I could get into a lot of trouble for this with friends and family, but that’s a risk I’ll just have to take.
Since I bought my new/used laptop last month, I try to spend more of my evening computer time using it while sitting in the living room. It helps me not cut myself off from family time while getting done the things that I need to get done (as well as my “vegg-out time” on Facebook, or playing games, etc.). Inevitably, this keeps me sitting in the living room long after Sharon has fallen asleep but the TV is still on and all too often, the show that comes on is “The Bachelor”.
I know – I should get up off my lazy behind and turn the TV off, but once I’m sitting and doing my thing on the computer (like this very moment; for example), I simply can’t be bothered with such tasks. So “The Bachelor” keeps playing in the background.
Most of you probably at least know this show, if not actually watch it. A flock of very young, very attractive women compete against one another to win the undying love and affection, and of course, Wedding Ring, from a young, eligible bachelor who just happens to have the very rare and fortunate combination of being more ridiculously wealthy than any one guy deserves to be plus looking like he just finished a photo shoot for GQ magazine.
As a general rule, I am offended by the existence of these so-called “reality shows” (although I admit that I did enjoy the one season of “The Biggest Loser” that aired in Israel, but that was different). I hate the hype of these shows; I hate the premise of these shows. Basically (in case you haven’t figured it out yet) I pretty much hate everything about these shows.
But “The Bachelor” especially bothers me.
While I’m sitting at the computer doing whatever it is that I feel I need to do, I get to hear a lot of the interviews on this show. The women keep talking about how “they really are falling in love with” the Bachelor who, at the end of each episode decides which ones are worthy to continue vying for his money – OOOOPS! I mean – his love and affection.
I would love to meet each of these woman – one at a time, look them each deeply in the eyes, gently put my hands on the shoulders, and the shake the stuffing out of them while asking “What the hell is wrong with you, you stupid bitch???”
I mean – seriously! You’ve been cooped with other Playmate dropouts waiting for your chance to have a date with this guy, you finally get that one date – a nice quiet romantic whatever-the-hell you did, complete with cameramen, soundmen, director, best boy, dolly grip and whoever else, then you talk about it as if this was the “real thing”??? You really connected with him so well that you’re ready to throw all caution to the wind and marry him if he’s only smart enough and perceptive enough to pop the question to you?
Tell me the truth, you silly woman – if he wasn’t as rich as a medium-sized country, or if he looked more like a John Q. Public – would that date have still been as “magical”? Would the spark be there and would you really be able to envision marrying this guy. Would he really be the one that, as Rita Rudner quipped “you can picture your kids spending their weekends with”?
The only thing that puzzles me more than the ludicrous nature of these shows and of the people appearing in them is their popularity among the general public. Shows like “The Bachelor” (that’s only one example – there are a plethora of others equally annoying) are being made, re-made, copied, in countries all around the world. The American versions are also carried and watched throughout the world. And people really get into them!
Fans honestly discuss – on Facebook, or over lunch, or wherever – who they think will be or should be voted off of these shows. They dissect the pros and cons of each “contestant” and analyze who they think is the “right” person to be chosen.
I especially don’t get how these shows are being passed off as “reality” when I don’t believe that in any way, shape or form they reflect real life. And why are people so into them?
Is real life so drab and colorless that we need shows like these in order to live vicariously through the lives of people that, in all honesty, have little if anything in common with us?
If these shows were marketed as dramas (or perhaps comedies would be more appropriate) then I would probably be less irritated by them, and unquestionably less offended.
If they were marketed as “entertainment” rather than “reality”, then it would be easier for me to say “Feh!” and ignore them.
Then it would be easier to be amused – by how silly the shows are and by how people are so enthralled by them. It would be similar to teasing those who “can’t live” without their soap operas, and similar to the way friends (and my wife) used to tease me for enjoying professional wrestling.
Or maybe all of the people that watch and enjoy these shows have it right and I’m the one missing something.
Perhaps what really bothers me about these shows is that I’ve become so jaded that I can’t even pretend that they do represent some kind of “reality“ that I could imagine myself ever living.
If that’s the case, maybe I should go back to watching professional wrestling…?
Thursday, January 20, 2011
Wednesday, January 5, 2011
H*ckl*b*rry F*nn - Are you kidding me?
How far is going too far with even the best of intentions?
Apparently a revised edition of Mark Twain’s "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” are going to be published soon, “updated” to be timely with the 21st century. These modernized versions are meant to bring the 21st century ideas of “politically correct” to the 19th century, and will be using the word “slave” throughout the book in place of the word “nigger” (yes, I know – I’ve just committed a cardinal sin by even using the word in any context – I’m supposed to say “the n- word”, but I confess, for all that I agree with and support “Politically Correct” there are some measures which strike me a silly and pointless).
These editions will also replace the term "injun" with "Indian Joe" (I don’t get why not "Native American Joe", but what do I know anyway?).
Now, don't get me wrong – I am all for Political Correctness, and I agree that there are words that are offensive words – but here's the rub - when in a particular context.
It seems to me, being the layman that I am, that a huge part of studying classic literature is to understand it within the context of when and where it was written. "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” were written in 1876 and 1884 respectively, and both stories take place in the pre-Civil War period. The books reflect the language of the period – both when the books were written and when the stories took place.
What's more, it is very clear from the books that Mark Twain is speaking out (very forcefully) against racism, segregation and hatred. To whitewash the language used in the books and reflected the period of US history (no pun intended, well not too much, anyway) is taking away from realism of the novels.
As an avid reader, I can tell you that a huge part of my ability to "get into" a book is to feel that I am there – in the story, watching it all happen from the very front row. I cannot read a 19th century book and feel that I am witnessing the story first-hand if the language used is catered to 21st century sensitivities. It simply wouldn't work – it would feel fake.
But I think the issue goes deeper than the use of the words in the book.
It seems to me that people by and large get so caught up in the word itself that they have lost perspective in the use of language.
I mentioned in this blog a couple of months ago my earliest lesson in life about using racist words (the lesson taught me not to use slurs, not how to use them). Nevertheless, I think that there is a huge difference in using a word as a slur – and using the word in a conversation or discussion about the word itself.
A few months ago there was a huge uproar over Dr. Laura Schlesinger's radio show when she used the word repeatedly. Now, I have never liked Dr. Laura, and with all that I know of her, hear and see about her, I have never had any desire to hear her show, nor did her resignation particularly bother me.
But I was surprised at what I read about the whole incident. Every article and opinion piece that I saw talked about how horrible it was that she "used the n-word", and they even counted how many times she used it. Then I read the transcript of the broadcast – at no time did she use the word as a way of referring to blacks. That is to say, at no time did she refer to blacks as "niggers". She didn't.
