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What's the point? | Israel today

2020-05-30T15:44:28.959Z


| You sat downThere is not much discussion on social networks that ends with one of the parties saying, "Walla, know what? You were right" Illustration: Ze'ev Engelmayer 1  The truth is I did not want to deal with this pants protest again, has already become more exhausting five-day heat wave for which it is alleged that she broke in the first place. Even so, it seems that everyone who participates in this d...


There is not much discussion on social networks that ends with one of the parties saying, "Walla, know what? You were right"

  • Illustration: Ze'ev Engelmayer

The truth is I did not want to deal with this pants protest again, has already become more exhausting five-day heat wave for which it is alleged that she broke in the first place. Even so, it seems that everyone who participates in this debate is determined by their gender, where they grew up, and how much they like to roll the word "religion" on the tongue.

But I thought the responses I received didn't leave me much choice. I have been writing this column for nine months now, and I have never encountered such powerful, positive or negative responses as after the things I wrote last week about the protests. So just before this debate was forgotten (until next year), I felt the need to talk about it one more time. In fact, not really about the slacks, but about how a rather matter-of-fact discussion of social networking very quickly turns into a duel of ugly defamation.

It is difficult to sense the person in front of you in the network. Someone remarked to me that the fact that I wrote that it was a populist festival and a protest for the sake of protest was already a chauvinism in itself. I was going to answer her in a matter-of-fact way when her new response popped to me: "Surely you are a dangerous person, because you are examining girls' hips." She blamed everything for me, then evaporated from my page. She must have gone to Schnitzel for the children.

There were other not very disproportionate reactions, but this frustrated me especially because it shows how one can consider another person today in the city without any consequences. And what's the point of all this? There's not a lot of discussion on social networks that ends with one of the parties saying, "Well, you know what? You're actually right and I've been wrong all this time." It is hard for people to admit such things, whatever the arguments on the Internet are getting in front of a curious audience (at least we imagine), and no one likes to lose a game in front of a home crowd.

For this reason, over time the unwritten laws of networking fights are created: you squabble in front of someone like you wouldn't in real life, until you realize you've gotten into something bigger than you, and then you start to respond more slowly. If your opponent, too, is exhausted, he will do the same until one of you lays a limp on something he does not fully oppose, so you both can retire when you imagine that you have succeeded in maintaining your important honor.

For about 30 years now, our world is online, and people still seem to be groping as babies in what seems to them to be the new territory of the computerized world. Sometimes it is easy for us to forget that this image on the web, which we clash with, represents a person, and behind the keyboard we have no problem releasing some venomous statement. I'm in my house, whatever.

Except it doesn't exactly work that way, and this week I discovered it again. I got into too many corners with too many people, and of course everything came back to me in the opposite. To one woman I read a hypocrite. Why? I could tell, though, that the protest was hypocritical, and it would have served the debate exactly the same way. And who am I talking to like this in real life? To no one, apparently. Online words are easier to throw.

And this whole thing, by the way, was for an argument that for me is nothing more than principle. My girl in general goes to kindergarten, and her most extravagant dress item at the moment is shoes that make red lights.

2 Dear friend once explained to me that whenever I do not understand what a girl is saying, I should answer "yes". My Naama started talking a little late, but since then she has pretty much completed the gaps. Sometimes she returns from kindergarten, starts a story, and doesn't really finish it until layering time comes. This is the case with 5-and-a-half-year-olds, most of whom have not yet become professional in storytelling.

Naama usually ends almost every sentence in "Right, Dad?", So it was only in the last two days that I confirmed to her that at night we become people from the other side of the earth, that God puts the sun in the sky so that he will not be sick from the air conditioner of the clouds, and that next winter she can fly for vacation Skiing in the kingdom of Frozen, along with daughter Omar. do not judge me. When I say "right", it gives me another half an hour, on average.

Sometimes my heart sneaks up to worry that if I continue with this boyfriend's tactic, I will get a phone call from the teacher next year: "You told Naama that man's origin is from the camel?" Only God knows what else I distractedly approve of, assuming he didn't cool off that cloud of his own. It seems to me that the next time I come across "Right, Dad?", I'll just tell her: "Can you repeat the question?" There is a situation that will give me another 20 minutes.

One of the themes that comes back to Naama's never-ending monologues lately is death. I don't know how much her death concept really is (or for any of us, to be honest) with her, but this matter concerns her much more than he should. Mostly, she feels sorry for "I'll be alone after you and mom go to heaven," and every now and then she throws something at her as well as being mom and grandmother after she ends up being a girl, and after that, she too will rise to the sky, "because it's the cycle of life."

A minute later, she could tell she wasn't ready to eat because Odedi looked at her plate, so I wouldn't rush to conclusions about her mental maturity.

This week, while we were traveling in the car, the girl told me that "the sky is like a big tin that all the deceased are throwing at them, but they've already made new people, so it's actually like we put the materials in a recycling bin in the garden." At that moment, I felt like sending this sentence to my hated Facebook page, "Kids are the best screenwriters in the world," which would have been better to call them "Kids are the world's best lick squeezer," or "Parents of kids are the world's worst screenwriters." Naama's metaphor was just great, except for the fact that it sucks to hear it when you already feel quite close to the moment when you shred the corner of the world.

I don't know how we're supposed to talk to kids about death. I don't know at what age, if any, they are beginning to understand this annoying matter of the finality that everything has. In the meantime, my children separated from one great-grandfather and her dog, and did so in a relatively mature way. They got a brief explanation, were sad for a while, and then moved on with life, without too many banter. Maybe this is one of those things we should learn from.

shishabat@israelhayom.co.il

Source: israelhayom

All news articles on 2020-05-30

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