Iranian nuclear bomb falls on Tel Aviv

An embarrassing thought crosses my mind: Finally, there will be parking

The next generation of mutations that will challenge enlightenment  (Source)

I dreamed that Iran dropped an atomic bomb on Tel Aviv in the middle of the night. And after a fraction of absolute chaos, it progresses exactly like reverse creation: Let there be light. Even if I close my eyes, everything is as blinding as the midday sun. And immediately, let there be darkness. There's no electricity, everything is black. Then the tsunami arrives, and there's no difference between the waters and the skies, until dry land appears. And the plants wither and return to the earth, the fish dissolve in the sea, the animals die, man returns to dust, and so on. And an embarrassing thought crosses my mind: Finally, there will be parking there. Finally, there will be Shabbat there... But in the end, when the ashes settle, it just turns out again like in the Holocaust - those who died are dead and the big question is about the survivors. Because Tel Aviv turns into hell on earth and you can no longer find human beings there. Everyone has turned into mutations.

Here comes a Hipster Haredi [ultra-Orthodox] with one sidelock, who walks with a shtreimel [traditional fur hat] to hide his comb and promotes the Bnei Brak Festival for Ashkenazi poetry and Sephardic selichot [penitential prayers]. In his hand, he has a mooing cow that doesn't observe [the custom of] no touching, and pretends to be a clucking hen, because she's going to compete in a hen clucking contest. And then all the roosters won't want to appear racist and will vote for the cow, and she'll win. And I ask him, how do you touch a pullet before the wedding? And he says she's an atonement hen, and boasts that the Israeli cow is the world champion, and even the Prime Minister of India came to bow down and put a bowl for her, a Jewish cow that gives twice as much milk as a non-Jewish cow - and eats four times as much. Just like before her was the man who won the women's beauty pageant, because the judges didn't want to appear chauvinistic, and especially not against an up-to-date Tel Avivian after Holocaust 2.0, and that's how Tel Aviv takes it and the world beauty queen is a man with breasts, and even the Prime Minister of Canada wants her in the government, because this year is 5778 [Hebrew calendar year].

And the Haredi winks at me: Do you get what a trick it is to fight anti-Semitism with political correctness? Come join us too. If you're so fat and black, call yourself Black Hussein Circle, and you'll be elected President of the USA, and anyone who doesn't vote for you will be accused of fatphobia, racism, anti-Semitism, and Islamophobia - it's a win-win. You're a shoo-in for Democratic candidate. And I ask: But what about misogyny? Because I've been feeling a bit feminine since the radiation, as I didn't protect my testicles, and black circle could be seen as a metaphor for the female organ, because in the media's eyes, everything I am is reduced to a hole. And he says: Aha! You've really caught on to the idea. But be careful not to dream now so you don't miss the celebration. Because here comes the funeral of the State of Israel.

Because here comes a protest of mutations from the end of the street, that is, their pride parade, against their discrimination by humans. At the front, standing on a truck, is an Israeli cherry tomato protesting against the enlargement of its image in the media and spraying everyone with a dripper, and next to it is a settler with an iron kippah [skullcap], reflecting technological achievements, although it's obviously too late now. After them, a minute of silence to remember the destruction, and after that another siren to remember the Holocaust, and after that they sound sirens to remember the fallen IDF soldiers, and after that they sound like crazy to remember the Tel Avivians of blessed memory or may God avenge their blood (depending on one's perspective), and then suddenly the loudspeaker starts singing: "Tel Aviv, ya habibi, Tel Aviv. Look how many mutations around" and everyone starts jumping and dancing. And on the stage stands a giant rat in memory of the mayor and around it four two-hundred-year-old Ninja turtles dance the hora in a circle: the turtles Bialik, Alterman, Guri, and Naomi Shemer (the fourth turtle is transgender) - in memory of the cultural achievements of the State of Israel, formerly the State of Tel Aviv.

