Golda, in her wisdom, once stated of Israel’s neighbors: “Peace will come when Arabic mothers love their children more than they hate us.”
This following poor attempt at humor, aptly reflects that sentiment …
Two islamic mothers are sitting in a cafe chatting over a plate of tabouli and a pint of goat’s milk.
The older of the two pulls a small album out of her purse and starts flipping through photos. They start reminiscing. “This photo is of my oldest son, Mujibar. He would have been 24 years old now. He’s a martyr now though,” the mother confided.
“And this is my second son, Khalid. He would have been 21. He too is a martyr” she said.
”And here is my third son. My baby. My beautiful Ahmed. He would have been 10 yesterday,” she whispers.
“Yes” says the friend, ”I remember when he first started school. A darling child.”
”He’s a martyr also,” says the mother, now with tears in her eyes. “Allah be praised.”
After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Radical Muslim mother looks wistfully at the photographs and, tears in her eyes, searches for the right words, says,
“Ah, they blow up so fast now, don’t they?”
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