Archive for August, 2008

Silent conversations – English/Hebrew

There is one distinct memory that I have of my childhood as a CODA (child of deaf adults) which will probably never leave me. In a way, it’s a haunting memory. A sort of an ever-looming nightmare that engulfs my mind whenever I contemplate this weird mentality I “inherited” from my parents.

As a child, I remember vividly a particular type of “deaf events” which my parents usually titled as “inviting guests”, but I always thought of it as “deaf parties”. A “deaf party” would be a rather depressing term if it were seen in light of the kind of parties that hearing people are used to. Obviously, there’s no music, dancing, or, at least as far as I recall from those times, much drinking. In fact, most if not all of the “oldschool deaf” people in my “deaf congregation” were alcohol celibates..

Anyway, in those “parties”, the most vivid, and as I’ve mentioned earlier, the most horrifying and haunting memory is the conversations that the deaf participants held. Perhaps to any outsider, it would just seem like a bunch of people, either standing or sitting down and flapping their hands at enormous speed. I remember I always found it terrifying that what seemed to be like a bunch of old, wizened, wrinkled old men and women could move their hands so fast that it looked like they were all part of some black magic ritual.

I was usually spending my time at some safe distance, either in my room or in my sister’s room. Trying to ignore the intricate little sounds those ISL conversations made. The most frightening thing about those convsersations is that as a “Deaf person” (albeit one who can hear), I knew that the noises coming from the living room and kitchen had a meaning. The noises themselves weren’t the meaning that the people making them were conveying, but they meant that very lively communication was happening, and as someone who wasn’t in the room, I had no part in it, and could never know or understand any of what these people were saying.

In many occasions, I stumbled upon these parties and just stared at proceedings. About 30-40 hands and faces buzzing like electrons. The occasional roaring laughter from someone who clearly isn’t aware of the earthquake he had just produced, a lot of lips slapping upon each other, nasal and thoracic groans, violent clapping and thunderous stomps.

Looking at this tableau as a child was to me a bit like “manhood-ceremonies” are to African tribesmen. With all the fear and confusion that these occasions entailed, it also created a very distinct “cultural heritage” for me. Not exactly a Deaf heritage, definitely not a hearing one – but that of a very strange alien, literate in the language of the benign monsters in his house, but in very real terms, not one of them.


כשגדלים בבית “חירש”, אי אפשר להתעלם מסוג מאוד יוצא דופן של אירועים שנוטים לחזור על עצמם  – “המסיבה”. הזכרון של ה”מסיבות” שההורים שלי היו מנהלים (או בכלל, כאלו שהייתי נוכח בהן) הוא זכרון שרודף אותי, וכן, גם בהיבט שלילי – כמו טראומה מפכחת.

אבאמא בד”כ היו מגדירים את המסיבה בחירשית קלאסית: “באים אורחים”. ה”באים אורחים” תמיד הוגדר על-ידי כ”מסיבות חירשים”. רוב האנשים (כלומר, שומעים) חושבים על מסיבה בד”כ כאל אירוע שבו יש מוסיקה או ריקודים, או אפילו במופע הזקן של המילה – הרבה אנשים שנוכחים ביחד באותו מקום, ועושים המון רעש ומדברים בקול רם. זה יהיה די מדכא לחשוב על מסיבת חירשים באותו האופן שחושבים על “מסיבת שומעים”. מסיבת חירשים בד”כ כוללת את מה שהחירשים, לדעתי, הכי אוהבים לעשות – יותר מלאכול, לעשות סקס, לטייל, לנוח, או לעסוק בתחביבים שלהם : הם מדברים.

התקשורת הבין חירשית היא משהו קריטי עבור החירש. “הצד החירש” שבי תמיד חש את האימה שיש מבדידות פשוט כי תמיד הרגשתי את הפחד העצום שנמצא אצל כל חירש בגלל המחסום הלשוני שמגביל אותו. במובן מסוים, ירשתי את הפחד הזה פשוט כי חייתי במחיצתו כל חיי.

רוב מסיבות החרשים החלו כאשר הייתי בחדרי, ובד”כ העדפתי לשמור מרחק מהן כי, כפי שאמרתי, הם הפחידו אותי לאללה בתור ילד (וגם בתור מתבגר). השקט המוזר המלווה בכל מיני רעשים אקזוטיים והידיעה שאיפשהו, איכשהו, המון בני-אדם, באמצעים ויזואליים-בלבד – מעבירים אחד לשני תחושות ומסרים. העובדה הזו כל כך בלבלה והפחידה אותי, שתמיד הייתי מעדיף להתרחק ולקוות שהבלגן הזה ייגמר כבר.

