David Andrew Jaffe's Blog, page 2

3 Unsavory Choices: What Should I Do?

Enjoy!

Big choices to make…

When I first moved back to Israel, I lived in a real dump of an apartment. It was in an area of Jerusalem called Nachlaot, which is usually quite expensive due to its proximity to the city center. The apartments are often in terrible condition, and the landlords for those place are the absolute worst. Why? Because there aren’t any laws to protect renters, and there’s always going to be someone stupid enough to rent their crappy apartments. So they’d rather let the place crumble to the ground than waste any time and money dealing with their annoying tenants. If the tenant leaves, they leave. But there will always be someone willing to spend the money.

Sink or Swim

My apartment was small. There were only two sinks: One in the kitchen and one in the bathroom. When the kitchen sink broke, it left us in quite a pickle. I contacted the landlord, who sent a second-rate guy over to fix things. He was not even close to successful. He made a huge mess, left our place with pieces all over the floor, no functional sink, and no stated plan as to what would happen next.

What followed was a three-week ordeal, with me constantly reaching out to the landlord, constantly getting promises that went unfulfilled, and two total trips from the guy who couldn’t do anything except make my apartment messy.

So how’d the story end?

After I couldn’t handle anything anymore, I tracked down and called my landlord’s boss, the owner of the apartment. He tried to sidestep any conversation, but I wouldn’t have any of it. We had a yelling match with lots of anger and threats.

And the next day someone came out and fixed our sink.

Becoming a Worse Person

After I got off the phone with the owner, I remembered my son was in my apartment, potentially listening to the whole ordeal. It made me sad. On one hand, I felt like in some ways I was giving him a life lesson necessary for someone who wants to survive life in Israel. On the other hand, I felt like I was teaching him to be a lousy person.

You can’t yell and carry on like that without it having an impact. It changes you. I guess you can argue it makes you stronger. But it felt like it just made me more stressed. And it made me a worse person.

I’ve thought about that day a lot lately, as I realize I’m getting trampled over like crazy at the moment. It’s very easy for that to happen. If you just try to go about your life here in Israel in a carefree manner, you are ripe for getting kicked around. Someone will try to overcharge you. Someone will slip extra things in a bill. And someone will give you less than stellar service, forcing you to need their service again.

So ultimately you’re left with just three choices. In my opinion, three unsavory choices. And I’m honestly not sure which one of them I need to take in order to live the life I want.

Unsavory Choice #1

The first choice is to conform. To recognize that this is just how it is. I need to improve my Hebrew, walk around every single day of my life on the lookout for those who wish to harm me, harden myself, and be ready at all times to fight. I need to be ready to push back hard when someone tries to get the upper hand.

That guy would have called the apartment owner the first day the sink was broken. He would have shouted from the offset. He would have threatened to not pay rent, to involve lawyers, to start an online campaign to defame the company.

And you know what, he likely would have gotten his sink fixed much quicker than mine was.

But at what cost?

If that’s me, am I even myself anymore? I’d be an angrier, more aggressive version of myself I wouldn’t particularly like to see at when I looked in the mirror.

So choice number one seems to be a rather tough one.

Unsavory Choice #2

Choice number two is to stay true to myself, but recognize that this means people will take advantage of me. I will get ripped off in stores and by the bank. The bus driver will occasionally close the door in my face. People will walk into me everywhere I go. But if I make this choice, I cannot just put up with all of this. I will somehow have to learn to be content with my life despite the fact that I’m getting beaten up by my surroundings every single day.

And the truth is, I don’t know if I could ever get to that place.

When I’m yelled at or someone speeds through a crosswalk forcing me to jump backwards or my boiler breaks for the fifteenth time because the startup nation can’t figure out how to make caps that stand up to cold, I feel it in my soul. I feel crushed. I feel intense pain. And it all exhausts me.

So choice number one (conforming) or choice number two (accepting getting beaten down) both seem equally unpalatable to me.

Unsavory Choice #3

And that only gives me one choice left: Get the hell out of here.

But at what cost?

My children live in Israel. My wife’s family lives in Israel. And even though I feel like I know how to survive the America experience better than the Israel one, I’ve still spent 16 years of my adult life here. It’s beginning to be the only thing I know, for better or for worse.

And my nation’s at war.

When the war began, there were lots of people who fled the country. I tried not to judge them, but there was a part of me that just couldn’t understand. Loving Israel means being here for the goods, the bad, and the uglies. Everyone played their part. Leaving at that point didn’t feel like an option, or at least not one I was comfortable with.

But the feeling has waned. And here we are.

I left Israel 19 years ago. There were many reasons to go at the time. One was this profound feeling like the country wanted me gone. Like I was being spat out.

It pains me that I feel that way once again. And I have no idea what to do with that feeling.

The post 3 Unsavory Choices: What Should I Do? is featured at Jaffe World.

Elon Musk the Nazi, and Other Modern Smokescreens

Enjoy!

A short time ago, Donald Trump became the 47th president of the United States of America.

At the inauguration of President Trump, now the most powerful person in the world, Elon Musk, the richest person in the world, stood in front of thousands of people and made a gesture that closely resembled a Hitler salute.

He was challenged by many for his actions, and ultimately made a half-assed apology on Twitter, laden with all sorts of Holocaust-related puns.

And, of course, the internet went insane.

Confusion of Multiple Worlds

I live in multiple worlds, and in my multiple worlds I see things I feel would shock many (unless I’m utterly mistaking what’s going on out there).

It feels like social media algorithms are messing with people’s brains, and forcing them to look at the world through a faulty lens. That lens says there is only one way to see things, and instead of challenging our beliefs and ideas, we only ever get exposed to those views already aligned with our own.

So how might a Facebook post look?

Someone says Elon Musk has shown his true colors. He is very obviously a Nazi. And he should be forever condemned.

And the comments below the post are basically an echo chamber of people saying this is absolutely correct. Yes, some will see this and disagree. But most likely they’ll stay silent for fear of getting shouted down by everyone else, or even getting unfriended by the original poster. Which is pretty much exactly what will happen when that lone voice of descent makes his opinion known. He’ll be diving right into very unfriendly waters.

On the other side of the internet…

At the same time, over on the other side of the internet, there will be a completely opposite opinion expressed. And it will be equally unfriendly territory for anyone who doesn’t share that opinion.

And here I am.

