User:Mordillo/Why am I in Israel

Many times in the past you've heard the name Israel in the news. You heard about the bombs, you heard about the bloody Jews, you've heard about the war mongering Zionists, you saw the pictures, you've wondered.

WELL WONDER NO MORE!

'Cause here we go with yet another episode of....WHY AM I IN.... And today we have the pleasure of inviting you for a tour in the so called holy land. Are you ready? Here we go!

Why am I in Israel?

That's a very very good question. In a glance, there is, essentially, no reason what so ever for being here. Unless you're a fanatic Zionist, a fundamental Muslim, an amusing Russian-Orthodox priest, or a camel. But as long as you're actually here, let us help you enjoy the wonders of this land and help you understand better, the reasons for you being here.

The Men

If you are of the "Fe-ma-le" side of the human eqaution, many a reasons for you to visit the holy land. You can have it all from you newly aqcuired Israeli guy! He is proably midly intelligent, he speaks reasonable English, he pretty much know how to dress, he will always (and I do mean ALWAYS) pay at the first date  ^[1]. Some minor drawbacks may apply though, and you should carefully examined your newly aquired male:

• He has a Jewish Mother.
• He is bound to, at some point, walk around with you assuming the hand-wrapped-around-your-neck-janggling-the-key-ring-showing-off-I'm-the-master-of-my-domain-position. Quite annoying.
• He is a great supporter of the oddore de natural, the fresh smell you get after running after terrorists all day long.
• He is highly trained in a variety of weapons. We all are.

Finding a parking spot in Tel Aviv

Coming back home from a long day at work, spending two hours back and forth on the seventh circle of hell (also known as the traffic routs in and out of Tel Aviv) you finally come to rest at your flat. Alas, you have to find a parking spot.

Simple?

Allegedly.

In reality?

It would be easier walking calmly through a Gestapo dinner party wearing an Ich bin ein Jude T-shirt, and getting out in one piece.

Having a taste of Macabee Beer

Maccabee Beer, Proudly Labeled as a Bio Hazard for 50 odd years

Walking around in Tel Aviv's promenade, you might feel all parched (after all, Tel Aviv's weather differs from Hell only slightly) and your eyes seek desperately for some cold drink to refresh your aching soul. Your eyes bump suddenly on a familiar logo. It looks like a hand poised to smack you straight in your face. Through the hellish atmosphere you manage to realize that this is not, in fact, not that white hand of Saruman, but rather the blue hand of Macabee Beer. Ah! you ponder, ineffectively licking your dry lips, I'll have a sip!

And so you make the last mistake you'll ever make, and you order a pint of Israel's finest beer. As you gulp down the oozing yellowish fluid and the taste of warm camel piss  ^[2] you realize that you would have been much better off dying of thirst. Alas, it is too late. You are in Israel. And now you know why.

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^  Which is quite undestandable, when you actually meet up with the local ladies.
^  The correct question at this point would be, How does he know how camel piss taste like?