sraeli Prime Minister Ariel "Olive Branch" Sharon announced last Wednesday that the disputed Gaza Strip had been returned to Muslims at long last, marking the end of a 38-year call by Middle Eastern countries that the Jewish nation leave the settlement to its Islamic inhabitants. However, Islamic critics complained the Gaza Strip had not actually been released by the occupying Israeli forces, but merely re-zoned so the Strip itself now lay within the Egyptian borders.

Sharon balked at such claims, because balking is second-nature to him.

"For years they demand Israel return their stupid little piece of land, well, it’s done," said Sharon, spitting to punctuate his point. "Israeli congress has re-zoned and now all of area is Israel. Why are so many Muslims occupying Israeli land? Have they not gotten the memo? But you won’t see us stoning them or setting off bombs in their cafés. Had they any cafés. We merely ask them to leave. Promptly. Within twenty-four hours, or face arrest and devastating loitering charges."

Even standard Israel supporter the United States has had a little trouble digesting this latest crafty maneuvering from its World Council ally. U.S. officials have called for a more appropriate fulfillment of the pledge to leave the Gaza Strip, stating that while re-zoning is an effective way to keep minority votes under control in domestic situations, it is unacceptable for solving international land disputes.

The re-zoning itself appears to be a response to earlier criticisms that the original disembarkation from the Gaza Strip failed to meet expectations from Israel’s promise, as the country annexed additional land for its own borders to build a demarcation wall around Maaleh Adumim, inside the West Bank, effectively stealing a portion of that area in the name of tightening security.

Some of the few sane Middle East analysts left fear the drastic measure by Israel could inspire combative Arabic states to strike back with their own internal ordinances to diminish the effects of the Gaza re-zoning and Israel’s seizure of the West Bank.

"Sharon may have opened the door to a new style of war between Israel and the Arabic states," said Professor Udi Al-Batang of Cairo University. "The bombings and military strikes may take a back seat to re-mapping and re-districting. Not that this won’t lead to bombings and military strikes of their own. But justifying what you’re doing with the internal laws of your own country cannot build a lasting peace. People outside your own borders will be outraged, and that outrage will inspire more violence. And I know what I’m talking about. I’m tempted to buy myself a machine gun because I went to bed in Cairo and woke up in the poverty-stricken Gaza Strip this morning. Thank you, Mr. Sharon."

Many leaders in the Arabic communities warned Sharon he must comply with the years-old promise to end occupation of the real Gaza Strip. But most likely, Sharon didn’t understand because it was all in the Arabs’ own languages.

"If Israel wants to build a 100-foot wall to defend ourselves, we certainly have that right," pledged Sharon. "If we want to control the borders of our country, for security’s sake, and move them wherever and whenever we feel like it, we certainly have that right. Clearly the best way to maintain piece in a region long torn by strife is to build more fences and take all the land we need. Finally… we are safe."

Although this reporter rushed to get this story out sooner, its delivery was delayed along the way by the fact that after standing in the middle of Jerusalem one minute, he found himself a minute later standing in New Mesopotamia, by order of the Syrian Rezoning Congress. Whoopsy-doo.

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People are always trying to set me up. And I'm not just talking about all the backstabbers planting evidence or hiding their plastic baggies in my pockets when the cops show up. I speak of the dating life.

It's like I literally have some huge sign around my neck that says, "I want you to fix me up with a numbnuts!" Figuratively speaking. Everyone and their sister knows someone and their brother that I would "just love." But this past week was the worst. It seemed like everyone I knew all conspired at once to send me out through a gauntlet of bad dates. I don't need to tell you it was a lot of fun, if your idea of fun is having Captain Hook as your gynecologist.

First was my sister, proving once again she's the dull blade in the family toolbox. The guy was some lawyer from her law firm, and *yawn* what a bore he was. All he could talk about was money. He told me he made a lot as a lawyer, like I even asked, but he really didn't need any of it since his family invented the cases they use for CDs and made like a trillion dollars in the 80s. I tried to make conversation, and asked if he owned any CDs. He said he owned three music studios and two music review magazines and people were always sending him free CDs. Like I needed to know all that. I just was wondering if he could make me a copy of that "Safety Dance" song. So I ditched him when he went to the bathroom, and thankfully haven't seen him since.

