendous hakaret hatov (gratitude) that I feel whenever I think of Rabbi Zimand, for Mrs. Zimand, and for their entire family; and I know that I am in not alone in these feelings. Their example of loving kindness has influenced countless people.

For those not lucky enough to have known Rabbi Zimand, he was a modern-day Abraham, and the Zimand home was like Abraham and Sarah’s tent; Rabbi Zimand was the personification of hospitality and their home seemed to expand to allow sufficient room and attention for all who entered.

As each of the hespedim (Eulogies) at the funeral emphasized – Rabbi Zimand not only listened as though the speaker were the only person in the universe, he gave sincerely and generously of his time and knowledge. An eternal optimist, he believed with every fiber of his being in the essential goodness and potential for good of all he met.

Raised in a traditional home, as a pre-teen I began exploring a deeper connection to Judaism – very much inspired by Rabbi Zimand’s loving approach to Torah, Shabbat and mitzvot. My parents, while pleased that I was embracing our heritage, were a bit disoriented by my sudden desire to walk to shul on Shabbat (we lived 3+ miles away), and my reluctance to eat out. Like many parents whose children choose a path which diverged from their own, I think that my folks grappled with a sense of imposition and rejection.

I will never forget (and will always be grateful for), the sensitivity with which Rabbi Zimand simultaneously eased my parents’ discomfort, and my journey.  He quietly and respectfully pointed out that I was not rejecting lifestyle with which I was raised, but rather was seeking to expand and nurture the very seeds that they themselves had planted during my childhood.

After my parents, Rabbi Zimand was one of the important and positive influences on my life's path. I can honestly say that his love, encouragement, and enthusiasm for life helped shape many of my decisions and goals. Thanks in large part to his guidance and mentoring, I am living a life I could only dream of as a child, and it is even better than I dared hope.

Although as an adult, my busy life and responsibilities kept me out of touch with Rabbi Zimand, my fondness and appreciation for him has only deepened with time, and he is raely out of mind.

On the occasions in recent years when we have had the opportunity to meet at family celebrations, I tried my best to articulate these feelings – to seize those moments to thank him for being my teacher, my mentor, and my friend.  I hope I was successful.

My heart is filled with sorrow for the loss the entire Zimand family has suffered. You are all imbued with the best of Rabbi Zimand.  Having known you all for more than 40 years, it is easy to see how you each carry the torch of his light and goodness into the world in your own ways.

I hope that the knowledge that so many people share your profound sense of loss will be a small comfort at this difficult time.

המקום ינחם אתכם בתוך שאר אבלי ציון וירושלים

May you be comforted amongst the mourners of Zion and Jerusalem.

Memo to Gen Xers and Millennials:

Those of us older than 40 do not live on our phones. 

As a rule, we do not check for new texts (SMSs, WhatsApps, etc.), every minute or two throughout the day. 

Our ears are not alert to the various chimes, bings, beeps and vibrations our phones give off, nor do these sounds and sensations trigger a Pavlovian reflex to take out and stare at our phones, negating/dismissing the presence of real live human beings in our immediate vicinity.

We do not scour social media around the clock to see if someone has 'tagged' us or mentioned us in a tweet.  In fact, stumbling on a week old Facebook conversation that was extremely relevant at the time but is no longer so, feels like hearing about a party to which we were not invited.

We often ignore our email for hours - days, even, if we are away from work -at a time.

Therefore:

If you are trying to coordinate anything with us that is time-sensitive (e.g. a ride, pickup/drop/off, meeting, deadline, dinner reservation, etc.), pick up the damned phone and call us!

If I get to work and find something like this when I sit down to drink a coffee and get around to looking at my phone, please don't ever ask me for a ride ever again:

If you ask me to have something ready for you to pick-up (something that you need from me!!!), and then leave the following messages on my phone for me to find sometime in the future, you can delete my number... because I am dead to you:

I can't decide if this behavior is more passive-aggressive, ADHD, anti-social or some combination of all three.  But what I do know is that, as a rule, you need us old farts a hell-of-a-lot more than we need you.

