Moths, Muslims and Mothering

Once life was sweet

I cut a firm looking capsicum open the other day, and inside - perfectly sealed from the world - was a large grey moth.  There was no entry hole or anything so it must have meant that the moth was born and grew up inside the capsicum.  Although it looked perfect from the outside, the inside was pretty ghetto.  Sort of filled with grey sawdust looking stuff.  Wing flakes or moth shit I guess.  Needless to say, I didn't eat it - the capsicum or the moth. I wanted to release little mothy into the wild - but the only issue is that we don't have any wild.  So I binned it.  The whole thing.  Poor little critter.  Once cocooned safely in it's crunchy capsicum world, with endless food - a dark and cosy sheltered life - only for it to be shattered on a the whim of someone who decided it was time to eat more salad.   Then, it was introduced to the world by this same bitch wielding a large Japanese knife, only to be rejected with disgust and piffed on the great garbage heap of life.

Our bomb shelter definitely kicks these Israeli kid's bomb shelter

There are certainly times over the last couple of months where I would have liked to take up residence in a large piece of produce with no knowledge of the world at large.  Lately it's a scary world where people are blowing other people up and doing all sorts of maiming to each other.  It was a relief for me when those pissed off dudes 100km down the coast stopped trying to blow up the city where I lived let me tell you.  Although in saying that - and I'm sure it's not the most popular thing to declare, but I was actually glad I heard a siren and had to make a bolt for the shelter.  At least we got to use it for 10 mins - empty rooms are pretty prized when you live in a small space in a crowded city.  Previously, our bomb shelter had served as a room where the entire gang of my daughters' toys watched Disney movies on my laptop.  The second red alert was at 6.30 in the morning, and although I heaved myself to standing, I decided that I couldn't be bothered waking up the girls and dragging them in to the miklat - so I just crawled back to bed.  The third one didn't even register with us - but it was a false alarm anyway - so I'm glad I kept my butt cheeks planted on the couch.  I think many Israeli's could have been horrified at my blase attitude, but they grew up with no Iron Dome (missile protection system) and the threat to life was much more serious.  The good old 'forcefield' had a 100% success rate at shooting down the missiles destined for Tel Aviv - so I guess it made me kind of nonchalant.  My other yok friends watched the interceptions from their balconies all summer long.  It sounded like quality viewing.

Ooooooh smoke!

But that's all over for now.  Everyone can go back to pretending that things are ok here, negotiations can be shelved, and then we can all think about it in another year or two when weapons stocks are renewed, and a new wave of angry fighters are ready to step up and do their thing.  Such is life here.  Meanwhile ISIS has been going sick nuts across Syria and Iraq.  From Israel you could actually see border fighting between the government troops, various anti government factions and ISIS.  In fact it became quite the spectator sport.  Whole families would take deckchairs and picnics and settle in for the day.  Pass the popcorn.  This kind of voyeurism disgusted a lot of people - but let me tell you when I was there with my parents a few months ago it was fascinating to see Syrian towns from the hillside - so to see a few explosions would have been super fun.  Obviously not for those in the direct line of fire I guess.  It's that kind of sentiment that makes me think that I am losing my grip a bit, and at least definitely becoming de-sensitised to war and mayhem.

So ISIS continues to be big news.  Plus, they are now going to get slammed by various countries that have had enough of their shit.  I guess that thing is kind of expected when you start chopping American's heads off on the TV.  But just humour me for a second here - how is it ok for countries such as the UK, America and Australia - with vastly superior weapon technology to go and bomb the shit out of nations thousands of miles from their doorsteps (again), and it was most definitely not alright for Israel to fight back against it's mental next door neighbours?  Just a question.......

Kind of similar

Recently I read this brilliantly clever article that likened ISIS to Britney Spears.  I'm not talking crop tops and pythons here - I'm referring to the make over that both Britney and ISIS had, that completely transformed them in less than a year.  Brit Brit went from shaving her head, bashing cars with umbrellas and marrying randoms in Vegas; to clipping in some quality extensions, getting some new shiny threads, releasing an album, starting a new world tour, and raking in more millions with a big shit eating grin on her face that clearly said pharmaceuticals.  Pretty much the same with ISIS - they went from cave dwelling crazies with big beards, dirty robes and poor quality home movies ranting about some jihad bullshit; to shmick matching uniforms, a nice flag, some fabulous new weaponry, bundles of cash and some easy viewing show (In English) designed to entice more pissed off crazies to join in the head hacking fun.  Talk about image reinvention.  Whoever did their make-over deserves serious kudos.  Honestly I'm impressed.

Deary me Brittles

That car was asking for it

I don't know where I am - but I feel goooood

Life in a cave yo

From scrappy dudes jumping on a rusty tank, to ninja like stealths who can march in a line 

Hi there sexy

What's less impressive, and makes me want to look for my own hideaway capsicum all over again is when I watch cringing interviews (like I did this morning) with Tasmania's finest flower - Jacqui Lambie.  Jesus that shit is embarrassing.  Luckily she's from the north west of Tasmania, and everyone knows that is not really Tasmania, but is instead the epicentre of boganic inbreeding and a land unto itself.  Actually I almost feel bad about laughing at her - it's like laughing at a disabled person. It was pretty obvious she had no idea what she was talking about when she was asked repeatedly about her attitude to Sharia Law.  Jacks stuck to her guns and said basically that any Muslims should pack up and leave Australia.  It's like Pauline Hanson on steroids.  In fact Pauline is like a Rhodes Scholar compared to her.   The ignorance of people that are representing our population is more than ridiculous.  It's actually dangerous (Much more dangerous than trying to pass off "I done it" and "Yeah, youse are right" as spoken English - bitch needs a language coach pronto).  Even worse was that picture she posted of a woman wearing a Burqa and holding a handgun, in an attempt to drum up fear and support her campaign to "Ban the Burqa".  As most people know that picture was a misrepresentation, and was actually a Afghani police officer who was shot by the Taliban.  Jacqui made out that she knew this and was trying to draw attention to how brave the woman was.  Please.  That cover up was more pathetic than skin coloured Clearasil on cystic acne.

