Lunacunts.

Lunacunts is my new favorite word.

IYKYFK

😑

I haven’t meta posted in a while. So there.

Fucking Rapaport.

Good fucking morning, Threaders, Threadheads, and all in between. I need more coffee. Black.

Michael fucking Rapaport.

Such a nice guy. A few months ago, I started following him on Instagram, I can’t remember exactly why. Must have been some profane post he made about Hamas, or something. God knows I never fucking curse, so that must have been it.

If you use Instagram at all, you know how it works. Every time you check in, the reels from the people you follow show up, along with suggestions based on your likes and views. For me it’s like cats, cats, cats, Israel, cats, cats, planes, cats, Israel, Israel, cats, cats, cats, and more cats. What can I say? I like cats a lot, pretty sure some are Hebrew cats.

So I started seeing Rapaport a few times.

At first it was okay. I mean, I remember him from exactly two things: “Copland” and “Friends”. That’s it. Both roles depict characters with the IQ of a potato. And that’s fine, someone needs to play them, and they are usually challenging for the actor. In Rapaport’s case, though, it was too good.

I mean, he was either an extremely talented actor or he was the other thing. Considering I only remember him from those two appearances, being the movie/TV series fan I am, I think the latter.

Anyway, he started popping up in my IG feed a few times, which I didn’t mind much, at first, but then it started getting a little old, and a little odd.

Then, couple of months back, there was a short outburst against Joe Biden. That caught my attention. By then, his “in your face” fuck you reels, and the constant views of the Mediterranean followed by the inevitable “and that is the river” as he pointed the phone to some hills, started to annoy me.

I almost unfollowed him, after he posted his interview with a young woman named Noam, the granddaughter of Shlomo Mansour, an 85 years old Holocaust survivor, taken hostage by Hamas, on 10/7. He was pushing his potato head BS politics on her, but she pushed back. Respectfully, but hard. She immediately saw through his intentions and stated all she cared about was getting her grandpa back.

God bless her.

But since Noam cut him off, I thought it was actually a good interview, and I didn’t unfollow him then, though I was really getting annoyed by his one trick pony show, and having his mug filling my screen, finger pointed at me, yelling the invariably boring “you crazy fucks!” The man is crass, and it was obvious where this was going.

But something flew under the radar. Until today.

I don’t watch much TV anymore. It depresses me, for reasons you are well aware of, but in the morning, I do a quick run through the news channels to see what’s up. Along the scrolling, Fox News pops up for a few seconds, and today it got my attention. You guessed it. They were singing high praise for Michael Rapaport. At first I thought it was old news, I remember some obscure podcast interview where he stated not voting for Biden wasn’t off the table, I thought that was it. But no.

They were talking about an interview he did a few days ago with Visegrad24, an infamous Twitter outlet, created by a group of “conservative friends”, “The members of this group are exceptionally close to Victor Orbán, but also to Donald Trump, although he has nothing in common with the Visegrad Group.” They are members of this thing called MEGA (Make Europe Great Again). Yeah.

That alone would be enough to make me puke, but it gets worse. 

The interview took place in Tel Aviv, by the Mediterranean, of course, and “just across” from the river, on the hills (trying not to roll my eyes too much, they are starting to hurt), and it’s a total shitshow. You can google “Visegrad24 Rapaport” in video mode. It will pop up. I do not recommend it, but the introduction is enough.

And here’s why Visegrad24 chose the snippet used in the interview intro. Sitting on a chair, with the Mediterranean Sea in the background, Rapaport says:

“My political views have changed immensely.

I will not vote for Joe Biden. At this point, when we are doing this interview, voting for Trump is on the table. People are going like, what are you talking about? That’s my reality.”

Stop watching interview. Understand fully why Rapaport is Fox News new baby. Unfollow Michael Rapaport on Instagram. 1, 2, 3. Done.

What the actual Royal fuck?!

