Beer

Last week I had the opportunity to taste for the first time two beers produced in the area. On Wednesday I went out with some friends to a micro-brewery that's been operating for a couple of years now and tried their wheat beer. On Saturday, we were invited to a very interesting tour of Nazareth; when that was done we found ourselves with some friends at a wonderful restaurant that served, among many others, Taybeh beer.

One of these two beers was atrocious and the other one was really good, which led me to think that I really should blog about the experience. I kept thinking about it as the "Zionist" beer vs. the "Palestinian" beer. I was already to make all sorts of analogies between the two beers and their methods of production, maybe trying to stretch the analogy to encompass a larger statement about the entrepreneurial culture in each of the peoples, natch, the very culture of the two peoples.

Sometimes, I'm just full of crap.

I got pulled into the trap of seeing everything around here, including food and drink, through the lens of national conflict. Beer wouldn't be the first victim of this distortion. Some idiots on both sides have been waging an ongoing battle of falafel. Yes, falafel. Little balls made out of garbanzo beans, deep-fried in oil and served in a pita. A battle of that. Who can make the bigger falafel portion and so get into Guiness's Book of World Records.

I understand about national pride and looking for ways to bring honor to your nation, but falafel? Really? What's next, changing the words of the American anthem? And the burners red glare, the chickpea balls bursting in air. Not only does it kill the metric, it really doesn't have that ring of authenticity, does it?

Silly, I know. So why is the drive of nationalistic politics so seductive? No, not seductive, that implies that there was some persuasion involved. So ingrained. I didn't see it coming and it got me good. It might have been Albert Einstein that said, "I don't know what fish talk about, but it isn't water," and that is the best explanation I can give. This nationalistic mumbo-jumbo works on all of us because it is so pervasive. It just permeates every aspect of our living to where we don't even notice it. Like fish and water, it has become part of the context in which we live, defining so many of our choices without us even being aware of it.

So last week I went out twice with friends and had two different beers. From one of those beers I'll happily have a second and a third glass. From the other, let's just say that the glass I already had was worth three: first, last, and one too many. And no, I'm not going to tell you which was which.

Just to close the subject, some more words of wisdom from W.C. Fields:

I never drink water. Fish f*** in it.

Rain

Several decades ago, the inimitable Isaac Asimov published a short story called "Nightfall" about Lagash a world without night. Lagash had six suns of varying luminosity that took turns shining upon the world, sometimes with a large amount of light, sometimes with very little. The practical result was that the Lagashians had never seen the stars, hadn't developed any concept of what the universe looked like beyond their own planet (how could they, really) and so on. They would have happily lived on like that except for the fact that every two thousand years or so night fell. Once, every two millenia, only the smallest, dimmest of Lagash's suns was left in the sky and when Lagash's large moon eclipsed that, darkness fell. As expected, shenanigans ensued.

Here in Israel we hardly have any rain. It's not as bad as Lagash not having any night but I imagine that the feeling is similar. I've lived in other dry regions in the past: Southern California certainly qualifies, but it just doesn't compare. Living in SoCal I was aware of the need to conserve water, sure. But the lawns were always green, there were rivers and streams that flowed year-round, and if he water we drank always tasted a little funky (the result of having it piped hundreds of miles from the Colorado river), then that was a small price to pay.

Here in Lagash, er, Israel it's different. When the weather forecast on the radio calls for rain, you can just hear the smile on the announcer's voice. There is even a special word in Hebrew for the first real downpour of the year, "Yoreh." Our need for water is so strong, and our relationship with the stuff so tenuous, that I know of no other culture where it is acceptable to toast someone with just water in your glass.

So it's been quite a surprise to us all that for the last four days there's been water pouring for the sky in sheets. Cats and dogs doesn't begin to describe it. I can't remember when was the last time that I could see the traffic lights reflected on the wet pavement. This really is very unusual. The "rainy" season in Israel, such as it is, usually comes later in the year, most often on a Thursday and then it's gone. So this is very different, it's a sure bet that tonight's news will be filled with video of streams running and the people that went down just to see water flowing, not from a faucet, but naturally.