לעיתים, כשהייתי מעז או שממש הייתי צריך לצאת מהחדר, הייתי מספיק להעיף מבט ואז לנעוץ את מבטי במה שמתרחש: שפתיים מצקצקות, מחיאות כף, רקיעות רגליים וקולות מעוותים, נמוכים מדי או גבוהים מדי, שלעיתים נמלטים באי-ידיעה מגרונו של אחד המסובים. אני תמיד חשתי הזדהות מסוימת עם כל אחד מה”אורחים שבאים” ותמיד באותה הצורה: קיבלתי את התחושה שאני, כמו אחד מהם, נמצא כאן ובמחיצתם של כל כך הרבה אנשים שהם חירשים כמוני – בגלל שאני לא יכול לעשות את מה שאני באמת רוצה לעשות – וזה לדבר מבלי להשתמש בידיים שלי. האימפוטנציה הזו תמיד הבעיתה אותי, ובמובן מסוים, אני חושב שהפוביה הכי גדולה שלי צמחה דווקא מההיכרות עם העולם הזה. בעולם הזה, כל חסרי-האונים פיתחו דרך עקיפה לשגשג, אבל בתור אחד שלא היה נזקק לידיים כדי לתקשר, תמיד מצאתי את החירשות כדבר מבעית, מפחיד, מרגש בצורה בלתי נשלטת. כראיה לכך – דמעות לפעמים היו זולגות מעיניי רק כאשר הייתי מסמן שיר מרגש שאני שומע. תחושת חוסר האונים תמיד מתעוררת כאשר אני עושה את הסוויצ’ במוח ל”חרש שבתוכי”. החרש הזה תמיד ירגיש אזלת-יד בגלל שהשומע שבתוכי יודע טוב מאוד מה הוא מפסיד. לכן, בדרך העגומה הזו, אני נושא את הצלב בשביל כל החרשים שלא מפחדים או עצובים או סובלים ממה שהם לעולם לא יכירו: מהצליל


De-conversion story

This is most of what I submitted to the “de-conversion blog” (see link), this post contains my personal de-conversion story to atheism.

I’m 23 years old, I live in a city near Tel-Aviv, Israel, and I am an atheist. As an atheist, I lack the belief in a god, gods, or any other supreme/supernatural being. I believe that everyone on the planet earth are godless creatures that were not created by anything and that the origin of life and its evolution are the product of purely natural processes.

Now that I’ve firmly depicted my worldview, I want to share with DCB’s readers why and how I adopted this rather unusual worldview. (if you lived in Israel, you’d know that it’s quite unusual, although, as far as I know, not illegal, to be an atheist)

I was born and raised in Israel. Since I read that this blog is mainly about Christian de-conversion, my story is probably going to be a bit alien to you. My atheism owes itself to 3 major factors: My personality, my upbringing, and some atheist asshole who sent me some websites about critical thinking and atheism.

First of all, let me tell you a bit about religion in Israel. Israel is defined as a “Jewish democratic state”. Although I bet it sounds to any American/Anglo-Saxon reader to be some sort of cynical euphemism for “Jewish Theocracy” – it’s not entirely true. Israel, on the whole, is a fairly secular nation. But that’s not because Jews are a jolly good bunch who know that personal freedom should trump religious dogma at all costs. First of all, we have organizations here in Israel that are entirely dedicated to removing religious impositions upon Israeli citizens. It is against the law to eat unleavened bread during Passover, whether or not it’s against the law, using a car during Yom Kippur is a creative way to commit suicide.

Jews, you see, were usually a persecuted people, we’re not very experienced at being goons, although pro-Palestinian activists might disagree.

The most important thing to realize about Israel, before I will tell about my own personal de-conversion story, is that secularism is very widespread in Israel. The reason it is so widespread is because a persecuted people does not have time to mince around with silly, useless dogma and mainly has to focus on staying alive. The fact that we’ve survived this long as some sort of homogenous identity (and I’m not a historian, but we do take mandatory Jewish history classes in high school here) is because survival as a people has always been some sort of major activity.

