Every day in this country some union, organization or group goes on strike. It’s absolutely ridiculous. A couple of months ago it was the African migrant workers. Then it was the nursing staff at Hadassa Hospital. And last Monday shit got real when the Film and TV subtitle and translators association decided to go on strike.

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Borat even funnier with subtitles. Courtesy of funntypos dot com

As much as I prayed for teacher’s strikes growing up here in Israel (it was our equivalent of a snow day) it’s gotten to be a real pain in the tuchus as an adult. So I’ve decided to compile a list of solutions in case of a strike. Please only apply in case of emergency:

1. The Film and TV Subtitle/Translator’s association strike. Which has no impact on anyone reading this blog. Because y’all hopefully understand English at a fourth grade level. But if you don’t and you rely on those two lines at the bottom of the screen then you’re shit out of luck this week.
Solution: Google Translate. Yeah, it’s not very accurate. Scratch that. It’s never accurate. You want an example? Here. This is one of my blogs translated into Arabic on the new Times of Israel Arabic website. And then put through Google translate.

‘M’ crazy over me. I refuse to take responsibility for it. Although it was perfectly normal that before I meet them. Before the birth of the ‘D’. Before that never blogging all puff. Each act is simple. And told the world that I have sexual fantasies regarding the Bgelesh children. Or any number of dubious and blogs that pay any ordinary person’s privacy-loving mad. The longer I sat in the car I realized how Hmagta more. I’ve literally pay for my wife mad. In less than five years.

So much more hilarious (and poignant) than the original. Sexual fantasies regarding the Bgelesh children? Oh man, I’d find myself in a Turkish prison in no time.

Have you ever been to a Turkish prison? Or seen a grown man naked?

Have you ever been to a Turkish prison? Or seen a grown man naked?

2. Members of Knesset (Israel’s Parliament). Oh, how on earth would we function without 120 of our smartest, most shrewd minds?
Solution: Monkeys. Tied to their seats in Knesset and forced to vote. On social issues. And on whether to bomb Iran’s nuclear facility. Because let’s face it, 75% of the time those monkeys (I’m talking about the elected Knesset members and not the monkeys that replaced them) are absent. Or using taxpayer money to go on expensive trips. Or buying ice cream. So think how much money we could save. And as the saying goes, 120 monkeys tied to seats would eventually enact a decent law that would reduce the cost of living here. Eventually. Or start WW3.

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Banksy’s Monkey Parliament

*Note – This solution can be applied to strikes by University professors, Bloggers and Bus Drivers (just give em Waze)

3. Babysitter/Au Pair Organizations. I’ve written about my misadventures with babysitters. And I think that every parent of a young child thanks the Lord or Krishna or Honey Boo Boo if they can find a reliable sitter to watch their kids. But what happens if they too decide to strike?
Solution: Skype. Like the other day I was skyping my brother in Freiburg and I had to drop a shadoobie in the bathroom. He entertained my little hell raiser for like forty five minutes. So next time you want a night on the town with the little missus, just Skype a family member, and then plop your offspring (not recommended for ages 3 and under) in front of the computer. Tell your relative “You’ll be right back” and pray to Odin your internet connection (that you “borrow” from Amnon, your downstairs neighbor) doesn’t time out.

4. Driver’s test examiners union. Those smug bastards with their clipboards, beady eyes and exorbitant fees get to decide whether or not you get behind the wheel here. Screw them. And having (Unjustly) failed a number of road tests (that old lady on the crosswalk came out of nowhere) I can honestly say they’re a corrupt bunch of idiots. So what should we do in case of a strike?
Solution: Unmanned Predator Drones. Usually reserved by the government for intelligence purposes and collecting sensitive information on the enemy, the older models can double as aerial road test examiners. And if you start driving with severe road rage, like most Israelis do, and disregard every single rule in the book, these drones will be authorized to blow up your Mazda 323 Lantis with severe prejudice and thus spare us another aggressive asshole.

You have failed your driving test. Prepare to die.

You have failed your driving test. Prepare to die.

5. High School Students Strike. Last year the High School Students Association threatened to strike as a result of the cancellation of their yearly field trips. The first thing that came to mind was: Fucking genius. Kids today are so much savvier than we were. What a terrific angle. We had Alice cooper singing “Schools out for summer”. They have Miley Cyrus with a wrecking ball, unions and Whatsapp groups selling weed.
Solution: Replace them with children from Ukraine, North Korea or Syria, where a field trip could be lethal. Or an exchange program with the kids in the Nike/Apple sweatshops in Taiwan.

Field trip? Field Trip?  You want field trip?   Oh, I give you field trip.

Field trip? Field Trip?
You want field trip?
Oh, I give you field trip.

I’ve been clandestinely (and quite passionately) engaged in what’s called an Italian strike for most of my adult life. Wikipedia defines it as:

An industrial action in which employees do no more than the minimum required by the rules of their contract, and precisely follow safety or other regulations in order to cause a slowdown, rather than to serve their purposes.

And the more I think about it, it seems to me like every worker in this country, with the exception of those hi-tech bastards, seems to be doing the same.

And in support of my translator brethren I’ve decided to let Google translate do the work on the final line of this blog (or was it the work of a monkey?)

I say so myself always. Usually when the ‘D’ beat me a try moves from the movie “Kung Fu Panda”. Or tell me when the ‘M’ as you love me. And as always Sthabay. (Although she does not mind if I lose some kilos. And haircut)