Needed in Israel: CTRL-ALT-DELETE

Computer keyboard.
Jenny Kane/AP

Back in the good old days, the keyboard combination Ctrl-Alt-Del was the liberator of every stuck computer. The algorithms died? The screen was frozen? The keyboard was getting ornery? A quick Ctrl-Alt-Del would bring the electronic golem back to obedience. As if the note with the Tetragrammaton had been placed in its mouth.

A week ago I was sitting and staring at the screen. Two people had drowned. They sunk to the depths in an elevator. Now, that’s backwards. You descend to the depths in a submarine, not in an elevator. And Nahariya had turned into a river (nahar in Hebrew), justifying its name. There was one death and people hurt. The political scene, however, was preoccupied with whether giving David Bitan the Agriculture Ministry was the right thing to do.

They say that the roads are unbearably overcrowded. You move at five kilometers an hour. That’s ridiculous. The crowding on the line to get immunity in the Knesset is even worse, almost as bad as the line to get flu shots at the HMOs. The immunizations have almost run out. The immunities haven’t yet.

South Tel Aviv is drowning, like every year. But television gives a platform, a microphone and applause to representatives of the political sewer. Someone once referred to the show “Big Brother” as “the garbage juice.” During this season we could leave out the word “juice.” But we must continue to kiss the viewers’ asses. You need ratings. Even if to do so you recruit a brat so vulgar that even Likud vomited him out.

Disabled pensioners are being asked to live on 3,000 shekels ($864) a month. They paid National Insurance all their lives. Now they’ll have to die on National Insurance. Maybe they should appoint another Diaspora affairs minister. Congratulations to the Diaspora. Nothing’s new with the disabled, though.

The treasury is leaking, justice is crumbling, health services are sick, agriculture has its head in the sand, the parliament has derailed, the face of the generation is that of Miri Regev, and the face of education is Rafi Peretz. The large political opposition has nothing to offer but a couple of rear ends seeking cushy seats.

From the throat of the leader emerges only the clicking of the steam engine installed in him. “Is this nice? Is this what you do to me? Is this what I deserve? After all I’ve done for you?” And the masses listen and weep.

The rabbinate has discovered the wonders of DNA. It has turned the Nuremburg Laws into an example of enlightened moderation. There they only went back three generations to determine who is a Jew. The rabbinate is now going back to Homo Erectus. Careful, rabbis! The DNA is liable to reveal to you that the mother of us all was a chimpanzee impregnated by Tarzan’s chimp.

The rabbis have also determined that a woman’s hair is shameful. So women, out! But no few rabbis have also revealed that hair on a student is also shameful. Oy! If all of us are shameful, who will remain with the rabbis?

Herzl said, “Rabbis to the synagogues, officers to the barracks.” We ended up with the opposite. The officers are in the synagogues and the rabbis are in the barracks. But Herzl’s to blame. He started it.

Construction workers are falling from the trees like mulberries. The defense forces are checking the fringes of the ultra-Orthodox to reveal fraud. On Passover eve they kill a small goat in a Jerusalem alley. For the Lord. The Lord doesn’t even burp after the barbecue. Not nice.

The government refrigerators are stuffed with stolen bodies, for trading purposes. Like a cheap horror movie from the 1950s. In that huge prison in the south millions of people are fighting for bread and water, housing and medical services. The Museum of (Jewish) Tolerance in Jerusalem is situated on top of a Muslim cemetery.

January 2020. We desperately need Ctrl-Alt-Del. It’s too late to fix things. We need to totally reboot. Not now, not immediately. Only after another 2,000 years of exile, so we can refresh our stockpiles of intelligence, morals, values and Judaism. Maybe then we can try again. Maybe.