Jews, to my opinion, are a lot more obsessed with remaining a self-identified people (and even more importantly, a non-extinct people) than they are with God. That is Yahweh, the Jewish God.

It is also important to note that Jews have been persecuted for centuries, not just during WWII. A lot of Jews became assimilated into the European or Asian or African lands they migrated to (some 2000 years ago) – but a very large amount of exiled Jews remained Jews, to an extent, in secluded, xenophobic congregations spread throughout the entire old world.

The reason I’m telling you all of this is because there is a very practical reason for Israeli Jews to be secularists. And, case in point, most of the Jews that migrated to Israel in the past 120 years (in Hebrew we call it “Aliyah” or “emigration to Israel”) were secular, mostly bourgeoisie Jews. Yes, a fraction of them were, truly, communists. There was some sort of pan-social worldview among these very secular Jews that dictates that all of us who migrated here should live a hard-working life and be, to a greater or lesser extent – equal.

This, of course, applied only to Jews. And frankly, I have no qualms with that. Jews were being asskicked throughout the pages of history up until we got our little patch of dry, bog-filled scrap of land. To be honest, we couldn’t have received a worst territory to colonize. But hey, the bible sez what the bible sez.

In any event, due to this culmination of circumstances, the Jews that actually built this country, and the Jews who are, more or less, the majority, the more well-to-do and basically, the most historically senior settlers” are former European and Russian Jews. Or as we call them here – Ashkenazi Jews.

I won’t (unless there’ll be some popular demand for it, hmm?) dive any deeper into Jewish and Israeli history, since now my point has been made.

As an Ashkenazi Jew, I haven’t suffered the inoculation of religion that non-Ashkenazi Jews receive more vehemently. There are all sorts of sects in Judaism (I bet this reminds you Christians of something like Christian denominations) and Ashkenazi Jews are probably one of the most secular ones, although we do have our fundies, as well.

Now, just because I wasn’t inoculated with religion, doesn’t mean I wasn’t taught religion and forced to recite OT verses in class starting from 2nd grade. As a child in a school filled with all kind of Jewish peers – we all believed because Judaism and Jewish religious classes are mandatory in Israel for 11 out of the 12 mandatory years in elementary, junior, and high school.

That said – we all believed. Us secularists believed in it in the back of our heads, we spent holidays together and went to the synagogue and circumcised our sons (yes, I AM circumcised, if anyone’s been wondering) and we all did our bar-mitzvahs. I wouldn’t call it religious oppression. All in all, we didn’t suffer much and frankly, it could have been a lot worse, although in retrospect, I would much rather having a choice in the matter.

I was a secular Jew throughout my theistic years. As a secular Jew, I was also highly spiritual and had very strong faith in God (the Yahweh version, not the Jesus-fondling version) as the True God of the True People ™. A ridiculous idea, now that I think of it, as there are probably millions of “Jews” who are probably not Jews at all (if genetics have anything to say about it. Religion just says that if the mother is Jewish, then perforce so is the son. Never mind that the mother might herself be a result of a pogrom-related rape, something that Jews have endured for centuries)

If anyone here is still reading this lengthy foray, you might be thinking, and you’d be correct, that such a “lax religious environment” is high grounds for de-conversion. That’s right. Although I was religious up to the point where I started digging into critical thinking and science, I was always a very practical sort of person. I always wanted to adopt to myself any method of living that produces repeatable, evidence-based results. In that respect, I always had an itch for science. This is because besides being an atheist, I’m also a child of deaf adults. And being a child of deaf adults (CODA) in Israel is NO CANDY.

Since I was very young, my sister and I pretty much had to take care of the house and our parents. Their deafness and the problems it entailed were major factors in shaping my personality. As a child, I was forced from a very young age to produce results. Another good method of producing results is the scientific method – which is why this method has appealed to me so eagerly when I first came across it.

What eventually nailed the last nail in my Jewish coffin was being exposed to science (mainly Biology, can you believe that?) and to critical thinking. I became obsessed with questions relating to origins and evolution. I think I still am.

I think that atheism is the only product possible for an evidence-based worldview. I think it is easy to de-convert anyone who desires affirmable results. In that respect, these are good AND bad news. Those capable and skilled enough would never need the appeal to atheism because they will achieve their own ends anyway, and if they’re emotionally bound to either their figures of authority (who might be religious), then I can, with quite some certainty, predict that they’re “doomed”. Religion is not only the scourge of the ignorant. I think that anyone who is too deeply attached to those who have poisoned their minds with religion are almost never going to de-convert.

