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About Ashdod

So picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy street, right? Neon lights flicker, smells like regret and cheap cologne. I’m neurotic as hell, sweatin’, thinkin’, “Am I really doin’ this?” Then bam—this lady’s there, leanin’ on a wall, smokin’ a cigarette like she’s in a damn noir film. I’m like, “Okay, Larry, don’t screw this up.” I ask, “You, uh, workin’?” She looks at me, smirks—SMIRKS!—and says, “What’s it look like, genius?” I’m furious! The nerve! But also, kinda happy—she’s got sass, I respect that.

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Then, outta nowhere, I hear this loud crash. I sprint over to the corner of HaNesher and HaTzofim. A car just smashed into a lamppost! I’m thinkin’, “Great, just what I need.” Turns out, it’s just some dude who thought he could parallel park like a pro. Spoiler alert: he can’t. I’m tryin’ to keep my cool, but man, I’m fuming. “Dude, you’re in Kafr-Qasim, not a stunt show!”

We’ll never forget October 1956 massacre, say Palestinians in Israel