Why I Call Them Alphabets

It used to be LGB.

Then it became LGBT.

A few months ago, I saw they had added a letter – now it’s LGBTQ.

And yesterday I saw someone add another letter. So it’s LGBTQI.

And I have no idea how many more letters they’ll add. But I am pretty sure they will keep adding letters until they can’t think of any more letters to add.

Lesbians – most lesbians have the capacity to be bi. Or in other words, most lesbians choose to identify as lesbian, instead of choosing to live a normal, happy life. In fact, there are those who say that all women are bi. Hm.

Gays – The vast majority of gays are also bi. Meaning, they could marry a woman and lead a happy and fulfilling life. There are a few who are truly homosexual, and most of those are severely miswired and belong squarely in the DSM.

Bi – If you are bi, you have a choice. A real, true, choice. Just because you are attracted to both sexes, doesn’t mean that you NEED to show that to the world, or have partners of both genders. It means you can choose who to sleep with. It means you can choose to either identify as normal and lead a normal, happy life. Or you can choose to rebel and decide that you’re better off with the “gay” community. But it’s a choice. And in fact, there are those who can prove that all of humanity is bi. Which means that bi=bunk.

Trans – No one chooses to be trans. The trans community joined the LGB community because that was the only way they’d be recognized and the only hope they had of being accepted. Even today, the trans community is bullied. I would much rather have a trans woman in the public bathroom, than have a lesbian woman in there. But no – the media is bullying the trans crowd,  not the homosexual crowd. Why? A true trans knows that they are trans from childhood. They suffer from childhood. Let’s give them some slack. They are rare (thank G-d) but they are real and deserve support and sympathy.

Queer – Okay, queer just means that you don’t feel like identifying as anything. Most queers are either bi or lesbian. Therefore, they really don’t deserve their own letter. Nuff said.

Intersex – Like trans, intersex people are born that way. It used to be that the hospital staff would choose the sex right after birth, often based on the child’s DNA, and remove the excess parts. That often didn’t work, and the child ended up being homosexual and confused. So what needs to be done is to let the child grow and self-identify. And when they are sure of their gender, remove the extra parts. No reason to leave them intersex until adulthood. And no reason to use their problems to bolster your own ego and make your voice louder.

Since the LGBT movement has started making noise, the numbers have grown exponentially – much more than it would logically be if people were “coming out” or “born that way”. It’s a way to get attention, it’s a way to be unique, and it’s a way to make noise. And the best part? It feels like you’re fighting for a worthy cause. And so, people who would otherwise be straight and happy, decided to join the LGBT crowd.

Let’s stop adding letters and stop making noise.

What I Think of The Alphabets

First of all, I don’t have anything against alphabets.

But I do think that they have something against us. Or maybe just against society in general.

Listen, society has rules. Set rules. We try to make them moral rules.

Being an alphabet isn’t moral – historically, ethically, religiously (any religion). And as much as they’d like for us to believe otherwise, historically, homosexual relationships were almost always pedophile relationships – an older man with a younger, apprentice/ servant/ student boy.

Not only that, but really, the only reason why LGBT was taken out of the DSM was because someone forked over a lot of money in bribes, and smeared it with a heavy layer of guilt and shame.

Honestly, I have no hatred, or any real ill feelings, towards the alphabet. Nor do I have said feelings towards LGBTQ people.

But they are starting to piss me off.

The noise.

The shaming.

The anyone-who-doesn’t-make-me-feel-special-is-primitive-and-selfish.

Listen.

Society has rules. You live your life, and I’ll live mine.

But if you break one of society’s rules, don’t expect us to make an exception for you.

You can have kids out of wedlock. Or you can have kids after marriage.

You can marry an opposite-gender person, or marry a same-gender person.

You can buy a house together. You can find a surrogate or sperm donor or whatever else you want.

But we don’t need to remake the rules so that they’re convenient for you.

You made a choice. Your choice has natural consequences.

