The Qassam rockets were neutralized by Iron Dome. The (known) tunnels have been destroyed, and Israel is busy developing the technology necessary to detect them in the future (or is at the very least now more attuned to the threat). So what
fun fruit roll ups diabolical plan will Hamas roll up with next?
I can’t answer that question with any hope of accuracy, but I can tell you what I’d like to see. Earlier today, I came across an article on Business Insider, “South Korea Is Airlifting Choco Pies To The North To Troll Kim Jong-Un“. You have my attention. The article explained:
Thousands of delicious Choco Pies floated over the North Korean border this week as both a gift and a protest from their southern neighbors. Choco Pies, if you are not familiar, are delicious chocolatey cookie snacks with a marshmallow center. South Korean activists launched giant balloons carrying the pies towards North Korea, a practice they have previously used for sending knowledge of the outside world on pamphlets and USB drives.
Choco Pies are very popular in North Korea, to the degree that there is a sort of Choco Pie black market . . . Beyond their street value, the Choco Pie[s] also represent a world outside of North Korea. Author and history professor Andrei Lankov explained in his book, The Real North Korea: Life and Politics in the Failed Stalinist Utopia that the Choco Pie “symbolizes South Korea’s prosperity, sophistication and progress. Like canned beer in the Soviet Union of my youth, [the Choco Pie] shows that the surrounding world is rich and full of wonders—gastronomical and otherwise.”
Overall, this would have been a more pleasant topic to read about had I not chosen to do so towards the tail end of Tisha B’Av, a major Jewish fast day. Instead of contemplating the relationship between the two Koreas, and the lives of people for whom an unhealthy snack represents a minor miracle, I found myself dreaming of Choco Pie. Choco. Pie. Chocolate. And pie. And marshmallow, even though that isn’t in the name. How curious. And probably delicious. Mmmmmm…
And because the subject has (obviously) been on my mind recently, my dreams quickly turned to a very different border — the one that separates Israel from Gaza (and vice versa). I imagined a world where Gazans express their frustration with the Israeli soldiers stationed just across the border — and the small kibbutzim and towns they protected — by floating over falafel balloons on Jewish fast days. Or that all through Ramadan, Israel’s Air Force had periodically dropped enormous bags of Bamba into Gaza.
No, I don’t expect that either side would fully appreciate the foods dropped on their fasting heads — but I do imagine they would prefer that sort of care package to the rockets and bombs they’ve already got.
I’ll admit this vision was primarily my stomach talking. But hey: To dream, perchance to sleep-eat.