I am from the States, where my friends and family over the years are overwhelmingly liberal. But I live in Israel, and I’m part of the orthodox Jewish world, where the vast majority of the voices shouting out have a conservative bent.

And I’m watching these two worlds exist simultaneously, somehow never crossing each other’s paths. They have a wild disdain for each other.

And it baffles me.

Where I Stand

I will always love and care for my friends and family on both sides of the aisle. I will never care if we disagree with one another. And I will never condemn anyone for having a perspective different from mine, even if I find their view distasteful. I can hate the view and still love the holder of the view.

I can’t say everyone in my life feels the same about me. But I feel it important for everyone to know where I stand and plan to forever stand.

So here’s my two cents on a topic that I personally think is just a smokescreen from real life.

What do I mean by that?

We are inundated with information and activity at the moment in ways I have never seen before. And many of the things happening are of enormous import. They can affect lots of people’s lives and well-being for generations to come.

Elon Musk, the Bizarre Genius

Elon Musk’s erratic behavior that day is not one of those things.

Musk is a bizarre genius. Putting all politics to the side, I don’t really think either of those two points are debatable. You can love the man and admit he’s peculiar, and you can loathe him and think he’s one of the smartest people alive.

However, saying he’s anti-Semitic based on what was more likely just an expression of his peculiarity seems very farfetched to me. It’s not the first time the man has found himself in a world of controversy with the Jewish people. The previous time he responded by visiting Israel, touring the site of the October 7th attacks, and walking around wearing a dog tag to publicly express his support for bringing the hostages home.

Sure, you can say he’s overcompensating. You can say he’s trying to appease the vast and very powerful Jews of the world who’s enmity could ruin his career or reputation.

Or you can say what I believe: Elon Musk did an ill-advised and odd farewell to the crowd.

And now we should all move on with our lives.

But the world is so obsessed with rebuking those with whom they disagree, and hellbent on destroying careers and pushing for apologies that satisfy them, that I still see repeated claims every day of Musk being a Nazi.

Humor and the Holocaust

But what about his Holocaust-related jokes he included in his not-so-apologetic apology?

Here’s where it gets fun, and we probably find out how different I am from a lot of people.

The most common response I saw to this was people angrily proclaiming there is only one group in the world ever permitted to utter a Holocaust joke: The Jews.

Sorry, my friends, I absolutely disagree.

And I always will.

I recall sitting around my dinner table a few years ago with a group of guests. One was a non-Jewish former couch surfer visiting from Poland. Another was an orthodox Jewish woman.

The Polish girl (in context) asked if it was OK to tell a Holocaust joke. The orthodox Jewish woman exclaimed, “I love Holocaust jokes.”

She told it. We laughed. And the night moved on, everyone friends. And we always will be.

Humor has no Boundaries

You see, first and foremost, I’m a fan of free speech. People say what they say. If they choose to be safe and not risk offending others, it’s certainly an acceptable and respectable choice.

You can disagree with others. You can ignore them, boycott them, and say horrific things about them. And you can tell them their words could have consequences.

But you can’t tell them they don’t have the right to say it.

Second, humor doesn’t have boundaries. At least not after a certain very unspecified amount of time has passed. Comedy is the last piece of society remaining that basically has no limits. And that’s a beautiful thing! It’s all on the table. We as a society can laugh together. And we can do so about every absurd thing in existence. Everything’s allowed, so long as humor is intended, not hurt.

Brave New World

Why was that dinner together so magical?

Eighty years after World War II ended, a non-Jewish Polish girl could break bread with a Jewish family in Jerusalem, and we could talk about anything and everything. We can cry about the past, to be sure. But we can laugh and rejoice in the present as well.

It’s a brave new world.

You can choose to spend your days trying to prove Elon Musk is a Nazi.

I’m going to spend my days worrying about things that matter.

And laughing.

Without laughter, we’ve got nothing left.

The post Elon Musk the Nazi, and Other Modern Smokescreens is featured at Jaffe World.

Six Years with my Devorah

Enjoy!

I just celebrated six years with my beloved Devorah.

But let’s take a detour for a moment to tell the story of our anniversary, a day in which my amazing wife and I had quite an adventure.

As some may have read, we were fostering a dog for many months. We expected the experience to last no longer than two weeks… and when we surpassed the three month mark, we were exhausted, frustrated with humanity, and really nervous we wouldn’t find a proper solution we could live with.

One of the “deadlines” for me for figuring everything out was our anniversary. Devorah and I have a basic agreement. Three times a year (our birthdays and our anniversary), we are rich. The rest of the year we can pinch pennies, but these days we treat as special.

But as we inched closer and closer to the big day, and we were spending an ungodly amount of time on everything from long dog walks to training to advertising to introducing Benny to possible families, it was beginning to look more and more like nothing was working. And our anniversary was going to be anything from mediocre to downright ruined.

A Big Benny Turnaround

That morning, not long after I woke up, a family we had been in touch with wrote me and said they wanted to adopt Benny.

Now, this story is probably not going where you think it is.

Of course we were happy–ecstatic even–but there were some big matters that needed attending to.

The family that wished to adopt Benny lived up north, about two hours away. The agency connected to Benny said they wouldn’t finalize the adoption until a ride was arranged. But the person who found the family said she wouldn’t begin looking for a potential ride until after the adoption was completed.

Yeah. So there we were. We could end this crazy saga… but only if we could solve this maddening catch-22.

So of course you know what we did. We packed up a 23 kilo dog into our backseat, and spent our sixth anniversary driving up north to see where Benny would be running around having the time of his life. Forever!

Shockingly Perfect Anniversary

Now here’s the crazy part. By definition this day could barely have been planned. The day was tossed together on the spot, and would involve a shockingly large amount of time in a car.

And yet, it was perfect.

Everything about it was perfect.

We hung out a whole lot in the morning. We went to coffee shop together. We drove really fast on Israel’s insane highways. Met a young couple that we very clearly would have never otherwise met. Said farewell to our furry little buddy. And ate at a gorgeous restaurant in Caesarea, all while watching the mesmerizing waves of the Mediterranean crash against the shore.

And we went home happy.

Perfect.

Who to Spend Five Hours With

It was a lovely, simple yet complex, and utterly unforgettable anniversary.

I honestly can’t picture it being any better.

So why was it so good? And why do I feel closer to Devorah now than six years ago? Or even six days ago?

