This poem is dedicated to my Star Outside (to whom I shall dedicate a post as soon as possible), who’s been waiting for me to write ‘something interesting’.
Sigh... Well then, Gil‘adnicks, I hope you are happy
With all your big noise and the tent you’ve erect.
You’ve already made the new Knesset quite crappy,
And soon you’ll give hell to the PM elect.
You don’t get hints, do you? You’ll see how Ehud now
Give freely one thousand wild terrorists up,
Perhaps he’ll receive some poor joke of a Hudna,
And then you’ll be rid of this old, foolish pup.
So goes it. The things one can do for a fashion,
Ron, Vicky... Bah, old news! A new moral fad!
And yet I remember you all need compassion:
You can’t be responsible when you are mad!
Some say that Baghrúti’s the man we have needed
To get us some peace in this ad nauseam war.
They say he’s calmed down in the years when he feeded
On Israel’s taxes in gaol. He’s not ‘sore’...
And yet I believe that old Mr. Haniyya
Will blow him apart when he reaches the strip:
Barghústi’s a threat. Come on, scholars, be real:
It seems that stupidity’s reachèd its tip―
Of the Iceberg. And yet, none of you are now reading
This poem. Your poor English sure cannot suffice.
Alas; thus are morons. And Gea’s still bleading.
The Gods with a smile once more throw the dice.
An Cat Dubh, 15.3.09
At least Mad Max now agrees with me. Hopefully some more people will now wake up and snip this idiotic deal in the bud.
(And if anyone starts using the term Gil‘adnick now, give me credit! I invented it!)
We had Purim a while ago. I dressed up as Zeev Jabotinsky. It was quite pitiful to see how sophomore students, who had learned about him just the previous year, didn’t know who he was. Like everyone, they learned about him for the Bagrut and forgot it all. This is bloody ridiculous.
And they brought Shakhar Khason, a less-than-mediocre comedian, who pretty much summarised everything I hate in the Israeli society. He mocked the Russians (another moron who thinks he can do a Russian accent...), he mocked the Ethiopians (with a weird, semi-Russian accent...), and he wouldn’t stop mocking gays. Oh Kot, how he mocked gays, in the most retarded way possible... And he brutally mocked some kid with braces (I would’ve cried and run off, something I never do. That brutal). But everything was ‘for the lulz’. As the Israelis say, his funny fell.
And still my brother was envious. Why, I’ve no idea. Christ, I hate our headmistress.
I’ve met my second cousin Daya again. Last time we spoke it didn’t come out so well (some of you may remember when I referred to her as D― back in December, and wrote some rather nasty things about her). We made up quickly; I broke many myths she had had about many things and really provoked her thought. I told my father it will be tense, and indeed it was: You should’ve seen how her family laughed nervously when I compared the town they live in to Pleasantville... (Although judging by what my brother told me later on, it bears a greater resemblance to Ramsdale...)
I’m very glad I’ve managed to change one person’s opinions so vastly. I must admit some of mine were changed too: Since she has once been (briefly!) a Messianic Jew, we were able to have long theological discussions about Judaism and Christianity. We went to some religious article about Messianic Judaism, and one of the repliers to it said that the Jews have had many disputes with Christians about religion and have always defeated them, and gave the Disputation of Barcelona as an example. So we went to read it and found out that the argument doesn’t prove Christianity wrong altogether, just that the attempt to use the Talmud as a proof that Jesus was the Messiah are futile, and that the Jews are imbeciles who think that their way of interpereting the Tenakh is the only one possible. Then, when we looked at the sources, it turned out they were all from Jewish encyclopædiæ, which explained how it was possible for the pamphlet with the transcribed argument to be censored after having been burnt.
I should tell my physics teacher about this...
My father’s girlfriend has recently returned from the U.S. (she was there for work), and she brought us all some nice things. She got me a Korean study book and an Irish one, some discs, and Alan Moore's V for Vendetta, which I finished in three days.
Go read it. NOW.
I’ve noticed something interesting.
Icelandic is a funny language. When you look at it written, you can’t help thinking it has something to do with bold, fearsome Vikings. Even when you go to the Samtökin website, you can’t help imagining bold, fearsome Vikings in pink armour. Well, at least I can’t. Kinda like you always imagine elves dancing in the meadow when you see Irish written...
Unum diem...
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