To approximately 70% of the residents of Israel, and a few loons from abroad:
I was right and you were wrong.
I WAS SO FUCKING RIGHT AND YOU WERE SO FUCKING WRONG!
For fuck's sake, how can you be that retarded?! No-one on the Hebrew-speaking internet was allowed to speak about anything but Gil'ad Shalit, we saw his face everywhere, we couldn't get out of it! And then the satire shows say that we all forgot about him... Jesus Christ! LEAVE US ALONE!
No, I am not cold and heartless. I know that had it been, for instance, my mother, it would destroy me. But NO! I would NOT do anything to save her, like you morons say! I will not be willing to brainwash the whole country into giving away 1,000 prisoners with blood on their hands in exchange for ONE SOLDIER!
Oh, no. I wouldn't do that... I would think that my mother's life, the life of one person, is much more important than the security of several other millions of lives. No, I am not cold and heartless for saying this; I'm being very altruistic by making a sacrifice for YOUR LIVES.
And you know what? I'm smarter than you. There, I said it. I AM SMARTER THAN YOU. YOU ARE ALL STUPID. I DISRESPECT YOU AND THINK YOU ARE ALL BELOW ME BECAUSE YOU ARE STUPID. Call me a snob, I don't care; your opinion doesn't count because YOU ARE STUPID. If you can't realise that you are putting your own life and many others' in danger when you scare the shite out of your own government (which is corrupt and stupid, as even you know), YOU ARE STUPID. STOP VOTING, STOP MAKING ANY OPINIONS ABOUT POLITICS, YOU ARE DESTRUCTIVELY RETARDED.
So when your mother and father and brother and all your friends explode on a bus during the Third Intifáda, don't come crying to me. I warned you, morons.
With great loathing,
The Black Cat.
The drama major had their Bagrut test today, which included performing three plays for a tester. The three plays had to be brutally chopped into 40 min., but they were still alright.
The ones chosen this year were Best Girlfriends by Edna Mazya, Murder by Khanokh Levin, and Neumann: A Soldiers' Legend by Mikhael Gorwiéz (or however his name is spelt), in that order. Best Girlfriends and Neumann were alright: I didn't know the third one and had minor interest in it, though it was amusing; and I knew parts of the third (I saw parts of the televised version), but not the whole thing (though enough to know it was quite badly butchered, and that spare two actors, the acting was OK-plus at best). Murder, however, was a play I'd read two years prior. It was directed by B. S. and several friends of mine participated in it.
It was stunning. B. S. decided to use clowns as a theme to make the very shocking play somewhat more 'digestable'. He added a host, wearing typical circus host clothing and withe make-up with a big black tear on it (acted rather well, though she should've had a bit more enthusiasm), who made an introduction ('Welcome to the best show in Emeq-Hefer!'). She spun a wheel with the word 'murder' written on it in Arabic and Hebrew, making it stop on the Arabic word (she spun it at the beginning of every act: when a Jew was to be killed, it was stopped on the Hebrew word; when an Arab was, it was stopped on the Arabic), then called my friend O. R., who wore a kúfiyya, to the stage. She put a red nose on him, an alarm started, and she pointed a plastic gun to his head. A few actors, wearing IDF uniform with clownish, huge stickers and red noses, started dancing around him while the Israeli Declaration of Independence, read by Ben-Guryon, was played. Occasionally they stopped to laugh at lines such as, '...irrespective of religion, race, and sex...', and at the end, the Host shot O. R. and blew a trumpet, like those festive trumpets you often see clowns wearing, after which too happy clowns came in, skipping happily, and one pushed O. R. into the other's arms, who pulled him away. (This ceremony, from the trumpet to the dragging and replacing with a doll, was repeated with every such murder.) His body was replaced with a rag doll made of a kúfiyya, and the play began.
The Three Soldiers (among them B. S.) were dressed semi-clownishly, making fun of the Arab Boy and his father. B. S. had to censore the original play, in which they began cutting off his penis, and the father tried using it as evidence that they tortured him for no real reason (and not 'in the heat of the battle', as they'd declared), and instead they said that he was stabbed in the eye. They wanted to kill the father with a circus club, but the Host stopped them by declaring that peace is come. This act was very, very powerful, and I wanted to hug B. S. It was so powerful I became ainfully numb watching it ('Whoa! That's sheer genius!... Ow... Ow!').
