Not sure I even mentioned it, but on our last trip Michelle
and Michael spent a few days in Israel.
Because of his persistent criticism of the Israeli government and its death grip it has on the US government and media, as well as its nonstop sleepless attempts to keep the world perpetually at the brink of nuclear annihilation, Michael was a might concerned about 1) being allowed to enter Israel and 2), (and waaay more importantly) Michael was hugely concerned about being allowed to leave Israel in the second place if he was allowed to enter Israel in the first place. See? Good!
As it turned out there was no problem.
Although Michael was on high alert during the sweaty-palm run through
passport control (he had heard bad stories of very similar scenarios), all went well and Mike was relieved to see that no one was tailing
him and that no Mossad death squads were lurking in the shadows to whack him. Paranoid much? Maybe.
Although the day we entered the Jewish state (Michelle’s
first visit) was the same day the rockets from Gaza started falling on southern Israel and the same day the missiles and bombs from Israel started blasting the rubble
that is Gaza into more rubble, the only signs of war we saw were the US made
gift tanks heading south on flatbed trucks.
We entered the country through the port of Haifa, a rather grubby and
gritty place, as most ports are.
Generally, we were treated well by the Israelis. Like folks everywhere they seem eager to help
a stranger. My argument has never been with
the average Jew on the streets of Haifa or Jerusalem, but with their gangster
government ensconced in the capital, Tel Aviv.
Sound familiar? We Americans are
also a pretty decent people, generally, willing to help those who need the
help. But we are burdened by an
out-of-control gangster government that thinks war all over the globe is just jim-dandy,
that torture of prisoners is pretty neat, that backing Israel's aggression is just peachy, and that we, the American cattle that
they herd to the kangaroo election every four years, should pay our taxes, cheer at
our sporting events, and, except when sucking down fast-food, we should just keep our burp holes shut, or else.
If possible, the Palestinians in the West Bank live lives like American Indians on their reservations live lives--in utter and abject squalor. The Palestinian poverty is exceptional, even
by American standards. Bedouins roam
around the desert at will tending their sheep.
(Above: Your blogger over the Judean
Desert at Masada and your blogger also over the lowest point on the globe, the Dead Sea [in the background]).
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Meanwhile, as the Israeli government along with its more-than-willing allies--US Zionists, US neocons, US lunatic Christian fundamental nut sacks, to name a few--as they continue their madness and inch the world closer and closer to the nuclear precipice, the crazy geezers of Planet Florida seem preoccupied with other highly important matters. As the following indicates, Sunshine State seniles have much bigger crosses to bear in life than fretting over crime, disease or the possibility of mere world-ending confrontations.
Editor:
Please stop hiding the comics. Every day they are in a different spot and a
challenge for us older folks to find.
Thursday is the worst. You sports
jocks keep the sports news out in front, even on the front above the
headlines. Please give us a break and
don’t make us search for the funnies. We
remember “Jigs and Maggie” and “L’l Abner” and other long gone strips, but some
of the current cartoons are humorous and give us our daily smiles. Thank you.
Dilbert R. Dillweed,
Port Charlotte
Must be a difficult struggle each morning at dawn as Dilbert
wrestles through the 20 or 30 "challenging" newspaper pages filled with murder, disease, revolution,
child abuse, sex crimes, geezer car fatalities, beheadings in hobo jungles, and more—must be
tough each morn hunting up his beloved comics.
If it weren’t for being pretty much crazy already I think I would like to go there now to LaLa Land and get some more madness and peach preserves and finish the job, in . . . 5 . . . 4 . . . 3 . . . 2 . . . 1 . . . RIGHT NOW.
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In my morning spam sewage, an email from one "Mrs. Eleebeena Michael, High Auditor of the Bank of Africa in Faso Burkina" who needs my "urgent assistance in transferring the sum of ($ 4.5)
Million US dollars to your account within 10 or 14 banking days." After I finish this blog, I will get right to a follow-up on dear Ms. Michael's generous offer, but first, here's another one, as it appeared:
My names is. Bento Gaspar. I was
diagnosed of cancer about 2 years ago,
and am receiving treatment for it,
but now the doctors are saying I have a
short time to live. I want you to assist me in carrying out an
assignment. Please Get back
to me for details of the assignment.
Stay Blessed,
Mr. Bento Gaspar.
My, such a nice man. Wonder what kind of secret assignment Mr.
Bento has in mind? I wonder if it has
anything to do with foreign travel to exotic places? Or anything to
do with mystery and intrigue? OMG! You don’t suppose
it has anything to do with . . . with money? Gee, I
sure need some of that right about now with Christmas and all. Maybe Mr. Bento is rich and will give me
some? He sounds like such a sweet,
generous man! A pity he has cancer. Oh, I can’t wait to find out about this
“assignment.”
I feel like writing the following to this gentleman:
Dear Mr. Gaspar:
I am so sorry to hear that you have
cancer. Why, Oh Why, must God always take the good? But I am very excited to discover
what your assignment might be for me. I
feel so honored. You sound like a great
man. I am sure we will be friends. Perhaps we can meet tomorrow? How about noon in the rear parking lot of the Lock & Key Tiki Bar
here on Manasota Key? Since I do not
know what you look like please just look for me. I will be the bald man in sunglasses standing beside a yellow sports car. I will be the one holding a baseball bat.
Sincerely,
Mike Goodrich
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Signs of the Times