Also, I know it is cumbersome to actually type out actual sentences with verbs, nouns and other basic parts of speech.  We've given you a pass on using recognizable email, memo or letter formats with a greeting, opening paragraph, statement of purpose, summation and closing salutation (including your name!).  We've even given you a total pass on spelling (GR8, CU L8R, GTG. LOL!).

But if instead of sending me an actual written text you send me a recorded message that will force me to disturb people around me in order to find out what you've said... guess who's going on my blocked list?!  And no, I don't need you to show me how to do that!!! [smug little sh*ts]

 

Under-Appreciated Magic

As an ex-pat American who has traveled extensively for work, I have often been struck by how how much more volatile and adversarial (combative, even!), Israeli business culture is compared with elsewhere in the developed world. 

For example, it is not at all unusual for Israelis in a professional setting to cut each other off mid-sentence, shout at one another, slam their hands on the conference table to emphasize a point, shout each-other down or even toss out dismissive and/or insulting jabs to score points in an argument.

A few recently overheard phrases that come to mind (translated to English): 

• What do you have? - ?מה יש לך (what's your problem? / what's wrong with you!)
• Have you gone crazy?! - ?השתגעת (said regarding anything outside the speaker's comfort zone)
• Don't confuse my brain! - !אל תבלבל לי את המוח (stop making me crazy!)
• Go find your friends! - !לך לחפש את החברים שלך (you'll be on your own)
• Don't be naive! - !אל תהיה נאיבי / תמים (grow up!)
• You must be confused! - אתה מבולבל (you don't know your place)
• Nonsense! - שְׁטוּיוֹת (dismissive usually combined with a wave of the hand)
• Dumbbell! -  דביל! (Usually said about someone, not to their face)
• Waste of Time - !חבל על הזמן (can be either very good or very bad, depending on context)
• What Garbage! - איזה זבל (dismissive used to denigrate bad work)
• You're living in a film! - אתה חי בסרט (disconnected from reality / a drama queen)
• What a mess! - איזה בלאגן (anything that isn't arranged as the speaker would have done)
• He has a cockroach in his head! - יש לו ג'וק בראש (someone who can't let go of a bad idea)
• A redeemer has come to Zion! - !ובא לציון גואל (used sarcastically when a newcomer to the dicussion thinks they have saved the day)

I was recently in a meeting with several colleagues when the discussion began to get heated.  Opinions were dismissed, facts were discounted, intentions were questioned and feelings (mine, anyway), began to get hurt.

And then suddenly I took a mental step back and looked around the conference table.  There were a few native Israelis, but many of the participants were immigrants; from the former Soviet Union, France, Argentina and the US.

Here we were, a group of people who had grown up speaking a grab-bag of languages, yet we were magically communicating (albeit, rudely).  All I could do was smile.

When the guy directly across from me noticed my grin he gave me that classic Israeli hand gesture where you extend your thumb,index and middle finger and turn your hand palm-up, and asked ?מה יש לך (what's wrong with you?).

I just shook my head and continued smiling as the argument swirled around me. 

How to explain to an Israeli how magical it is to an American (we, who travel the globe screaming in English thinking that will help make ourselves understood), to be able to sit and converse effortlessly in a common language with people from all over the world.

 

[When I started this blog back in 2003, I was fresh off the boat and was constantly getting hit on the head by things that only a new immigrant would see.  That era was rich in blog-fodder which (hopefully) helped smooth the way for others who came after me.  But over the past few years I have become mostly blind to that 'je ne sais quoi' known as 'the immigrant experience'.  Maybe it means I'm acclimating.  Maybe it means I've grown a slightly thicker skin.  Whatever the reason, I have become less attuned to the charming (and not-so-charming), things that only an outsider would notice.  I guess that's why the topic of today's post caught me so much by surprise... and I just had to share.]

Culinary Crowd-Sourcing

When I was in high school, I worked in a pizzeria owned by an Italian family. 

Customers ordering would typically ask for a ‘plain’, ‘mushroom’, 'olive', etc., slice.   

But older Italians who wanted a ‘plain’ slice always asked for ‘scamorza’. 