And so, a final word of wisdom from Douglas Adams:

I think fish is nice, but then I think that rain is wet, so who am I to judge?

Have you no decency sir?

By now we should all be inured to the incredible callousness of the professional politician, a subspecies of the common twerp whose only qualities are loyalty to the party's leader and a low-level cunning and brutality that no doubt come in handy to that same leader every once a while. Sort of like Luca Brasi but without the charm and the elegant manners.

Please meet: Rabbi Meshulam Nahari. Member of the Knesset for the Shas party and Minister of Nothing in the current Israeli Government, party-hack extraordinaire.

As you may of may not know, here in Israel we have a number of political parties that under the cover of religion have taken racketeering to levels of excellence not seen since Caligula made his horse Senator in Rome.  Which might very well be where we got Meshulam Nahari. In my imagination it went down something like this:

A bunch of the Shas guys where sitting around the table some time ago, shooting the s*^t, as wise guys trend to do. They were probably congratulating one another on how smart they were, how they managed to extort some in ungodly amount of money from a government too weak-willed to stand up to them. They might have had something to drink but not necessarily. 

Anyway, Wiseguy No.2 tells the leader about Caligula's horse stunt.

-"For real?", exclaims The Leader, "he really got his horse a job in the Senate?"

-"Just so," answers No. 2, "although I think that they waived the whole wearing-a-toga bit for him."

-"Now THAT is real power," adds No. 3, "getting an unthinking brute into the Senate."

This was beginning to feel like a challenge to The Leader, a real test of his political prowess. So he gives the matter some thought and comes up with this jewel:

-"Appointing a horse to the Senate is nice, but that's not so much of an accomplishment when you're already Emperor of Rome. I'll bet you anything that you want that I can do him one better. If Caligula could get a horse appointed to the Roman Senate, I'll bet you that I can get not only an unthinking brute but a real horse's ass elected to the Knesset."

-"Yeah, right.  And how exactly are you going to accomplish that?"

-"I have some ideas. Do you know Meshulam Nahari?"

In truth, it might have gone down a little differently, but you get the idea.

And what, you might ask, has gotten me so riled up about someone so demonstrably small, so obviously insignificant, so absurdly dumb as bad ol' Meshulam. Well, here it is:

Gilad Shalit (you remember him, don't you?), went to the beach with his dad on the Saturday following his release. Good for him I say, the beach sounds like the right place to decompress and spend some time with family. So far, so good.

Enter the horse's ass. The YNET news service has quoted him saying that instead of going to the beach, Gilad should have gone to the synagogue and recited the traditional prayer of deliverance.

You. Little. Shit.

Religion in Israel is not only big business, it's big politics too and of course right now there is no bigger potential political asset than Gilad Shalit and his family. I'm sure that any party would be happy to have Gilad's endorsement.  However, there are oodles of distance between wishing for Gilad's endorsement and openly, cravenly, seeking to cash in on his notoriety. How Gilad feels about religion is no one's business but his own, how he wishes to spend his time is a decision left only to him. And to you, Minister Meshulam Nahari I say this:


Have you no shame, sir? 

And lest we think that this was Horsey acting on his own, it turns out that he's been 'tasked' by Shas' Great Leader (that's the Leader's boss, in case you're wondering) with "bringing these people [the Shalits] closer to religion." 

Well, Meshulam. If you were to stand on your Leader's shoulders, and he were to stand on the Great Leader's shoulder in turn, you still wouldn't reach Gilad's ankles, so where exactly do you get off telling him what to do or to whom and what to pray for? Do the world a favor and after you apologize contritely to Gilad and his family take a step back and just STFU. OK?

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Mmmmh. That was kind of a long and very angry rant, wasn't it? Pity to waste it. If you, dear reader, would be so kind to help along I think that we could keep this train of thought going for a little longer in the comments section just below. 

If you disagree that Nahari is an idiot I would really like to know why. If you agree, could you help illustrate to the world just how dumb he is? 

Personally, I think that Nahari is so dumb that he's a taco short of a combination plate; a melon ball short of a fruit salad; and that if you moved his plate five inches to the left he'd starve to death.

Your turn.