Much of what she said was racist and completely unacceptable and an outrage was very much in line as was her resignation. But the outrage should have been over what she did wrong – and I don't believe that using the word "nigger" in the context that she used it was what she did that was so wrong.
But this seems typical of how society is trying to over-compensate for its racist past. We can't even talk about a word that is such a horrible racist slur without using a code for it. I'm sorry but that seems to me somewhat ridiculous.
If I talk about the anti-Semitism which I have faced in my life, I don't say that somebody called me "the k-word". No – I'll say they called me a kike. And if the newspapers report an incident where the word "kike" is written all over the walls of a synagogue, they'll report the word that was used – they don't pussyfoot around it giving it some kind of code name.
Lenny Bruce had an absolutely brilliant comic routine (I assume that this was an actual routine of his – I saw it in the 1974 bio-pic "Lenny" starring Dustin Hoffman). In it, he starts "counting" how many "niggers" he sees in the room, followed by the kikes, wops, greaseballs, spics and guineas – he even turns it into an "auction" keeping track of many of each he's tallied.
He goes on say that the point he was making is that "it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness."
He finishes it up by saying that if President Kennedy were to go on national TV and say the word "nigger" over and over until it didn't mean anything anymore, "then you'd never be able to make a black kid cry because somebody called him a nigger in school".
Maybe this is completely non-PC of me and I mightmaybe I'll have to follow Dr. Laura on the road to resignation, but I think Lenny hit the nail on the head. We need to focus on truly eradicating the real racism and the hate that is still far too prevalent in the world today, and not waste our energies in pretending the words themselves never existed.
Doing that with "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” isn't censorship, it's revisionism.
Apparently a revised edition of Mark Twain’s "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” are going to be published soon, “updated” to be timely with the 21st century. These modernized versions are meant to bring the 21st century ideas of “politically correct” to the 19th century, and will be using the word “slave” throughout the book in place of the word “nigger” (yes, I know – I’ve just committed a cardinal sin by even using the word in any context – I’m supposed to say “the n- word”, but I confess, for all that I agree with and support “Politically Correct” there are some measures which strike me a silly and pointless).
These editions will also replace the term "injun" with "Indian Joe" (I don’t get why not "Native American Joe", but what do I know anyway?).
Now, don't get me wrong – I am all for Political Correctness, and I agree that there are words that are offensive words – but here's the rub - when in a particular context.
It seems to me, being the layman that I am, that a huge part of studying classic literature is to understand it within the context of when and where it was written. "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” were written in 1876 and 1884 respectively, and both stories take place in the pre-Civil War period. The books reflect the language of the period – both when the books were written and when the stories took place.
What's more, it is very clear from the books that Mark Twain is speaking out (very forcefully) against racism, segregation and hatred. To whitewash the language used in the books and reflected the period of US history (no pun intended, well not too much, anyway) is taking away from realism of the novels.
As an avid reader, I can tell you that a huge part of my ability to "get into" a book is to feel that I am there – in the story, watching it all happen from the very front row. I cannot read a 19th century book and feel that I am witnessing the story first-hand if the language used is catered to 21st century sensitivities. It simply wouldn't work – it would feel fake.
But I think the issue goes deeper than the use of the words in the book.
It seems to me that people by and large get so caught up in the word itself that they have lost perspective in the use of language.
I mentioned in this blog a couple of months ago my earliest lesson in life about using racist words (the lesson taught me not to use slurs, not how to use them). Nevertheless, I think that there is a huge difference in using a word as a slur – and using the word in a conversation or discussion about the word itself.
A few months ago there was a huge uproar over Dr. Laura Schlesinger's radio show when she used the word repeatedly. Now, I have never liked Dr. Laura, and with all that I know of her, hear and see about her, I have never had any desire to hear her show, nor did her resignation particularly bother me.
But I was surprised at what I read about the whole incident. Every article and opinion piece that I saw talked about how horrible it was that she "used the n-word", and they even counted how many times she used it. Then I read the transcript of the broadcast – at no time did she use the word as a way of referring to blacks. That is to say, at no time did she refer to blacks as "niggers". She didn't.
Much of what she said was racist and completely unacceptable and an outrage was very much in line as was her resignation. But the outrage should have been over what she did wrong – and I don't believe that using the word "nigger" in the context that she used it was what she did that was so wrong.
But this seems typical of how society is trying to over-compensate for its racist past. We can't even talk about a word that is such a horrible racist slur without using a code for it. I'm sorry but that seems to me somewhat ridiculous.
If I talk about the anti-Semitism which I have faced in my life, I don't say that somebody called me "the k-word". No – I'll say they called me a kike. And if the newspapers report an incident where the word "kike" is written all over the walls of a synagogue, they'll report the word that was used – they don't pussyfoot around it giving it some kind of code name.
Lenny Bruce had an absolutely brilliant comic routine (I assume that this was an actual routine of his – I saw it in the 1974 bio-pic "Lenny" starring Dustin Hoffman). In it, he starts "counting" how many "niggers" he sees in the room, followed by the kikes, wops, greaseballs, spics and guineas – he even turns it into an "auction" keeping track of many of each he's tallied.
He goes on say that the point he was making is that "it's the suppression of the word that gives it the power, the violence, the viciousness."
He finishes it up by saying that if President Kennedy were to go on national TV and say the word "nigger" over and over until it didn't mean anything anymore, "then you'd never be able to make a black kid cry because somebody called him a nigger in school".
Maybe this is completely non-PC of me and I mightmaybe I'll have to follow Dr. Laura on the road to resignation, but I think Lenny hit the nail on the head. We need to focus on truly eradicating the real racism and the hate that is still far too prevalent in the world today, and not waste our energies in pretending the words themselves never existed.
Doing that with "Tom Sawyer" and “Huckleberry Finn” isn't censorship, it's revisionism.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Another year, another wish
A friend of mine, an English teacher here in Modi’in, posted a very amusing, and very interesting status update the other day on Facebook. She wrote that she had confused a lot of her students when she told them that she “would see them next year....and that she wasn't coming back until next year”. Neither this friend nor the students at the school where she teaches are religiously observant, and she was amazed at how insignificant the secular, or more accurately Gregorian New Year is in Israeli culture.
This concept fascinates me. While there are the standard New Years parties in some of Israel, it really isn’t such a big deal as it always has been in America.
Interesting side note – in Israel, New Years is called Sylvester – ironically named for an extremely anti-Semitic pope and subsequent saint who lived and reigned in the 4th century CE.
