Friday, August 30, 2013

All the Same with Clothes Off.


The Middle East problems could be solved by making everyone wander around in their underwear. This was the conclusion vociferously reached by at least one drinker at the bar, although many heads nodded in agreement.

Of course, few could bring themselves to full-hearted verbal agreement, being as the subject had turned to bikinis on the beach,  as a member of the thought-police from the local womyn's collective was in the room collecting for her favourite charity.

But the issue had been brought up during a deep and meaningful discussion on Arab-Israeli relations, and the womyn's collective lady was crestfallen.

Brian was telling us of a conversation he had had:

Just as there are observant and unobservant Jews in Israel, there are all sorts of Arabs. Just as some Jewish women wouldn’t ever be seen in a bikini on the beach, there are plenty of Israeli Arab women who take advantage of Israel’s liberal nature and sunbathe on Israel’s many fine beaches.  
So while the picture of the woman walking on the beach in a burka that did the rounds on social media a few weeks ago is accurate, it’s quite possible the girl in the bikini is an Arab too. 
It’s normal. Here’s a typical story from one of my Facebook  acquaintances, Bat Zion:
Now, Bat Zion could have been this lady:

From Facebook

On the other hand it could have been:

From Facebook.

I will leave you to figure out which would be seen in a bikini.  Both look quite lookatable to me.

But there she was on the beach, she told Brian.

Shabbat in Eretz Yisrael and as is my custom on this Shabbat and every Shabbat, I go to the beach to enjoy the cooling water and the refreshing sea breeze. 
Next to me in bright colourful skimpy bikinis, there situated themselves two beautiful young Israeli Arab women. 
We exchanged common greetings (I talk to anyone:-)) and set to deepen the already evenly golden brown tan all three of us seem to have acquired. 
One of the city inspectors, patrolling the beaches, approached us and reminded us to drink water so that we do not get dehydrated. 
I told him I had forgotten mine. My beautiful beach neighbours seem to have also forgotten theirs. 

“I will get a popsicle as soon as the vendor gets here,” I answered. 
“So will we,” answered one of the young ladies next to me. 
“Ok, ” said the inspector, “I will send him your way.” And left. 
A few minutes later, all three of us were left with out mouths open. 
There, in front of us was the city inspector negotiating his way barefoot on the hot sand, coming towards us. 
In his hands were three popsicles! 

Welcome to an “Apartheid” state called Israel!
The truth is, when girls are wearing bikinis, it’s hard to tell if they’re Jew or Arab and few people really care. You’d only notice if you spoke or listened for an accent and then again, most of them speak perfect Hebrew and with far less accent than my crappy Hebrew. 

Another fine tale of normal, intermingled life in Israel. It’s not quite what you may have been mislead to believe. 

I will drink to that.

Mind you, popsicles taken to beachgoers by Inspectors may not be the norm. Even if this Tavern-Keeper was fully clothed and in my best, polished armour, I very much doubt I would get such service and attention. Being svelt, sexy and female just may have something to do with it.

Some people's 'armour' is dangerous to go near.

Now if SHE had been in a bikini she would have been spotted leaving home. Someone might have had a word and persuaded her to stay at home.

That's what we suggested to the Womyn's Collective lady.

Both need a strong drink, it seems to me. Some Saving Grace?

Perhaps if Presidente O'Barmy refrained from speaking with his clothes on, some Arab leader would give him a popsicle.

With the Syrian 'crisis' in the news and Chairman Mouthy Kev threatening to go to a G20 meeting (before the election that throws him out on his arse), it would be instructive to see all those world-leaders posing in their underpants. It would put their pronouncements in a different light, especially with all the suns shining from their leopard-print-covered backsides.


Ne meias in stragulo aut pueros circummittam.

Our Bouncer is a gentleman of muscle and guile. His patience has limits. He will check you at the door.

The Tavern gets rowdy visitors from time to time. Some are brain dead and some soul dead. They attack customers and the bar staff and piss on the carpets. Those people will not be allowed in anymore. So... Be Nice..