Rare case of 'Adult Tweeterrhea' diagnosed in Israel

While frittering my life away on Twitter, I recently came across the Israeli Ministry of Foreign Affairs' account run by Chaim Shacham, the Director of Israel's 'Digital Diplomacy Department'.

As far as I can tell, it seems Shacham spends a lot of time online tweeting classic gems like "There is absolutely no apartheid" to an audience composed of an odd combination of ZioNazis, angry dyslexic muhajababes and Guardian-readers channeling ennui with their dull upper-middle class existence into political rage.

Although to be fair, I'd be pretty frustrated too if I was a dyslexic muhajababe.

Muhajababes of the world untie!

This minute-by-minute regurgitation of Israeli government positions is impressive in the same way you would be impressed by someone who can projectile vomit on demand. Although it is an absolute a must-read for anyone who feels they aren't getting the Israeli side of the story (which explains why the account has a staggering 145 followers globally).

But regardless of one's political views, you have to give Mr. Shacham points for his energy. Most Twitter users who display such fervor are under the age of 16. And although he displays the same level of intellectual sophistication as fellow Tweetarrheans, he does manage to remain grammatically intact. So, I thought it would be great to interview him for this blog.

Me: What does Israel hope to achieve with digital diplomacy?

CS: We found that there weren't enough people online who feel the need to defend Israel's record of their own accord. So we decided to pay them to do it instead. Unfortunately, we are having difficulties getting paid staff to recreate the zealousness of obsessive laypeople who do this for fun. It seems to require characteristics only found in the chronically unemployed.

Me:What is the Israeli government's strategy in the current negotiations with the Palestinians?
CS: We intend to dazzle the world community by putting up a facade of distracting handshakes, photos-ops and press releases while continuing colonization from behind.

Me: Are you telling me that the Israeli position on settlements is doggy-style?                

CS: If you want to get technical, yes.

In the interest of unbiased reporting, I tried to get hold of the person in charge of the Palestinian 'Digital Diplomacy Department'. But despite several phonecalls to the Palestinian Ministry of Information to arrange an interview, I was unable to penetrate the defenses of the gum-snapping telephone operator who hung up on me repeatedly. They must be too busy preparing the ground for online revolution.

PS. Don't hate me Guardian-readers, I'm a Guardian-reader too!

Would you screen Facebook's calls?

Yesterday's post started a discussion between a friend and I about what Facebook would be like if it was an actual person.

First, we concluded that Facebook would be a woman. Sorry to perpetuate gender stereotypes, but no social networking site could be personified as a man unless it was about sex and/or gadgets and/or cars. (Although Twitter could be an exception, with its inability to listen for more than 140 characters).

So obviously, Facebook would be the nosey type. And oh, the gossip! She would be a terrible, yet extremely persistent, matchmaker. And she would keep reminding you of things you want to forget ever happened. But the worst part is that you would find yourself staying friends with her anyway.

On second thought, Facebook could be a man. But only if it was Perez Hilton.

PS. Quick shout out to the unfailingly witty AK whose comments inspired this post, and who will hopefully write a guest post soon!

Facebook made me do it.

Everyone does it. Don't pretend you don't. I, for one, am willing to admit that I occasionally 'peruse' the Facebook profiles of men I used to date. If you insist, we can call it 'stalking'.

I do find it disturbing that the online equivalent of peeping through your ex's window has become borderline socially acceptable. But what is more disturbing is that Facebook seems to be encouraging this behaviour.

Recently, a box called 'Photo Memories' has started showing up while browsing Facebook. I'm pretty sure it is no coincidence that most of these photos are of people I used to stalk on Facebook (i.e. ex-boyfriends). Basically, Facebook is like one of those dodgy friends that encourages you to drunk dial your ex at 3am.

I looked it up and the problem seems to be that the Facebook algorithim is not very good at figuring out how human relationships work. The 'Photo Memories' pictures are selected because you used to show an interest in the profiles of people tagged in them. So while your friends can grasp that you no longer want your ex's face randomly popping up on your computer screen, the Facebook algorithm hasn't quite got there. Basically, Facebook is like a socially inept friend that encourages you to drunk dial your ex at 3am.

So the next time Facebook prompts you to stalk an ex, just think how you would feel about a moronic friend encouraging you to drink-dial that person.

Psychological Turbulence

I hate sitting still for long periods of time. Other things I hate include: crying children, slimy food and being forced to make small talk with boring and/or creepy people. Now combine all of these and you have the recipe for my personal hell.

This also happens to be the recipe for Royal Jordanian flights from Amman to North America.

A few weeks ago, I packed my bags, went to the airport and boarded a flight to New York. Predictably, as soon as the plane took off, the man in front of me reclined his seat all the way back and – as if on cue – the child behind me began kicking my seat repeatedly. Meanwhile, the obese man on my left nervously looked out the window and started practising heavy breathing exercises. As the folds of flesh hanging out over his armrest heaved up and down with his breath, I slowly inched away, pressing myself against the other side of the chair.

So there I sat: armrest digging into my side, trying to block out the beginnings of a loud theological debate between two bearded men across the aisle. And that was just the start of my fourteen hours of misery.

Then it occurred to me. Objectively, the actual flight experience is not that bad. But cram hundreds of people together in a confined space for a few hours and you automatically amplify every one of their annoying traits. The real reason these flights get under my skin is that they are a caricature of everything that irritates me about the Arab character. Here are a few examples:

Annoying trait #1: Invasion of personal space

My nervous neighbour took this one literally when he squeezed me into a corner of my seat. But even more irritating is the insistence on having prolonged, invasive conversations with whoever happens to be sitting next to you. What does my father do for a living? Where is my family originally from?

There is certainly no shortage of such busybodies in the Arab world. These are the people who try to marry you off to their third cousin within five minutes of meeting you. The ones who think business meetings are an appropriate time to relate their life story in excruciating detail. Yes, these are the people who turn your daily social interactions into an awkward cringe fest.

Annoying trait #2: Overvaluing your own opinion

If your fellow Arab travellers aren't talking directly to you, they will still make sure you can hear them. You might not care about their opinion, but they will make sure you hear it anyway. Like the men on my flight imposing their religious debate on everyone in the vicinity. These people remind me of watching the Al-Jazeera current affairs debate show, "Al-Ra'i Al-Akhar". The viewer never quite figures out the participants' viewpoints because they are shouting over each other the whole time. (Although to be fair, if I didn't think so highly of my own opinion, I wouldn't be writing this blog).

Annoying trait #3:  "What’s mine is yours" (especially if it is my problem)

At some point during the flight, a woman handed her very young baby to the stranger sitting next to her. "Can you take care of him?" she asked rhetorically, not even waiting for an answer before she walked off to the bathroom. It is not the first time I have seen someone do this on a flight. But it is definitely something I have only seen Arabs do. On the plus side, this kind of behaviour is probably a by-product of Arabs' strong sense of community. I can even see how some might consider it a good thing. Unless you're the guy left awkwardly holding a snotty crying baby.

Years of experience have led me to the conclusion that the best coping strategy on these flights is to bury my face into a book and pretend that none of these people exist. If only there was a way to do that in everyday life.