I am too old for this shit; by now you do know I came here to eat Peeps, give fucks, and speak my mind, and if I am almost out of Peeps, I definitely have zero fucks left to give. I don’t give a fuck if your skin is green or violet, if you believe in the big taco or the big noodle, or whatever the fuck else you are. You tell me you are not voting for Joe Biden, you’re gone. Instantly. I don’t give a shit what your reasons are, maybe Biden ate your favorite pet, I don’t fucking care.

I wrote many times about the wolves amongst us, the splinter cells, the ones who seem to be on our side but are really on their own private Idaho. Be aware of these fucks. And be merciless when it comes to stop their stupidity on its tracks. It matters. We need unity, we need all the people we can get in our ranks, both regarding Israel’s fight for survival, and the fight for the survival of our own democratic society. But unity does not mean blindness.

You have seen it and experienced it many times, in Social Media and in the MSM. People who look like allies turn out to praise Trump, to reveal themselves as bigots, to show they only care for themselves. Someone posted a pro Palestinian demonstration where a LGBTQ+ sympathizer was turned away, and among the replies, one self proclaimed Zionist immediately stated that was good, and next we should isolate all LGBTQ+ scum. How thoughtful and inclusive.

We share our space with people who seem very nice and leveled headed, we take their praise, we laugh with them, and we cry with them, and we even welcome their occasional hug, in times of need, but do not hesitate to expose their real selves when they are revealed. We shouldn’t have the room, the time, or the patience to accommodate such people, for they only care about themselves. It’s a grift. Wake up to reality, as Ol’ Blue Eyes would say.

It’s a shame, I know. I admired some of these people, Michael Rapaport not so much, but I considered him an ally. We are not all blessed with high IQs, and we are certainly not perfect, but if by now you don’t understand voting for Biden is our ONLY option to stop fascism, you are pretty fucking dense, and you pose a danger to us. You are a threat. And as such, you must be exposed as a threat.

You may still like Michael Rapaport, and may still laugh at his jokes, but after this I am not in the mood to laugh anymore. He had lost that ability, to me, anyway, I just chose to stop giving him air on my feeds. You do you, naturally, but me, I have lost all interest in this kind of fucks. I’m done.

So happy Tuesday to everyone, except Michael Rapaport.

He can go fuck himself.

To Hate and To Love.

My brother from another mother, @ne_oublie5150, reminded me of how different Portuguese and American cultures use the verb “to hate”. This about his reply to my good morning post, today, in which I returned to the subject of hope versus hate.

I briefly replied to him, but it brought back memories of my life in Portugal, regarding how we comprehend and feel hate itself. Curiously, the same applies to the verb “to love”.

The cultural difference between the Portuguese and Americans are many, but I assimilated this particular one when learning English as a foreign language. Being able to speak English reasonably well from tender age, just by watching English language shows and movies, which are always subtitled in Portugal, my parents decided to enroll me in an English School when I was very young, so I practically learned Portuguese and English at the same time, academically speaking.

Not a word of Portuguese was spoken in those classes, it was a fully immersive language school, so my understanding of how English speaking people use and define “hate” and “love” were quickly reinforced, as I had noticed it quite obviously watching movies and TV series. It became second nature to me, as everything else related to the English language, and I still dream in both languages, though these days dreams in Portuguese are rare.

Patrick (@ne_oublie5150), mentioned his care when using “to hate” in a sentence, which goes along the lines of not giving way to such a feeling, as in its appropriate use. The inappropriate use is my point.

When speaking in Portugal, we are extremely reluctant to use “to hate” (and “to love”), not just because we value the exact meaning of those feelings, but because we have lots of words to express their less “valuable” variants.

In America, we “love” Coca-Cola and we “hate” Pepsi, we “hate” dogs and “love” cats, we go about hating and loving everything under the sun, without much thought. And this happens not for the lack of vocabulary, but for cultural reasons. And okay, also because the average vocabulary of an average American is like 200 words, thank you American Education System. But the truth is, culture is responsible for this banalization of hate and love.