My question:  Did pizza used to be made with scamorza cheese instead of mozzarella?

Failing to Understand 'Ozymandias'

Back in the heated days of August 2017, I caught a lot of flak from people I consider both smart and well informed (not, by any means, a matched set in most people these days), for a post I wrote which I expressed my opposition to the headlong rush to tear down statues and monuments to the Confederacy that had stood for far longer than those who viewed them had been alive.

 

My opposition came not from any sympathy for the Confederate cause, or for those who tried in decades subsequent to the war to paint that 'lost cause' as something heroic or just.  Rather, my opposition - outrage, really - came from the same sentiment that stops an archaeologist's from excavating an entire mound, and prompts historians to use reserved language containing ample room for current doubt and future scholarship when building theories. 

 

The simple overriding reason for archaeologists and historians to tread with caution in their work is that future generations may possess better tools, more subtle excavation techniques or more accurate understanding of the significance of the bits and shards that might be brought to light.  They may also possess sources as yet unread,  more nuanced ways of examining motives and a broader perspective of events that only time can provide.

 

Future scholars will surely weep at some, but certainly not all, of the genuine historical artifacts that were banished to the scrapheap along with lawn jockeys, blackamoor and other dubious other more recent 'relics' of the Civil War and its aftermath.

I can't possibly place myself in the shoes of African Americans and understand what they experience when looking at a statue of Robert E. Lee (or any other Confederate leader), as they go about their daily lives.  Perhaps the civil war and the institution of slavery still echo too loudly in their ears, and the scars of Jim Crow are still too fresh to be considered objectively.

But if there is one thing we should learn from history, it is that it is rarely wise to judge the past entirely by today's standards. 

For instance, I like to think that if I had been a southern landowner in the early 19th century, I would have been enlightened in my dealings with my servants and possessions (categories that had considerable overlap). But that's like hoping that I would have been equally enlightened about my diet, personal hygiene and relations with the opposite sex. 

Such mental exercises are as pointless as they are doomed.  Nobody is a visionary in the prophetic sense of the word.  The best we can hope for is that we conduct ourselves according to the highest standards of our own age and that future generations won't judge us too harshly.

Percy Bysshe Shelley understood all too well the folly and arrogance of those who erect monuments, and tried to describe the way those monuments should appear diminished, or even foolish to the modern eye.  In his famous poem 'Ozymandias' he describes a toppled statue of a long-forgotten ruler lying in pieces in the desert with no evidence of the great people or civilization he had once ruled. 

In the poem it is the sand that has defeated Ozymandias.  But the sand is simply a metaphor for the relentless passage of time, and the tremendous advantage of perspective that time provides. 

The existence of modern Southern towns and cities are (or should be), as mocking a rebuke to bronze monuments to antebellum values as the encroaching desert is to the mythical ruler in Shelley's sonnet.

As a Jew, I have trouble understanding why the descendants of American slaves don't view anachronistic Confederate iconography the way I view the Arch of Titus in Rome; as a reassuring milestone against which to objectively measure how much the world has changed and how far we've all come.  My wife can testify that the highlight of our last trip to Italy was my being able to gleefully say, 'f-ck you' in person to a relic of Titus (and his father, Vespasian), who had celebrated the enslavement of my ancestors in what they hoped was an ever-lasting manner.

I won't insult anyone's intelligence by voicing empty platitudes like 'Can't we all just get along'.  But being able to understand the irony in the line, "Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!", when all that is left to see are some tarnished statues of long dead leaders/ideas, should be possible.

'Spontaneous' Combustion

Here are a few quotes from this morning's news.  See if you sense a theme:

"Trump’s Jerusalem decision putting region in ‘ring of fire’"
~Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdogan~

"Trump's 'flagrant aggression' has opened 'the gates of hell'"
~Hamas political leader Ismail Haniyeh~

"Trump [is] a 'pyromaniac' and ... going through with the move risked inflaming the region."
~MK Ayman Odeh (The head of the Knesset’s Joint (Arab) List)~

"Jerusalem has a tendency to explode when you fool around with the status quo"
~Aaron David Miller, vice president at the Woodrow Wilson Center and a former Middle East adviser to the Clinton and Bush administrations~

"Trump's announcement might be intended as an opening move in the administration's yet-to-be-revealed Middle East peace plan, but risks igniting a "powder keg"
~[unnamed] US Analysts~

This repeated warning of 'spontaneous combustion' on the Arab 'street' is crap.  Violent demonstrations and riots require direction and a lot of advance planning.  They require leadership, communication, transportation, materials, signage, flags, manpower, food, water, etc..  

