Citizens turn to me demanding that I join politics, thinking that your servant is good for him to rule.
"Only you," they write to me, and "I will vote for you for sure."
And for a moment I am filled with courage and confidence, and here I am already the Minister of Internal Security, changing the country according to my vision, increasing the police, tightening enforcement, sorting things out.
sheriff.
Or the Minister of Education.
"Discipline and Meaning."
That's my password.
There are no phones in the classroom.
No violence, no boycotts.
Kelly easily in a big way.
Then I remember that a minister does not really determine, and what about me and organizational processes?
Have I ever done one?
I went through one?
I learned one?
Do I know how to organize my life?
Is my drawer tidy, or do I put everything in it and find nothing?
And what about the legal advisers?
They come to me in nightmares.
I ponder the fact that I have a very present attention deficit disorder.
This means, among other things, great enthusiasm for new projects, and then in a short time an understanding that I do not have exactly the skills to do them, and it is not that interesting, and things do not happen from now to now but have to accompany processes, and processes I despise.
Prefers visible miracles at the moment.
And let's sit in the discussions.
I'm after a quarter of an hour already looking for something to happen, start interrupting, doing nonsense, eating in a frenzy all the refreshments, not getting bored.
To be a politician is to sit all day in debates.
I prefer to clean buildings from the outside by abseiling, and I have a crazy fear of heights.
And I think of my neighbors.
People turned around in total, living on ultra-quiet streets, eight cars an hour at the height of the day.
Then, one day, their neighbor Avery will decide he wants power, and will be elected, appointed, and a checkpoint will be set up outside the house, and a parking space will be marked, and controversial decisions will be made, and the disputants will come and move their residence in front of the neighbor Avery.
And the neighbors will be bitterly bitter.
And all sorts of people like Sadi Ben Sheetrit will shout out loud on the sidewalk across the street, ruin my girls' childhood end in their rude words and violent laws, penetrate their shouts into the house and be the soundtrack of my existence.
On social media I will be persecuted, no matter who, someone will be really unhappy, and will do his job of persecution.
Who needs it?
Why wish it on anyone at all?
I with your permission will continue to write, and ideas written here later suddenly sprout elsewhere, and are sometimes implemented, which is my best.
Sow ideas.
That others will grow.
In case I decide to go, this section will delete itself.
Illustration: Yehuda Nuni, Nuni-art.com
campaign
You've probably seen IAI's recruitment campaign.
They came up with signs that say: "Applause to Tzachi! 8200 comes out, thanks to which another teenager was exposed to porn!"
And they go through signs between the high-tech fields that our country has been blessed with, gambling, cards, social networks, and reveal what has been known for a long time but it is not.
A significant part of Israeli high-tech is immoral, exploitative, deliberately addictive to people, making the world more alienated and cruel.
That's the reality.
We are surrounded by people who made their huge high-tech fortune not from a development that promoted humanity, but from an invention that went into people’s homes, into their pockets, and took their money by surprise.
This is not how Torah comes out of Zion.
Anyway, this campaign was done by my terribly talented sister-in-law, Yaeli Shochat, and her team, and she walks around at my mother-in-law’s Friday dinner with a lot of body-laying ceremony.
She managed in a big way through an advertisement to provoke a dialogue about what this high-tech is all about, and if it is at all a continuation of the cart culture of Israelis in malls in America, such legal scams, but stinking.
The whole industry is talking about it, and the leftists are also adding - one might think that the aerospace industry does not produce missiles to eliminate soft children in Gaza.
Be healthy, how sick is this thought.
The purpose of this campaign is to get high-tech people to come and work in the aerospace industry, to work with meaning.
Meaning is the most important value in a person's life, and he is willing to convert it into a lot of money.
How good it is to go to work knowing that what you are working on will save the lives of innocent Israelis all over the world and eliminate the wicked of their people.
And yet I think all this, I come across an Israeli company that runs an equal app, which has such a machine with an arm like the machines in the mall that grab a doll, and run it from the phone.
And it works great.
And you will not believe, but here in Israel, in Petah Tikva, there is a huge hall with hundreds of real machines aimed at cameras, and people from all over the world, especially from America, buy virtual coins and play online on a real machine in Holly Land, and what they spend is immediately sent home.
What a cool idea.
Too bad I did not think of him myself.
Really?
Is all the knowledge and all the technology and all the creativity so that in the end some miserable person somewhere will corrupt his money on a slot machine in Israel?
It's beautiful?
Not sure.
But it is also possible to combine: if the key had worked in the aerospace industry, now a helicopter would lower such an arm, grab Sinwar, and be over.
Not worth a five shekel coin?
Breeze
we went to the beach.
On the way to the beach we saw people leaving in quantities, never a good sign, but I said in my heart - anything is better than the density of a Saturday night at sea.
What could it be that everyone is leaving like this and the sun is still hanging in the sky?
We got out of the car, we understood.
A strong wind tried to push us back into the car, making it difficult to open the trunk and take out the mat.
I could for her.
I am a spiritual person, after all.
We wandered around the parking lot with the equipment and mat wishing to fly to the brown lands, until we reached our friends' seat.
We unfolded the mat, put some children on it to stay planted in place, and opened our pockets.
How handsome the horizon, what the ships build on their sails if you have no sand in your eyes.
I remember the sights from previous times, this time it was impossible to open an eye.
Not bad.
Ourselves.
Then, through the closed eyelids, I saw the wind driving all sorts of plastics from the nearby cafe.
Cups, plates, bags, packaging, everything flies off the tables and makes its way to the beach, and from there to the water, and from there to a sea turtle who thinks the bag is a jellyfish, and he loves jellyfish, then he swallows the bag, then he goes up to the Sea Turtle Rescue Center. Him and take out the bag of chickpeas that flew on a windy day.
Or not, and he dies, along with all sorts of other animals that have not adapted to the plastic age in the sea and are deceived by the garbage we throw away, and die in a hundred strange deaths.
In short, I started chasing plastics.
I put my istanism aside, and ran like crazy after flying saucers with ketchup remnants of strangers' survivors.
Yak.
And people at some party on the beach looked at me, some kind of Avri Gilad, skipping a hopeless pursuit of garbage, and thought that ... I have no idea what they were thinking.
The word eccentric must have crossed someone's mind, but I felt the only one who was not eccentric on the beach, and that everyone raised their shoulders as if there was nothing to do, as if the order of fate was to eliminate the sea as well, and I knew the ten plates and five cups and seven bags There actually is.
And I put all my loot in the trash.
And a great gust of wind came, and he sat down in the tin, and picked up everything I had put, and carried it away from me.
This is how it is when I am arrogant.
The wind comes and carries my arrogance.
Take care of the sea, so have your grandchildren too.
avrigilad@gmail.com
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