[youtube]http://il.youtube.com/watch?v=sC9m4St42To&feature=related[/youtube]

I love writing blogs. I love the whole concept of blogs. You can write in blogs whatever is on your mind. No censorship, no editors to tell you this and that and no annoying sales people who dictate how long you can write because we must leave some space for baby food ads. I love blogs because you can write whatever is on your mind about your spouse and always use the excuse that it is artistic freedom. I would write poetry, fiction and even Haiku if I was talented enough to write those.

But mainly I love blogs because they let you have immediate and direct connection with your readers, hear what they really think about you and what you write, and they give me the ability to have a fruitful discussions about different issues. And sometimes they can completely change your life.

Last week a reader complained about something I had written. I can summarize his response by him telling me to „get a life“. Of course he is right: other then two blogs, one website, writing for Haaretz, a 2-year-old who already outsmarts me and a relationship, I should really get a life. But what was really interesting, life-changing in a sense, in his response was the fact that he claimed that I don’t have dark skin.

The relief. Even my snoring at night got a different rhythm and my wife claimed that throughout the night I kept mumbling something about me being Caucasian. In the morning I checked the weather, Put on a Neil Diamond CD, drank coffee, read the paper and went out. I entered the pharmacy and bought myself something I always wanted to buy myself: sun cream, protection 80.