If the Palestinians were going to 'spontaneously take to the street' because of the US decision to recognize Jerusalem as Israel's capital, they would have done so last night.  They didn't. 

What we saw repeated in a loop on the news last night were a few carefully orchestrated groups of people burning US and Israeli flags (gee whiz, who just happened to have US and Israeli flags lying around?!), captured in very tight camera angles so as to hide the modest size of the crowd.

However, the Palestinian Authority (PLO) and Hamas have both called for (meaning ordered) tomorrow (Friday) to be a 'Day of Rage'.  The Imams  and 'community organizers' will get everyone good and whipped up, give them their marching orders and send them off to burn, maim and kill.

It remains to be seen just how wide open the leadership will turn the spigot, and for how long.  But make no mistake,it is a spigot, and there is a firm hand on it... so this should in no way, shape or form be confused with 'spontaneity'.  

But to be clear, spontaneous combustion can, under ideal conditions, occur.  But in the case of the combustion metaphors being tossed around in the news today, there should be no question about who is lighting the fires and fanning the flames.  And when it happens, it will be arson, plain and simple.  

I've said this before but it bears repeating:  What the world leaders and media outlets are doing to the Palestinians is called 'infantilization'.  It is degrading, insulting and actually calls into question the ability of the Palestinians to join the grown-ups at the diplomatic table of nations. 

Simply put, those who scream and lash out violently when they don't get their way are called 'children' (or at very least, are acting childishly).  Such people are not ready to manage their own affairs, enter into international agreements and raise an army.

Yet the 'grown-ups' of the family of nations seem to experience no sense of irony (or cognitive dissonance), when repeatedly warning that if the Palestinians don't get their way, they will be unable to keep themselves from screaming and lashing out violently... while in the same breath insisting that the Palestinians are indeed grown up enough to run their own country (and all that goes with that).

When Inaction is an Action

In trains and other heavy equipment there is something called a 'dead man's switch'.  It is a mechanism for triggering emergency safety systems (brakes, engine, etc.), that is automatically operated if the human operator becomes incapacitated, such as through death, loss of consciousness, or being bodily removed from control.

In spy novels it is known as a 'button-down' scenario, which is a reference to someone with their thumb on a bomb's trigger... whereby releasing pressure on the button will result in the bomb's detonation.  But just as often the term is used to refer to the automatic release of 'explosive' (i.e. damaging/incriminating) information if the person who placed it with a third party doesn't take one or more prearranged actions; again, due to incapacitation, such as through death, loss of consciousness, or being bodily removed from control.  

It now appears for all intents and purposes that a dead man's switch / button-down scenario has been sitting in plain sight for more than two decades in the form of a US law entitled 'The Jerusalem Embassy Act of 1995'.

The Jerusalem Embassy Act of 1995 is a public law of the United States passed by the 104th Congress on October 23, 1995. It was passed for the purposes of initiating and funding the relocation of the Embassy of the United States in Israel from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem, no later than May 31, 1999, and attempted to withhold 50 percent of the funds appropriated to the State Department specifically for "Acquisition and Maintenance of Buildings Abroad" as allocated in fiscal year 1999 until the United States Embassy in Jerusalem had officially opened.[2] The act also called for Jerusalem to remain an undivided city and for it to be recognized as the capital of the State of Israel. [source]

Built into that law is a classic dead-man's switch / button-down scenario in the form of a security waiver allowing the delay of the implementation of the law (e.g. the relocating of the US Embassy from Tel Aviv to Jerusalem and the formal recognition of Jerusalem as the capital of Israel), for six months due to security concerns.  But the waiver can only be implemented and extended so long as the President actually signs a new security waiver before the six moth term of the previous waiver expires.

