Only In Israel

This country can be just as nutty as California. But sometimes, weird things  happen here that couldn't happen anywhere else.

    Just one thing missing from the recent roundup of Postscripts highlights -- there was nothing from Israel.
    It's not that nothing peculiar ever happens here, au contraire. 
    Like the poor fellow from Kiron, who was sentenced to 30 days in jail as a "public danger," because he had a condition called priapism -- a persistent erection of the penis. Ezra Ezra (whose name means "Help Help") needed 10 sexual encounters a day, a problem doctors were unable to cure. His family then sought help from a psychologist and a social worker -- both of them women, both of whom fell under his spell. They succeeded in helping nothing more than his immediate pressing need.
    (If stories about s-e-x make you squirm, skip over the next couple of paragraphs. If you're under the age of 16, you shouldn't be reading this without an adult present.)
    Don't be too impressed by the "Preferred Business" certificate you see in some establishments. Shai Avriel, who operated a stable of 60 call girls, received one of the awards from the Israel Institute for the Preferred Product and Business. Then-environment minister Ronni Milo proudly presented the award, in the presence of Herzliya mayor Eli Landau. Avriel, who had been arrested two years earlier for running a prostitution ring but was not convicted, said the honor had cost him NIS 1,200. Makes you wonder, eh? 
    Pornography at its worst here in the Holy Land: A woman applying for a new passport was refused by the Shas-run Interior Ministry because the pictures she provided were deemed "indecent." She was wearing a sleeveless dress. She was 70 years old.
    The people of Israel have been at war with an implacable enemy for half a century. I am speaking, of course, of the Interior Ministry. Visiting our most despised bureaucracy one day to replace his ID card, Michael Doniger asked the clerk why the cards couldn't be made smaller to fit into a standard-sized wallet. The clerk shrugged with that familiar I-could-care-less expression. "Lots of people have written letters to us about the same idea," she said. So what came out of this public uproar? "Nothing much," she replied. "We always throw the letters away."
    Kudos to the Postal Authority, one of our most conscientious bureaucracies, which doesn't throw letters away -- even when it might be justified. A postal worker handled an envelope sent from Russia cryptically addressed to "Schwarzer Ingele." The determined postie gave it some thought, translated it from Yiddish into Hebrew as "Hayeled Hashachor," and sent it to its destination, Ayelet Hashahar.
    In the same vein, the charitable organization Friends of Assaf Harofeh in Los Angeles was issued a bill made out to "Friends of Yasser Arafat."
    Arafat was depicted in a newspaper ad for the BBC apparently kissing golfer Nick Faldo. Arafat didn't mind, but Faldo was outraged; he hadn't even been contacted for permission. The ad was promoting a new radio station for sports and news; the caption beneath the spliced photo-image read: "From April they'll be on the same wavelength." Faldo's mouthpiece said, "Clearly he is not on the same wavelength as Yasser Arafat." The Beeb pulled the ad, mystified: they were sure everyone loves Arafat.
    Deborah Amos, of National Public Radio in the US, was asked for a personal experience that captured the essence of the Middle East. She replied: "I found myself in a hotel room in Kuwait with a number of Palestinian journalists. They were glued to the TV, watching Tom and Jerry cartoons. No one acknowledged my presence. Finally, after about 20 minutes, one of the journalists turned to me and asked, 'Who are you for? Tom? Or Jerry?' "
    The New York Yankees of the American League came up against the Jewish Boycott of the Arab League. The Yankees were surprised to find themselves No. 288 on a partial list of 300 boycotted US companies. Will Maslow, of the American Jewish Congress, commented: "What could the Yankees possibly have done to offend the Arabs, except not hitting?" The team lawyer wondered: "Does this mean Arab fans are not going to come to our games?"
    (Let's not forget that way, way back in 1957, the Arab Boycott Committee placed the London office of Keren Hayesod on its list -- because it has a branch in Israel!)
    It's wonderful how the moral aspects of the boycott were carefully considered before turning Israel into the world's leper colony. A British couple with children in Israel was shopping for coats in London, when the wife exclaimed: "Look, dear, this one says Made in Israel!" This alerted an anxious saleslady who quickly said, "Don't worry, madam, we can easily remove the label."
    Consumerism in Israel is a whole different experience. One reader told of a peculiar response he got from a menswear shop in Jerusalem. The haredi owner told him: "The underwear, God willing, should arrive on Monday."
    Or this "Only in Israel"-type incident: A watchmaker in Haifa reported that a man entered his shop and brusquely asked him to reset his watch. The job done, the customer asked how much he should pay. "Nothing," the watchmaker said good-naturedly. "Just a thank-you."
    "That I won't say on principle," the man retorted. "If you want five shekels you can have it, but a thank-you -- never!"
    And where but in Israel could this sort of thing happen? We called our electrician about a problem. "Did you check the circuit breaker?" he asked. Yes, we told him. "Did you check the solar heater?" Yes. "Did you check the plugs?" Yes. He scratched his head and asked: "Did you check the mezuzot?"

