I would like my statue to be fifty feet tall, made of rose-colored Babylonian marble, dressed in combat fatigues, with a beatific smile on my face.
Oh, yes, and under my feet I wish to be crushing Jews, Jordanians, Americans, Egyptians, Lebanese, French, Syrians, Britons....hmm...did I forget anyone I hate?
Well, you know how people get when they want their own country and are consistently denied. They feel the need to tell everyone their problems. I've seen it happen all too often.
It's ok, Yasser. Do you mind if I call you Yasser? These thoughts are just the result of repressed feelings because of your father. Yeah, remember him? Didn't think so. You didn't even go to his funeral back in 1952. Bastard.