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About Tel Aviv

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout prostitutes, right? I’m sittin here, pinky-to-mouth, Dr. Evil style, “One million dollars,” thinkin how these gals got more guts than half the blokes I know. Watched “Inglourious Basterds” last night—bloody brilliant, Tarantino’s a mad genius—and it hit me, prostitutes are like them Nazi-huntin bastards, y’know? Workin in shadows, dodgin danger, takin no shit. “That’s a bingo!” as Hans Landa’d say, they’re playin a game most couldn’t handle.

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First off, I hit the streets of Al-Mahdiyah. You know, the one with all the cafes? I was craving some strong coffee. Like, I need it to function, ya know? So I stroll into this little joint called Café Al-Farasha. The barista, this dude named Samir, was all smiles. I order my usual—double espresso, no sugar. He gives me this look like I just asked for a unicorn.

Abandoned by Israeli state, Palestinian citizens face crime wave