My husband and I can’t choose who gets Mom’s tax points and who gets Dad’s. We can’t choose which parent’s work counts for a daycare credit. Why should you be able to choose those things?

If a heterosexual couple doesn’t pass muster and can’t adopt – they’ll get no support. Well, they weren’t fit. So they didn’t pass. Boo hoo.

But oy vey, if a homosexual couple is refused? They’ll take it to social media, do a few rounds of shaming, take it to the news and complain about how they were rejected because of sexual orientation.

And in the end, they’ll get what the want.

The same goes for jobs. For taxes. For whatever they want.

Why?

Why do alphabets have more rights than anyone else?

These are people who choose to call themselves “gay” because they wanted to prove that they’re happy. They’re not happy. They’re confused and conflicted people who are either seriously miswired, or are seriously confused.

They want attention. Lots of it. Live and let live isn’t good enough.

They need to make a stir. They need to make noise and get as much attention as possible.

What do you do when a kid is misbehaving in order to get attention?

What do you do when they are screaming in your ear when you’re on the phone?

You ignore them. And eventually, they stop bothering you, because it’s not working.

And you know what? If we ignore the LGBTQ noise, they’ll stop making the noise.

Today, it’s impossible to say anything that isn’t 1000% pro-LGBTQ without being called bigot, racist, mysoginist, hateful, closed-minded, whatever.

What happened to freedom of speech, for those of us who want to keep the family structure and moral values intact?

You live your life. And let us live ours.

You make your choices. And let us make ours – without telling us that our choices aren’t fair.

Listen, if your friend chose to divorce, there are going to be serious social repercussions. But guess what?

She chose that. It’s her choice. And she has to suffer the consequences.

Well, so do you.

I’m not saying marry someone you can’t stand. I’m not saying stay single.

I’m just saying, accept that fact that choices have outcomes, and that we can’t have it all. And stop asking us to change laws to make your choices more widespread, acceptable, and painless – because it’s hurting the rest of us.

So just stop.

Stop.

Listen, Orlando wasn’t okay.

But it wasn’t okay because ISLAMIC TERRORISM IS NEVER OKAY.

Because killing innocent people IS NEVER OKAY. It doesn’t matter if they’re homo or hetero. As long as they haven’t endangered anyone but themselves – you may NOT kill them.

Let’s stop talking about the fact that the homo pervert who killed homos, killed homos in a homo club [that he had been frequenting for 3 years prior; and also that his first wife divorced him because he was homo].

And let’s start talking about the fact that he swore allegiance to ISIS, is a radical Muslim, and thinks that killing non-Muslims will get him into paradise.

Hm. Did you know that Allah gives 72 virgins to anyone who kills an infidel? This homo guy doesn’t want 72 female virgins. Will Allah give him 72 male virgins instead? Somehow, I don’t think so.

How I Knew Esti Weinstein Wasn’t Missing

When I saw that a woman, a mother of 7, was missing for a few days, I raised an eyebrow and was kind of worried. I knew they’d find her in the end, and I knew she wouldn’t be alive when they found her.

I also was about 90% sure that she’d committed suicide.

How?

Simple. People go missing in Israel for three main reasons:

  1. Terror attack – in which case we usually know that there was a terrorist involved and that they were kidnapped. Here, the article made no mention of hitchhiking, terror, or anything related. Also, there wasn’t a terror attack near her when she disappeared.
  2. Kidnapping – this usually happens when the person is a minor and was kidnapped by a psycho family member. Sometimes it’s a psycho friend, but that’s even rarer than the family member. She wasn’t a minor, so this wasn’t a kidnapping.
  3. Suicide- someone, usually an adult, disappears mysteriously, after a longstanding estrangement or after a history of mental illness (LGBT counts as mental illness, too).
  4. (Really, 3a.) Once in a while someone gets lost while on a hike, after refusing to take a cell phone, not taking a hat, and not bringing enough water. Or maybe he walked into a dangerous area. I’m never sure if these people should be awarded Darwin awards for their stupidity, or if they wanted to commit suicide in a less obvious fashion.

