About a dentist

Him, a fascist. Me, a lefty. A hot summer day, a small town in America. He knew I’m an Israeli right away, I wore sandals, he assumed I was from a kibbutz. It was about two years since my last dental care. My last dentist was a Palestinian guy, who I used through the public health care service in Israel. A nice guy, really. My guilt feelings about the Israeli occupation of Palestinians, that brought me to learn basic Arabic, didn’t impress him much.

No pain no gain, the fascist one told me as he prepared his tools. He was a member of the Kahana party, who believed it’s a good idea to deport the natives to other countries. I guess it’s all a matter of perspective.

Probably the most popular graffiti in Israel is “Kahana was right”, often accompanied with a Jewish star. I once printed a bumper sticker, “Kahana was wrong”. I floss regularly.


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