Every president from Bill Clinton to Donald Trump has signed the security waiver on or before the six month interval.  That is, until now.

President Trump signed the security waiver the first time it came due.  But December 1st, 2017 was the deadline for Trump to sign the new waiver... and he let it pass without signing.  And to my knowledge, there is no legal mechanism that permits the extension of the waiver once the old one was allowed to expire. And creating a new waiver would seem to require an amendment to the law (something congress is not likely to do).

I'm certainly no legal scholar, but from what I can see, it seems like by doing nothing, Trump has actually taken his thumb off of the button and tripped the dead-man's switch, initiating the move of the US Embassy to Jerusalem and the recognition of Jerusalem as Israel's capital.

It'll be interesting to see how this plays out.

Afterthought:  

I can make a compelling case for either side of the debate regarding the proposed Embassy move.  But IMHO, one of the most compelling reasons to actually go ahead with it are the overt threats of violence being made by the Palestinians, and the Muslim regimes supporting them, if the US goes ahead with the move.   

Seriously, since when are threats of violence allowed to be made with impunity on the international diplomatic stage?  Since when does the US make decisions with a gun held to its own or its allies' head?  Overt threats of violence are considered 'casus belli' under international law, and open up those who make them to a diplomatic and/or military response.  

Just thinking out loud here.

Satan's Merry-Go-Round

Back in the '90s I used to be a fan of a photoblog called Satan's Laundromat which is, sadly, no longer around.  The site hosted an ever-changing collection of edgy photos of urban decay and gritty inner-city scenes.

The picture below could easily be called 'Satan's Merry-Go-Round.  It is of a Carousel located in the city of Bergamo, Italy that recently caught fire and was completely destroyed.

The first thing that went through my mind when I saw the photo was. wow, what an awesome name 'Satan's Merry-Go-Round' would be for a blog featuring a collection of circular logic and fallacious arguments from the news.

Don't worry, I'm not shilling for a new blog... I can barely handle the care and feeding of this one.

But think about all the horrible behavior that has been tolerated for decades (if not centuries), which is suddenly considered worthy of setting aside the usual trappings of law and order in favor of corporate lynchings.  And the tortured logic and carefully calibrated outrage one sees at any real or imagined transgression once the offense-du-jour is good and trendy. 

I really think someone should set up a place to archive all the double standards and supporting arguments... just so nobody can later say, "it wasn't me back at the end of 2017, losing my mind".

To qualify for inclusion in Satan's Merry-Go-Round, a story would have to document someone screaming for the immediate firing and blacklisting of someone for an offense they had previously dismissed as "Not a big deal" when someone they supported committed it back in the late '90s.

Just an idea.

 Don't thank me... I'm a giver.

The Annual Eggnog Post

For quite some time now, Thanksgiving has marked the official start of "eggnog season" here at chez treppenwitz (it runs until the end of Hanukkah or New Years Eve, whenever I feel we've had enough).

Soooo, once again... for those who don't have access to store-bought 'nog (or if you just want to take your eggnog game to the next level), here's a foolproof recipe from a certified fool:

INGREDIENTS:

6 eggs 
1 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract 
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg 
2 cups whipping cream 
2 cups milk 
3/4 cup brandy, rum or bourbon (optional but highly recommended)

PREPARATION:

All liquids should be very cold. Refrigerate in advance. 

Beat the eggs for 2 or 3 minutes with an electric mixer at medium speed until very frothy. On Shabbat morning, obviously use a whisk.  Gradually beat in the sugar, vanilla and nutmeg. Turn the mixer off (or stop whisking!), and stir in the cold whipping cream, milk and booze.

Chill some more before serving (if you can wait... I never can).

Sprinkle individual servings with more nutmeg.

Makes a little over 2 quarts (after taking several 'samples' for quality control purposes)

Note:  If for some strange reason you end up with leftover eggnog (something that almost never happens here), you can add a splash to your morning coffee and/or to your French toast dip.

Don't thank me... I'm a giver!  :-)