Since numbers 1 and 2 were obviously *not* the reason this woman (who I later realized was named Esti Weinstein; at first I just looked at her picture without reading – you know, because that’s what good citizens do) disappeared . . . it was clear to me that she’d committed suicide.

Unfortunately, as is the case in most of these kinds of things, I was right.

Let’s leave aside the issue of blame for a minute. It really doesn’t matter if the community is to blame, if her family is to blame, or if she suffered from her own decisions. There’s something that needs to be pointed out here:

This woman had a mental illness. She had a history of suicide attempts. And she was, in three words, a tortured soul.

I don’t know who suffered more – her, or her family. I know that her personal suffering has ended, and I think that is a good thing. She is at peace, finally.

And I don’t think we should be judging anything, or anyone, except ourselves.

Every community shuns those who don’t live up to its standards. EVERY community.

If we don’t want to see any more suicides, we need to learn to identify the warning signs, and how to wrap every member of our communities – even if they break some of the rules – in a blanket of love.

Suicides happen in every community. And anyone who says otherwise is playing Ostrich, and should join Obama Bin Laden, king of Ostrich, in his white cave.

What’s More Appalling?

I kvetch to Mom. A lot. And I mean, a LOT. Yitzchak and I haven’t had the easiest year or so, to say the least. And honestly, it’s taken its toll. On us, emotionally, on our relationship, on how we parent.

We’re not perfect, by far. And yeah, we have a lot of work. We’re working on it. It’s tough, but we’ll get there.

So one day a few weeks ago, I was kvetching to Mom, this time about Yitzchak. I mean, he listens to his mommy and respects her – maybe she can help him see that I’m not as crazy as he thinks I am? (That was a mistake, BTW. Because he isn’t thrilled with all of her parenting skills – so if I agree with her, then he sees that as an issue. Well. I didn’t know that. And I had to explain that on *this specific issue* I agree with her – not on the rest of it, necessarily. Sigh.)

Mom mentioned a few things, some true and some not. She told me what her opinion is on some of the stuff, okay, I get it. She had some good points, and there are some things that I won’t argue about, because we’ve mutually decided not to argue those points.

A few days later, Yitzchak says that Mom spoke to him, and during the conversation, she asked if we were thinking of breaking up.

WHAT?!?!?

Where’d she get THAT?!?!

Okay. We are having slight communication issues. We do not see eye-to-eye on everything. And we are going through a rough patch.

But we are *trying* to fix that. We even made up a rule chart, that has less to do with house rules as it does with making sure that we’re on the same page re daily routines . . . so we don’t get surprised, sidetracked, told, or bribed differently [by a certain Someone].

The goal, and the reason I spoke to Mom in the first place, is to fix our communication issues.

Separating was not even on the table. Still isn’t.

Because that won’t solve the issues, it’ll just make it worse.

Because breaking a marriage, especially once you’ve had kids, isn’t the solution to anything, except in extreme cases of one side abusing the other.

Because, well, it’s just not an option.

Because even if we don’t agree on everything, that doesn’t make either of us less of a good person.

Wait. She’s worried that we’ll break up? Or she kind of wants us to? Is that why she suggested that we each go for counseling, separately, and explained something about how it’s better than going together? Maybe I picked the wrong person?

No. It can’t be that she wants us to break up. She knows that Yitzchak is happier married to me than he was a long time prior. And besides, if we got divorced, that would put an end to her hopes for more grandkids, until someone else got married – and no one else is even engaged yet. It CAN’T be that she wants us divorced. Mom wants more grandkids too much (even if she’ll never admit to it), and we’re her only source of them (as we are to my parents).

Well, I sent Mom a text, reassuring her that divorce wasn’t on the table, and that I’m not sure how she thought it was.

