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About Petah Tikva

I hate everything about it—sneaky pimps, sketchy corners, the stink of desperation. Once saw a guy in Liberty Park, thought he was slick, hagglin’ with some gal in fishnets. Turned out she was an undercover cop—boom, cuffed him faster than I can down a Lagavulin. Laughed my ass off, stupid bastard deserved it. Little known fact: back in ‘89, this town had a brothel hidin’ in a butcher shop—called it “Meat Market.” Cops raided it, found a ledger with half the council’s names. Surprised? Nah, pissed me off—hypocrites everywhere.

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Dinner’s a whole other saga. My mom’s making her famous stuffed peppers. I’m like, “Mom, you’re a culinary genius!” But then, my little brother decides to show off his new dance moves. He knocks over the whole pot! Peppers everywhere! I’m dying of laughter, and my mom’s just standing there, hands on her hips, like, “Really?”

How Netanyahu's campaign against Israel's Arab citizens backfired