The next act was somewhat butchered, looking a bit too fake, and the girl's rape looked too bizarre and confusing (a few clowns lifted and put down her toy-parachute dress, which was very obscure, and I might not have realised it was supposed to be a rape scene, had I not read the play). The last act was badly butchered and reminded me of the beginning of the film A Clockwork Orange, which looked like an absurd collection of irrelevant scenes. There was only O. R. (who played the murdered groom in the previous act), who painted the letter צ on the middle sheet of paper between three (the other two had the letters ר and ח attached with lights, which made the word רצח, retsakh, 'murder'). The whore didn't confuse him and made it clear they charge from the beginning, and there was little relation between the first part and the murder, which was presented as a group of townsmen dancing like clowns and beating the air around the Arab painter (in a very fake way, it was a bit embarrassing). His monologue was minimised to something like 'Please stop!' and 'If they're beating me for no reason, what good will words do?'
The final scene, in which the blinded soldier comes to tell the real last words to the old, senile father, was discarded altogether, and replaced with a repetition of the first scene (with a different volunteer), up to the point of the alarm.
Despite the play and performance being amazing, I think it was very, very inaccurate and unrealistic, for many reasons. For instance, IDF soldiers who kill a person for no real reason will be imprisoned (an order to do so is an unlawful order). Besides, these events were very, very exaggerated; soldiers who torture Palestinians usually serve at the Border Patrol (and that's only after they've been serving for a long, long time), and it never reaches the level of whimsical murders. People who do do such things get arrested.
Despite all that, I think B. S. is an outstanding director. If he reached this level in high school, he will do wonderous things later on. Actually, the production is now aiming to go to the Akko Theatre Festival. I wish them all luck!
(And hopefully they'll make use of the piece of soundtrack I realised is so suitable for the play, 24hours OPEN from Cowboy Bebop: Knockin' on Heaven's Door.)
Please tell me, leaders, why it is so hard
To move from 'Bábi 'l-Wád' to 'Bábi 'l-Ward'?
Two days ago we discussed the artistic part of our projects in Arabic. I think I've mentioned before that our groups have been re-arranged in away that I am once more in the only triplet, this time with the two girls who did the report on the Nakba. We're doing a paper about The Representation of the Jewish Soldier in Sahar Khalife's Novel Wild Thorns. We've found out that the Jewish Soldier is one of many Gestalten in Palestinian literature; others are The Child, The Old Man, The Woman &c., who are often not even given names. The Jewish Soldier (mind you, this is not 'The Israeli Soldiers', because some of the Druze serve in the army: lately, some youngsters decided they're Arabs and don't want to serve in the IDF because of that) is presented as a typical-European-looking (in this specific novel, he is blond with blue eyes and of Polish origins) heartless machine who humiliates the Palestinians at the borders, completely identifying with Israel's 'oppressive regime'.
So I brought up the idea of making a video clip with a clockwork soldier (making it clear he's one of many) who oppresses the Palestinians, and eventually killed. I suggested that the background music be a song with the tune of Another Brick in the Wall, with the lyrics being something like, 'We don't need no bloody conquest, we don't need no tyrrany...' My teacher, however, said that songs in English are not welcomed in the Arabic major. So while the art teacher spoke to the other groups about their projects, I wrote a short song, and when she was done, I sang to them the following song, to the tune of Another Brick in the Wall:
لازمناش الدّم والقتل،
التّحقير والاحتلال؛
ألجندي السّاقي يضحك منّا:
إتركنا، يا جندي بلا قلب!
يا جندي! إهرب من النّار!
في نهاية الأمر، كلّكم أشواك في الصّبّار.
Transliteration (not 100% accurate, but meh):
Lázimnáshi 'd-dam wa-'l-qitl,
At-tahqír wa-'l-ihtilál;
Al-jundí 's-sáqí yadhak minná:
Itrakná, ya jundí bilá qalb!
Yá jundí! Ihrab mina 'n-nár!
Fí niháyati 'l-amar, kullkum ashwák fi 's-subbár.
Translation:
We don't need the blood and killing,
The humiliation and conquest;
The cruel soldier mocks us:
Leave us alone, you heartless soldier!
Soldier! Run away from the light!
All in all, you are all thorns on the cactus [the work was called The Cactus in the original Arabic].
The art teacher was stunned to see I wrote it all in no-time, and I was satisfied with myself. I hope they make use of it, but not that everyone come annoy me like last time. Ah well, time will tell.
Unum diem...
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