The Cutting Board

I was laying down on my floor on Halloween afternoon listening to Natasha Bedingfield sing "Angel," my favorite song of hers.  The lyrics go, "If I could be your angel...protect you from the pain, I'll keep you safe from danger, You'll never hurt again."

Upon peaking through my open door, I notice a young man sitting on the bench in front of an apartment to my left.  He had a large duffle bag by his side, as he would occasionally stare around, as if he was waiting for someone.

I was motivated to start a conversation with this man, more to understand how and why 30 minutes had passed by waiting on the bench with no one meeting him.  So I made an excuse to go and check my mailbox.  I say, "Hi, how are you?"  He replies, "I'm good, thank you."  I walk back to my apartment, keeping the door open and my eyes on him.

A few minutes pass and I took it further by going to my screen door and saying, "Excuse me sir, would you like a bottled water as you're waiting?"  Without hesitation, he accepts and as he approaches my door, he walks back to grab his bag.  I then say, "Just come in and wait in here, only if you like."  Once again he unhesitatingly accepts.

Upon the formal meet and greet, it turns out that the young man's name was Jon, a culinary graduate from Copenhagen.  He traveled from Denmark to Los Angeles to meet a cousin whom he never met.  The meeting has been in the works since July of this year, but the details of the story never matched with what was supposed to happen.

I tell him, "Well how have you been in communication with your cousin, especially on your trip?"  He says, "Facebook."

Instead of offering him to call his cousin from my phone, I offer my computer for him to reconnect with her on Facebook.  Upon thanking me, I ask "How were you planning on letting your cousin know you had arrived?"  He said, "Just waiting on her."  Odd, I thought.  But then again, what do you do when you are at the mercy of your host.

Jon gets on the computer and writes to Kirsten, his cousin, telling her that he had arrived.  Hours pass by and no word from her.  At approximately 7:00 PM, I think to myself, "I need to get ready for Halloween, now what?"  Within no time, Kirsten replies, "I'm so sorry, you came on a very bad day..."

Right then and there, my heart could not allow keeping my guards up to a stranger.  I tell Jon, "Listen, I have no one in particular I'm going out with for Halloween, would you like to join me and stay for the night?"  The relief in his eyes was a response more worthy than words itself.   I felt that I was doing the right thing, not feeling threatened or lied to.   I even peaked at the Facebook messages when he was in the bathroom.  His story seemed legitimate and I had very little to lose, instead, more to gain on a night thinking I would spend it alone.

We both dress up; I as a 70's runner and he went as himself, a 25-year-old Dr. Watson lookalike from Sherlock Holmes.  And since it was on his list to visit Santa Monica, California, I drove us to the Santa Monica Pier for an evening tour and eventually concluded our night in West Hollywood, where Halloween is a religion.

On Sunday, I tell Jon how much I enjoyed his company and he expressed how a random act of kindness led to a friendship.  However, as much as I enjoyed the serendipitous turn of events, I still did not know him well enough to offer more shelter and kindness.  Shortly after thinking that, he gets a message from his cousin saying, "I'm sorry, I did not know you were expecting an actual place to sleep.  Maybe we can meet up for dinner on Wednesday?"

I was appalled at what I was reading and hearing.  Even if you've never met, how do you have the heart to un-invite a cousin who crossed seas and rivers to see you?  As much as I expressed my disdain for her behavior, he would say, "I cannot judge her.  I do not know what she is going through."  I thought to myself, "Well, if it's not life and death, then what could be the problem?"

Now that I knew Jon's stay was in limbo and my hospitality may be put to question, I couldn't be anymore confused.  I excused myself to call my friend to see what she thought of the situation.  She immediately commended me for what I was doing, showing the same disdain for the cousin as I had.  And she also supported me for letting him stay longer, but under the condition that he has no access to my keys.  After 45 minutes of deliberation, both my friend and I made a decision.

I walk back from the parking lot to my apartment to tell Jon about my proposal.  He replies, "If you get any kinder, I may have to call you Jesus.  I can always wander around the city and meet you when you get home from work."

On Monday morning, I force Jon to wake up at 6:30 AM, despite the delayed jet lag that he has yet to shake off.  I offer him a sweater jacket for warmth and he says, "Are you kidding, I'm a Viking." As I head to my car and he towards the metro station, I tell Jon, "I will definitely be back between 4:15 and 4:30 PM."   He looks down at his watch and says, "See you in nine hours."  And for some reason, my heart breaks.  I say, "Ok," as I am appalled by the way I handled the situation.  But what else could I have done or should have done for a stranger so soon?

