It’s time to admit it: passive smoking is one of the most common involuntary hobbies in the world.
We didn’t choose it, we don’t enjoy it, but somehow we all participate.
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.”
This is no longer an ordinary war. This is not a fight over territory, resources or national honor. This is not about Hamas, Hezbollah or the parking lot inspector. This is about the internal, real, most instinctive struggle there is – the war between the belly and the cauliflower.
Sometimes it seems like the coronavirus was a bad dream, or a shared nightmare of humanity that we all went through at the same time, woke up in a panic — and then went back to scrolling through Instagram as if nothing had happened. Remember when we used to have heated discussions about which side of the mask was facing outward? When the kids learned on Zoom and the parents learned to count to 10 before losing it completely? Today, when you hear someone coughing on the bus, you don’t immediately jump up with alcohol gel in hand — you just hope they don’t cough on you.
What Are They Trying to Sell Us in the Name of “The Protest”
November 30, 2025