The reason I’m writing this epilogue is because I wish to share a message to anyone who is a de-convert . A message that is a call-to-arms and also a message of warning: religion or any other form of malign irrationality is not going anywhere because the bell-curve of humanity will always allow for individuals who will favor religion or irrationality over atheism and science. That said, atheists of all nations should unite in the struggle for rationality or, in the more extreme cases (if I was an atheist in Iran, I’d be hung) – a struggle for survival.


In a year of deeds hungrily punished

Time flew into my face

And sliced through my skin

And grabbed my face until it was aligned to death’s

And I lived on into endless duress,

And now there is nothing but the most veiling shelter

Endless smashed drops upon a human shield

In a perfect meadow

A nimbus of forests and lakes,

Of disinterested perfection

And somewhere, so far away that that place cannot be reached

Is a bloody corpse of a past tortured to death

For such a sweet present.

Now, there is more than just one soul that rests in peace.

And thus the flux of time with all its malignant tragedies have taught me

What endless volumes could not:

Peace is not only bought with death

It can also be bought with courage.

Child of Deaf Adults – Part 1


There was a beautiful woman called Jana Orbach who was deaf in one ear and almost deaf in the other. She was born completely deaf in her left ear and her hearing was slowly deteriorating (as is for all of us) in the other.

There is a very handsome and very tall man whose name is Menachem Orbach, who was born with two perfectly functioning ears, but, following a surgical procedure to cure his meningitis at 10 months old, his hearing was completely lost. Menachem is, in fact, as deaf as a deaf man could be. To illustrate his inability to hear, I could say that if you turn on your stereo and turn the volume as high as possible, he still won’t hear it.

Jana and Menachem are two people who made love sometimes in the late Autumn of 1984 and begat, doting and dazzled by their infant, the person who wrote these words, on the 28th of August, 1985.

Mom said it was an easy delivery.

I am Jana and Menachem’s second-born (to be followed by no other offspring), and my name is Shai Orbach. As a son of a deaf father and a hard-of-hearing mother, I proudly title myself as CODA, a child of deaf adults. Because my particular “CODA-ness” is a bit intricate (it’s not just “two deaf parents”, the hearing loss is not genetic, etc.) , I have chosen to begin this article in this fashion. From now on, I will focus mainly on what it was like to be an Israeli CODA, and what it is like, in general, to be a child of deaf adults.

As a short clarification of why it is that I chose to write of my parents in this manner, it is fit to mention that my mother passed away last April (April 1st, 2007), on the very same day I completed my 3 years-long IDF military service.


It is hard for me to recollect much of what it was like being a young (infant, toddler, and eventually, boy) CODA. As an infant, I know as I was told by my grandmother and other family members that I was a quiet infant, crying very little and all-in-all, giving my two parents a good deal of serenity as is possible for any parent with a very young child.

My parents, at first, did not sign to me much, and rather chose (I would bet, due to family pressure for being “normal”), to communicate with me using their voices. This was not a big problem for mother, who was hard-of-hearing, and if I yelled really hard (even that eventually stopped working), she noticed that I’m calling her name. I did, however, know sign-language enough for very simple conversation, so the reason my sign-language today is fluent (and is enough for me to use it for interpreting) is because I was exposed to ISL (Israeli Sign Language) from a very early age.

It is, unfortunately, also important to point out that the fact that mom and dad chose not to teach me ISL caused a major communicational barrier between them and myself until young teenage, in which I began teaching myself the “missing words” in my vocabulary.

Regardless of the daily communicational hurdles my folks and I had to overcome, we, that is, my sister Keren, myself, Shai, my father, Menachem, and my mother, Jana, were a rather happy, rather normal family.

The most “not normal” thing about my family, and notably the only thing outstanding in our family (in a country with a huge variety of sub-cultures and customs) is the fact that we were, in plain terms, Deaf.

I consider myself and my sister, with our perfectly functioning ears, to be Deaf. The capitalization of the word Deaf in this instance is not a bizarre typo. I distinguish between a person who cannot hear or interpret voices into meaningful units of speech (words) as “deaf“.(this is not my idea, but I can’t recollect to whom the credit for this usage belongs to)

This, of course, is opposed to a person who belongs to the subculture of the Deaf. One might be Deaf even if he/she is completely without any disability, or, for all intents and purposes, armless, legless, blind, and anosmic.

