“Excuse me, I was just asking” – this is how most moments that don’t end well in Israel begin.
This is one of the most brilliant passive-aggressive brilliances of Israeli culture: a trial that begins with light-hearted politeness, and ends with legal drama, public use or a viral column on Facebook.
The public is the sovereign, the king, the final arbiter – and also the one who will regret it in three months.
He is cynical but naive, nervous but indifferent, and most importantly – he is never at fault.
Superpowers? We have them. Survivability? Plenty. Bizarre costumes? Every Friday morning in central Tel Aviv.
And who needs Marvel when you have the guy from the neighborhood who insists on fixing the air conditioner with flip-flops?
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