I was never so into New Years, even when I lived in the States. I go to the parties, sometimes, because any excuse for a party was good enough for me. But essentially it didn’t really matter to me so much – other than having to remember what year to write on the dates of checks, papers, etc. Other than that, nothing….
But growing up in America, New Years was a big deal. The sales, the New Years Resolutions, the “year in review”, and so on and so forth.
And even though it never really “grabbed” me so much, I do like the idea of taking stock of the past year while looking ahead to the coming one. Yes, that is a big part of what we do during Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year), but living in the “modern” world we do relate to the Gregorian dates, and we do remember things that happened according to the non-Jewish years, so I guess it makes sense to take stock of this kind of year as well.
I started 2010 looking for work – just like I’m ending it. In between I worked for nearly 11 months at a company which had a lot of good things to it and I gained a lot from it, but I wasn’t a bad thing that it came to an end, and as I mentioned in this blog, I have a lot of high hopes for new things to come up very soon.
This year saw my kids grow tremendously – they are at the ages when a year makes a world of difference. Our older daughter, Revital, has been having the best year socially since she started grade school, and we have gotten to see her blossom, and Limor, our 6-year old is developing by leaps and bounds and is every day developing into such a special little girl.
There is a lot that I hope to be able to say by the end of 2011 – I hope that I have a better control over my temper, which sometimes gets the best of me (I’ve been working on that a lot, and plan to continue). I hope to finally get myself both serious and consistent about losing weight.
Obviously, I would love for 2011 to be the year that I can turn my recently-found passion for writing into a full-time endeavor - whether in the professional realm of work, or with the blogging, or whatever. The more I write the more I find that I need to write.
My hope for myself, my family, my friends, and everybody is that 2011 is able to be a year of continued growth, loving, learning, and living life to the fullest. May we all be able to look back on 2010 with warm memories and smiles, and look ahead to the future for even better.
Happy New Year, everybody!
This concept fascinates me. While there are the standard New Years parties in some of Israel, it really isn’t such a big deal as it always has been in America.
Interesting side note – in Israel, New Years is called Sylvester – ironically named for an extremely anti-Semitic pope and subsequent saint who lived and reigned in the 4th century CE.
I was never so into New Years, even when I lived in the States. I go to the parties, sometimes, because any excuse for a party was good enough for me. But essentially it didn’t really matter to me so much – other than having to remember what year to write on the dates of checks, papers, etc. Other than that, nothing….
But growing up in America, New Years was a big deal. The sales, the New Years Resolutions, the “year in review”, and so on and so forth.
And even though it never really “grabbed” me so much, I do like the idea of taking stock of the past year while looking ahead to the coming one. Yes, that is a big part of what we do during Rosh Hashana (the Jewish New Year), but living in the “modern” world we do relate to the Gregorian dates, and we do remember things that happened according to the non-Jewish years, so I guess it makes sense to take stock of this kind of year as well.
I started 2010 looking for work – just like I’m ending it. In between I worked for nearly 11 months at a company which had a lot of good things to it and I gained a lot from it, but I wasn’t a bad thing that it came to an end, and as I mentioned in this blog, I have a lot of high hopes for new things to come up very soon.
This year saw my kids grow tremendously – they are at the ages when a year makes a world of difference. Our older daughter, Revital, has been having the best year socially since she started grade school, and we have gotten to see her blossom, and Limor, our 6-year old is developing by leaps and bounds and is every day developing into such a special little girl.
There is a lot that I hope to be able to say by the end of 2011 – I hope that I have a better control over my temper, which sometimes gets the best of me (I’ve been working on that a lot, and plan to continue). I hope to finally get myself both serious and consistent about losing weight.
Obviously, I would love for 2011 to be the year that I can turn my recently-found passion for writing into a full-time endeavor - whether in the professional realm of work, or with the blogging, or whatever. The more I write the more I find that I need to write.
My hope for myself, my family, my friends, and everybody is that 2011 is able to be a year of continued growth, loving, learning, and living life to the fullest. May we all be able to look back on 2010 with warm memories and smiles, and look ahead to the future for even better.
Happy New Year, everybody!
Sunday, December 26, 2010
Doors close and doors open
As of a couple of weeks ago, I have been unemployed.
It wasn’t really much of a surprise. For a while I hadn’t really been happy at the job, and I knew that the new manager wasn’t so happy with me either. I had actually been planning to quit within a few days, but essentially they beat me to the punch.
I would have preferred it be on my terms rather than theirs, but that’s probably more an ego thing than anything else.
The big disappointment actually came a few days after I left the job. I had been in negotiations for another job for quite a while - one which I believe was “custom-made” for me, and when I had the third meeting with the CEO (one day before I was let go from my job), he told me that this was moving forward and he really believed that “it was going to happen”. So I was fairly confident that things were on their way to working out.
Until the following week when the HR person called to tell me that the CEO had decided to re-evaluate the position and what exactly he expected from it. This, after several months of meetings, phone calls, and high hopes.
So I’m back on the proverbial market, and the truth is that I am pretty optimistic. There are a few tourism-related positions which I have seen advertised and to whom I have sent my CV. I have also sent my details to a number of positions which I have seen which would (if I’m hired) allow me to turn my newly-found love of writing into a full-time career.
I have also been toying with the idea of going freelance – writing, translating, and the like. I have a few ideas for freelance niches where it seems there is a need, and I believe that I would be able to meet that need pretty well.
I am especially attracted to the flexibility that freelancing would allow me and the time that I would be able to have with the kids.
To that end, I bought a used laptop computer last week (this is the first blog – or anything else for that matter, which I have written using the new/used computer). It’s my first laptop, so I’m still in the “learning what the hell I’m doing” phase with it. It’s not a great computer, but it was very inexpensive (a couple of people who know about these things better than I do agreed that the price was very reasonable), but it should be good enough to get me started. I am hoping that if I can get myself up and running as an independent this will make a big difference.
Of course, any leads from friends will be greatly appreciated, but all in all, while one chapter of my life has come to a close, I have a feeling that a lot of options and a lot of opportunities are right around the proverbial corner. Hope is springing eternal, and I look forward to sharing good news with you all very soon.
It wasn’t really much of a surprise. For a while I hadn’t really been happy at the job, and I knew that the new manager wasn’t so happy with me either. I had actually been planning to quit within a few days, but essentially they beat me to the punch.
I would have preferred it be on my terms rather than theirs, but that’s probably more an ego thing than anything else.