The downside to this is how hard it is for people in Portugal to say “I love you”, not that we are cold hearted folk, we’re just very careful about it. We compensate by being extremely affectionate, and using body language to express warmth, rather than words. But when a Portuguese says he loves you in the mother tongue, you better believe he or she loves you a lot more than he or she loves Coke. And it’s serious.

Same goes for hate. Portuguese find it hard to hate small and big things, but when we say we hate someone or something in Portuguese, you bet we really hate it. We don’t “hate” rain, we hate Nazism. Perhaps the best illustration of this cultural difference is the use of those verbs in question form, like “Don’t you just hate snow?”, or “Don’t you love that movie?” Erm… Come to think of it, you don’t really “love” movies, or “hate” snow. But don’t you just love to say it?

This is not going away. It is what it is. If you think I am bashing American culture for this one aspect of it, you’re wrong. But it deserves some thought, when it comes to hate itself, and how we perceive it in America. It’s a trivial thing, almost like an afterthought, permeating society at all levels. How easy Americans find to hate. And I am not talking about linguistics now. I am talking about feelings. Words may deceive you, and it’s easy and cheap to say “I love you”.

It’s also too easy and cheap to say “I hate you”, of course, but while most people seem to know the difference between loving a cat or loving a person, many see no difference in hating Pepsi or hating someone. Very recently, a lot of dumb people hated Bud Light so much they shot palettes of it with AR-15s, which they also do when they hate people. They shoot them with AR-15s too. Hate comes easy, and dies hard.

My reluctance in using the verb “to hate”, in English, started when I came to live in America. I stopped saying I hate things, left and right. At first I didn’t realize why, but then it hit me. Unlike in Portugal, hate in America is a very big problem. It’s like a disease without a name. It’s like an unfamiliar scent you can’t identify but smell everywhere. It’s all around us.

I first felt it as happening towards immigrants, then towards people who are not white, then towards people who are different, and finally, to tip the scale, hate towards Jews.

I know all kinds of hate towards people are wrong, but for some reason, hate towards Jews is the one that really bothers me. Maybe because I was so affected by the Shoa, as a child. Maybe because it reminds me of Nazism.

In any case, I stopped using “to hate” all together, when referring to ordinary things I just dislike, or talking about people I can’t stomach, or ideas I despise. I reserve hate for things I really do hate, like racism, fascism, and antisemitism. Those I really do hate. But I can’t bring myself to hate people. Maybe because I would happily destroy a vicious idea that I truly despise, but I find no joy in the destruction of human beings, no matter what they believe in.



Which brings me to hope over hate, again.

I do hate the fanaticism of those who today represent the most significant threat to the world as we know it. The Islamic Jihadists. But I don’t hate them. I despise them. Hate is a blinding feeling. When applied to ideas it forces you to be ruthless in the pursuit of their undoing. But you don’t want to feel that way about people.

If you do, you will lose your humanity, and you rarely come back from that. Mainly because you will no longer be able to tell the difference between right and wrong, Justice and revenge. And because if you commit excesses against an ideology, you can correct them, but if you lose your mind against people, and end up causing their death, you can’t bring them back. And no matter how sorry you are after, you will pay a terrible price for it.

So please try not to hate. Even if you just love to hate pineapple in pizza. Try not to. Sooner than you think, easier than you expect, it won’t be the pineapple in the pizza you’re hating, but the person who likes it. Don’t be a hater.

Also, try to love people, not pizza. Pretty soon you will find out that you can live without pizza, but some people you really need in your life.

It’s 5:55 am in Jerusalem.

Good night, and good luck.

Shani Louk.

