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.
If you’ve ever searched for the factor that makes terrorists run like tigers, scream like peacocks and feel like they’re invulnerable – look no further. It’s not about the Holy Spirit, it’s not about deep inner jihad, it’s not even about the ideology of a paradise with 72 virgins. It’s about a small, white pill with a name that sounds like a health insurance product – Captagon. Only instead of healing, it’s addictive, dangerous, and of course – insanely profitable.
Love for Israel is not a Hollywood story. It is not divided into a smooth plot with a sweet ending. It is a different kind of love – one born of commitment, not romance. It involves queues at the health insurance company, curses on the road, rent that reeks of fraud – and yet, it is a deeper, more burning love, the kind that leads people to fly here precisely when the sky is thundering.
The WOKE is like quinoa on a moped – it’s not suited to the terrain.
It may be impressive at academic conferences and in New York studios, but it just doesn’t hold water against a tank, a grandmother with strong opinions, or a former member of Congress screaming in the middle of a finance committee hearing.
What Are They Trying to Sell Us in the Name of “The Protest”
November 30, 2025
