“You are a Nazi,” explained Shlomi Shabab gently to the soldier standing next to him. “And I hate you. The Nazis killed millions of Jews, and you do exactly the same thing by standing on the border of this country and preventing Jews from getting killed.”
Shlomi Shabab’s logic was irrefutable, and had been honed through years of intensive Talmudic study and coffee drinking, so the soldier next to him remained speechless. Or was it shock?
“I know someone whose uncle’s cousin went to the army. He personally told his brother-in-law that the army has strip shows every night with military prostitutes. He also said that they routinely feed the soldiers pork.” he adds angrily, adding that “that was back in 1952 so I can’t even imagine how bad it is nowadays.”
Meanwhile, in a gold-plated office not far away, finance minister Yari Lapid was conceiving of additional ways to steal from the rich and give to the poor. And by rich I mean anybody in Israel who has a job, and by poor I mean Yair Lapid.
“Those thieving bastards,” he thought. “Those sniveling parasitic leeches. Every month they collect $40 a in child payments; and then they have the nerve, the inexcusable gall to ask for more.” Just thinking about it was giving him an ulcer. A black and white ulcer, he could only assume.
As he thought these noble thoughts, he signed off on two additional laws; the first, to expand the highest possible tax bracket to include everybody in Israel, and the second, to increase funding to a group of people who were really good at running after balls on grassy fields. He used to be a news announcer and talk show host and thus he knew all about both finances and culture; in fact, every inch of him oozed culture, from his greasy hair to his greasy tongue.
“We need more soldiers!” cried Ido Eliyash from his bed, where he spent a large amount of his waking hours, not to mention his sleeping ones. “I am totally overworked here!” He added referring to his thumbs, which frantically maneuvered the joysticks on his Xbox 360 consol.
“Totally,” agreed his soon-to be released friend, Eli Aviav. “Whatever happened to devotion? To serving your country? To loyalty?” he bemoans, thumbing through his phone as he plans his 3 year trip to Thailand and subsequent move to Los Angeles.
“Aaaand cut.” says God, motioning with his thunderclapper to Gabriel. “I really think we are on to something here. This is gonna be the most awesome reality TV show ever, especially once we edit it.”
“Totally,” nods Gabriel. “You’ve got drama. You’ve got conflict. They’re gonna love it.”
“I agree," adds God. "But the recipe is simple. Take the most culturally diverse people possible, throw them into the same tiny location and then add life-threatening scenarios to jazz things up, and you’ve got a winner.”
Back on earth, Shlomi Shabab struck the soldier with his Tefilin strap, Yair Lapid ordered a gold-flecked ice cream sundae for himself and his good friend Bibi; and Ido scored a new high score on Battlefield 6™: Total Apocalypse.
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