I get to work, having fought with my decision whether to give or not to give Jon my only key.  And while at work, my conscious got the best of me, as I kept thinking about his whereabouts and if he was safe or not.  I could not reach him through phone nor Facebook yet.  So I was forced to be patient and hopeful that he would be okay.

I leave work promptly at 3:26 PM, with an intent to beat traffic, but failing to do so as I do every day.  I arrive at 4:28 PM and rush towards the courtyard, recognizing a deep Danish accent echoing.  There he was, sitting on the same bench he was sitting on on Saturday afternoon.  He finishes a talk with one of my neighbors and we both exchange smiles.  Mine was a smile of relief that he made it back in one piece.

As soon as I let him in, he starts telling me about his adventures in Los Angeles.  The more he talked, the more I thought about how much nerve it took for me to let him wander for nine hours without access to the apartment; no possibility to come home early, not rest nor relax.  So I stopped him in the middle of him telling me about his expedition and said, "Listen, I do not have the heart to force you up again so early.  I will give you my only key, just please do not let anyone in."  As odd as it sounded, I was relieved to have found the strength and inner peace to lend a stranger my key, especially after my friend called the nine hour expedition, "Brutal."

That same night, I tell him let's gather a few things you would like to do before you leave and do it on Tuesday.  He agrees and excitedly grabs the laptop searching for "Hidden gems of LA."  His choices: The Charlie Hotel (formerly Charlie Chaplin's home), Mystery Pier Bookstore, Sushi Park and Bulgarini Gelato.  I tell him, we'll do everything on Tuesday, except for the gelato since it's out of the way.  Let's keep that for Wednesday.  Jon says, "I want to keep Wednesday open in case Kirsten still wants to meet up for dinner."

It's Tuesday and I am excited about what we have planned for the evening.  As soon as I arrive to my apartment, I quickly say hi to Jon and go get ready.  I trim my beard and wash my face as he was on my laptop watching police prank videos.  I look at him and think, "I'm so happy that I was able to make this man's trip possible."

We leave shortly after 5:00 PM and head to The Charlie Hotel.  We leave the car there and decide to walk to the rest of our destinations.  Within less than 15 minutes, we get to Mystery Pier Bookstore, only to find a black expandable gate locking the entrance.  I turn to Jon and say, "How disappointing.  It said online that they close at 7:00 PM.  Let me call them."  I call and a man picks up.  I tell him what I told Jon and the man replies, "Is there anything in particular you were looking for?"  I say, "Well I have my friend from Denmark here, and he's the one who made a special effort to visit you."  The man tells me he'll be right out to let us in.   We pass through the opened gate, down a flight of stairs and get escorted to another building, which looked like a house-turned-bookstore.

For almost 40 minutes, we get blown away by literary marvels: Very first separate printings of Shakespeare from 1734, an original signed copy of Misery by Stephen King, and the list went on.  The longer we stayed there, the more I forgot how much I loved books.  But the owner of Mystery Pier caught on that the random call about the friend from Denmark was just two random street walkers who fancied good books.  Needless to say, he was gracious enough to invite us again and gave each one of us his business card.

We get escorted from the bookstore and walk to Sushi Park, in what was a tiny shopping strip that I had passed numerous times without even noticing.  Jon walks before me and upon me entering, Ashley Olsen looks me straight in the eyes, as she was sitting across from Mary Kate and an unknown man.  I look away and focus on the hostess.  She asks if we had a reservation, which we didn't.  So she excuses herself to go check on something.  The hostess comes back and says, "We can offer you a table until 8:00 PM where you can enjoy the menu and the chef's special, or the bar, where it's chef's special only."  I was indifferent, as Jon preferred the chef's experience at the bar.

A few minutes after being sat, we were welcomed by the chef and then asked by the waitress if we wanted to start with any appetizers.  Considering the multiple brisk walks we have taken thus far, I unhesitatingly ask for miso soup and Jon asks for the same.  I finish my soup and pick up my phone to text my friend to tell her where I'm at, and then I hear a man scold me; "Put your phone away, it's rude."  I stare him in the eye in shock and then he continues with the evilest of eyes, "Don't make me say it twice."  It was Jon.  My body was frozen, but my face turned hot.  I didn't know what to say or how to react.  I look to my left and see (who looked just like Selma Blair), on her cell phone.  Then I look behind me and see Ashley and Mary Kate hovering over their guest's phone.  Then I look at Jon, but say nothing.

