The Ill for All Cures: The Middle East

The madness and unimaginable hatred throughout the Middle East continually enrage and depress me. I refuse to comment on the endless series of conflicts which started hundreds of years ago, and now simmer on like some breeder reactor of malice.

This story, about a mentally retarded Palestinian boy whom some people convinced to wear 18 pounds of explosives to an West Bank checkpoint, is, alas, far too typical. Fortunately, it does have a happy ending; thanks to a yellow robot (read the story) the boy was able to shed his vest and escape a fiery doom.

It’s the little details that are the most touching/infuriating. Preparing for his death, the boy gave his candy to friends and neighbors, and finally got the haircut his mother wanted. When she asked him why he was being so nice, he simply said, “I just want you to be happy with me.”

Of course, the final words should belong to the boys brother: “The ones who sent him are stupid, because the army will give him two slaps and he will tell them who sent him.”

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