The big disappointment actually came a few days after I left the job. I had been in negotiations for another job for quite a while - one which I believe was “custom-made” for me, and when I had the third meeting with the CEO (one day before I was let go from my job), he told me that this was moving forward and he really believed that “it was going to happen”. So I was fairly confident that things were on their way to working out.
Until the following week when the HR person called to tell me that the CEO had decided to re-evaluate the position and what exactly he expected from it. This, after several months of meetings, phone calls, and high hopes.
So I’m back on the proverbial market, and the truth is that I am pretty optimistic. There are a few tourism-related positions which I have seen advertised and to whom I have sent my CV. I have also sent my details to a number of positions which I have seen which would (if I’m hired) allow me to turn my newly-found love of writing into a full-time career.
I have also been toying with the idea of going freelance – writing, translating, and the like. I have a few ideas for freelance niches where it seems there is a need, and I believe that I would be able to meet that need pretty well.
I am especially attracted to the flexibility that freelancing would allow me and the time that I would be able to have with the kids.
To that end, I bought a used laptop computer last week (this is the first blog – or anything else for that matter, which I have written using the new/used computer). It’s my first laptop, so I’m still in the “learning what the hell I’m doing” phase with it. It’s not a great computer, but it was very inexpensive (a couple of people who know about these things better than I do agreed that the price was very reasonable), but it should be good enough to get me started. I am hoping that if I can get myself up and running as an independent this will make a big difference.
Of course, any leads from friends will be greatly appreciated, but all in all, while one chapter of my life has come to a close, I have a feeling that a lot of options and a lot of opportunities are right around the proverbial corner. Hope is springing eternal, and I look forward to sharing good news with you all very soon.
Monday, December 6, 2010
The day the train was late
My train was delayed the other day. By a little over an hour.
That's always a pain in the ass, and usually a good excuse for me to get upset at IsraelRail, or anyone else that I can blame for disrupting my day so inconsiderately.
But then they made the announcement explaining the delay and apologizing for it, and I found that I really couldn't stay angry or point a finger of blame anymore.
It turns out that somebody committed suicide at the station in Herzliya, about 4 stations before mine in Tel Aviv, and that was delaying north- and south-bound trains while the authorities were dealing with what needed to be dealt with.
A couple of people who were also waiting were half-joking with each other about how inconsiderate it was (and a couple of others made a comment to that effect on my Facebook page when I posted the status update about what had happened). They asked "why did he have to do it in a way that's such an inconvenience to others" If you want to kill yourself, do it quietly – at home, out of everyone's way…"
I couldn't bring myself to say that – or to even think it. Instead, I tried to understand what would make a person kill themselves in that public a manner.
Now, of course, I'm not a psychologist (and I don't even play one on TV). I took a couple of psych classes a lifetime and a half ago at the University of Maryland, and the most I got out of that was learning all about Classical Conditioning / Pavlov's Dog.
So, although I am far from being an expert on the human mind, like many people, I do make a regular practice at trying to understand people – in my own non-professional, non-expert fashion.
So I couldn't help trying to figure out this suicide at a train station which threw the schedule of hundreds, in not thousands of people out of whack.
I've heard it said (as most likely we all have) that a suicide attempt is a cry for attention and for help. If that's the case, then I would imagine that the person attempting suicide does not to succeed, only to send out the message.
So what does that say about somebody who does do it to succeed? Especially in such a public manner that affects so many others who didn't even know the person?
The only thing that I can think of (and again, I cannot emphasize enough that this these are the thoughts of an un-trained layman – anybody with other insights to the question and ,ore experience than I have are more than welcome to share their thoughts), is that the person is going out with a message to the world.
Rather than the message of the failed attempts of "help me!" this message is more along the lines that "Not only do I have nothing to live for, but in my life I saw myself as a nobody – because I went un-noticed by the world. Maybe I won't be missed after I'm gone, but at least for this one brief hour or two, I will be noticed. I will have an effect on other people's lives".
Not only am I not a trained psychologist with no "real" experience upon which to base this assumption, but I also do not pretend to be a mind reader, and I don't really presume to understand what goes inside somebody else's head. The best I can do is to try to imagine myself in that situation and to guess what would drive me to such an act.
Unfortunately, since the person who did it last week is now dead, there is no way that we can ever truly know what he was thinking, why he chose to end his life or why he chose to do so in the way that he did.
All we can do is to try to be more sensitive to those around us and more aware of their calls for help – whether they call be more obvious or more oblique and implicative.
We can ensure that those in our lives always do mean something to us – always can affect us – hopefully for better rather than worse. In doing so, we can not only help prevent people feeling the need to be noticed at all costs, but we can also make it so that the same people haven't given up on life to begin with, or on their role within that life.
Rather than getting home that day at 2:00 in the afternoon, I got home around 3:15. It really was a pain in the ass, but in the big picture it was nothing compared to a person who felt that his life was so irrelevant, or helpless or anonymous that suicide was his only way out.
I'm happy to give up an hour and a half of my time any day of the week to be reminded how much I love living and that I actually do matter to some people. I wouldn't trade that for anything.
That's always a pain in the ass, and usually a good excuse for me to get upset at IsraelRail, or anyone else that I can blame for disrupting my day so inconsiderately.
But then they made the announcement explaining the delay and apologizing for it, and I found that I really couldn't stay angry or point a finger of blame anymore.
It turns out that somebody committed suicide at the station in Herzliya, about 4 stations before mine in Tel Aviv, and that was delaying north- and south-bound trains while the authorities were dealing with what needed to be dealt with.
A couple of people who were also waiting were half-joking with each other about how inconsiderate it was (and a couple of others made a comment to that effect on my Facebook page when I posted the status update about what had happened). They asked "why did he have to do it in a way that's such an inconvenience to others" If you want to kill yourself, do it quietly – at home, out of everyone's way…"
I couldn't bring myself to say that – or to even think it. Instead, I tried to understand what would make a person kill themselves in that public a manner.
Now, of course, I'm not a psychologist (and I don't even play one on TV). I took a couple of psych classes a lifetime and a half ago at the University of Maryland, and the most I got out of that was learning all about Classical Conditioning / Pavlov's Dog.
So, although I am far from being an expert on the human mind, like many people, I do make a regular practice at trying to understand people – in my own non-professional, non-expert fashion.
So I couldn't help trying to figure out this suicide at a train station which threw the schedule of hundreds, in not thousands of people out of whack.
I've heard it said (as most likely we all have) that a suicide attempt is a cry for attention and for help. If that's the case, then I would imagine that the person attempting suicide does not to succeed, only to send out the message.
So what does that say about somebody who does do it to succeed? Especially in such a public manner that affects so many others who didn't even know the person?