First and foremost, five hours in a car in one day is never all that pleasant (especially considering the ridiculous drivers of the Holy Land). But the experience is worlds better with someone you love spending time with. And I honestly can’t think of anyone else I’d want to do that with.

An hour or two here and there with a few people, maybe. But five hours? That’s reserved for the best people in your life! That’s time to be with your best and closest friend.

Anything less and you’re struggling to drive… while simultaneously strangling the person next to you.

On a Journey Together

But let’s go a little deeper.

How’d this day come about?

The crazy day we experienced was all about finding a loving home for a dog we completely gave ourselves to over the previous three months.

I’ve definitely come to realize through this experience that most people are just not like us. They’re not taking in dogs while the dog’s family is escaping a war zone (We miss you Luca!). They’re not bringing kittens into their home on the brink of death. And they’re not training a terrified street dog for months and months to try to ensure he doesn’t find his way to a kill shelter.

And they’re not driving two hours up north just so that dog will have a loving, permanent home.

So what does it all mean?

It means we’re a team. We’re on a journey together.

And like any epic journey, it’s got bumps on the road. It hasn’t always been easy. In these crazy six years, we’ve navigated everything from global pandemics to wars to medical issues to infertility to just merging the lives of two stubborn, complex people. And we’ve done so with grace. With passion.

And exhaustion, frustration, and a few tears shed along the way.

Suffering… Together

The greatest relationships aren’t forged through endless joy. They grow from the hardships faced together. This pain creates unbreakable, beautiful bonds.

I want to travel with Devorah. I want to own a home, have a child, and grow old with Devorah.

And I want us to feel joy together.

But how does the universe see us getting there? What’s the path to get where we want to be?

Apparently it’s in a world of quarantines, bomb shelters, and invasive medical procedures.

But I’ve got great news!

There is no one in the world I want to be stuck in quarantine with more than Devorah. There’s no one out there I want more to run with down to a bomb shelter. And when I suffer, I want Devorah to be the first to comfort me.

And when the time comes to get the life we deserve, there is nobody, nobody at all, I want to be celebrating with more.

Happy Six Years, Devorah

Babe, life is crazy. It’s not always easy.

But I believe in us. And I love you from the deepest places in my heart.

I am ecstatic we sat next to each other at that Shabbat table way back when. I’m overjoyed you knew there was something special happening that day.

And I’m so glad I asked you to hang out.

We’ve been hanging out together ever since.

And I hope we hang out for the rest of our lives.

Happy six years, my love!

The post Six Years with my Devorah is featured at Jaffe World.

Vulnerable and Ripe for a Scam

Enjoy!

The world can be a real crappy place sometimes.

And very sadly, I think it’s the result of the world being simultaneously a pretty decent place, filled with gentle, vulnerable people.

Let me explain.

The Primal Scream

I remember the first time I ever really discovered how disgusting human nature can be. When I was in college, there was a fun tradition called “Primal Scream”. Primal Scream was when hundreds of students would open their dorm windows at 11PM every night of final exams and all scream at the same time. It was a fun and harmless way to unite the student body together in shared stress and frustration, and a great way to cut into that tension ever so slightly.

I love the concept. And see absolutely nothing bad about this lovely, innocuous tradition.

But that’s because I have a shred of morality. I see the good in things and people. Not all the time, but I certainly always try.

Seeking Nasty Opportunities

But then there are other types of folk out there.

They see opportunities. How can I manipulate this fun tradition for my own advantage?

Next thing you know, someone gets raped (!) during the Primal Scream, and this great tradition is marred forever. Some people stop wanting to participate. Some people see the tradition and think it’s inherently problematic. Others even call for its cancellation.

And once again, the lowest members of society end up dictating how the rest of us need to live.

Unemployed and Vulnerable

So here I am. It’s 2025. I’ve been job hunting for months now, with lots of ups and downs. The market is brutal. The salaries in Israel leave a lot to be desired. And prices seem to be going up left and right.

So what do I do? I apply to jobs every single day. I research resumes and try to spruce mine up. I spend a lot of time on LinkedIn, improving my page and trying to make connections.

And then an awesome friend made a suggestion.

He’s trying to get his video business running. He offered to make a video for me–a kind of digital resume–to help me in my job hunt. I was incredibly grateful and the process and results were awesome.

I was nervous and excited to post this on LinkedIn. I was nervous because looking for a job is frustrating. Every time it feels like I’m almost crossing the finish line, or even just making progress, something comes along and dashes my hope. So I didn’t know what to expect. Was this going to be a game changer? Was I now one step away from getting my new employer’s attention?

Or was it just going to be another thing I put on my profile that goes unnoticed? Was I setting myself up for further disappointment?

So I posted it with one eye opened. And I waited.

My Guard Was Down

Suddenly, two recruiters reached out to me. Teeny alarm bells went off in my head for a couple of reasons. First, both recruiters seemed to have very underdeveloped LinkedIn profiles. Second, they not only reached out in a weird way. They reached out in the same weird way. They commented on posts of mine and asked for me to connect with them. Later I understood that until you have a certain amount of Connections, you cannot reach out to anyone directly.

But my guard was down. I was vulnerable. Perhaps even a little desperate. And even though not only were there a dozen signs they were not legitimate, I’m particularly good at spotting even highly-sneaky scammers. It’s a skill of mine! I’ve studied this, and had to do it extensively when I worked for GoDaddy. I felt small and weak, like a professional boxer getting beaten up by a toddler. And after it was all over, and I realized I wasted a lot of time and hope, I contemplated what had happened.

Like our aforementioned twisted rapist of SUNY Albany, there’s always someone out there looking to take advantage of the vulnerable. I put out a flag saying how intensely I was looking for a job. And weasels came out of the woodwork to piss on my flag.

I spent way too much time interacting with both of these twisted people before realizing I was being bamboozled. And frankly, I’m a little embarrassed.

The Signs of a Scam

The signs were vast:

They didn’t just send me a connection request, as I mentioned earlier. I didn’t understand why at the time, although I found it curious even without knowing why or looking into it.

They were listed as living in very unusual places, like Cameroon or Cote d’Ivoire. One didn’t have a profile picture (another red flag), but the one who did looked like the whitest human being alive. Not your typical fella from Cameroon!

They had almost no Connections.

They were very eager to place me in a vague role within their vague companies.