I have the little polish boy’s picture engraved in my mind, his little arms in the air, walking by SS soldiers out of the Warsaw ghetto, most certainly to his death. The photographer was probably an SS himself. That little boy became the symbol of the oppressed Jews in Europe, because of this photograph. Shani Louk will in all probability become the symbol of her massacred brothers and sisters and their suffering, because of her horrific photo. The difference is, no one awarded the SS a prize.

April Fools.

Good April Fools morning, Threaders, Threadheads, and all in between. Coffee is black, and hot.

April 1 was the day I got my legal resident status, back in 2009. And it was no joke. Of course the irony was not lost on me, yet the path to citizenship was clear and here I am today, a first generation immigrant in America. People don’t realize it. I am a white European. I “belong”.

It was always my perception that we are all immigrants here, no matter the generation, and this truth is so often forgotten. Forgotten to the point where some of us believe we were not colonizers, once. Yet some of us are descendants of those who lived in the original colonies. They are referred to as such. The Thirteen Colonies.

Come to think of it, considering this is taught in school, it’s pretty rich those kids protesting Israel, calling it a colonial power, seem to overlook this.

The last colonial power in Palestine was the same we once were subjected to: Great Britain. Of course they didn’t call it a colony, but that’s what a protectorate is, minus the colonists in enough numbers to justify its precise definition as such.

The practical effect is pretty much the same, though. I wonder how many of those kids shouting for global intifada in the streets know this. I wonder how many of them even care.

They’re just kids. We know that. Just as the ones massacred at the Nova festival were. The difference between them is this: after 10/7, I have not heard of one single Nova survivor calling for the extermination of Palestinians, while in America, and around the world, the privileged kids in the streets are calling for the extinction of Israel. Think about that, for a minute.

Today, as I write these words, @lisaaronowatelier is at the site of the Nova festival. She sent me a few photos. She placed a little rock for me on one of the memorials set for the victims. I wish I could have done it myself.

The survivors cry, born of the indescribable pain and suffering of October 7, is “we will dance again”. No hate, no violence, no revenge. Just the sincere wish they may one day dance again.

In contrast, their brainless privileged counterparts in America call for the death of Jews. What they are calling for is that those survivors may never dance again, may never be happy again. Such a despicable thing to express. Such a heartless and hateful thing to feel, even considering the fact that suffering was since imposed on Gaza, as a consequence of the war Hamas started. That’s no excuse.

I feel the pain in the heart of Israel for the ones they lost on that terrible day in October, I never once called for the extermination of Palestinians, even if I know many of them, in Gaza, support Hamas. I feel deeply for those suffering the consequences of war, but I don’t believe calling for the destruction of Israel is the answer either. I know these extremes exist, but the truth is very few among those pro Israel feel this way, while many, most even, of those pro Palestine do.

Someone on Threads mentioned the infection of these pro Palestine mobs by the hate spewed by Hamas. It feels that way, like a disease. Where does it come from, all this hate towards Jews? It’s rooted in antisemitic currents that were never washed away, revived by a few malicious actors, and embraced by millions. And suddenly, in the aftermath of 10/7, instead of grieving those lost to Hamas violence, supporting the unconditional defeat of Hamas, and a quick end to the war, here we are.

None of those things matter to these soulless ghouls shouting “from the river to the sea”, for the death of Jews all over the world (for that is what global intifada means), and insulting, harassing, assaulting, and killing Jews, not in the name of Palestine, but in their own name. With their own antisemitic hate.

It makes me physically sick to watch these disgraceful people shouting hateful, thoughtless words against those who still try to reason with them.

There’s a short video taken in New York City by @_danielbraun (I will post the link at the end of this string) where he confronted a crowd of pro Palestine protesters with a simple concept:

Let’s stop teaching our children to hate and kill.

He was trying to engage with dialogue, starting from a self evident perspective, but he was met with disbelief, and eventually, towards the end, with the usual hysterical yelling. There is no chance of dialogue with these people.