The only thing that I can think of (and again, I cannot emphasize enough that this these are the thoughts of an un-trained layman – anybody with other insights to the question and ,ore experience than I have are more than welcome to share their thoughts), is that the person is going out with a message to the world.
Rather than the message of the failed attempts of "help me!" this message is more along the lines that "Not only do I have nothing to live for, but in my life I saw myself as a nobody – because I went un-noticed by the world. Maybe I won't be missed after I'm gone, but at least for this one brief hour or two, I will be noticed. I will have an effect on other people's lives".
Not only am I not a trained psychologist with no "real" experience upon which to base this assumption, but I also do not pretend to be a mind reader, and I don't really presume to understand what goes inside somebody else's head. The best I can do is to try to imagine myself in that situation and to guess what would drive me to such an act.
Unfortunately, since the person who did it last week is now dead, there is no way that we can ever truly know what he was thinking, why he chose to end his life or why he chose to do so in the way that he did.
All we can do is to try to be more sensitive to those around us and more aware of their calls for help – whether they call be more obvious or more oblique and implicative.
We can ensure that those in our lives always do mean something to us – always can affect us – hopefully for better rather than worse. In doing so, we can not only help prevent people feeling the need to be noticed at all costs, but we can also make it so that the same people haven't given up on life to begin with, or on their role within that life.
Rather than getting home that day at 2:00 in the afternoon, I got home around 3:15. It really was a pain in the ass, but in the big picture it was nothing compared to a person who felt that his life was so irrelevant, or helpless or anonymous that suicide was his only way out.
I'm happy to give up an hour and a half of my time any day of the week to be reminded how much I love living and that I actually do matter to some people. I wouldn't trade that for anything.
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Celebrating the Milestone of Milestones
This week marks a very special anniversary of sorts for me – and it's one that I get to celebrate / commemorate at 3 different times.
It was 9 years ago this week – by the Hebrew calendar it fell on Tuesday, by the Gregorian calendar it will be next Wednesday that I moved into a new reality for life – that of being a father.
Not just a father – but a Daddy, an Abba.
That isn’t to say that it's been all fun and games. There is no shortage of times that she can really drive me crazy, and there's no shortage of times when my parenting "skills" (and occasionally the lack thereof) leave more than a little to be desired. But in the bigger picture, I think there have been far more happy times than sad, loving moments than angry ones, smiles and laughter than tears.
You've seen that t-shirt / bumper sticker / coffee mug, right? The one that says "Any man can be a father, but it takes a special someone to be a Daddy". I never appreciated how true that is until my daughter was born.
Actually – not even then, but rather several months later when she started developing and showing her own personality and I was able to relate to her as a little person rather than a pooping machine.
She was born on Shabbat in the afternoon, the weekly Torah portion read that morning in synagogues around the world was VaYeshev, which was the portion we just read this past Shabbat. It was funny how the Torah reading brought back memories, because it was of memories that weren't there – the day Revital was born I didn't make it to services to hear the Torah.
Sharon had gone into labor on Friday night after Shabbat dinner. I think it started around 10:00 or so, but she didn't wake me up until the pain started getting bad at around midnight. Since we had been very attentive students in our Birthing Class, we knew that it wasn't yet time to go to the hospital – it was time for hot bath, timing the contractions, timing in between the contractions, practicing breathing properly (Sharon, too…) and massaging her lower back ant various times throughout the night.
Somehow in the morning, Sharon had a long enough "quiet" period so I was able to say my Morning Prayer service – obviously not going to the synagogue that morning and finally at 9:30 Shabbat morning, the signs that we learned in our Birthing Class were there and we called an ambulance (we didn't have a car at the time) and we checked in to the hospital at about 10:00.
Then came the waiting.
And then…more waiting.
Then I went down for some lunch in the cafeteria, and hit the hospital synagogue (one of the things I love about living in Israel is that there ARE hospital synagogues) for the afternoon services, then back to Sharon, for some more waiting.
Finally, she was dilated enough, and I won't go into all the gory details, but at 3:20 Shabbat afternoon, I was given my daughter to hold.
All of the stories you hear about the power, the beauty, the magic, the amazing overwhelming emotions of holding your newborn for the first time – for those who have yet to experience it, I can tell you that they're true.
Then they took her away from me.
It is standard procedure here to put all newborns in an incubator for a couple of hours, especially when the birthing is a little out of the ordinary (again – no details, but they performed a vacuum birth) so off she went, leaving me and Sharon alone with a little time to catch our breath.
Now we had time to discuss what we were going to call this little peanut.
We didn't know before the birth whether the baby was a boy or a girl (fortunately as soon as she was born we were able to figure it out pretty quickly), so we had a couple of names at the ready (although Sharon's condition for the names was that she kept the right to change her mind if she didn't feel that the name "fit".
The girl's name we had pre-picked was Revital, which means "saturated with / an abundance of dew", and after looking at her we decided that the name fit – she "looked" like a Revital. But we hadn't even thought about a middle name (very American of us, I know – no matter how long I'm in Israel, there are still some very American things about me).
So now was the time to talk about it. Sharon asked what the Torah portion was that Shabbat, and I had to think about it for a minute since I hadn't been to synagogue.
Then she asked me what happened in it, which was also a challenge to remember. But then I got it – one of the "highlights" of the portion (there really is a lot of meat in this particular one) is the story of Tamar and Yehuda (Judah).
It's too long a story for me to go into here and now, although it's a great story and I encourage you to glance at it yourselves – Genesis Chapter 38. The bottom line is that Tamar is one of my favorite personalities in the entire Torah. In my opinion, she's a woman who sees the clear difference between right and wrong, and will first give others the chance to do what's right with her, but if they don't do it, then she takes the initiative and pushes them into doing the right thing.
The added significance is in her name, which means date palm. The date palm grows in the desert – where there is almost no water, yet it grows very tall, very strong and bears a very sweet fruit.
So too Tamar from this story. She grew up in a place without much "water" which is a common analogy for Torah – meaning that grew up in a place where there was not much righteousness, or fear of God, yet she was strong and upright, like the date palm, and she also bore the sweetest of fruit. According to Jewish tradition the line of the Messiah is descended from the union of Tamar and Judah.
When Sharon and I talked about this, we realized that we had the perfect middle name for our daughter.
There is an idea among some Jews which one of my rabbis once taught me that the naming of a child is the only form of prophecy left in the world.
We name our children either for people whom we want to remember, or with names that have some kind of meaning that speaks to us. When we give these names, we are essentially wishing for our children the traits represented by the meaning of the name or the person whom we wish to remember.