My alarm bells got unbearably loud when each “recruiter” asked me to send my resume, then upon evaluating it and seeing it wasn’t “good enough”, referred me to someone specific on Fiverr who would go ahead and fix everything up for me. Everything about this illogical progression was fishy.

Shockingly, these Fiverr folk were also in Africa, had almost no reviews, and despite my beginning the process of ignoring my new LinkedIn buddies, they began incessantly bothering me to find out if I had yet contacted their respective resume fixer comrades.

Unemployment and Sadness

I blocked and reported both accounts, and attempted to move on with my day.

But I felt a bit sad.

I felt sad because I was still unemployed.

I felt sad because yet another attempt to put myself out there actually ended up being uncomfortable and detrimental in the end.

And I felt angry with myself that I had become so frustrated with my circumstances, I let myself believe some moronic scammers. I know so much better than that!

Robbed of Vulnerability

Many years ago I was in a very bad place. I was still recovering from the trauma of a lousy marriage, my children moving to another country, and extreme financial distress. I got a call from a friend telling me she really wanted to help. We talked for a bit. She was very sympathetic. And I really appreciated her reaching out.

And then she tried to rope me into a pyramid scheme.

I never trusted her again.

For the longest time the lowest members of society have preyed upon those who were lost, those who found themselves struggling through life. Like cults seeking out child runaways.

I was low, and some fools tried to take advantage of me.

It’s very hard to be vulnerable in this very scary world. But we need to be vulnerable sometimes. And I feel like I was robbed just a little.

The post Vulnerable and Ripe for a Scam is featured at Jaffe World.

No More Shakespeare

Enjoy!

This might offend some people’s sensibilities… and I’m perfectly OK with that.

I am going to say something controversial. Not just because I’m an an avid reader, a former English teacher, and true and proud American. But because I’m someone who completed all his schooling in the States, plus two degrees. I firmly believe in education. Even the liberal arts, even though I think the time has come to consider university very differently than we used to.

No More Shakespeare

I don’t like Shakespeare.

And I don’t think Shakespeare has much of a place anymore in the modern classroom.

And to take things even a step further, I contend that the vast majority of people who say they like Shakespeare don’t actually like Shakespeare either. They just claim to because society deems they’re supposed to. And makes them feel uneducated or unsophisticated if they express their true feelings.

But I will come right out and say it: I don’t like it. I never have. And if it were removed from all American curricula, not only would I not shed a tear, but I think we’d all be better off.

Shakespeare and Whiskey

Shakespeare, to me, is like someone who has been brought up to think of whiskey as a complex, sophisticated, manly beverage… but no matter how hard they try, they’ve never enjoyed the taste.

So what happens?

They’re offered a glass of whiskey. Embarrassed to say no, they once again have their glass filled with something that to them tastes like turpentine, and they listen to the five-minute story of how their host came across the bottle. They sip it in small measures saying words like “smooth” and “delicious”, just so they neither make their host feel bad nor make themselves out to be uneducated and lacking in the understanding of how true quality is supposed to taste.

But they don’t like it. They never have. In all likeliness, they never will.

And that’s OK!

Personally, I enjoy whiskey. But I’m comfortable with others around me who do not. Diversity of thought and preference is perfectly acceptable. In fact, it’s better than acceptable. It’s preferable. Variety is one of the qualities that make the world a better place.

The Unfortunate 90%

But with Shakespeare it’s far worse.

Why?

Because I think the percentages are far different. I’d say something like 20% at most of those who claim to like whiskey actually don’t really enjoy it. But my estimate would be something more like 90% of those claiming to like Shakespeare are actually just spewing BS. Perhaps they’re trying to appear intellectual. Perhaps they’re attempting to impress others around them. Maybe they’re even trying to fool themselves. But whatever the reason, I’m not buying it.

Do some people legitimately enjoy these pretty but incomprehensible words strung together? I’m sure they do. People like all sorts of things the rest of the world don’t understand. The difference is: Shakespeare has become an institution. It’s a mandatory topic in schools. It’s shoved down the throats of unhappy children across the world, with no perceivable benefit short of just doing what society expects us to do.

And yet another difference between Shakespeare and Whiskey. Non-enjoying whiskey drinkers are the product of that guy who’s always bragging about how expensive his collection is. Shakespeare is shoveled into the psyche of our poor children by their schools! They’re taught Shakespeare is great… while sitting there suffering through hearing about something’s greatness while simultaneously not enjoying it at all.

The world evolves rapidly. Our school systems do not.

Schools Aren’t Evolving

At the last school I taught in, I made a proposal about how to revamp the entire way computers were taught there. We were based on a system whereby computers were treated the same way they were when I was in school a thousand years ago. Computers were a neat but passing fad. Computer class was a once a once-a-week side class, along with music and gym. And it stopped after 7th grade!

The system was beyond outdated.

In my proposal, the computer basics we learned in my class (primarily typing and Microsoft programs) would be incorporated into the basic curriculum. In addition, there would be options for advanced computer classes for the upperclassmen, with options like programming and graphic design. My “groundbreaking” idea of teaching kids things they actually might need in life was rejected. Immediately. Not a minute’s thought.

Why? Not enough time and too difficult to fix up an entire curriculum.

But guess what I bet they’re still teaching every single year? Good ole Shakespeare.

The Endless Cycle

Our kids are graduating from college nowadays with massive debt with degrees in Journalism or Psychology or Philosophy, without a job prospect in sight. We can give them real world skills from the earliest ages, providing them a chance at a bonafide future before they’re even two decades in this world.

But instead we’re still pushing them to memorize pieces of Hamlet or interpret sections of Romeo and Juliet.

And they’re not even appreciating that. Instead they’re just continuing their way through the endless cycle of pretending like they enjoy and understand something they completely don’t, so they can later stare in pity at their future children slogging their way through Macbeth once again.

Living in the Past

I’m not passionate about dropping Shakespeare from the curriculum. It’s certainly not the sword I’d fall upon. If a future employer told me to take down this post or risk losing my job, it’ll come down instantly without a fight.

But I do think there’s a problem, and retaining a mandatory and ubiquitous Shakespeare requirement does reflect a greater issue. I was surprised to find my 12-year-old daughter in Israel breaking her teeth on a Shakespeare play (the inspiration for this post). Why are we obsessed with the outdated? Why does the world advance forward at such a rapid pace while our schools insist on living in the past?