If it's even possible, mom always does even worse. The guy she set me up with didn't even really show up to dinner, but in fairness, he is in maximum security. The letter he sent was real nice, a bit awkward, since he didn't know my name and just called me "that chick on the outside." From what I gathered, mom wrote to him after seeing him on CNN and she thought we'd hit it off. At least I didn't have to sneak out of the restaurant. I wish somebody had shown up to the place, though, besides that courier. That dildo wouldn't even stay for a drink.

If you thought I was tired of this already, you're more than right. But still everybody's persisting. Ramon Nootles here at the commune set me up on a date and when I show up, it's him again. I told him I've had it up to here with him, and gestured to a body part. That only seemed to make him more excited. So you can guess I didn't even get to sit down on that date.

Toot, my little brother, he's got a good heart, but his friends are all screwed up. He must have scheduled the date over a bad cell phone connection or something since the restaurant turned out to be some motel room and three bald guys showed up at the same time. Talk about miscommunication. Even with 3-1 odds they were real downers. They only wanted to talk about religion and surrendering my soul to the Leader of Glorious Light. They had some interesting pamphlets, though, and of course the Leader is both divine and righteous and will lead us to the cherished afterlife in the path of heaven. But none of this gets me out of being set up with spazzes, obviously.

Leave it to dad to put a big fat sore point on the end of the week. He talks up his candidate for blind date all week and I actually look forward to meeting this guy. He's fun, he watches TV all the time just like me, he despises books, he's a crack sniper, he's a crack addict, recovering, and thinks women should be called girls. Sounds like a dreamboat, huh? Well, dad also forgot to mention he's my Uncle Luke. Dad gets confused a lot. Everyone else remembers you can't date blood relatives, at least not north of the Mason-Dixon line, so we just had a quick dinner and parted on good terms, until the next bail-out.

Advice to anyone who wants to set me up on blind date: Don't. Or if you absolutely have to, just remember I'm really busy and have been working a lot lately. I'm a hot property again, so really put some backbone into it. Now that I'm having a comeback dating uncles and Ramon Nootles is out. Period.

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"I'm hungry enough to kick an old lady down a fire escape!"

The worst thing is when you're hungry for something, but you don't know what it is. People will start naming off all the things you can eat and none of it sounds good, and believe me, it's a long list if you just name off thing after thing. If someone was a real asshole they could list things they know you're not in the mood for like duck ass and iceberg. Just keep saying variations on the same thing, too: "Duck wing? Duck feet? Duck face? Duck brain?" I'm going to do that next time I get a shot.

I went to Burger King where they say I can have it my way, but the manager said the commercial wasn't talking to me when they said that. I had it their way, and it was alright. No fries with cheese cooked inside or hamburger buns made of pork, but it was good enough. I was hungry enough to eat donkey balls, though. I kept saying that and some of those kids in the great big Grimace on the giant spring started crying. You know, I don't think I was at Burger King at all. Which makes it easy to see why they made me have it some other way.

One time I told my mom I was hungry enough to eat Grandma and she made me do it. She said it was Grandma, anyway, she was probably just lying. Whoever it was, their toenails were nasty and smelled like Grandma's. Even deep-frying couldn't take out the stink.

Mom deep-fried everything. She was always playing gags on us, too. I pissed her off one Christmas by giving her a homemade gift instead of the hibachi she wanted but instead of saying anything she pretended she liked it and began plotting her revenge. Then, one day in July I came home from school, hungry as usual, and ate so fast I almost got a headache. Mom was laughing like crazy real loud in the corner and when I asked her why she told me I had just eaten my pajamas. Hell, she deep-fried them so long they tasted like pork rinds, how was I supposed to know? It was hard to get to sleep that night, my stomach hurt and I was cold 'cause I didn't have any pajamas, but I started to really appreciate the cleverness of the joke by morning time.

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