And after them come even more advanced mutations, the next generation of mutations that will challenge the enlightenment - and actually the primitiveness - of the previous generation. Like technological mutations, for example live-borgs, half-human and half-robot, because what can you do, he lost his upper part in the disaster, and they're trying to at least allow the lower part to continue enjoying and continuing his seed - because in his death he commanded life. Or homunoids that combine humans with other animals, like "the Israeli man", which is - according to the female researchers who discovered him in their beds - a local type of rooster that doesn't get up in the morning but crows as if there's no tomorrow. And there are those who not only don't want to identify with a specific gender, but also not with a specific species, so they call themselves transpecies, for example a clucking cow, called Mookooriko, and bipeds for whom it's not progressive enough to be called humans, because it's not post-humanistic-correct, and choose the inclusive definition of primates, and other types, which together form the LHTPSH community - Live-borgs, Homunoids, Transpecies, Primates and Shishliks [meat skewers], which is also a type of meat and therefore has rights. And last but not least, at the end of the procession, a rabbi in a pink shtreimel, desperately trying to run, suck up to and catch up with the procession that has already run away and barked and progressed ahead of him, and gives a Torah lesson to the religious LHTPSH community:

"According to the Torah, Tel Aviv is the city of the Zohar [mystical text]! Because Tel Aviv is an oxymoron - both a mound from the past and a futuristic spring, and therefore it is the embodiment of the ideal of the holy Zohar: new ancient things. And so Tel Aviv in its name already contains its destiny: both excavations from the Holocaust and the young season, both a hottie and a bomb, both a mound of destruction and the blossoming of the mutations that follow it. Long live the city of oxymoronic mutation - both hamburger and vegan, both Judaism and secular, both bicycles and electric, high art that is scribbling on the street, a gay family man, an unmanned aircraft, a lake fountain, social justice... And therefore we, a magnet for mutation tourism from all over the world, demand equal rights for mutations! After all, what is a startup if not a mutation, more successful and usually much less so. And now we will proudly carry the secret of Israeli innovation, not some great genius but mutation-nation. When everyone is sure that the world needs to adapt to their genetic code, and not vice versa, then the only adaptation known here is through random mutation. And therefore we need great extinctions, or in our people's language, holocausts, because every innovative mutation here turns into a dinosaur within five minutes".

And the dinosaur reminds him that he's a rabbi, and this is still a funeral after all, and he quickly recites the Tzidduk Hadin [justification of the divine judgment] with such professional speed that no one realizes that this is what is said about the dead: "Great in counsel and mighty in deed; Your eyes are open to all the ways of men, to give to each person according to his ways and the fruit of his deeds". And the procession disappears like a tail without a body, and I start feeling my circle from all sides and looking for unnecessary protrusions, rebellious tails, or light spots within the black, because I'm starting to feel that I too have been affected by the radiation, and something bad is happening to me. And one night in bed, I discover that I have a growth in my dream.

And at first everything looks normal, just a bit more salad-like. But suddenly a giant green tomato comes to me threatening to crush me, because I defecated on tomatoes, and do I think I'll stab them and it won't be blood - but ketchup? And a herd of fat cows chase after me, until from so much jogging they become thin cows, hinting at an especially long drought, and ask: So are we heavy leftists? And Yuval Noah Harari's baldness doesn't let me sleep, why doesn't he wear a shtreimel? And Gazans full of feces protest against Eisenkot, whose name means iron feces, and the gays come to me with a sex organ on the table and an offer I can't refuse, and the shtreimel spins and spins and the mutations turn into motivations and it's already clear to me that the cancer is spreading, and here I am another victim, and it's so pleasant and warm, in the chain of generations, in the chain of metastases, soon I'll reach paradise, and I can dance with everyone, all the victims of all the holocausts, including a million Tel Avivians who will make merry, to a lively Hasidic tune: The eternal people is not afraid of a long holocaust.