Two days later she called me up. She wanted to make sure that I didn’t think Mom wanted us to break up – she was just worried. Of course, like a good daughter-in-law, I assured her that I’d never thought she wanted us to break up – I just didn’t know why she was worried about it. (Yes, I sort-of lied. No, she doesn’t read this blog.) And then we talked for a while, about related and unrelated things.

I still don’t agree with Mom 1000% about everything. She knows that. And she knows that we can still respect each other, despite our differences of opinion.

I’m still kind of appalled that she thought we were even thinking of separating, especially under the circumstances.

But on the other hand, why is what Mom thought more appalling than those who think my life is perfect and that I don’t understand hardships of any sort?

 

Trump Gets It, Obama Doesn’t

Okay, I have finally decided. If I vote, I think it will be for Trump.
 
Yitzchak is going to call me a one-issue voter, and tell me that he votes not just based on a candidate’s policy towards Israel/ PA, but also based on a lot of other factors: internal policies, economics, whatever. But you know, he has his vote and I have mine.
 
If I choose to vote (and I’m not sure ANY of the candidates are worth that amount of effort, since I’m voting overseas – and neither is he), then I am going to have to say, Trump seems the most honest, and the most sane, when it comes to my personal worries – which are mostly centered around Israeli security.
 
You know why we stopped Operation Protective Edge? Because of Obama bin Laden. The two-faced liar.
 
So while I don’t believe that Trump loves Jews or Israel, I do believe that he is an equal-opportunity hater, and hates everyone who isn’t a WASP – and I also believe that Muslims are higher on his “most-hated” list than Israel and Jews. Plus, at least he tells us what he thinks, instead of lying to our faces like everyone else does.
 
IF I vote, I will vote Trump.
 
IF. That’s a BIG “if”.
 
And you know, if Yitzchak votes for the other guy, well, we just canceled each other out, right? No biggie. That’s what we did in 2008 – he voted Obama (because he was scared of Palin), and I voted McCain (because I was scared of Obama).
 

Placebo Helps Everything

Shlomo has a very, very low-grade fever. As *the* paranoid mom, I am obviously freaking out. But that’s not the point right now, is it? No, it’s not.

At any rate, he is sitting on the toilet and complaining of a headache. Now, this headache could be from four things:

  • he’s pushing too hard
  • he’s cried and screamed enough to give himself a headache
  • he really does have a headache
  • he’s making up an excuse, to get attention or to get out of pooping (please, no “don’t make your kid poop” criticism – this is what it is, and there is good reason for it).

Yitzchak wanted to give him Akamoli (kiddie Tylenol). And I said NO. Big NO.

Why? For the simple reason that Akamoli will completely cover up his symptoms. And I need to see the symptoms in order to judge what he has and how urgently he needs to see a doctor. Until now, he hasn’t really complained enough to justify the Akamoli. I want to see if, after he’s off the toilet, he still has a headache or if it magically goes away.

Because it’s important.

Well, Shlomo didn’t like that I nixed his yummy Akamoli. He wanted medicine. It’s strawberry flavored, guys. And Tova has received a fair bit of it lately (teething, anyone?), so Shlomo wants some, too. I get him. I do.

That doesn’t change the facts.

So Yitzchak made Shlomo a new headache medicine. It’s *the* best medicine for headaches, and works terrifically well for many other things, too.

It’s called Placebo.

It tastes really good. It’s the same 5ml that we would’ve given him anyways. And it helps Shlomo feel better, while letting me observe his symptoms.

Placebo really is the greatest medicine in the world.

The only thing is, Yitzchak doesn’t have red Placebo. He only has it in clear.

Therefore, Shlomo is protesting. Will he take the medicine or not?

As of right now, he’s refusing. But his headache went away, anyways (bingo, Mom!), so it’s not too relevant. We’ll save his special Placebo medicine for later, just in case he needs it.

I wonder how many years it will be before Shlomo learns what “placebo” actually means. It’s a Hebrew-speaking country, so it may take a while.