For Revital Tamar, our hope for her is that she should never know lack of water – that is to say always have an "abundance of dew" and that like her biblical namesake, she may grow up upright and strong, with the sense of right vs. wrong and the courage to do what's right – no matter what the risks.
She may have looked like a Conehead for the first few months (courtesy of the vacuum birth), but we wished – that her head is in the right place to see and do what's right – no matter what others say and think.
One last note – regarding both Revital and our younger daughter Limor. They were both Chanukah-season babies. Revital was born 2 days before Chanukah, and Limor 6 days after it. So the holiday that began tonight is the time that both of my girls came into my life. And like the candles of Chanukah, they continue to give our lives a shining light.
The darker a place is, the brighter the light in it are. No matter how dark things sometimes seem around me, these two little lights make everything as bright as a sunny day.
It was 9 years ago this week – by the Hebrew calendar it fell on Tuesday, by the Gregorian calendar it will be next Wednesday that I moved into a new reality for life – that of being a father.
Not just a father – but a Daddy, an Abba.
That isn’t to say that it's been all fun and games. There is no shortage of times that she can really drive me crazy, and there's no shortage of times when my parenting "skills" (and occasionally the lack thereof) leave more than a little to be desired. But in the bigger picture, I think there have been far more happy times than sad, loving moments than angry ones, smiles and laughter than tears.
You've seen that t-shirt / bumper sticker / coffee mug, right? The one that says "Any man can be a father, but it takes a special someone to be a Daddy". I never appreciated how true that is until my daughter was born.
Actually – not even then, but rather several months later when she started developing and showing her own personality and I was able to relate to her as a little person rather than a pooping machine.
She was born on Shabbat in the afternoon, the weekly Torah portion read that morning in synagogues around the world was VaYeshev, which was the portion we just read this past Shabbat. It was funny how the Torah reading brought back memories, because it was of memories that weren't there – the day Revital was born I didn't make it to services to hear the Torah.
Sharon had gone into labor on Friday night after Shabbat dinner. I think it started around 10:00 or so, but she didn't wake me up until the pain started getting bad at around midnight. Since we had been very attentive students in our Birthing Class, we knew that it wasn't yet time to go to the hospital – it was time for hot bath, timing the contractions, timing in between the contractions, practicing breathing properly (Sharon, too…) and massaging her lower back ant various times throughout the night.
Somehow in the morning, Sharon had a long enough "quiet" period so I was able to say my Morning Prayer service – obviously not going to the synagogue that morning and finally at 9:30 Shabbat morning, the signs that we learned in our Birthing Class were there and we called an ambulance (we didn't have a car at the time) and we checked in to the hospital at about 10:00.
Then came the waiting.
And then…more waiting.
Then I went down for some lunch in the cafeteria, and hit the hospital synagogue (one of the things I love about living in Israel is that there ARE hospital synagogues) for the afternoon services, then back to Sharon, for some more waiting.
Finally, she was dilated enough, and I won't go into all the gory details, but at 3:20 Shabbat afternoon, I was given my daughter to hold.
All of the stories you hear about the power, the beauty, the magic, the amazing overwhelming emotions of holding your newborn for the first time – for those who have yet to experience it, I can tell you that they're true.
Then they took her away from me.
It is standard procedure here to put all newborns in an incubator for a couple of hours, especially when the birthing is a little out of the ordinary (again – no details, but they performed a vacuum birth) so off she went, leaving me and Sharon alone with a little time to catch our breath.
Now we had time to discuss what we were going to call this little peanut.
We didn't know before the birth whether the baby was a boy or a girl (fortunately as soon as she was born we were able to figure it out pretty quickly), so we had a couple of names at the ready (although Sharon's condition for the names was that she kept the right to change her mind if she didn't feel that the name "fit".
The girl's name we had pre-picked was Revital, which means "saturated with / an abundance of dew", and after looking at her we decided that the name fit – she "looked" like a Revital. But we hadn't even thought about a middle name (very American of us, I know – no matter how long I'm in Israel, there are still some very American things about me).
So now was the time to talk about it. Sharon asked what the Torah portion was that Shabbat, and I had to think about it for a minute since I hadn't been to synagogue.
Then she asked me what happened in it, which was also a challenge to remember. But then I got it – one of the "highlights" of the portion (there really is a lot of meat in this particular one) is the story of Tamar and Yehuda (Judah).
It's too long a story for me to go into here and now, although it's a great story and I encourage you to glance at it yourselves – Genesis Chapter 38. The bottom line is that Tamar is one of my favorite personalities in the entire Torah. In my opinion, she's a woman who sees the clear difference between right and wrong, and will first give others the chance to do what's right with her, but if they don't do it, then she takes the initiative and pushes them into doing the right thing.
The added significance is in her name, which means date palm. The date palm grows in the desert – where there is almost no water, yet it grows very tall, very strong and bears a very sweet fruit.
So too Tamar from this story. She grew up in a place without much "water" which is a common analogy for Torah – meaning that grew up in a place where there was not much righteousness, or fear of God, yet she was strong and upright, like the date palm, and she also bore the sweetest of fruit. According to Jewish tradition the line of the Messiah is descended from the union of Tamar and Judah.
When Sharon and I talked about this, we realized that we had the perfect middle name for our daughter.
There is an idea among some Jews which one of my rabbis once taught me that the naming of a child is the only form of prophecy left in the world.
We name our children either for people whom we want to remember, or with names that have some kind of meaning that speaks to us. When we give these names, we are essentially wishing for our children the traits represented by the meaning of the name or the person whom we wish to remember.
For Revital Tamar, our hope for her is that she should never know lack of water – that is to say always have an "abundance of dew" and that like her biblical namesake, she may grow up upright and strong, with the sense of right vs. wrong and the courage to do what's right – no matter what the risks.
She may have looked like a Conehead for the first few months (courtesy of the vacuum birth), but we wished – that her head is in the right place to see and do what's right – no matter what others say and think.
One last note – regarding both Revital and our younger daughter Limor. They were both Chanukah-season babies. Revital was born 2 days before Chanukah, and Limor 6 days after it. So the holiday that began tonight is the time that both of my girls came into my life. And like the candles of Chanukah, they continue to give our lives a shining light.
The darker a place is, the brighter the light in it are. No matter how dark things sometimes seem around me, these two little lights make everything as bright as a sunny day.
Thursday, November 25, 2010
Considering the Source
I would love to be famous someday. It really doesn't matter what I'd be famous for, I would just need to be famous.
Why, you ask, do I want to famous?