They are impervious to facts and reason, and blinded by hate. And since almost all of them have no real skin in the game, one can assume this hate comes from self loathing alone. They get no sympathy from me. The fact they hate their pathetic lives is no excuse. They support those who would slit their throats in a second, who see them as trash. Only privilege allows such mindless behavior, they are well aware of it, so in the darkness of their souls, they hate themselves more for it.

Yesterday I told you I choose hope over hate, and I do it every day, but I also choose to close my door on these haters. Nothing good comes from engaging with them, so I denounce them, I expose them whenever I can, and I do my part to remove their discourse from our lives. Not engaging cannot mean not recognizing them, we can’t ignore them, for they represent a clear and present danger to us all.

Yesterday, during the celebration of Easter at St. Patrick’s cathedral in New York City, pro Palestinian protesters disrupted the ceremony inside the cathedral. A Catholic holy place. Not Jewish. They were promptly expelled. So, yes, they are coming for us all, not just the Jews, make no mistake about it.

Watching the scenes from St. Patrick’s Cathedral, I couldn’t help but wonder what would happen if some protesters, for whatever reason, disrupted a Muslim ceremony inside a mosque.

I am pretty sure all the rabid Palestine defenders would have a complete meltdown, should anyone have tried to disrespect a Muslim holy place like that. We’d never hear the end of it. But like all things demonstrative of their hate, and all things happening here and in Israel that show clearly who is right and who is wrong, this incident never made the news.

Hate is all around us, we can’t ignore it. But we can, we must, choose hope. 178 days after October 7, there is a little rock by a memorial of one of the Nova festival victims, at the place where she lost her life. It was placed there in my name. It’s my very small way of being present, and remembering the beautiful young lives lost that day. And it is my hope that many more kids, here and around the world, raise their voices against those who choose hate.

Today, April 1, it is my wish that those kids who feel pain in their hearts for those taken from us at the Nova festival, may raise their voices over the hateful ones. Not in anger, but in hope. And may they proclaim in one voice that they too shall one day dance again.

It is perhaps foolish of me to wish for such a thing, but it is nevertheless my wish, today.

That we may dance again. One day.

Am Yisrael Chai.

Link to Daniel Braun’s Instagram video HERE.

Hatikvah. The Hope.

So it’s Easter Sunday. Happy Easter to those who celebrate, I am one of them, not religiously, but more from the viewpoint of days gone by, when on this particular Sunday I would pilgrim to my godparents house to fetch my Easter CANDY!

To me, it’s more of a sweet memory, rather than the celebration of the first official zombie. What? Can’t possibly be too soon!! It’s been almost 2000 years! Come on, people. Flow with it.

Today, along with Easter, is a special Sunday, because my dear achoti (@lisaaronowatelier) landed in Israel, a few hours ago. She’s in Jerusalem, now. I wish her the best time possible, and look forward to seeing Israel through her eyes, as she walks the Promised Land.

To me, it’s a chance to remotely be a part of something special, and for once experience the sights of Israel through personal images, instead of the news or other’s feeds.

As I admire the beauty of this small country that means the world to so many, I can’t help to think about what will inevitably show on my feeds. Both the hope and the hate. Today I choose to focus on HOPE. Hence this morning’s suggestion of Hatikvah. For it is the one thing the Jewish people never lost, and chose to enshrine in their national anthem.

Hatikvah. The Hope.

“Hatikvah bat shot alpayim

l’hiyotam choishi b’artzenu,

eretz tzion v'yerushalayim…”

“The hope of two thousand years,

To be a free nation in our land,

The land of Zion and Jerusalem.”

Such a small piece of land…

Such immense hope for the future.

Today, there are still those who claim to own the truth. Be it the ones claiming for a free Palestine or those proclaiming a greater Israel, they all root their delusions in God. Today is a good day to remember God belongs only in our private set of beliefs, an individual choice of faith that can neither belong to others, nor be imposed upon them. At the same time protected from those who choose not to believe, and respectful of them.