Yep this is all about the heroic policewoman

My little muffins

But back onto the topic of being thrust into the big wide world - my babies started their first year of real school a couple of weeks ago.  There was some serious cuteness going down here.  Vali asked me on the first day whether it was possible to be excited and nervous at the same time.  I replied that of course it was, and actually in Hebrew the word for excited and nervous is the same.  Their class is completely in Hebrew this year, with an English program in the afternoon.  I think this was responsible for the nerves.  They are going to learn so much quicker than me - their slack mother that bombed out after a couple of months.  But lately I've been thinking that I really have to get my shit together again.  And not just because I won't be able to understand my own children soon.  More essential is to try and gain some respect in the wider community.......of children. I had a run in with two five year olds at an indoor play centre the other day.  The little pricks knocked a whole tower of mattresses on top of me, and when I was trying to get them to stop and stack them all back up they started laughing and bouncing a ball in my face.  Right in my face.  My authority as an adult meant zip and I was forced to run away all red and sweaty and tell the face-painting lady on them.  She came to wield the hand of power and they were made to pack up all the mattresses.  I watched them and made laughing faces at my two nemeses behind the facepainter's back, and then promptly got sprung by their mother.  Where was she before, when I was getting brutalised for the love of God?  People just aren't big on the kid discipline here.

Piss off Slithers 

I must be thought off as some kind of hard core bitch.  I run a tight ship at my place.  If I could get mine to march Sound of Music style to a whistle, I would be doing it for sure.  Uniforms, answering in unison with a "Yes Mother" at the beginning of every sentence, weird Austrian suspenders made out of curtains - you name it I want it.  But that shiz don't fly in Israel.  Kids are the bosses here - make no mistake.  We are just putty in their sweaty filthy little paws.  We exist only to provide cash and food and chauffeur them round everywhere.  There are times when I think I may be losing my already shaky grip on power.  For example, while taking a snooze on my daughters bed the other afternoon, I woke up to her suffocating me with a giant plush toy snake.  Can you imagine how fucked up that is?  Literally I couldn't breathe and there was a giant red forked tongue in my mouth.  Her reason = "I was cross because you wouldn't come and make an activity for us"  That excuse is not going to cut it for parental murder darling - you are going to have to come up with better than that.

There are certain things here that I will never fit in with here.  Not just my dominating parental tendencies, or my crappy grasp of the local language, or even my fondness to have a drink at every (inappropriate) social occasion (last night I mixed a cocktail - Expresso martini - in my daughter's school drink bottle -it's hard to find a cocktail shaker in this country).  What I will never really truly get though, is the Israeli sense of humour.  It's amazing how different nationalities approach what constitutes as funny.  Often my jokes here go over like a lead balloon.  In fact pretty much every time.  When I lived in Japan, I also noticed this.  As a sense of humour is pretty relevant to a relationship I wonder how some international couples get by.  A Thai woman and a Pakistani man for instance - can you imagine?  Maybe they both enjoy Knock Knock jokes, who really knows.  I sometimes go to the movies in other countries and whether I'm watching foreign movies with subtitles, or English movies with foreign subtitles I am always laughing when everybody else isn't, and stony faced when the entire theatre is wetting their pants with hilarity.  The flick I watched in Japan where my fellow movie goers were rolling on the floor, was actually a serious story about a serial killer.  Is it just me, or is it hard to get humour from brutalising packs of young women?

In a similar vein, take for example, this summary of a Israeli comedy that was on the movie channel the other night (I jotted the premise down with amazement).

"Crazy Weekend 1986 - After learning of a tumour in her head, Noga decides to commit suicide, this leads to a series of amusing events".

Look, I just fail to see how you could possibly get a laugh out of those things.  I really do.  I should have possibly watched it to find out I guess - Noga could have had a natural talent for Knock Knocks.

Noga and her humorous death filled weekend

So anyway, maybe the moth had been looking for a doorway out of that oppressive crispy cocoon all day, and everyday, of his little mothy life.  Maybe my razor sharp steel blade came as a miracle of joy rather than the disillusionment and destruction of his world.  I could have been his saviour, a mighty benevolent God sent from the abyss to free him in order to experience a happy life with all his buggy little friends on the rubbish tips of Tel Aviv.  A bit like  when Hugo Weaving (Bubby) breaks out of his tomb of a room at the age of 40 in Bad Boy Bubby and goes out (poorly equipped) to handle the big wide world - now this is an Australian movie that my husband finds hilarious, but I found demented and sick.  Maybe humour is not dependent on your nation of birth after all.  After all, didn't we all love The Goodies?

Goody Goody Yum Yum