I was Deaf ever since I was born. I was climbing chairs as a little ankle-biter during deaf-parties, utterly silent excepting a roar of laughter or a sharp intake of breath, and, of course, the “tsk-tsk” noises often made by signers who use their lips simultaneously (as far as I know, the most common of all deaf people).

Due to the fact that I signed very little, and hence spoke very little to my parents, I was a very, almost pathologically quiet young boy. At one instance, I was examined by a psychiatrist who merely stated that I’m “gifted”, an ego-booster that members of my family mention quite often. At this point, I wish to say that if I am gifted in any way, I would like someone to ruthlessly pinpoint what that gift is, as I’ve been wondering all my life whether there really is a gift I possess. (Off-topic, the meaning of the name Shai in Hebrew is “gift”. Usually a small, unremarkable gift, but a gift, nevertheless J )

Being a CODA is a huge, tiring, heart-tearing, emotionally-exhausting responsibility. A deaf parent should have a right, as any, to bear children and care for them, and, this I say of personal experience, have them well-bred as any other parent (and perhaps even better so).

But deaf parents must also be aware that their CODA offspring will endure the yoke of CODA at all time. This yoke is the ever-renewing “CODA task” that must be fulfilled. As young children, Keren and I learnt very quickly how to deal with bankers, technicians, correspondents, mailmen, neighbors, plumbers, etc. Needless to say, as two children who could barely sign, it was a bit short of a nightmare. But somehow, we fared through it. Keren managed most of the CODA work (but not all of it!) until I became a bit older. Then, at a critical point in every Israeli person’s life, Keren joined the IDF, which leads me to the next chapter of my CODA experience: Teenage.

C. Teenage

By my teens, doing CODA-work was something that Keren and I did somewhat alternately (with, I must admit, a bias towards Keren, older and more experienced).

When I was about 15 years old, Keren joined the IDF. I’m not exactly sure of the exact time when this actually happened, but at this point, it basically meant that at a time where “CODA-work” was plentiful, I was all-alone with two deaf parents. At this time, I decided it would be impossible to be their advocate without exquisite fluency in sign-language, and so, in about 3 months, I turned from an illiterate, mostly “lipping” CODA to a full-fledged ISL interpreter for both my mother and father, who, now older and more prone to medical care, daily required my help.

To explain what this period was like, I wish to introduce a term that I’m not sure exists in ASL (or in any other sign language that readers of this post might be using). In ISL, there is a word for “dad”, and a word for “mom”. The word for “parents” is, actually, a compound of these two words. Of this came the word between Keren and me, who, instead of calling them “the parents” (that’s the “Hebrew way of saying it”) –”momdad” (aba-ima in Hebrew).

So, as a lone CODA with a fresh (and ever sharpening) sign language, I became the mediator between my dad and the salesperson. I became the words in the mouth of the man on the phone, and my hands became the conduit for my mother’s part in the conversation.

I received, then, what I viewed and still view as the most noble of professions:

I became an interpreter.

To father, this was mainly dealing with the hurly-burly of his daily life. He dragged me down to all sorts of places.

To mother, to the very (painful) end, I became the man between her and the doctor. I signed words like “feces” and “menstrual blood” (at times in which I wasn’t exactly sure what these things were, but still knew how to sign). I took her to a myriad of clinics and hospitals to be examined and treated by a myriad of doctors, and have prescribed a myriad of medicine.

My mother, blessed forever be her indulgent name, was an ill woman. She became ill sometime during my early teens, I’m not sure which came first, the liver cirrhosis or the diabetes, but these two sufficed to create another (huge) responsibility for Keren and I: caretakers. We monitored her sugar-blood levels, and quite often accompanied her for the most meager of undertakings, and not, as it were, for “interpretation jobs”


Free at last!

טוב, מר אינקוגניטו עבר לוורדפרס. כן, אני יודע, זה לא בדיוק המהפכה הגדולה. קניתי אפילו דומיין ואני בתהליכים של להעביר את כל הבלוג לדומיין (שעלה כסף, וכסף טוב!) משלי.