It's not to be rich. I don't really need or want the headaches and pressures that go with that (although being out of overdraft occasionally might be nice …)
It's also not to be recognized whenever I walk down the street. Truth be told – I would absolutely hate the lifetime loss of privacy.
No. The reason that I would love to be famous is because being famous somehow magically transforms ordinary schmoes into experts – on everything. If you're famous, your opinion matters. Period.
Need a little proof? Look at Steven Slater. Remember him?
Quick memory refresher:
Steven Slater was the flight attendant on JetBlue that flipped out because a passenger was rude to him and accidentally bopped him on the head with her luggage.
So good old Steve – with his 20 years (!!) of experience as a flight attendant, reacted the way any of us would react. He cursed the woman out over the plane's intercom system, deployed the emergency evacuation slide (extremely dangerous and extremely lucky that there didn't happen to be any ground crew members near the plane at the time), grabbed a few beers (brilliant move – he describes himself as a "recovering alcoholic" – although he also admitted that he had "a sip or two" on the day in question) and made his escape into the sunset.
Slater actually got off much easier than he deserved. For all of his drinking, and endangering of people's lives, the final "price" that he paid was a sweet deal in which he pleaded guilty to second-degree attempted criminal mischief (felony), and fourth-degree attempted criminal mischief (misdemeanor).
For agreeing to plead guilty (which was a no-brainer considering there was no question of his guilt from the beginning), he has to enter a one-year mental health program, including treatment for substance abuse, take certain medications, and pay all of $10,000 in fine to JetBlue for the cost of repairing or replacing the chute.
Not bad, huh? While $10K may seem a bit much steep for a guy who earned less than that last year, on the bright side – Slater recently appeared in an ad for a mobile communication application doing a rap, he was published in the New York Post this week offering (what else?) travel tips for Thanksgiving travelers, and he has signed with a book agency to write a book about his 20 years of experience as a flight attendant.
And I have no doubt this book will sell very well. Not because Steven Slater is a wonderful writer (he may well be, but that's irrelevant). Not even because his vast experience on the job makes him uniquely qualified to share with the general public (in hardback form) the trials and tribulations of such a thankless job.
No – this book will sell, because Steven Slater is famous. No other reason. Never mind that the reason he's famous is that he lost his cool and was an enormous horse's ass. He's famous, so people give a damn what he has to say, and that means that we don't have to lose too much sleep over the $10,000 Steve Slater will have to pay. I'm sure he'll manage just fine.
What I love about this is that it means that to be famous, I don't need any special skills or talents. I don't need to have something special or positive to offer the world which they couldn't find anywhere else. I just have to do something. Anything.
Seriously – how cool would that be? I could become famous for – I dunno – streaking on the field at Half Time of the Super Bowl (don't worry - I'm really not planning on doing it). I would be arrested, and there would articles about me in newspapers around the world, there would talk shows, interviews, possibly even a book deal – and as soon as I have the world giving even a little bit of credence to whatever it is that I have to say, I could talk about politics, or peace in the Middle East, and I can guarantee you, I would be quoted for my views.
"Asher Zeiger believes that President Obama should…." And why would people be interested in my point of view? Because I'm the guy that went streaking across the 50-year line during the halftime show at the Super Bowl!
What more expert qualifications could I possibly need?
This is nothing new – we've seen for years the "authority" which we bestow upon actors, singers, writers, athletes on political questions (and that they all too often bestow upon themselves as well).
Don't get me wrong – I am all for stars putting their celebrity to good use by raising awareness for causes. But that's very different than using the platform awarded them for their artistic success as a soapbox to preach and teach morality and geopolitics to us.
I will admit that I have a personal sensitivity to this issue. Israel and the peace process are always very fertile ground for artists to take their stands, and this year alone, several high profile rock-n-rollers have cancelled scheduled performances in Israel, ostensibly to express their disapproval of our handling of the situation with the Palestinians. As the situation here has been pretty much the same for several years, I have no idea why these artists agreed to visit Israel in the first place, only to cancel as the tour dates grew near. Better to simply not come, don't sell tickets and don't get fans' hopes up. But that's a topic for another (very long) blog.
On November 24, the Jerusalem Post ran a story by the European Jewish Press reporting that "100 famous Norwegians" have called for a complete academic and cultural boycott of Israel.
Let's start by saying that I am assuming these 100 Norwegians are famous in Norway, but not too far beyond their borders.
The group was led by Egil Drillo Olsen, Norway's national football coach. He was quoted as saying the boycott is "in line with what 90% of the world's population believes".
Really, Mr. Olsen? 90%? Is that based on a scientific survey or is it just your expert opinion based on the vast geo-political experience you have gained as a football coach?
Now, if the survey was conducted in Middle Eastern countries with names that do not rhyme with Bisrael, then 90% is probably an accurate representation of the world's views on academic and cultural boycotts of Israel. But the rest of world? I'm a little dubious of your statistics.
Of course, the real irony is that in Israel (as in most of the world), the majority of academic and cultural figures lean politically a bit left-of-center. So boycotts like this are primarily targeting the figures who agree with the political stance (although not with the methods), so a boycott of this nature is, if anything, counterproductive.
But that doesn't matter. Why? Because in Norway, Egil Drillo Olsen is famous, so it really matters what he says about issues which are completely unrelated to his area of expertise (namely: football/soccer).
Because with fame comes a tacit understanding from the general public that you know what you're talking about (Kanye West notwithstanding).
I've never been a musical fan of Ozzy Osbourne – not when he was the frontman for Black Sabbath, and not as a solo artist. I was also never interested in his reality show either.
Nevertheless, I absolutely loved that he performed in Israel a couple of months ago. Granted – he's not the only one who has amidst all of the boycotts. Paul McCartney was recently here, as was Joe Cocker, Jethro Tull, and others. But what I loved about Ozzy is that he specifically said that he refuses to talk politics because he's a singer – and therefore doesn't know anything about politics. He also had some very choice (adult-content) words for those people who throw art and music into the political arena.
What a concept – a singer, who says that he's a singer, and therefore not in a place to preach about things that he may not understand so well. A singer who uses his stage and microphone for – hold on to your seats here - singing. Who ever heard of such a thing?
For my part, I would love to get people to understand that being famous does not automatically mean that a person has anything interesting or worthwhile to say. And if they actually do – it's not necessarily connected to their fame.
How's this for a mind-boggling conundrum? It seems that I need to become famous so that people will listen to me say that they shouldn't automatically give credence to the opinions of famous people.
I'm not sure how I'll do it, but just in case, you should think about skipping the Half Time show at this year's Super Bowl…
Why, you ask, do I want to famous?
