Anyone who thinks this is an American story is greatly mistaken. Here in Israel, too, there are those who mark opinions as “dangerous,” there are those who make sure to suspend accounts, cancel events, and paint people as monsters. Anyone who thinks it ends there should remember that when someone is marked as an enemy of the people, there will always be someone who will take the law into their own hands.
Charlie Kirk was no longer a political commentator. He was a culture warrior. He understood something that many conservative politicians miss to this day: that the real struggle takes place not in parliament, but in the classroom. Not in the Knesset or in Congress – but on the campus pavements and the screens of TikTok. He knew that without returning public discourse to a healthy center – we can forget about any political reform.
The truth must be told: This bullet was not fired from just one rifle. It was fired from years of demonization. From the media that painted him as an enemy of democracy. From academia that turned him into a symbol of “fascism” because he dared to speak out for freedom of expression.
About the Israeli woman – a rare, intriguing, inimitable and funny phenomenon in a way that requires a deep breath.
How flowers, deep gazes, and conversations until midnight alternate with the air conditioner remote that no one can find when they need it most
Because in the end, a relationship is not about who controls the remote, but about who is willing to give it up – just because they are a little cold.
When the country is turbulent, when the news is depressing, when the people are divided, when the left and right are fighting – shawarma is waiting for us in the corner. It doesn’t ask if you voted. It doesn’t check if you are in favor of reform. It’s just there, with coleslaw, runny tahini, and a look that says: “Forget about everything, brother, one bite and you’ll understand why you were born.”
If someone had told us 20 years ago that in the future we would have vacuum cleaners that talk, navigate, secretly crawl under the bed, and take revenge when you forget to charge them—we would have laughed. Today we laugh less. Especially when the robot once again enters the door, or worse—the electrical cabinet.
The friend who always comes when you don’t invite her, insists on staying too long, and throws you into bed with a set of sounds, lights, and smells you’re not ready for.
Sometimes, it seems like history is drunk, going around in circles with a glass of raki in hand. Here, a hundred years after the collapse of the Ottoman Empire, the guy who wants to wear the robe is back. This time, he’s not a sultan with a turban and seventy concubines, but a politician in a suit, holding a NATO passport, and his name is Recep Tayyip Erdogan.
What Are They Trying to Sell Us in the Name of “The Protest”
November 30, 2025