אני הולך לכתוב כאן גם באנגלית וגם בעברית ספציפית משום שמדובר בבלוג חו”לי ולא ספציפית משום שאין לי מספיק חברים\חברים שאוהבים בלוגים\חברים שמתעניינים בקריאה שלי כדי לקרוא את הפוסטים שלי כאן, וחוץ מזה, הסיבה היחידה שאני “עובר לבלוג עצמאי” היא סנטימנטלית: אני אוהב להיות עצמאי בתור פרילנסר מבחינת העבודה שלי, ותמיד אהבתי לכתוב, ואני לא יכול לכתוב בשום צינור “פופולרי” וstreamlined כמו בעבר.

עכשיו אני הולך לכתוב כאן פשוט את כל העולה על רוחי. אני לא הולך לתת קטגוריות לבלוג. זה פשוט הבלוג שלי, ובבלוג שלי, אני אכתוב כל מחשבה שחולפת על רוחי.

To whoever may be reading this. This is my first post here in WP. I believe I have quite a lot to learn. Firstly, I want to emphasize that I have no qualms regarding readership in this blog. For all I care, this blog can be entirely deserted and, AFAIC, be a personal diary, de facto.

This blog would mainly contain text regarding my ever-so-turbulent psyche. Thoughts and ruminations regarding, well, the world and beyond, and that’s it.

This means that if anyone had any expectations that this blog would be full of shiny pictures and music videos, then I guess ya’ll gotta move on to the next blog.

Now that I’m done with my little pre-exposition, allow me to introduce myself. (I’ll be writing the rest of the post in English now, but I’ll try fiddling with the Hebrew posts after I interrogate some of my Israeli friends as to whether or not they can read these posts and cross-check that with anyone from abroad reading this)

Name’s Shai. That’s as far as I go. That’s my real name and although I’ve yanked lots of pen-names out of my ass, I think the true essence in whatever state of mind I had while thinking of any pen-name is now long gone. I’ve been writing behind a keyboard ever since I was quite young. Consider that with the fact that I ain’t too old right now as it is (As of the writing of this post, I’ve turned 23 just yesterday)

I’m not a clean-handed man. I’ve seen some pretty nasty shit and at one point of my life, pretty much went crazy and for a period of about a year, done crazy shit on a daily basis, alienating my friends, loved ones, and eventually, the person I cared about the most – my girlfriend… This is one part of my past that I wish I could bury, but the least it does is moor me back to reality if my brain starts fizzing with anxiety and agony once more. I’ll write more detailed posts about what could possibly lead a (more or less) normal dude into becoming a monster for one year and then jolting back into reality.

In the first post, I really want to give a little glimpse as to who I am. This is why this post is going to be, probably, but not assuredly, longer than the others.

I’m 23 years old. I’ve been born and raised in Israel all my life. For the most part of the last 10 years, I’ve been an avid Karateka, that is, a dude wearing a white robe and doing “Haiiiii-ya!” at randoms pedestrians. Oh, and push-ups. Lots of push-ups. Since I haven’t done much of that in, say, a year or so, now I’m just a slightly plump rather heavy-set fellow with a very strong recollection of beating people to a pulp in a friendly sort of manner (in this junction, I just wish to say that I’m not naturally a violent person. But sometimes, people just push you to become that way. I’ve always tried to refrain from it, at least until I had no other choice)

I’m a science freak. I spend at least 3 times a day clicking my way through science and science-related blogs. I’m an avid “evolution-defender”. If there’s anyone out there who’s been to the evolution-creation debate, he’d know what that means. But to be frank, the more science I learnt through university classes (I’m a first-year biology undergrad with miles of books read)  the more I figured out that the political attack against the theory of evolution is a lot more boring than the actual, well-proven science of evolution (and of course, biology)

Although this comes rather late in the post, it’s probably the attribute that defined my personality the most, and that is: I was born to two deaf parents. The official language in my house is ISL – Israeli Sign Language. Sign Language, the deaf culture, and being a CODA – Child of Deaf Adults – are with no doubt key factors in the development of my psyche. I’m rather sure that posts regarding CODA-ness and deaf-ness will be a-plenty.

Other than that, I’m just your average eccentric, slightly-geeky, venom-filled-sense-of-humor-ish kind of guy. It’s hard for me to step out of my brain and try to give it a thorough description, but if anyone should ever be interested enough as to not only read the blog, but investigate who the hell or what the hell I am, I’m sure answers will come promptly just by talking to me for a few minutes.

That’s all for now. I think my next posts would be a redux of what I think about Batman.

Oh, and it’s going to be in Hebrew, at first.