I continue eating, but notice that I was gulping every piece of sushi faster than soup.  I could not enjoy the tastes nor flavors of each course.  The hostility grew so strong that even the chef noticed, looking over and giving me an embarrassed smile.  Then I knew it was obvious as the corner of my eye caught a man sitting to the right of the bar staring at me whenever he had the chance.  Maybe it was because I was looking down at my plate and shaking my head.  Maybe it was because I turned my body 45 degrees to the left, avoiding all and any contact with Jon.  Or maybe the energy was speaking for itself.

Minutes later, the hostility is attempted to be broken.  Jon turns to me and says, "This is delicious.  What do you think?"  I reply, "Every piece of sushi is going down like poison.  How dare you embarrass me."  He replies, "That was not my intention.  I wanted you to fully enjoy the sushi experience with me, without a phone."  I said, "I was going to text my friend to tell her where I was and who I saw...that's it."  Jon responds, "I'm sorry.  I didn't know.  I thought you were going to be on your phone the entire time."

We continue to eat, while the time gap between one course and the other seemed like an eternity.  So many thoughts ran through my mind, accepting everything that had just happened to me.  I went from a remorseful human to "I deserved every bit of what I got."

The chef never stops his offerings until the experience was formally over.  He then asks, "We are coming to the end, would you like anything else?"  Without allowing the chef to end his sentence, I reply, "I am ready to end it."  I wanted to end the meal, the night, the relationship and any possibility of visiting Denmark, for that matter.  We get the bill, and with my phone in hand I condescendingly say, "This is your half."

We split the bill, and I look over as he rummages for cash to tip the waitress.  I see two five-dollar bills and countless of coins on top.  I didn't dare say a word, knowing that a 40 minute walk was awaiting us.  I had some time.

Upon leaving the restaurant first, I let the door shut behind me, nearly slamming Jon in the face.  And then he starts apologizing again; "I am so sorry.  It was not my intention to embarrass you.  I just wanted to enjoy this experience with you.  I've even done it to my mother before, and she's almost 60."  I wait a few seconds to see when he was done with his speech, waiting for my turn:

"How dare you do what you did.  You had no right to do or say what you did.  You were out of line and out of order on multiple levels: 1) You assumed 2) You made an outburst and 3) It's none of your business what I do.  I am your host and you are my guest, and we are not in Denmark.  I did not have to explain to you what I wanted to do on my phone.  The least you could have done was stay quiet, as compensation for my graciousness for the last few days."

He stops in the middle of the sidewalk and puts his hands on my shoulders and says, "I'm so sorry.  It was not my intention.  What can I do?"  I reply, "The damage is done.  If there is anyone who had the right to say something, it was me.   How much did you tip today?"  He replies, "Ten percent."  I said, "I know, I saw that.  How awful was that.  But did I say anything, did I judge you as you judged me?  Instead I was sensitive, as I do not know your situation.  But you found it to be your right to judge your host.  Even if I was rude and out of order, there was a better way at handling the situation.  You could have said it quietly and differently.  But the damage is done."

He repeats, "What can I do?"  I say, "There's nothing you can do when you say shit.  Shit.  Do you know what happens when you drop shit?  It sticks.  And when you want to clean it, what happens to it?  It smears."  He immediately says, "Can I wash it?"  I scream, "No.  I'm not that easy."

The walk from the restaurant to the car couldn't be any longer.  I was tired, hurt and so sad for myself.  Jon continued to try and apologize, but I wouldn't respond.  The more I ignored him, the more he would miss the uneven pavement and trip.  He did it several times.

We finally get to the car and drive away.  My ankles were aching, my blood was pumping and my bladder could not have been more ready to burst.  I was so sad for myself.  It was such a bitter ending that could have been avoided.  "I'm the son of military parents," he told me a few days earlier.  And my kindness was drilled and wrecked altogether.

As soon as we got home, I grab my laptop and unlock the password and say, "It's yours to use.  Maybe you can try to reconnect with your cousin one last time."

I finish using the bathroom, put on my shorts and sit down on the floor.  I start using my phone to check emails and begin texting my friend about my night.  She lives in Washington DC, knowing that her not responding meant she was asleep.  Then suddenly, I look up to Jon speaking; "I hope we can still go for some gelato tomorrow."  I keep my eyes staring at his and say, "Unfortunately, that will not be possible.  I do not want to be in-genuine..." Then he interrupts, "Forced."  I said, "Yes."  He replies, "I understand."  In turn I suggest, "Maybe you can have gelato with your cousin after dinner.  Tonight is the last night."