It's not to be rich. I don't really need or want the headaches and pressures that go with that (although being out of overdraft occasionally might be nice …)
It's also not to be recognized whenever I walk down the street. Truth be told – I would absolutely hate the lifetime loss of privacy.
No. The reason that I would love to be famous is because being famous somehow magically transforms ordinary schmoes into experts – on everything. If you're famous, your opinion matters. Period.
Need a little proof? Look at Steven Slater. Remember him?
Quick memory refresher:
Steven Slater was the flight attendant on JetBlue that flipped out because a passenger was rude to him and accidentally bopped him on the head with her luggage.
So good old Steve – with his 20 years (!!) of experience as a flight attendant, reacted the way any of us would react. He cursed the woman out over the plane's intercom system, deployed the emergency evacuation slide (extremely dangerous and extremely lucky that there didn't happen to be any ground crew members near the plane at the time), grabbed a few beers (brilliant move – he describes himself as a "recovering alcoholic" – although he also admitted that he had "a sip or two" on the day in question) and made his escape into the sunset.
Slater actually got off much easier than he deserved. For all of his drinking, and endangering of people's lives, the final "price" that he paid was a sweet deal in which he pleaded guilty to second-degree attempted criminal mischief (felony), and fourth-degree attempted criminal mischief (misdemeanor).
For agreeing to plead guilty (which was a no-brainer considering there was no question of his guilt from the beginning), he has to enter a one-year mental health program, including treatment for substance abuse, take certain medications, and pay all of $10,000 in fine to JetBlue for the cost of repairing or replacing the chute.
Not bad, huh? While $10K may seem a bit much steep for a guy who earned less than that last year, on the bright side – Slater recently appeared in an ad for a mobile communication application doing a rap, he was published in the New York Post this week offering (what else?) travel tips for Thanksgiving travelers, and he has signed with a book agency to write a book about his 20 years of experience as a flight attendant.
And I have no doubt this book will sell very well. Not because Steven Slater is a wonderful writer (he may well be, but that's irrelevant). Not even because his vast experience on the job makes him uniquely qualified to share with the general public (in hardback form) the trials and tribulations of such a thankless job.
No – this book will sell, because Steven Slater is famous. No other reason. Never mind that the reason he's famous is that he lost his cool and was an enormous horse's ass. He's famous, so people give a damn what he has to say, and that means that we don't have to lose too much sleep over the $10,000 Steve Slater will have to pay. I'm sure he'll manage just fine.
What I love about this is that it means that to be famous, I don't need any special skills or talents. I don't need to have something special or positive to offer the world which they couldn't find anywhere else. I just have to do something. Anything.
Seriously – how cool would that be? I could become famous for – I dunno – streaking on the field at Half Time of the Super Bowl (don't worry - I'm really not planning on doing it). I would be arrested, and there would articles about me in newspapers around the world, there would talk shows, interviews, possibly even a book deal – and as soon as I have the world giving even a little bit of credence to whatever it is that I have to say, I could talk about politics, or peace in the Middle East, and I can guarantee you, I would be quoted for my views.
"Asher Zeiger believes that President Obama should…." And why would people be interested in my point of view? Because I'm the guy that went streaking across the 50-year line during the halftime show at the Super Bowl!
What more expert qualifications could I possibly need?
This is nothing new – we've seen for years the "authority" which we bestow upon actors, singers, writers, athletes on political questions (and that they all too often bestow upon themselves as well).
Don't get me wrong – I am all for stars putting their celebrity to good use by raising awareness for causes. But that's very different than using the platform awarded them for their artistic success as a soapbox to preach and teach morality and geopolitics to us.
I will admit that I have a personal sensitivity to this issue. Israel and the peace process are always very fertile ground for artists to take their stands, and this year alone, several high profile rock-n-rollers have cancelled scheduled performances in Israel, ostensibly to express their disapproval of our handling of the situation with the Palestinians. As the situation here has been pretty much the same for several years, I have no idea why these artists agreed to visit Israel in the first place, only to cancel as the tour dates grew near. Better to simply not come, don't sell tickets and don't get fans' hopes up. But that's a topic for another (very long) blog.
On November 24, the Jerusalem Post ran a story by the European Jewish Press reporting that "100 famous Norwegians" have called for a complete academic and cultural boycott of Israel.
Let's start by saying that I am assuming these 100 Norwegians are famous in Norway, but not too far beyond their borders.
The group was led by Egil Drillo Olsen, Norway's national football coach. He was quoted as saying the boycott is "in line with what 90% of the world's population believes".
Really, Mr. Olsen? 90%? Is that based on a scientific survey or is it just your expert opinion based on the vast geo-political experience you have gained as a football coach?
Now, if the survey was conducted in Middle Eastern countries with names that do not rhyme with Bisrael, then 90% is probably an accurate representation of the world's views on academic and cultural boycotts of Israel. But the rest of world? I'm a little dubious of your statistics.
Of course, the real irony is that in Israel (as in most of the world), the majority of academic and cultural figures lean politically a bit left-of-center. So boycotts like this are primarily targeting the figures who agree with the political stance (although not with the methods), so a boycott of this nature is, if anything, counterproductive.
But that doesn't matter. Why? Because in Norway, Egil Drillo Olsen is famous, so it really matters what he says about issues which are completely unrelated to his area of expertise (namely: football/soccer).
Because with fame comes a tacit understanding from the general public that you know what you're talking about (Kanye West notwithstanding).
I've never been a musical fan of Ozzy Osbourne – not when he was the frontman for Black Sabbath, and not as a solo artist. I was also never interested in his reality show either.
Nevertheless, I absolutely loved that he performed in Israel a couple of months ago. Granted – he's not the only one who has amidst all of the boycotts. Paul McCartney was recently here, as was Joe Cocker, Jethro Tull, and others. But what I loved about Ozzy is that he specifically said that he refuses to talk politics because he's a singer – and therefore doesn't know anything about politics. He also had some very choice (adult-content) words for those people who throw art and music into the political arena.
What a concept – a singer, who says that he's a singer, and therefore not in a place to preach about things that he may not understand so well. A singer who uses his stage and microphone for – hold on to your seats here - singing. Who ever heard of such a thing?
For my part, I would love to get people to understand that being famous does not automatically mean that a person has anything interesting or worthwhile to say. And if they actually do – it's not necessarily connected to their fame.
How's this for a mind-boggling conundrum? It seems that I need to become famous so that people will listen to me say that they shouldn't automatically give credence to the opinions of famous people.
I'm not sure how I'll do it, but just in case, you should think about skipping the Half Time show at this year's Super Bowl…
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