"Hello."

"Yes, dad, what's happening?"

"Listen up, have you been reading the reactions against you?"

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"Off and on. Why, what's up?"

"People are canceling their subscriptions because of you, that's what they're writing there. Be careful, in the end the paper will shut down."

"No. It's not because of me. Gideon Levy, he's the bastard."

"No - you too. I read it all the time in the reactions."

I didn't really believe that anyone would cancel a subscription because someone wrote something in the paper. First of all, from my experience with other companies - satellite TV, the Internet, cellular phones - it's really hard to cancel a subscription. Angry and determined, you call the service center and start off in an aggressive tone of voice. "Hello, shalom, I want to cancel my subscription now, but right now."

Usually they come back with, "One moment, sir," and then another clerk comes on the line and you say, "I want to cancel my subscription," and she passes you on until they make sure that you really are determined to cancel your subscription. Only then do you get to the person in charge of canceling subscriptions, who usually has a gentle, lovely, educated voice, a master's in psychology at least, but with all that, she's also quite a foxy babe. She will absorb your rage, direct you to the right places, she will understand you, sir, and understand your anger at the company. She will also get you into a pleasant conversation at the end of which, somehow, at least in my case, instead of canceling the subscription, I upgrade the package and choose a track that I won't be able to cancel for the next three years.

So I hope that Haaretz has that kind of subscription-canceling specialist. In fact, judging by what I read, the paper should have a call-routing system that leads to at least 10 subscription-canceling specialists. "If Mr./Ms. wants to cancel his/her subscription because of the editorial, please press 1; if you would like to cancel because of Amira Hass, press 2; because of the Arab, 3 ... if it's because of Gideon Levy, you can cancel automatically by hanging up."

Okay, now let's get serious. Please don't cancel your subscription because of me. I'm wild about you, I love you, and I'm really sorry. I apologize from the bottom of my heart. Since rumors began to reach me that furious people have been canceling their subscriptions, I have been living in fear. Even if it's just two, they are, after all, Haaretz subscribers, and how many are there already? Please stay, you don't have to read this, you can do what I do - jump straight to the photo of the family near the end. Pretty please.

I admit: I made a mistake and should not have yielded to temptation and written about that accursed war. But I want to clarify here, once and for all, even if it costs me dearly: I was forced to do it. That's not really my approach. But I was threatened with murder if I didn't publish that stuff. Now I'm not afraid anymore, and if it comes to canceling subscriptions, I am ready to risk my life on the altar of freedom of expression.

That's how I am, I swear to you, you can even ask my wife: I was totally in favor of the war - that is, for Israel in the war against the Axis of Evil. And bihiat Allah, ask my wife, she caught me shouting out in a dream more than once, "Flatten! Pulverize!" And I, who thought I was living in a democracy and could express my opinion about the war, walked the streets of the village and spoke publicly about my feelings and about my desire to see Beirut destroyed as long as even one person in this country feels threatened.

By the way, I am also in favor of crushing Gaza. The fact is, did anyone see that I wrote anything about that? Nothing. Why, what's changed? They're killing people left, right and center there, but I didn't write that I'm against, because no one threatened me with murder because of Gaza. Only because of Lebanon.

Here's what happened. One day, after I gave a talk in the village about the crimes of Hezbollah and concluded with a wish for Nasrallah's head to be placed on a skewer in Rabin Square - I swear to you, this is how it was, suddenly at night, in the middle of a night that was especially dark, there came a pounding on the door, boom, boom, boom. My wife leaped up frightened and the children started to cry. "Who is it?" I shouted from behind the door.

"Arabs! Open up, the house is surrounded, open the door or we'll break in." The moment I turned the key in the lock, I was jumped by a gang of genuine Arabs - I could tell by their smell. The kids and my wife screamed in terror. Two guys with beards grabbed me and two other guys with beards started to kick me all over, in the face, the ribs, everywhere. And the kids and the wife are standing there scared, watching it all. "Are you for Israel in the war?" someone asked and punched me.

"Yes, I am for Israel, yes," I shouted and started to sing Hatikva. The punching and kicking didn't bother me. I stuck to my position unflinchingly. If they hadn't grabbed the children and threatened them with weapons, I never would have given in. At first I said, Okay, we'll do whatever you want, just let us be. They brought me two columns, one about pilots, the other about tank crews, had me read them aloud and asked me to publish them as they were, word for word, in the weeks ahead. On the spot I faxed the two columns to the paper, in the middle of the night, as they were. The proofreaders corrected "b" and "p" errors, I didn't touch the articles.

The plan was for me to call the paper in the morning and explain. But the Arabs, may their names be blotted out, weren't as dumb as I thought, the snakes; they took one of the kids as a hostage and said he would be released only after two weeks, after they saw that their virulent propaganda was in fact published.

By the way, and this is the time to note this, the editors were of course unwilling to publish those pieces because they conflict with the paper's approach and policy. It was only in a secret meeting, in which the seriousness of the situation was made clear to the top brass, that they understood that my child's life was in danger and agreed to publish the articles. Thank God, the kid was released and related that he had been held in a room filled with kids of Haaretz employees. Some of them - for reasons of security I don't want to publish their names - have been held in captivity since the start of the first intifada.

True, in the meantime, at the directive of the security authorities, I have moved to a settlement and I'm closely guarded. But it's perfectly clear to me that my life is in danger. These are bloodthirsty fanatics who are certainly lurking in the shadows and waiting for the right moment to pounce. But contrary to the recommendations of the paper's editorial board, I decided to publish the true story here, for your edification, well-aware that I am risking my life. I can take anything, as long as no one cancels his subscription because of me.