It was 9:15 PM and he is already passed out.  I stay up until 9:45 PM massaging my ankles and thinking about the mess that I made for myself.  Five days and four nights of shelter, care and worry.  Five days and four nights of sightseeing with a stranger I may never see again.  And one abrupt outburst that ruined everything that could have been.

I went to bed shortly before 10, dying for some rest.  I woke up at 4 AM and look at Jon sleeping, a part of me that saw the vulnerable side while another urging me to drag him out of my apartment.  I went back to bed and wake up at 6:30, as usual.  No breakfast, no packed lunch, nor did I even care to wash my face.  I just wanted to leave.  And I left looking exactly as I did the night before, except with khakis and a black sweater jacket this time.

I got to work shortly before 7:30 AM, thinking to myself, "What is he thinking about?  Does he have a conscious?  Is he on the computer watching prank shows again?  What is he doing?"

At 8:44 AM, I get a message from him that said, "Hey, wow you really called that one," referring to a statement I made the day before about an article he had sent me.  I wasn't sure whether that was a way to finesse the night before or to simply put an end to the awkwardness, or both.  I replied at 11:44; "Today, if your cousin does not get back to you, the most I will do is take you to the metro station.  It's a short drive, compared to walking with luggage.  And from there, you can take the metro to LAX.  Enjoy your afternoon and do whatever else you wanted to do before you go."  Jon's response came shortly after, "Ok, then I guess that is how it is.  Once again, I'm sorry it had to end this way, but I still appreciate what you have done highly.  And hopefully we'll get back to good terms one day.  Thank you for giving me a ride to the metro, I guess you need the space, so you can just drive me there when you get home.  And then I'll settle in on a Holiday Inn near LAX, and use their wifi to stay in touch with my cousin, not that I have high hopes of her actually going to meet me."

I choose not to respond, but do not choose to be preoccupied with the thought of taking him to the metro.  I hoped and prayed that he would surprise me and be gone by the time I got home.  I was waiting for a message that said, "I'm leaving, your key is under the mat."

It finally came time to go home.  I wanted to forgive him and let him stay one more night, but I couldn't allow myself to.  I walk into my apartment without knocking and say, "Hey."  There he was, packed, ready and dressed.  He was ready to go, but I wasn't ready to take him.  My heart began to ache when I said, "I will put one load in the laundry and then I'll take you."  He replied, "Sure, no problem."

As soon as I come back from the laundry room, he points to my bed and says, "I got you something."  It was a wooden cutting board, knowing that I didn't like to cook, but wanted to try someday.  That is when I made a loud swallowing noise and said, "Thank you.  I really appreciate it."  As much as my heart went out to the gesture, my mind drove me to hurry up and take him him to the metro as soon as possible.  I told him, "I'm ready."

He put his boot-camp-like duffle bag on his back and walked in front of me towards the car.  I look at him as a part of me was dying inside.  Dying to offer him one more night, dying to offer him the best gelato in LA, dying to say, "I'm sorry."  I let my mind do the driving instead.

In 10 minutes, we get to the metro, as he precisely tells me where to drop him off.  He offers a hug, and I immediately had it planned to lend out my hand instead.  Then he says, "Or at least a handshake."  He gets out of the car and into the backseat for his luggage and his final words were, "Thank you for everything.  If I get the chef job in Atlanta, I will write to you.  But you are more than welcome to respond or not respond."  I say, "I wish you the best of luck.  Be safe."

I sit in the car, watching him like a mother watches her child enter school.  I then see him from a distance stop a lady in uniform, in what I assumed was done to ask for directions.  That is when water and skin collided.

I drove back heartbroken.  Cold, lonely, angry, remorseful, forgiving, sad, betrayed, mistaken.  There was no turning back.  There was no chance to offer the best gelato in LA.

I wrote to him:  "I hope you are safe...Please forgive me for not allowing you to have the best gelato in LA, as the attempt would have been in-genuine.  With or without me, I hope you get to taste it and fulfill the last wish you had in LA."

He replied: "Yes thank you.  Just checked in at the Motel 6 near LAX.  Don't worry friend.  I won't let ice cream ruin a trip.  I didn't know about it before I came, nothing lost = nothing gained.  It's not my last chance, since it's the best, I bet it'll stay for a long time."