They won’t change things. The core requirements never seem to shift. And even though we aren’t unsuccessful in conveying the importance of biology and literature and American history, we will still have to contend with the fact that even if the students were interested, they might not longer be the things we should be requiring them to learn.

But we’re afraid to reevaluate. We’re afraid to change.

I think we should be afraid not to.

Maybe I’m making much ado about nothing (groan). But I honestly don’t think this is a small problem anymore.

The post No More Shakespeare is featured at Jaffe World.

Hostages are Home… but it Feels Like We Lost

Enjoy!

I don’t know what to say. I don’t think anyone does really.

And by the time I publish these words (if I publish these words), everything could be completely different.

But I need to write. There are so many thoughts and feelings swimming around in my mind, and I can’t fathom how I could process them if it weren’t for writing them down.

A Hostage Deal

I’m starting this post inches away from a massive deal to retrieve the hostages. A deal I think is extremely destructive to Israel. A deal I believe will end very poorly for a nation that has been in collective mourning for 15 months.

The ceasefire is complex, and I’m still trying to wrap my head around the nuances. But in its most simplistic form, we’re getting several hostages back home in stages, in exchange for an organized pullout of Gaza, thousands of terrorists released from prison, humanitarian aid, more mobility in Gaza, and efforts toward making deals for longer-term “peace” with our foes to the south.

If that deal sounds very lopsided to you, well, join the club.

A Giant Mix of Emotions

Please note: The entire country is ecstatic to see hostages come home. It’s been way too long. Their lives have been turned upside down, and they deserve to be with their families and communities once again.

There is no contradiction here.

This deal is bad. This deal is dangerous. This deal might go down in history as the worst mistake of Israel’s existence.

But that shouldn’t make anyone in Israel–or any decent people across the world–rejoice any less when the hostages come home. They shouldn’t for a second be made to feel bad for being released. It’s very possible many of them if they were on this side of the fence would agree. And I can’t fathom what they’ve been through. If October 7th had been a widespread attack on Jerusalem, members of my family or I could be in their situation right now, stuffed in some cave in East Jerusalem, tortured, wondering if we’d ever see our loved ones again. These innocent souls should never be faulted for being victims of barbarism and violence.

It Feels Like We’re Losing

But it doesn’t change the facts on the table. There have been a handful of times over this year where it felt like we were losing this war. But there was always room for a turnaround. There was always room to crush the enemy and emerge victorious.

But now it doesn’t feel like we’re losing.

It feels like we lost.

It feels like we’re giving up. We’ve neither gathered enough intelligence to miraculously free the hostages, nor have we devastated Hamas enough that they’re begging us to take the hostages back so we stop the bombardment. The only things that will bring these innocent souls back home is negotiations that are likely detrimental to the entire nation. And negotiations that don’t look all that different than ones we were engaged in many, many months ago. Could we have actually brought them home much sooner? Could we have prevented the deaths of hundreds of soldiers? Could we have returned to relative normality much, much sooner? Could we have halted the non-stop barrage of incriminating statements about how Israel is conducting the war?

We might never know the answer to these or any number of really scary, pressing questions. But once again, it feels like we’re accepting the terms of this ceasefire not from a place of strength. Not from a place of having weakened the resolve of our enemies.

It feels like capitulation. It feels like the government is sending this message to the Israeli people: We bit off more than we can chew. We can’t keep the promises we have been feeding you incessantly for over a year.

If we ever want these hostages to come home, and for Israel to return to some semblance of normality, this is our only choice left.

Not What We Were Promised

And trust me, I don’t want to feel this way.

I want to feel happy for the families of the hostages, and for the emotions to end there.

And I want to think we’ve arrived at a special place. We forced Hamas into a deal they couldn’t refuse. I want Hamas to feel like they need to roll out a red carpet, beg each and every hostage for their forgiveness, and apologetically stand before the Israeli people and hand over our people. Why? Because doing so would mean their end. We shattered any hope on their part that they could ever defeat us. And now they’re cowering in fear, willing to do whatever it takes to get us to stop fighting.

That’s the deal we want. That’s the deal we were promised. And that’s the deal we deserve.

But instead we got a deal we theoretically could have gotten ten months ago. Before hundreds of more soldiers were killed and people spent more time apart from their families. A deal that could have meant months and months of less trauma to each of these hostages.

And yes, the deal then would have been lopsided as well. But at least at the time it would have made a little bit of sense. It would have saved a large amount of additional suffering to our people. And perhaps some hostages who are no longer with us might still be alive.

No, this deal is an embarrassment.

The Cycle Begins Again

I know everyone’s hoping for a miracle. Everyone’s hoping Netanyahu or even Trump have one more trick up their sleeves.

But history would say otherwise.

History would say the only thing that was not predictable was that the process took as long as it did.

History tells us the next step is a period of relative calm. No, peace will not emerge between Israel and the Palestinians. Just a fog that will fall over the Israeli people. The fog will result in returning to our lives as if nothing awful just transpired. Complacency will settle in once again. We will go back to worrying about judicial reform, bad driving, and inflation.

And some time not long from now the next terrible incident will occur. People will die. Likely some at the hands of monsters we just let free.

And the pattern will begin once again. Rinse, repeat, until the end of time.

Or until we finally figure out a better path.

The post Hostages are Home… but it Feels Like We Lost is featured at Jaffe World.

Dogs in Israel: Problems and Solutions

Enjoy!

I’m not sure where this post is going or where it will end up. All I can is this: I’m extremely frustrated, and I’m not sure what to do with that frustration.

I recently found myself indoctrinated into a brand new world in Israel (dogs!), and now I wish I could un-know what I know. Because it’s tormenting me.

A lot of elements came together to get me where I am, so I’m going to need to back up several steps.

The Saved Kitten

It all started with the wonderful world of unemployment. I’m struggling really hard to find a job, and I’m simultaneously terribly frustrated with the unstructured life that stands before me.

In the search to find meaning in difficult times, I walked past a clearly abandoned, tiny kitten. I went home to discuss with my family what we could do to help. We decided to take the little girl into our home, nurse her back to health, and find her a permanent home. And we did so gloriously!

I can say with pride that if we hadn’t intervened, I don’t think this poor thing had a chance of survival. We then found her a home, and road off into the sunset. The feel good story of the century!

Feel-Good Dog Story

Then we saw an opportunity to foster a dog. If a few conditions were met, soon we’d have a big dog hanging out in our home until we either found the owners or determined it was abandoned and found new owners.