Such is the genesis of the problem facing Israelis and Palestinians, today. And in it lies embedded the solution: remove God from the equation. God only has place in the privacy of the believers, and the only divine right is that of one’s choice in faith itself, respecting all others.

I have always looked at Jerusalem as the key. The one place where peoples of all faiths could live in peace, leading by example, sharing the ground they all deem sacred respectfully, in harmony.

The kind of place Herzl dreamed of, but could not envision with two states yet, removed as he was by many years from the reality we face today. Yet it is what he described, when he imagined a land where Jews and Arabs coexisted in peace, prosperity, progress, and respect. He couldn’t have had the hindsight to foresee the days we live in, but he had enough vision to predict any kind of return to Zion would mean sharing the land with all who lived there.

As we endure the consequences of years of turmoil and war between populations doomed to it by the deeds and aspirations of colonial powers who couldn’t care less for them, Jewish or Arabic, we realize Herzl’s dream has been upended, but it lives still. It lives in the Hope of Israel, carried in the hearts of millions. As a teenager, I attempted to go and be part of it, traveling to Israel to work in a kibbutz.

It was the time of the post Yom Kippur war Israel. It was a difficult time. My parents adamantly denied my wishes, and that was that. Fate took me in the opposite geographical direction, and today I find myself an American citizen, living farther away from Israel than I have ever been, and yet feeling closer to it than I ever was. And now, on Easter Sunday, I find myself living on the 177th of October, like millions of others in Israel and around the world.

There is no end in sight for the conflict between Israelis and Palestinians, but there are clear choices that both can and should make, if there is to be an end to it.

If you wish for a viable Palestine, start by making sure Palestinian children are no longer taught to hate in school. If you wish for a strong Israel, start by making sure those children have a real future to live for.

There is no denying History, and just as we recognize Palestine as a Roman definition of the region, until then known as Judea, so must we recognize that both Jews and Arabs lived in that same land during the Ottoman Empire, and the British occupation. They all tried to break free from colonialism, through the ages, seeking to live in peace in the land where their ancestors lived. And before that, to live in peace in Judea.

Of course the sands of time run steady and indifferent to the wishes of those looking back, who try to project their will onto the outcome of events literally set in stone. Before the Turks, the Arabs had their shot at administering the region, as did the Europeans. Through virtue of political actions, often enforced by military power, the Europeans had their final say in the Middle East, after the Turks were gone.

By then, both Jews and Arabs set their sights on the Holy Land. The former by virtue of their presence in Judea, later Palestine, since the establishment of the first tribes in the region, the latter by virtue of their presence in that same soil for many, many years. The movement of peoples around the Earth has produced similar situations, in every Continent, throughout the centuries. They have learned to live in the lands they stood on by the merit of those leading them.

There are hundreds of “Palestines” in Europe. There are places there where street signs are written in multiple languages, and borders are but administrative barriers on maps, designed over the years and eventually recognized, after struggles of all sorts, political, legal, and military, but seldom, if at all, religious. The West successfully removed God from government, as as core principle of its civilization.

Whatever problems Europe faced in the XX Century, they had little to do with God. Some, like the great wars, were immense. But they got solved, in the end. Outside of Europe, however, it was a different story. In a conscious move, the repercussions of which are felt to this day, Europe decided it was best for the Arabs not to have a follow up to their renaissance. It was best to keep them mired in pre XX century values, trapped in the past, as stagnant and ignorant as possible.

As a result, most of the Arabs live in a world that resembles the European Middle Ages, more than a contemporary one; and they became, mostly, chained to religion. As western societies deal with their internal problems through political discourse, the Arabs persist in looking to God for solutions. And we all know how that turns out. We were there once, it was a mess. We evolved, but we stopped them from achieving a similar progression.

You may say the same is true of the Jewish people, as religion is so much an important part of their lives. But it’s hardly the same. With the exception of the Haredim, and a few right wing nut jobs, most Jews view religion as a path to understanding and acceptance, of themselves and of others. And most Jews don’t wish God involved in political discussions, as they are mostly influenced by Western civilization morals, and their values are mostly contemporary.