The Man

I watched an elderly Palestinian man stand in front of Israeli soldiers telling them not to shoot at the children.  He didn't hit and nor did they do anything to hurt him.  But soon after his confrontation, the sound of a grenade went out from the back and the man fell to the ground.  At first I thought he was shot, but then it was reported that he fainted from tear gas.  None of the six soldiers in front of him moved an inch to check on him.  I don't care what happened after that news reportage, because human instinct was not conveyed at the proper time.  Human failure.    

Thirteen years ago, while in college, my Jewish professor told the class, "How far could the Palestinians get or what can they achieve if they did what Martin Luther King did?"

It's 2015, and this elderly man and others are trying to follow the peaceful path of protest.  What do you do when a nation has gone mad?  What is the solution for a region where the hateful waters run deep?  These are not rhetorical questions, as much as they are real questions I am asking anyone who might know the answers to.

There is only so much that the heart can handle and the eye can see.

#Israel #Palestine #peaceful #protest #theman

Cecil the lion.

The years of exploiting and colonizing Africa is what ultimately (directly or indirectly) caused Cecil the lion to die. If Africans were able to keep the treasures and natural resources of their countries throughout the centuries, they would be in better standing today. They would treasure their animals better and have policies against such cruelty. It wouldn't be a perfect place, but it wouldn't be this bad and have people at the dire mercy of any business that comes their way for survival.  It's a catch 22.  

Thanksgiving Pain

I am so thankful to have had the opportunity to volunteer at the LGBT center today.

Upon getting invited to dinner a few weeks ago for Thanksgiving, I get an email notification from the LGBT Center about joining their dinner.  They were being responsible for the main course, but encouraged donations of side dishes, desserts or just helping hands.

I sat back and over thought (as I do with almost everything) the entire invitation.  I began to think, how hurtful it must be to feel blatantly ostracized or uninvited on a day that even your most liberal and fun-loving friends have a house or home to go to.  You are limited as to where you go, when almost every restaurant, cafe and club is closed.  What do you do?

So for me, dinner at the center meant so much more than just having a place to enjoy a meal.  It surpassed that.  It became a home for the uninvited, a refuge for the secluded, a place for the ostracized and protection for the vulnerable.  It had very little to do with the food for me.  So little had to do with the food, that I paid more attention to the conversations around me than I did with what was on my plate.

Every person at the center was asked to stand up, say their name and mention one thing that no one there would know about them just from the way they looked.  The stories astounded me: a Vietnam War Veteran discharged for being a Lesbian, the first Gay man in the state to go through adoption, an up and coming entrepreneur, and the list went on and on and on.  I kept listening and smiling, devouring these stories as my thanksgiving dinner.

I do not live in a utopia and don't think there will be such a thing after my lifetime.  But we can only hope and dream that we can strive to be the closest to it in the here and now.  As celebratory as today was, I felt the pain or as we say in Arabic, "El Ghasa."  The knotted pain you feel in the heart of your stomach.

Even though today was in some ways as bitter as the cold outside, it was also just as sweet as the sweet potato pie.  And I hope that the same people who attended today will experience nothing but sweetness this holiday and everyday.

Rules and punishment.

The hospitality industry.  A place that was not my place for me today.

A guy comes over to me and says, "Can I get that booth?" referring to the one in the lounge area that has a sign which says, "Please see front desk for seating."

In the kindest way, I tell him, "No problem.  Let me go see if it's clean first."  He says, "Ok."  I go over to the booth and notice that it was still dirty.  I go back to him and say, "Sir, it needs to be cleaned off.  I'll clean it off for you, just give me a few minutes."  He says, "Ok, sure."  The lack of gratitude did not infuriate me as much as what would come minutes later.

I begin removing the cocktail glasses from the booth and take the first load to the service bar.  Then I come back to the same man and a woman sliding right into the booth.  I immediately say, "Oh sir, please wait a second.  It's still dirty,"  which by the way, still had glasses on it.  In the biggest douche-iest tone, the man says, "That's okay, we won't touch the table."  I said, "Ok."  He says, "Just clean it like that."  I say, "Mm, okay."  Over my dead body, I thought.