We had an amazing dog in our possession for a mere five days. In this short amount of time we truly connected with him. He was lovely. Sweet. Well-trained. Just a gem of a creature to have in our lives.

By the time the smoke cleared, we had found the person who trained the dog, so we knew his whole history. We were able to track down the owners who did, in fact, abandon their dog. We were able to get paperwork stating explicitly that they no longer wanted him and had severed all connections with him. And most importantly, we found him a loving home.

Another feel good story.

Another high.

And then came Benny…

And then we were asked to foster yet another dog. We were on a roll, and even though the situation seemed harder, we were doing so well, what could possibly go wrong?

And then Benny came in our lives. The first 24 hours were a small taste of hell. This poor thing was terrified of everything and everybody. Even though he was quite big and heavy, in order to get him outside and back, we needed to carry him. We almost gave up before the day was over.

But I’m so glad we didn’t.

We’re not experts at raising or training dogs. At best we’re novices with good hearts and possibly a little bit more patience than average. But we did miraculous things with Benny in a relatively short period of time. He comes on walks freely. He plays with people and other dogs. He’s a pleasure to be around. And after not too long, we started looking for a home for him.

Fate Reversed Itself

And that’s when this story starts to take a different turn. What was supposed to happen was we find him a loving home quickly, and we occasionally visit the kitten and the first dog. And we bask in the joy of having made the world a slightly better place.

But that wasn’t our fate.

Shortly after we started watching Benny, we noticed someone advertising a kitten on Facebook, and quickly recognized our little angel and the name of his new owner. I reached out and he said he over-estimated how much time he’d have available and was struggling to raise the kitten, or find a new home.

Last I heard he was giving up, and was going to dump the kitten in a kibbutz somewhere.

Then I started receiving frantic messages from the woman who adopted our first foster dog. She was no longer able to handle him, the situation was causing her tension at home and in her community, and she was inches away from giving up.

Eventually I had to request to be involved significantly less, since the whole matter was causing me immense amounts of stress, while I was still dealing with our now-not-so-new foster dog, and a host of other things going on in my life.

Newly Discovered Challenges

Simultaneously, while trying to find a home for Benny, I was getting indoctrinated into the many complexities of the dog world in Israel. And people in general.

People would enthusiastically write me about the dog, then ghost me when I wrote them back. I had one person tell me for days how excited they were to come meet him, only to cancel on me literally one minute before they were supposed to arrive. That was the last I ever heard from them.

When we brought Benny to get neutered, we learned that literally 100,000 dogs were put down every year in Israel because shelters can’t find homes for them. Yes, you read that correctly! People continue to breed dogs or purchase from breeders, adopt dogs unclear on whether they are actually capable of being a proper dog owner, abandon dogs they eventually learn they cannot handle, or neglect to neuter their animals, because they can’t be bothered to waste the time or endure the cost.

We’re here, alone, trying to do our part to be a part of the solution. But we’re exhausted, frustrated, and heart broken.

Here we stand, taking care of a beautiful animal we simply cannot hold on to for too much longer, despite desperately wanting to do the right thing.

But it now appears our previous efforts have retroactively fallen through. And our current efforts, albeit noble, are crushing our spirits a bit. We’re not at all sure where this process is leading. We have no idea if we’re making a difference. And we’re fighting against a tide that seems much more powerful than we are.

My Message to the World

All I can do is say this to the world:

Dogs are angelic, gorgeous creatures that need to be loved, not put down.

Please stop breeding them when there are so many others who already need homes. And stop supporting these businesses while the crisis continues.

Adopt a dog. Bring the love into your home.

But make sure you know exactly what you’re getting into. It’s not easy. It’s not all fun and games. If you lack the knowledge, patience, and time to raise a dog properly, and you even stand a chance of returning it, then adopting is not for you.

Be a responsible dog owner. Get them neutered or spayed.

Learn about your local shelters. Find out which ones are ethical, decent places, and support them.

We now know that so long as things are the way they are, we probably can’t foster again. And that hurts us to the core. It need not be this way.

Please be a part of the solution.

The post Dogs in Israel: Problems and Solutions is featured at Jaffe World.

My Unfortunate Library Adventure

Enjoy!

I needed a library card, so my daughter could get a book for school.

Sadly, I approach everything in Israel with this attitude: How are they going to make this situation unnecessarily difficult and how is it likely not going to be a smooth and simple interaction?

This attitude is an odd combination of helpful and miserable. It’s helpful because it saves me from a lot of trouble. If I go in ready for anything, I won’t be disappointed when things go poorly. My guard will be up. I’ll be able to continue with my day knowing anything that happened was exactly as I expected it to happen. And if things go smoothly, even in ways a normal person would expect it to, I’ll find myself giddy.

But it’s miserable… because it’s miserable. It’s miserable because it happens so often. It’s miserable because it causes me so much stress. And it’s miserable because who would willingly choose to live in a place where this is the way you need to think in order to cop?

My Library Adventure

So before I stepped foot in the library, I braced myself. I assumed they’d not just make things challenging, but they’d find a unique and interesting way to do so.

But I’m ready. You can’t harm me if I come prepared!

There were two lines. I stood on the shorter of the two.

Now this isn’t related to Israel; however, I do have a long history of always choosing the wrong line. Never go shopping with me. Somehow or other, no matter the situation, my line is wrong. Someone will insist on paying with exact change and then search through their wallet for ten minutes. The cashier will take a ten-minute bathroom break. A customer will have issues with their credit card. Something will always go wrong.

In this case, you can take out books from either line, but could only get a membership from the other line. Of course there was no sign or anything indicating this. But I was not shaken. I came ready to waste time, and time wasting is what I was doing!

Check Please

So I wait on the correct line until I get to the front, upon which I was asked an unforgettably ridiculous question, “Did you bring a check?”

I wanted to reply, “No, because it’s not 1985.” But instead I informed the nice gentleman that I was check-less, and asked for alternative forms of payment.

There were none.

This led to a brief back and forth which ended with no alternative but my returning on Sunday. With a check, of course. And some more lost precious time from my life.

But it’s Israel. We’ve been here before. I know that things go wrong. Often and frequently in ways no one could have ever predicted. I was ready!

Library, Try #2

On Sunday I’d come back with a check, and all would be well with the world.

