Sunday, September 03, 2006

Here is a somewhat unusual proposition (pun!) fo solving the problems in the Middle East.

The solution to the problems in the Middle East. Limor Degani, an Israeli stripper who is also a teacher of Arabic, proposes a way to solve the conflict between the two countries by love and sex,

As every diplomatic factor in the international community is striving to find new ways to solve the crisis between Lebanon and Israel following the recent war, there is, apparently, a way out. Limor Degani found it.

Limor, who arrogates to herself the position of a Priestess of Sex, has much more original, nevermind alluring, ideas to solve the Middle East problems. And because she is so confident that her ideas will work, last weekend she sent a letter to the Lebanese Prime Minister, Mr. Fouad Siniora in which she described her proposal in her impeccable Arabic (she is after all an Arabic teacher):

Dear Prime Minister, Greetings,

Please accept my best wishes. I’m writing this letter in order to improve the relationship between Lebanon and Israel. I think we can discuss the status quo in the region and reach a settlement to resolve the crisis through love and sex.

Sincerely, with all my warmest wishes,



It's a bit difficult to fully understand Ms. Degani's intentions. It's a very general idea. How would she go about it? What are the specifications of steps leading up, and leading up to.. what, exactly?


In keeping with the spirit of sexy Israel, here are two very very shorts:

Saturday, September 02, 2006


This is from my recent horoscope reading this week:

What happens to buttered toast when it accidentally falls off a table? According to folk wisdom, it's more likely to land buttered face down, and hence create a bigger mess than if it had fallen dry side down. In a research paper published in the European Journal of Physics, Robert A. J. Matthews scientifically verified that this folk wisdom is accurate. Or at least it is when conditions are normal. But conditions are far from normal for you, Scorpio. Cosmic assistance and good luck are flowing your way in such abundance that they're rendering some laws of nature temporarily irrelevant. If you knock your toast off the table each morning for the next 15 days (and it's quite possible you will, given how excitable you are), it's not likely to ever fall butter-side down.

I fervently pray (as much as an atheist can or is allowed to pray) that this wish will come true. So far, it's been Murphy's Law manifesting itself to perfection. Every small mishap seemed calculated to reap the most unfortunate results. Atheist or not, at times like these I am pretty sure there is some mischievous super-intelligence seeking to relieve Its boredom by looking for for jollies in confounding ordinary folk just when they need it least and their coping powers are stretched to the limit. The washing machine, which has been serving us quietly and faithfully for nearly 8 years now decided to break down and cause a mini-flood the day before the movers were due to arrive and all the packed boxed happened to be placed right within the periphery of the flood. The dish washer's rubberlining broke just as it was fully loaded to capacity. Just then, when every pot and pan were still in boxes God knows were, the micro wave oven decided that it wouldn't warm the chocolate milk for the kids' breakfast. These are only a few of the little Murphies we had to contend with, to make sure that the trauma of our relocation was as memorable as possible.

And for the umpteenth time, I thought to myself: how come we humans became so terribly dependant on all these machines, that when they break, in the most inopportune moments, we feel so helpless and resentful. Helpless, because the mess is induced by these man-made Frankensteins, which we innocently bought with our hard-earned money. Angry, because someone should clean up the mess and make sure these... things.. are called back to order, which takes time and effort and energy, while all we want is just relax in front of other man-made machines, like the television or the computer.

At such moments, I imagine there is nothing I'd like better than to go somewhere where I could just grow vines and make wine the old-fashioned way, do my washing by hand in the stream and cook dinner over a coal stove, with plenty of chopped wood outside. For entertainment we would read aloud from a book we read twenty times before, and if we are lucky, maybe one of us could strum on the guitar.

But as soon as the messes are gone, I forget my pastoral longings. New worries and preventive measures against other impending murphies take the place of the calls of nature and defiance of technology. I flop in front of my computer and vent my frustrations in my blog which only I and a good friend of mine ever bother to read.

Ah, well. At least the astrologer promised me 15 days free of Murphy. We'll see about that.