Luckily, the cocktail server (a few feet away from me), spills water all over the ground.  I chose to offer all of my undivided attention and energy to help the cocktail server instead.  I go get the mop, bucket, etc. and begin to clean away.  Less than two minutes later I hear a voice say, "Hey."  I never look up, knowing that I recognize that same douche-bag voice from earlier.  Then I hear, "Hey, hello."  I don't answer.  Then I look up when I felt like it and looked him in the face.  He says with vigor and anger, "Did I happen to confuse you?"  I replied with twice the vigor, "Sir, I'm not here to be disrespected.  I kindly asked you to give me a few minutes.  Instead, you slid right into a dirty table and you're asking me to clean it?  I don't have time for you."  And that was it.  I was done.  I then look at the voiceless woman next to him, and not one word came out of her mouth.  Motionless and emotionless.  Of course; probably at the mercy of someone who is paying for her meal.

I get no back up and choose to get on my merry way and talk to a manager ASAP.  I gave the full story and within minutes, the same man asks to speak to a manager.  I was told that he said, "He (referring to me) must be having a bad day."  When in reality it was finer than wine, until he came in.  Neither here nor there, the manager gets them all a free round of drinks.   I felt defeated and never let it go for the rest of the night.  Hell, it's 12:41 am and not until now am I writing about it.

What did I expect?  I honestly don't know.  What did I expect out of this situation?  Did I want him to magically leave or did I want my manager NOT to apologize to him for the experience he had?  What experience?  The "I'm sorry you had to be nasty and have an affinity towards a crumby and trashy table and not wait for it to be cleaned in an orderly manner and still ask for it to be cleaned after you sat in it experience?"  I wasn't winning and don't think I ever will with these kind of people.  A behavior that makes you believe in rules and punishment.  A people that make you believe they were indeed intended to be pinned down and in many ways controlled.  Even with rules and punishment, will it ever be enough to control the out of control?  If the answer is "Yes," then the tame behavior is fabricated.  If the answer is "No," then the behavior is animalistic, thus making very little to no room for you in mainstream society.  Aha.  And I guess the same goes for power hungry politicians, unethical business people and so on and so forth.  Animals were forever believed to be irrational, while humans were supposed to be the rational ones; the logical ones.  The ones who knew the difference between right and wrong.  Contrary to that believe, I think humans are in need of circus training, while wild animals should be taken out of their habitat and welcomed into the human society.  If not to coexist, maybe to teach that there is a balance and a cycle to life.  Humans have lost that very cycle and balance.  No order, no shame.  And we are where we are.


#restaurant #hospitality #industry #servers #server #host #hostess #animals #animalistic #control #controlled #rules #punishment #service #apology #free

The siege in Gaza: before Hamas came into existence.

The siege in Gaza started in 1991, way before Hamas came to existence. http://972mag.com/the-blockade-on-gaza-began-long.../17491/. 

It was the slow creeping into Gaza and continued restrictions on its people that made its people go mad. Any logical, educated or sophisticated person would not support a terrorist group, but you breed terrorists wherever you go. It's no different than families in the United States who seek revenge after an unjust verdict. They are technically taking matters or "the law" into their own hands. I don't agree, but I understand. There's a difference. So as long as there is denial, lack of accountability from both sides and the Nationalistic support even when your government is in the "wrong," then there will NEVER be a cloud of peace setting in the region. And so it is difficult and a challenge when the people of Israel, Saudi Arabia or any other country to speak up when you are given scholarships, many of them free housing, monthly stipends and the right of return. It's basically a nice way of saying, "Here, take all this. Just shut up." Once again, until you can call out your own people and side with what is good on the humanistic and moral level, then there will never be peace. If you can no longer decipher what is good and bad, then that is unfortunate.

#hamas #gaza #israel 

In response: "If you're anti-Israel, then you're anti-America."

In response to "If you're anti-Israel, then you're anti-America."  

Just like if you're "pro-choice," then you are a murderer? Just because you are against a country's government, does not mean you hate the people. Just because you are from a certain place, does not mean you support it in right AND wrong. Watching over and doing nothing is just as bad as the person doing the wrongdoing. The majority of the people who share this slogan you have posted above do it out of fear to keep their presence in the media. The Jewish community in the United States are strong and have proven to have long-standing history in the media. However, some stand up for what is right, when they know something is wrong. As for being the only democracy there, that is rubbish talk. When a government hands you money and a house, in place of someone else's forced eviction, of course you will support your country. But that is not a democracy my friend. That is called a "gagging government." Just like Saudi Arabia. You feed, supply and spoil your people, with the exchange of NOT having a real say in the political turmoil in the region. In layman's terms, "I'll feed you and house you, but shut up." And that is the majority of the world, including Israel.


#government #disservice #injustice #lookingforjustice #doublestandard #gaza #palestine #israel #humanity.