In the meantime, Yitzchak is playing doula to Shlomo’s poop. Ugh. But it’s working, sooo . . . I guess it’s all good.

Update: As soon as he was off the toilet, Shlomo’s headache disappeared. Hmmm . . .

While Kids Play

Last Wednesday, Yitzchak and I took the kids to Be’er Sheva, to see the old train. Long story short, we were kind of disappointed. And Shlomo was *very* disappointed.

Before we went home, we stopped by the mall near the central bus station. On the second floor, it has a kiddie “gymboree” – a padded area with foam horses to sit on, a plastic backyard slide, and a plastic seesaw. It’s free.

Well, we got there, and Shlomo wasn’t happy. There were too many older kids there, and he was “scared”. (The older kids weren’t supposed to be there, by the way.)

So Yitzchak took Shlomo into a store to window shop, and I watched Tova play.

There must have been a total of ten to fifteen kids there, and five other mothers.

Only one mother didn’t have her face in a smartphone, and even she was talking for almost ten minutes on her phone, while she watched her kid.

And I ask . . . why?

You’re sitting here. You came here for your kid. (Yitzchak says, they came to get a break from their kids. I hope he’s wrong.)

Why aren’t you paying attention to him (or her)?

Watch the kid. Talk to your kid when he or she comes over. If your kid is little, help him out.

Why did everyone except me have their face in a smartphone?

That’s just sad.

Pessimism or Safe Thinking?

Sometimes I think I’m crazy. Absolutely bonkers. Paranoid and and a helicopter-mom and helicopter-wife.

For instance, Yitzchak would love to be an astronaut. I forbid it. He would like to be a head rabbi, and I forbid that, too. He thinks that maybe he could change something if he went into politics – and I forbid that, too.

This Pesach, I told Yitzchak that we are not going *anywhere*. Maybe we’ll go to Be’er Sheva. But unless we are visiting our “parents” in Jerusalem, we are staying put and not traveling, at all, the entire holiday. And even to visit our “parents” I am iffy, but okay, I *do* feel safer there than anywhere else in Jerusalem. So, fine.

The reason I am so stubborn about not going *anywhere* is simple:

The Muslim Arab dogs like to make every holiday into a heartache. They take great pride, and celebrate with great joy, every time they manage to murder (or maim for life) a Jew on a holiday. They take great joy in stealing a Jewish family’s holiday joy, and ruining their holiday forever. They believe that Allah is proud of them every time they turn a holiday into a period of mourning for a Jewish family.

Baruch Mizrachi was murdered on his way to the seder, while driving just before the holiday with his wife and children – two years ago.

On Rosh Hashana a grandfather was stoned to death.

On Sukkot, Aharon Banita and Nechemia Lavi were murdered; so were my friend Naama Henkin and her husband, Eitam.

On Chanuka, there was a double ramming-stabbing attack in Jerusalem, and another terrorist shot 23 bullets at a civilian car . . . and miraculously, no one was killed.

On Purim . . . I honestly have lost track. But I’m sure there was something. There always is.

And so, we are staying put for Pesach. I would love to use the holiday to go hiking, maybe in the north; I would love to use the holiday to visit friends and family. Maybe we will go to two gatherings. But most likely, we will just stay put.

Because it’s safer.

And I definitely do feel like I’m a paranoid helicopter spouse and mom.

But then, today, two things happened:

  1. The soldier who shot the terrorist who was reported to have a suicide belt was indicted.

    This is bad news. Bad because it kills the nation’s faith in the army. Bad because it kills the Arabs’ fear of our army – after all, it’s not okay to shoot those suspected of having bombs. So, it’s okay to have bombs – you won’t get hurt. And it hurts our standing internationally. Terrorists should be killed; and indicting a soldier for doing what was right – killing someone who acted as if he had a suicide belt, instead of waiting to “see” if it was true and risking tens of civilian lives – is just wrong.

    And, as always, when we give in to terror – we don’t get peace. We get more terror. It’s clear as day, and we knew it was coming.

