something: “I’m so smart, that sometimes I don’t understand a word of what I say.”
(from the writings of Oscar Wilde)
Wild thoughts about the population of the earth
Eight billion people live on Earth. This was recently announced. That’s too much. About 15 million of them are Jews (or about Jews), which is too few, only 0.2% of the world’s population. In short: there are too many people in the world, and the climate on Mars is bad.
However, it is possible to look at it the other way around, from the point of view of Antoine de Saint-Exupéry, who wrote in “The Little Prince” about 80 years ago:
“The animal called man occupies a very small place on the face of the earth. The number of people in the world is two billion people. If they all gathered and stood a little crowded, like in a demonstration, they could all easily fit in a square that is 32 kilometers long and 32 kilometers wide. It would be possible to concentrate the whole of humanity on one of the smallest islands in the Pacific Ocean.”
He then adds:
“It goes without saying that these things will not be accepted by the adults, because the adults imagine that they occupy a great and respectable place, just like in the Obavs. So suggest that they calculate the account themselves. This will please them because there is nothing they like more than accounts and numbers.”
Well, it counts a little. Saint Exupery claims that two billion inhabitants of the world fit into an area of about 1,000 square kilometers, less than the area of Rhodes, at the time, this is the number in 1943, when the book was published. That is, about half a square meter per person. It is as if each person is standing on a pavement Size 50 x 50 cm. A bit crowded but not bad. According to this calculation, the eight billion people in today’s world easily fit into the territory of Judea and Samaria.
Let’s calculate a little more, Saint Exupery said that adults love calculations. Let’s give each person a square meter, more than that – two square meters, so that he can lie down and even diagonally, and even put a desk and a closet. This is 4,000 square kilometers in the days when there were two billion people in the world, and 16,000 square kilometers now, when there are eight billion. Still much less than in the territory of Israel. Basically, all of humanity can easily enter Israel, or an island like Sicily or a corner of Tasmania that is a quarter of the size of the island. The best is there, in the corner.
The question is: how does it happen that humans, who occupy so little space in the world, and very close to zero space in the galaxy, and are the absolute zero in the universe and in time, think of themselves so much?
Fadiha in front of Nunu
Two weeks ago, and I am in one of the Tel Aviv halls known for my unnecessary pursuits and excessive activity, and while I am waiting in the lobby for someone from my team to finish what is needed, I hear the sounds of music and singing from the hall and realize that there is a rehearsal. Well, I tell myself, I’ll go in for a moment and see, maybe I’ll discover new talents.
I enter slowly and sit in the dark of the hall without anyone noticing, and watch what is happening on the stage.
A young singer is standing there, holding a microphone, and to the right next to the keyboard sits another young woman.
Singer Sarah:
“Long way
And I am a bird hanging on a cloth…”.
“No! No!!!”, the other on the stage stops her firmly, “Not like that. Pay attention to the words of what you are singing: like a bird. Hanging on a cloth.”
“Good, good, let’s continue,” the singer says a little impatiently and sings again: “It’s a long way, and I’m a bird hanging on a cloth…”
“Wait, think,” she interrupts her again, “this line has meaning, feel it.”
The singer sings the line again and then turns and says: “Wow, it’s true. I felt. I felt right inside. Like a bird.”
“Yes,” her friend tells her enthusiastically, and waves her hands, as if demonstrating a bird hanging by its claws on some curtain, “Wow, like a bird hanging. Yes, yes…”.
“I really felt it. I understood. Like a hanging bird,” enthuses the singer.
I don’t hold back here, and take advantage of a pause in this emotional conversation and launch into space these words: “Note: cloth is a thin branch.”
Laughter breaks out from the mouths of those on the stage and also from some who look at them as part of this rehearsal team.
The laugh is short and they continue. They don’t linger, they don’t turn their heads to me and they don’t care who said what they said. Moving on to the balance, this is a final repetition and there is no time. My comment died. I am still in the dark, and suddenly recognize who is on the stage and realize at once how good it is that I am deep in the dark. turning pale in the dark.
The one who is on the stage near the keys and comments to the singer is Nuno. Hurry hurry! Creates “Where are you? Are you here?”.
Or then I suddenly realize that Sara is a stand-up artist, and Nuno joins her stand-up show. What they did in front of me on stage was a joke, which I didn’t realize was a joke, and I myself became a joke at the moment.
This is a balance for a stand-up show. This whole dialogue, which describes how it’s as if a director explains that emotion needs to be poured into a line like “And I’m a bird hanging on a canvas”, is part of a satire on this subject.
They did it so naturally, so convincingly, that I was sure I was actually seeing a conversation during instructions for understanding the text while actually working on the way the lyrics should be sung.
The name of the stand-up artist is less well known, not every one is Nono. The stand-up artist is Talia Bertfeld. The name of the show is “TikTok’s Bad Girl” (there are almost no tickets for the two upcoming performances together).
I walked out, actually slipped out, from the dark hall. Nobody knew who I was. It could have stayed that way. Nevertheless, I realized that I was in trouble. Ethical problem. I could keep quiet. I was in the dark, I’m gone, they don’t know who said that nonsense, that now I understand why she made them laugh with her seriousness. However, how would I waste such a story? A story that shows how someone who considers himself a satirist for so many years does not recognize satire (quite good and funny) when it is in front of his face, and no more than makes an inflated linguistic comment: “The cloth is a thin branch”.
I made a mess. More than that: I made a fool of myself in front of Nuno.
The corner of the puddle
The frog misses the princess he knows very well that he shouldn’t miss her. This also happens in the depths of the puddles.