    ACCORDING TO a useful book called The Top Ten of Everything, Israel is the world's sixth largest exporter of ornamental cat skins. Israel is tied with Australia as the seventh most urbanized country (89%); we have the fourth-highest ratio of military personnel to civilian population (Iraq and Syria are first and second, Jordan is fifth); conversely, Israeli men have the fourth highest life expectancy. Tel Aviv is the world's ninth largest producer of garbage. And we're very proud of it.
    Dalia Harel became chairwoman of the Milk Production and Marketing Board. Harel was already head of the Beef and Mutton Board -- a shocking case of mixing meat and milk in high places.
    This is much worse on the treif scale: When Michael Jackson was here on tour, he was photographed drinking Coke. Coke! (He has a $20 million contract with Pepsi).
    Hold it -- this just in from Ma'alot: Mayor Shlomo Buhbut, criticized for refusing to house Russian immigrants, promised a warm welcome, saying: "We will hug them with open arms."
    A couple were out jogging in Jerusalem. As they approached an incline the considerate husband took her handbag to make the run easier for her, and then ran ahead at a faster pace. A nearby policeman, seeing a woman running after a man with a handbag, nabbed the offender, put him in an arm lock, and called to the woman: "Gveret, is this your handbag?" Out of breath, she could only nod, and watched aghast as her husband was arrested.
    Ze'ev Priell of Tel Aviv was quietly picking berries near a tiny hamlet in Switzerland, when he came across two elderly ladies doing the same. They got to talking, and it turned out they were Australians passing through Switzerland on their way to Greece and ultimately Israel. They didn't know anyone in Israel, they said, but a friend in Melbourne had given them the name of an old acquaintance. One of the women rummaged through her bag for the name, and showed it to Priell. It read: "Ze'ev Priell."
    When musician Frank Pelleg first arrived in Palestine from Prague with his non-Jewish wife, he bore the surname Pollack. When he Hebraicized it to Pelleg, his mother-in-law was puzzled. She wrote to her daughter asking, "Isn't 'Pollack' Jewish enough?"
    You young folks won't believe this, but it wasn't always so easy to get through on the phone. Heck, it wasn't easy to get a phone. (For more on this subject, read your textbooks on ancient history.) Gershon Marinbach of Kfar Sava was stymied for two days trying to get through to his optometrist in Petah Tikva. Then he remembered Bezeq's ballyhooed announcement that direct calls could finally be made to Japan. So he called a friend who was in Tokyo on business, and sure enough, he got through instantly. He asked the friend to call his optometrist to make an appointment, and within minutes the doctor called Marinbach to confirm the date.
    Now, of course, everyone has a telephone. At a funeral in Jerusalem,  among the sounds of weeping was, you guessed it, the melodious tinkle of a cellphone. The mourners looked at each other, then noticed the ringing emanated from the grave. The officiating rabbi suddenly realized the phone was his. It fell in while he was bending over during the ceremony.
    Another Postcrypt, from the Diaspora:
    When the sole Jew of Swakopmund, Namibia, died, his friends thought it would be nice to inscribe a few words of Hebrew on his tombstone. They knew what Hebrew looked like, so they searched through his home until they found something suitable, and had it carved on the headstone. And that's why this man is buried under the solemn words "kosher l'Pessah."
    At an Orthodox shul in Florida, an elderly man was called to perform hagba (lifting the Torah). He hoisted it, uttered a grunt, and said, "Jesus, this is heavy!"
    After a moment of uneasy silence, another elderly fellow hollered, "For Christ's sake don't drop it!"