The main reason I find it appropriate to bring this list to your attention is to insist on exercising my most fundamental and elementary right, the right to "I told you so!" What did I tell you that I must tell you that I told you, you must be asking, raising your eyebrows at the shocking syntax of this sentence?
Well, five days ago, two hot items found themselves in a head-to-head battle for the main headline in the media.
On one side of the arena; a two-day-old item in the form of Ahmed, a lover of Israel, and on his side his personal manager Amir Benayoun, who is just trying to understand how, even before he heard the gong, he was the one who was getting punched from all sides, and was repeatedly thrown between the ropes when he barely had time to put on gloves. And on the other side, an item that is no less fresh and sensational, and some would say perhaps even a little more so; Netanel Arami. Netanel who? Netanel Arami, well, the one that the police were reluctant to release to the public after two months of information that he was actually thrown to his death by scumbags who cut his abseiling rope. And that they happened to be construction workers who were working on the roof from which he was sliding. And especially that in an extremely rare way to the point of absurdity, they were also, how to put it with the appropriate delicacy?, well, Palestinians.
Want more news, videos and stories? Join the Haredim 10 WhatsApp channel >>
So for four moments and eight-tenths of a second, we did indeed pay homage there in the headlines to Nathaniel Arami, the late. What can I say, a final homage. Because since then, as mentioned, "Nathaniel who?!" And especially since then, if it's not difficult for you, and even if it is, we are forced, but really, to now go back again to the cause of all the reasons and the reason for the reasons for which we gathered here in this studio, not to mention in this country; Ahmed. Oh Ahmed Ahmed.
And here comes the I told you moment. Because as soon as you posted that one-time headline that is so unforgettable that it's so forgettable, I told a handful of Facebook friends who haven't yet learned how to unfriend me: "Just so we understand where we live. Go check how many hours of airtime, headlines, mentions, and media chaos some imaginary Ahmed from a stupid song gets and will get, and how much a real Ahmed gets who cuts a rappelling rope and throws a person to his death." End of quote.
Well, since Ahmed Al-Hayinu's explosion, metaphorically, right?, a week has passed, as beautiful as a falafel ball at Ahmed Sobhi's in Jaffa, or as sweet as Ahmed Shukri's bagel in the Muslim Quarter, or perhaps actually as crispy as Ahmed Al-Batiqhi's ashtanor in the authentic Galilean village, which is nameless out of modesty in Ladit.
Because you understand the media people, it's just terribly difficult for them to decide which of them is their favorite pet Ahmed. In his shadow, they silence the occupation's qualms of conscience every weekend, which is what they are aiming at when they demand that we all come out fiercely to defend him against malicious Facebook memes, which could imply that he is the next Ahmed to stab us in the back.
Oh no, how can we have an Ahmed like that, who is all cuteness, stabbing us in the back? Not after they licked his hand and swore in his name and in the name of his knafe syrup, that only then will peace and eternal and complete coexistence come to us and to the entire new Middle East, from the box that only seemingly still seems to us all to be sleeping in its savagery and routine murderousness.
And for that, you need at least a week to decide, warn, and cheer.
But either way, as mentioned, such an Ahmadi week has passed until you somehow dare to wave a finger hesitantly against the wind and reflect carefully, it's the past. Every Sabbath has a Sabbath end. From such a cosmic law. It's over, we've had enough. There must be something else happening somewhere on Earth, maybe even on that famous comet near Mars, even if not here in our terribly boring Middle East.
Pahh where... It turns out that now we need to celebrate shiva. Because there's Rogel Alper, who also simply has to say something else that hasn't already been said in his own really, really precise and unique way about Ahmed. And here's someone else on the radio. And here's, wait, not really, Achinoam Nini?!
And so slowly you realize that you and Ahmed are going to be stuck here forever in the new Middle East of Yael Dan and Rogel Alper and Aninoam Hichi, the old ones, until something really, really serious happens here. No, not a terrorist attack. What does a terrorist attack have to do with it? Well, until these douches start spitting on girls again. Remind me when this season of - well, what do you call it? - Oh yeah, women's exclusion??