From the very beginning of the establishment of the State of Israel, these two very different versions of society collided. The Israeli society became open, tolerant, diverse, progressive. Are they the paragon of civilization? No. They are working through their problems, in search of a better tomorrow, just as we are. On the other hand, the Arabs persisted in obscurantism, religious mysticism, and fanatical hegemonic ideals, rooted in one thing only: religion.

This is what history shows us. It teaches us to deal with reality in pragmatic terms. To accept Israel has existed as a nation and one people for centuries. But to also accept Arabs have lived in Palestine for many years, mostly as a colonized people, not very long as colonizers themselves.

And from 1948 onwards, these two realities need to come to resolve themselves into one: the fact both Jews and Arabs inhabit the region.

Today is a day for Hope. Hatikvah. The hope of Israel. The hope for peace. A better tomorrow, in which all the lives lost since October 7, nearly six months ago, will not have just been lost, but their meaning not wasted in the grip of hate.

May their memory be a blessing. The memory of all of them; Jews, gentiles, and Muslims. May we never forget them, and may we one day find true peace.

This is my hope, today.

Am Yisrael Chai.

Hope.

Today is a day for Hope.
Am Yisrael Chai.

Hatikvah.

Hatikvah, Israel’s National Anthem.

AB Singers.

Nova.

Good Caturday morning, Threaders, Threadheads, and all in between. Coffee is black and strong. ☕️

I will be posting yesterday’s good morning post (A Disneyland of Hate) in blog format today. I am glad some of you found it worthy of some introspection. Thank you.

The Nova Festival massacre was, to me, the most horrific event of October 7, 162 days ago. And I talked about it on the post mentioned. But it needs reinforcement.

Many Israelis have tried all they could to coexist peacefully with a Palestinian state. There are two realities, however, that also coexist in Israel.

They materialized, up to 10/7, in the way some Israelis interact with Palestinians in Gaza and in the West Bank. They reveal both sides of the same coin, one good, one bad. The good side is haunted by excess, just as the bad side is tempered by good will. It’s complex, and deserves a lot of thought, as neither is without flaws.

The bad side, is manifested through the settler movement, ongoing on the West Bank since Menachem Begin’s government of 1981, on steroids since 10/7, courtesy of Israel’s minister of Finance, Bezalel Yoel Smotrich, himself a settler. Under the excuse of creating a protective layer between the West Bank portion of the Palestinian state and the state of Israel, settlements remain more a spear than a shield, and constitute a source of legitimate grievance to the Palestinians.

This is the ugly side of Zionism, not “my Zionism”, a side that Herzl was very much against, but others made sure was part of the Cultural Zionist playbook, in which the divine right to the land of Israel is imposed above all else, at any cost. And even if we understand “land for peace” will not work, as long as Islamic Jihadists control the Palestinian Authority, the goal should be to remove those extremists from the equation, to allow for a true two state solution.

The Oslo Accords remain an elusive dream, but dream we must, if we wish not just peace, but democracy in a Jewish State that is still in the making, as much as our American experiment is still ongoing. After 250 years, Americans still struggle with the quest for a more perfect Union, do not expect Israel to reach it in 75. The truth is we will never reach perfection, but try we must, and trying we are, both in the US and in Israel.

Settlements have a positive aspect, and would indeed allow for a better coexistence between Israelis and Palestinians, in the sense that they would allow for Jews to live in Palestine, just as Arabs live in Israel. Now that is a pretty close vision to that of Theodor Herzl, but one that did not come to be. Most, if not all, of Jewish settlements in the West Bank are created at the expense of Palestinian displacement, and are not helping Israel, at home or abroad.

