Don't know about that, but I just sent this to McSweeney's (they have a section for open letters to entities unlikely to respond) and I need somewhere to put it in case they don't like it:
An Open Letter to Israel and Palestine
Hi all,
Couldn't help but notice you fellas over there are having trouble getting to see eye-to-eye on several issues of dire importance. What with all the suicide bombings by young Palestinians, and the retaliatory military strikes by Israeli armed forces, you'd think the conflict is pretty bad in your little corner of the world.
The Israelis say "it's our land because we're God's chosen people," and the Palestinians say "no, it's OUR land because WE are God's chosen people." Makes you wonder why God couldn't make up his mind, or learn to love you both equally. Real shitty on your part, God. Real shitty.
But this letter isn't about all the pain and suffering in the Middle East. It's about my genuine hope for peace in that region. I think I know where previous would-be peacemakers have failed, and I have a vision of working out the clash between cultures. The answer, funnily enough, is the Clash.
I'm sure we all remember the 1982 video for the Clash's single "Rock the Casbah", which is basically their signature tune for people who've never heard anything else by Messers. Strummer and Company. But that's neither here nor there...
The video, if you recall, shows an Arab businessman (possibly in the oil business, judging by his Texas-sized Caddy) who stops to offer a ride to a pedestrian on the side of the road. Imagine his surprise when the passenger-to-be is a Hassidic Jew! Will the two act out centuries of violence and hatred upon one another? Will the Arab shun his nemesis, or the Jew continue to stand on the side of the road out of principle?
In the end, the Arab decides hey, what the hell, and offers the Jew a lift. He decides to let bygones be bygones, and takes the passenger seat. Over the course of the video, they eat at a "kosher" Burger King somewhere in the United States (perhaps the arid climes of the Southwest stood in for the earlier setting of Israeli land), dance past the members of the Clash who relax by poolside, and eventually end up at a Clash concert itself where (surprise!) they find common ground in the angry, punk-rock of four pale Englishmen, descended no doubt from the brutal British oppressors who used to rule the region in the wake of the First World War and the dissolution of the Ottoman Empire.
What's my point?, ask the Israelis. What am I getting at?, the Palestinians want to know. Simple: The next time you see a Hassidic Jew (Arabs) or a turban-clad Arabian oil millionaire (Jews) by the side of the road, offer them a lift. They might hesitate because they think you are the infidel, but reassure them that you mean no ill towards them. Take them to the nearest fast-food joint, where they will disavow their previous religious convictions and eat meats forbidden by their religion (or not, I'm not really up to date on my Hassidic or Arab laws regarding foods). Then simply go where the day takes you, be it old Jerusalem or a Clash concert somewhere in the American Southwest. You'll have a hell of a time, and all those centuries of bloodshed and mutual hatred will seem just so darn silly when you're chomping down on a Whopper with curly fries.
Sure, sometimes the hitchhiker (or rider) might be a potential suicide terrorist, or an Israeli army general. But you have to take the risks of that to achieve true detente in the Middle East. Trust me, and give that infidel walker a lift. You might just be on the road to peace in our time if you do.
Sincerely, Trevor Seigler May 5, 2004