Yes, I had to ignore the fact that it’s 2024, and one of the most advanced countries in the world is still requiring me to use a check to get a library card. Yes, we can make hundreds of beepers explode throughout Lebanon… but the library can’t figure out how to use credit cards.

But I had all the information I needed to make Sunday a successful adventure.

And once again, I used my advanced knowledge of just how things go here to make sure everything would happen perfectly. I knew when the library opened, but I also knew that opening times here tend to be on the optional side. So I made sure to come about 30 minutes after opening time.

I was armed with information. There were two lines, but only one was the correct one. I wasn’t about to make that mistake again! And, of course, I came with my mighty check book… and just for good measure I lugged along a fax machine and a walkman…

And then I Broke…

Nothing could go wrong now. I had done everything correctly and I was walking out of that place with the sweet, sweet victory… of getting a library card.

I went in with my head held high.

I went to the correct counter this time, but there was no one there. The other clerk gave me a hard time for not going to her, but then I explained I needed a membership and she said the guy–the chosen one, the only one trained in this particular craft–was not yet there. I asked when he would be arriving and was told about a half hour, more or less.

And I broke down.

Why?

How?

Am I supposed to stand here waiting for a half hour, perhaps far longer, because the person working there couldn’t be bothered to come when he was supposed to?

I once had a job where I was five minutes late and my employers gave me a hard time for the rest of the year. But arrival times, I guess, in some places are just a suggestion.

We Can Do Better

I have written before about how you have to include in your schedule in Israel extra time daily for the crazy whatevers that seem inevitable and ubiquitous. I am thoroughly aware that these things happen here and don’t seem to be declining in any way.

But I just can’t seem to fully get used to it.

I want to wake up in the morning and feel that my day won’t get derailed by nonsense. I want to feel like I’m living in the bastion of modernity we supposedly are. I want to just be able to get a library card without feeling like I need to put my guard up, without feeling like I’m walking into the next thing that will unnecessarily annoy me and waste my time.

Israel, you have come a long way. The swamps have been drained. We have a peace treaty with Egypt and normalized relations with the United Arab Emirates. The technology rolling out of Tel Aviv is nothing short of remarkable.

But there’s a lot more to a society.

And we can do better. We can do a whole lot better.

The post My Unfortunate Library Adventure is featured at Jaffe World.

Don’t Shoot People

Enjoy!

Every once in a while I write an article knowing full well that there’s no chance I won’t piss people off. (Who knew I’d have that concern with an article called “Don’t Shoot People”?)

When I was younger, I loved the feeling. I enjoyed knowing that on the other end of computer land someone had smoke coming out of their ears and it was all because of my words.

I’m not that person anymore. The truth is, I want everyone to like me. A lofty and unrealistic goal, to be sure, but it’s definitely what I want nonetheless.

So I get no pleasure out of knowing that I would be shocked if someone isn’t ticked off about what I’m about to say. Might even lose a friend or two. It happened in the past when I wrote about Trump or Covid. And it’s so uncomfortable bracing myself for what’s to come.

But here we go…

Warring Factions and Common Ground

I know the world is split. Uncomfortably so. There are two warring factions that just can’t seem to get along, let alone have a decent and respectable dialogue with one another. And it pains me.

But when all the smoke clears, I feel like we should be able to find common ground. Somewhere. Somehow.

Personally, I have a simple rule that I’d like to run with. Something I think ultimately we should all look at each other, nod in agreement, and say, “Yeah, I can get behind that.”

What’s my rule?

Don’t shoot people.

Yup, that’s it.

Golden Rule: Don’t Shoot People

Barring exceptional circumstances, like self-defense or preventing an imminent threat to another’s life: Don’t shoot people.

And yet I woke up several days ago to a reality that both horrified and confused me.

A healthcare CEO was gunned down in the streets. I watched the video. It’s pretty horrifying to watch another human being shot and killed. And what I’ve seen, I can now never unsee.

I never heard of him before that day. I didn’t know his story. I didn’t know about his company, the goods, the bads, or the uglies.

But I felt for him. Yes, he was a husband and father. But I didn’t know that. But everyone’s close with someone, and a man lying dead in the street means there are people out there suffering and grieving. And that’s awful. Barring a murderous dictator who is active in the regular killing of multiple people, it’s hard for me to imagine a scenario in which I’d be joyous finding out someone was randomly gunned down in the street.

But as terrible as I thought the act was, the reactions I saw online were even more horrifying. There was joy. There were jokes. It wasn’t looked at like an act of vengeful and gross aggression. It was depicted as a reasonable or even praiseworthy act of trying to make changes to a broken system that has caused people great harm and distress.

Listen, I am no stranger to the problems of the healthcare system in the States. I hated every bit of it. My last year living in the US I even chose to not have a healthcare plan and get fined for it rather than pay the exorbitant fees.

But I don’t wish harm on anyone. I think it’s wrong to shoot people, and I’d prefer it if didn’t happen. Ever.

Who’s Happy About Murder?

But I’m further disturbed by who the people are celebrating this disgusting act of useless vigilante “justice” that will, in the big picture, accomplish nothing but getting CEOs to seek better, more frequent security.

Who are these people?

Just a matter of weeks ago, they were bragging about representing the party that embraced joy and inclusivity. They were the party for all Americans.

These are the same people that repeatedly say guns are the issue, and call for mass banning of firearms.

And these are the same people who say things like “my body, my choice” and constantly talk about human rights.

Hypocrisy Abounds

One who is joyful does not seek to shoot people. They seek understanding and reconciliation.

Shooting people because they disagree with you or you don’t like what they represent is just about the must non-inclusive thing a person could do. You can’t claim to be representing all Americans one moment then celebrate the death of others with whom you disagree the next.

You can’t shout about the dangers of guns and post endless memes speaking about the horrors they spread across the country, then wake up the next morning cheering for someone who shoots someone in the middle of the street.

Do you support guns or not? Or do you only support the use of guns when they harm those you wish to see harmed?

It was his body, and he would have chosen not to receive three bullets in it.

He was a human, and thus maintained human rights.

The Broken Mentality

I understand your frustration with a broken system, I really do.

And we can play the game in the other direction all day long. I am more than aware of the sick irony of someone claiming “right to life” blowing up abortion clinics and killing their doctors.

No, this isn’t an issue of left or right.

This is an issue of a broken mentality. That broken mentality follows this logical pattern: I’m 100% right and everyone else is 100% wrong. Those who are wrong not only support false ideas; those ideas make them evil. And evil must be eradicated, at all costs. Even if it means supporting concepts I generally don’t agree with. The exception is when evil must be destroyed.