  2. And . . . it came. This morning the soldier was indicted. And this afternoon, a terrorist put a bag of explosives under a bus, that passed beside another bus and exploded, causing a huge fire (that took 4 firefighting crews to get control of), and injuring 21 people, 2 of them critically. (It’s been reported that one of the critically injured people is the terrorist. He deserves it. I hope the other is his buddy and not a victim.)

So maybe I’m not a paranoid freak after all.

Maybe I’m one of the only sane people in this country.

That would be scary, because I’m not *that* sane.

 

 

Bubbles and Chips

Everyone lives in a bubble. And almost everyone has a chip on their shoulder.

The question is what bubble they live in, and what their chip is made of.

Some people live in a happy bubble. In their world, everything has a bright side – even the worst stuff.

Some people live in a work-bubble. Everything in their world revolves around their workplace.

Some people live in a kid-bubble, where everything in their life revolves around their kids. They stay home with their kids, and pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

Some people live in an attacked bubble. Anyone who tries to help them, anyone who breathes the wrong way, is attacking them.

Some people live in a blame bubble, where everything is blamed on someone else. And some people live in an innocent bubble, where nothing anyone ever did was meant to hurt someone else.

But no one, really, lives in a reality bubble.

All those people who live in England, America, France, and who knows where, who think that we are attacking Muslims for no good reason? They live in a terrorist bubble. So do the people who insist on seeing Israel as an apartheid state, instead of opening their eyes to see that Hamas and the PA are hurting their own citizens.

And sometimes I feel like I’m living in an imaginary bubble. This craziness can’t *really* be the reality, can it?

Then there are the chips.

Everyone has their own chips on their shoulders, according to the bubbles in which they live.

And those chips make life more difficult, emotionally and often practically, too. They prevent people from being happy, from achieving their goals, and sometimes – they cause people to ruin, with their own actions, their lives and those of their loved ones.

Bubbles can be good or bad.

Chips can be good, only if they prompt you to productive action, without harming anything else.

Problem is, most people don’t recognize the chips on their shoulders, and even when they do – they deny or ignore it.

What bubble do you live in? Do you know anyone with a serious chip on their shoulder? What flavor is it?

 

 

Do You Have a Weapon?

Two days ago, we were standing in line to go into the central bus station in Be’er Sheva. I hate standing in that line, because there are always, always, people smoking right beside you. But that’s off topic.

At any rate, someone five people ahead of us went through the metal detector, then went back through it, and then went through it again.

He got wanded over and he got a pat-down – pockets, stomach, legs, arms. The security guard didn’t find anything, and in the end, the man got an apology, too.

I hadn’t been paying too much attention, so I just figured he’s beeped on the metal detector, and hey – he fit the profile, so why *not* check him?

As a sort-of apology for holding us up, the security guard then let five people through without even a blink: a man and a woman who looked like American tourists and turned out to be a couple, Yizchak, me, and this skinny Arab guy with slicked back, black hair, who was too busy talking on his phone to even notice his surroundings. He looked to be about 20 years old. And me? I think he should’ve been checked over. Talking on the phone doesn’t mean you’re not a terrorist.

Well, I’m not a security guard, and the guy had already gone through, so I kept my mouth shut. We found out that we’d missed a bus by three minutes, and found a place to sit and wait for the next one.

And then . . .

From the other entrance, we see three policemen escorting a handcuffed Arab guy of about 20 years old. Two policemen on each side, and one behind him, carrying an assault rifle at the ready.

And we realized that that over-done pat down and apology (we’ve never seen such a pat-down before, at least not in Israel – in America and Canada they do it all the time, to innocent, non-threatening people, because security there is stupid) were both given because the security guards were looking for someone.

They were looking for this guy, that they just arrested. And this other guy was mistaken, wrongly and undeservingly, for the guy they arrested. Was he a would-be terrorist? Or a wanted criminal? We’ll never know.

Because this story, like so many others, never made the news.