As opposed to this movement, in the East, another was set in motion in the West, around Gaza. Unlike the settlements in the West Bank, the Kibbutzim around the Gaza Strip were created respecting the 1967 borders, on Israeli land, and the people in them were mostly activists who worked very closely with the Palestinian population of Gaza, trying to minimize the impact of Hamas rule and Israel’s response to that reality, naive in the belief that most Gazans were opposed to it.

Since 2005, many Israelis living near the border with Gaza tried their best to help the Palestinians reach stability and safety, by meaningful interactions with them, from technical assistance, trying to teach them new technologies, to medical assistance, very often transporting Palestinians to Israeli health care centers in Israel, so they could get proper care. All in the hopes that one day they would be able to care for themselves, and remember those who helped them.

It was a conscious and concerted effort geared towards peace and coexistence, but rooted in the flawed belief Hamas would allow it. And this is the real tragedy of October 7, 2023. After almost 20 years of work, the people in the communities that truly were engaged in the peaceful coexistence between Israelis and Palestinians in Gaza, were the ones Hamas chose as targets. This is not a coincidence, or a geographical imperative with no relation to Hamas intentions. This was their goal.

And this is what makes the Nova Festival tragedy the single most important event of October 7.

The festival was a manifestation of peace, good will, and the strive for coexistence.

Set near the Re’im kibbutz, five kilometers (three miles) from the border with Gaza, the Nova Festival organizers had planned for a massive flying of kites to be held on the morning of 10/7, so the Palestinians across the border could see the Israelis were thinking of them, and would not abandon them.

Hamas knew this very well. They could have avoided the Festival, as they could have chosen to attack only military targets, but that was not the plan. The plan was to inflict maximum damage to those who most actively helped the population of Gaza, a cooperation they not only looked down on, but despised. And because their greatest enemy is peace, they willingly chose to destroy the most peaceful among their opponents. Those who opposed them, while helping their people.

The Nova Festival has become a painful symbol to all peace loving people around the world, especially Israelis. A reminder that those who seek violence and war will stop at nothing to destroy those who dream of peace. A reminder that sometimes peace can only be achieved through war, not because of the nature of those seeking it, but because of the nature of those who live to destroy it.

Such is our old reality turned new. One we cannot look away from, no matter what.

This is what Israel is up against. What we must never forget, and the reason why remembering the Nova Festival victims and the survivors, is so important.

So remember.

Never forget.

Never again.

Am Yisrael Chai 💔🕊️🇮🇱

Link to Holiday Horror Story on Instagram.

Magic Happens. 03/02/2024

Good morning.

Magic happens.

Running through Threads this morning, I found someone who chooses “Love Over Gold” as the best ever album by the Dire Straits (*)… I prefer “Making Movies”, as it has my favorite song in it, but the double vinyl that blew me away is my favorite. It’s suitably named “Alchemy”, recorded at the Hammersmith Odeon, London, in 1983. Their first live album, never to to surpassed.

(*) @thepretender39

Many times I tried to play it here, but “Alchemy” is not available on Spotify (spare me the Spotify spiel, music is music). But today… I found the recordings. They are assembled in an album named “Dire Straits Live 1978-1992”. The Hammersmith Odeon recordings!! I just couldn’t believe it! I had the “Alchemy” vinyls, once. Now I am left with the CD’s… But I can finally share the magic here, the… Alchemy.

So, dear Threaders, Threadheads, and all in between, without politics or cats, today I wish to have focus on music, for music may well save us all, for more than any other art form, it combines the essence of love. And love is all you need.

Ladies and gentlemen… Mark Knopfler and the Dire Straits, live at the Hammersmith Odeon, London. 1983. And my favorite song ever… (The acoustic guitar… Unbelievable…)

Happy trails… 💙🎧

Dire Straits. Alchemy. Romeo and Juliet.

Live at the Hammersmith Odeon, London, 1983.

Cut from “Dire Straits Live 1978-1992”.

STFU Jon.

Just a POS alert. You know.
STFU, Jon. Eat your corn.