You must have noticed that the matter of the late Shimon Peres and Colette Avital did not explode with very great noise, and was pushed to the inner pages quite quickly. There are several reasons for this. Get an analysis:
The man is no longer with us.
Not fun to despise in the open air.
He is already dead, although it is possible to kill a second time, killing the good name in retrospect, but for the person himself it already matters very little.
If no one can respond, the media quickly loses interest.
2. According to Ms. Avital's testimony, his acts of harassment were on a relatively low level of harassment.
According to her testimony, the former president twice tried to initiate a relationship, but when she said "no" the matter ended immediately.
True, the way he initiated the existence was blatant, chauvinistic, unworthy, but he did not force himself, did not use force, absorbed what Colette transmitted immediately and left.
But is it worth corrupting a name for it?
Like this, even though corrupting there nowadays is fun in any situation.
3. The media also deals with this kind of affair as a form of porn.
The probing of the details of the cases is not for the sake of seeking justice, but out of a desire to give a fight to the "Pornhab" as well.
Peres and Colt is no longer sexy.
People do not want to think of them in such a connotation.
So if it does not have a sexual frequency, there is nothing to stay at the party longer than it must.
4. And most importantly: said a beautiful MK Michal Rosin, Meretz, that although his memory was hurt in her eyes, they will not do to him what they did to Rehavam Zeevi (Gandhi), because he held the "right positions". It's all a show. Who needs a pardon from the president if there are right positions. Not that we did not know, but to hear it from a Meretz MK, a turbo feminist, who is willing to put a woman's favor aside because the offending man brought Oslo, it's refreshing.
By the way, in the history test, the sin of Oslo is 1,180 times more serious than the sin of Oslo, the number of those murdered in Oslo.
The late Shimon Peres, a complex man with a rare stature, sometimes did not decipher the reality well. Neither Arafat nor Coulter, in contrast, thought. ", He heard yes.
It is customary with us "after death - said saints."
And I add - the truth.
When I was a kid, I used to have a bicycle license.
Had to go to a police station every year, get checked, get a permit, pay a toll, get a plate and stick to a seat in the back or between the pegs of the wheel.
Anyone caught without a license would lose the air of his wheels at the hands of the city inspector.
Yes, it was.
My first appearance in the media, by the way, was at the age of 15, as a young reporter on a youth program who did a penetrating investigation into the issue of bicycle licensing and proved that the police check is not strict enough.
I was a sausage back then.
The show was awful, I stuttered and gasped, and I was not licensed to perform again.
Then they got off of it, from a bike license, and it's probably a good thing.
But in the breach in the fence began to pass more different and varied vehicles, whose connection to bicycles was receding.
Electric bikes, electric scooters, electric ATVs for kids and now in a monstrous terrain version, Segway, Hooverboard, scooters, miniature electric cars, electric tricycles, and more and more.
Every week something new is born to move a person from his place and bring him to another place without a license.
The problem with unlicensed tools is that they are also irresponsible.
The user of the tool, even if seriously injured, can escape in a second with the hum of an electric motor and not compensate, not to lips.
Do not expect, was and is not.
Non-licensing also comes with uninsurance, which causes people who are afraid to pay out-of-pocket damages to flee like miserable people.
What else happens is that parents buy their young children formidable power tools and allow them to paddle in the open - when the child has no training in driving.
Next to my house there is a lawn, where five-year-olds practice lifting a pair of wheels in an electric SUV, and picking up, while people are sitting next to a cafe.
One day it will be in the news, God forbid.
There are too many vehicles to license everyone.
The license should be given to people, printed as a QR code on the back, on the vest, on the bag, on the helmet, which can be photographed at any given moment.
Then everyone will have travel insurance in a tiny tool, no matter which one, and the license will be personal, and people will do an account.
What the government does not understand is that anarchy is creeping in from every direction.
Wherever she raises her wild head, she should be hit in the head with a hammer, otherwise this work, the State of Israel, will fall apart in our hands.
Creative, new, tight enforcement is the way to keep the wonder alive, because if not, the Iranians on the borders, on the scooter.
The cat season is in full swing.
Blood-curdling screams terrify the night, sounds like the cries of a miserable baby reach decibels that my ear has a hard time carrying.
It is too sensitive and unable to tolerate noises of any kind.
Cats in utensils, dogs barking, puffs blowing, motorcycles in Devine, and other people's music entering my living room, shouting, beeping, rustling, apprehension, pen ticking, everything produces a reaction of reluctance.
This is felt as a constant attack.
And it also has a name - Mizophonia.
Throughout my life I have tried all kinds of survival techniques.
At first I tried to silence the world.
Any unnecessary noise would receive from me an individual reference, a demand for its elimination, or a confrontation with the source of the noise.
Everything to keep me quiet.
But the mine was that even if I managed to get quiet, it was at the cost of a conflict with someone, and instead of noise outside I got noise inside, in the soul, and also bought myself an enemy.
I did not gain anything.
Then I realized: If I can not change the world, I will change my world.
I built myself a completely airtight bedroom.
At the construction site across the street, the dogs are barking, the convoy of gardeners is passing, and I am not outside and fighting.
I'm quiet in the bedroom.
There is a price - there is no mode for an open window, just an air conditioner always.
Do not like, but the silence is divine.
I suffer especially from noisy events, but recently I became acquainted with a company that pours special gaskets on people that silence the world to a not bad degree.
I was cast.
It hangs around my neck with a string, and whenever reality is noisy, I shove it in my ears and turn down the volume.
I was in a bustling attraction with loud music and lots of kids screaming, and survived without collapsing.
Highly recommend to anyone who is having a hard time like me.
I read this week about the quietest room in the world.
Belongs to Microsoft.
The decibel measurement in it is minus twenty.
Twenty below absolute silence.
People go in there, hear the blood flowing in their arteries and freak out within minutes.
Hallucinations, nausea, bad movie.
So far no one was able to send in the perfect solution, which is not strange.
They did not meet me.
I move there, a sleeping bag and a stove and that's it.
This is my place in the world.
Until then, I intend to establish the village of Hess.
Mizophonic, noisy people, like me, will live there in complete silence.
The rules will be clear: in the pet wing - only ornamental fish, all electric vehicles, all houses are sealed, all children are mute.
Mrs. Levy, I heard you rustled in the lollipop yesterday.
I had to report.
That will not happen again.
No madam, burping is allowed.
You have no case here.
Peace be upon you.