The War Feast Begins.
It appears the Israeli Army Navy and Air Heroes etc are carefully 'cherry picking' their 'sort of real' targets whilst they starve Palestinian people, the masses, to grey boney death in general.
"Well, it wouldn't be as much fun if we just blew them all up in a day, would it? Where is the joy in that?"
There's got to be some deeper technical, spine tinglingly strategic and pleasurable satisfaction every day, to make the deeper profound gratification last a long, long time. A really shoulder shivery Memorable Meal of the Ages.
Kind of like being a lip licking bizarre Israeli chef, I guess. What's next on the bloody cutting board of our absolute self-righteousness? What do our guests need to taste tonight?
They are so, so tired of old Palestinian pensioners and women on the grill, like sad prawns with tea towels on their heads. I believe we need new young blood. The blood of more Palestinian children. A swish and a swash and a stick of vanilla, a little bit of green pepper, and its transformed into a sweet yet piquant raspberry jus to pour on some creme anglaise for our French, American and English business partners, and our special Australian ones now, always first to the table. Enough to fill each one, and something for each, in a doggy bag, to take home, for their lucky pets.
"The old world is dying, and the new world struggles to be born: now is the time of monsters."
This Australia disgusts me.