If you can’t see the problem, I don’t know what to say.

If you protested guns the day after the Sandy Hook shooting, but a few weeks ago celebrated the death of a CEO and contributed money to defend the killer, you are either a hypocrite, or you are lost.

Plain and Simple: Don’t Shoot People

Me personally, I’m going to stick with my golden rule: Don’t shoot people.

It’s a beautiful principle in its simplicity.

If we go down a road where we believe murder is one of the best ways to accomplish our goals, only bad can emanate from this.

We shouldn’t celebrate killing people or attempted killing of people.

Great social change can come about non-violently. Can you imagine a world where Martin Luther King would tweet joyously about the murder of a CEO? (A man who was, in fact, killed because someone disagreed with his values… someone who in no way accomplished his goals by doing so.)

Murder is bad. Shooting people is bad. It’s not an issue of right or left or unclearly defined. It accomplishes nothing other than creating angry people in a chaotic society.

Fix the broken health care system. Please. It’s a worthy goal.

But do it the right way. And don’t lose your humanity in the process.

The post Don’t Shoot People is featured at Jaffe World.

What a Ceasefire Means to Us

Enjoy!

So Israel has yet another ceasefire. The pattern begins again.

I was chit-chatting with an American friend about things, and I commented that we all just need to wait and see if the ceasefire even holds to know how we should react to it. Then I made a joke. Why not make a pool? We can all bet on how long the ceasefire will actually last. Winner gets the pot.

Now, I was obviously (half) joking. But she seemed horrified at my comments. I had to explain that we folk living in Israel have no choice but to poke fun at the horrors of our situation. Dark humor is a widespread coping mechanism and I didn’t think twice about making a joke. Why would I? I’m surrounded by people doing it all the time.

A Different Reality

It’s very hard living in a reality so different from that of most of the rest of the world. Of course I want an end to the rockets, I want people to return safely to their homes, and I want my people to live with peace and security for the rest of their very long lives.

But living in Israel does not usually afford us such a luxury. Yes, I am relatively safe and sound in my noisy apartment in Jerusalem. But that’s today. Tomorrow is a new day, and who knows what that might bring. That unknown comes with it a share of collective misery and coping. And how we all survive is by any means necessary.

One way is to make light of it all, when possible. I’d make my relatively benign (and not all that funny) joke again without a thought. And I can’t see a reality where anyone here would be taken aback or offended.

The Ceasefire Pattern

But it all makes me think: If our reality is that different, what else don’t people understand about what folk are thinking and feeling over here.

So I decided to write some thoughts and feelings about this ceasefire agreement. Maybe the uninitiated will learn something new.

I am worried about the ceasefire for a handful of reasons.

First and foremost, I don’t think it’ll hold. There’s a psychology here that needs to be understood. Hezbollah has not given up the fight. So why would they agree to a ceasefire if they want to keep battling Israel? The only logical reason is because they fear what would happen to them if the war kept on going, and they need to regroup so they can live to fight another day.

Think about it. Israel has proven repeatedly during this conflict that Hezbollah is very outmatched. If things continue on this trajectory, Hezbollah will be shattered and incapable of ever rebuilding itself. This would obviously be a great outcome for Israel. Not so much for Hezbollah.

So what happens now? Israel’s forever pattern begins once again. We fight, we declare a ceasefire, enemy rebuilds its arsenal, and when they’re ready and think the timing is right, they attack once again. What is a ceasefire in Israel? A temporary halt in aggressions. But no Israeli is deluded enough to think the fighting is over. We don’t have a peace treaty. We don’t have normalized relations. Israel has not been recognized as a country. All we have is a moment to breathe… and a false sense of security.

The Benefits of Breathing

So why bother? Why in the world would we agree to a ceasefire we know is temporary?

There are a number of reasons. Our soldiers are exhausted. It’s easier to fight a war on fewer fronts. People in the north are desperate to return to their homes. International pressure is overwhelming.

Whatever the reason, it’s not peace. It’s not safety. It’s not security. At best, it’s a break. And the world needs to know what it is, and what it is not.

The world is confused.

And humor is, in fact, some level of a break from reality. If we can laugh about the harsh realities in which we are immersed, then those realities feel for just a moment like they’re not happening. They’re not in your face. They’re just background noise we have the ability to not focus on, even if ever so briefly.

I sit at my computer most of my day. Every once in a while I have some meaningless background show on or I watch a funny video or two on YouTube just to take my mind off of things for a bit. But it only helps for a second. One moment I’m laughing at Key and Peele, the next I’m fighting back tears reading about the tragic, untimely death of another few soldiers in Gaza.

No one here gets a proper break from anything. It’s always there. The best we can hope for is temporary distraction. A night of karaoke or line dancing. Something to make the world feel a little less daunting.

And that’s what a ceasefire means to me. Are we still at war with Hezbollah? In a sense, absolutely. The war can’t end until one side wins, which has not yet happened. The ceasefire doesn’t provide victory. It provides a quick moment to pretend like the war was never there in the first place.

Palestine Has No Friends

Another final note about the ceasefire. I think it proves what so many of us understand about the situation that the West struggles with. The Palestinians have no friends. Yes, there are others in the region with common interests. They, like Hamas, loath Israel. And they are willing to take up arms to fight simultaneously with Hamas… until it is no longer in their own best interest.

Hezbollah, Iran, and the Houthis have all been quite active attacking Israel this past year. Maybe they were opportunistic, thinking they could conquer a highly preoccupied Israel. But Iran has been nice and quiet ever since the second time Israel pulled down their pants in the schoolyard. Hezbollah bowed out after Israel demonstrated they really had no chance of winning. And the Houthis, they sporadically jump up and down trying to remind people they exist too.

But Hamas is alone. Their buddies on college campuses will turn to another trendy cause soon enough, and they were always just fluff and noise anyway.

People don’t love Hamas or Palestine. They hate Israel. They always have and likely always will. But that should never be mistaken for devotion to the Palestinian cause. Palestinians are just a tool people use when they want to unleash their anger on Israel. But as soon as that anger is inconvenient or detrimental, they will forever nonchalantly walk away from the cause they never really believed in in the first place.

Palestinians have no real friends. They never have.

The post What a Ceasefire Means to Us is featured at Jaffe World.