Don't you just love when you accidentally drop a brand new roll of toilet paper into the toilet?

I know, I do, especially when I have to fish it out and I haven't flushed yet. I suppose the whole ugly incident could be avoided if I actually used the toilet paper roller bar deal. But putting the paper on that thing would take a whole five seconds or so, and who has that kind of time?

And so begins my day.

Imagination time:

I want you to think about a fight. Think about a really mismatched fight between a big, strong guy, and a scrawny little weakling. They're neighbors, actually. Now, the big guy doesn't exactly appear as if he really wants to fight, and has even made some good solid offers to end the whole thing, but the little guy is maniacally convinced that the fight has to go on no matter what.

Now, the big guy lived in the house next door to the little guy a long time ago. Then, later, he was kicked out. Finally, he got his shit together and moved back in. Even though the big guy has all the right in the world to live there, even though he has just as valid a claim to it as anyone else living nearby, this really pissed off the entire neighborhood.

Literally one day after he moved in, three or four guys came over together and tried to kick him out. Amazingly, the big guy beat them all back, and even managed to grab a whole bunch of their stuff in the process. "Fair's fair," thought the big guy. "They really shouldn't have tried to do that." Even later, one neighbor tried to mess with the big guy by cutting off his access to part of the street. There was another fight, in which the big guy grabbed even more of his neighbor's stuff. Later, that neighbor made friends with the big guy, and then was killed for it.

Back to the present: It doesn't really help matters much that, every time the little guy gets knocked on his ass, about seven or eight of his friends pick him up, and push him back to the fight. "Come on!' they all say. "We know you can do this, we wanna see you do this, man!" They don't really care what happens to the little guy. It's just that they got into a fight themselves with the big guy about 35 years ago, and got beaten up too. Even though they "officially" gave up fighting with the big guy, they realize that they do have this little guy they call their friend that can be manipulated into causing lots of trouble.

Even worse, the little guy has a major persecution complex. Every time he gets up and takes a new swing, he gets a major cut on his arm, or a black eye, or a bloody nose. "Look what they're doing to me!" he cries. The little guy's friends tell him that he's doing the noble thing. "You will be rewarded in heaven for all those cuts and bruises," they whisper. "Keep it up...please keep it up, we are loving this." Worse than that, another one of the little guy's "friends," who is just absolutely batshit crazy (he once poisoned and killed some of his own roommates) keeps giving the little guy money as a reward for each cut and bruise.

A couple of times now, the big guy has offered to give back everything he took in all those old fights. "Just leave me the fuck alone, and I'll give it all back, OK?" Unfortunately, the little guy has been so twisted around by his complex, and his friends, that he would rather fight than go inside and take care of his own house. The little guy has let the fight become his very identity, and doesn't yet realize that the big guy will never, ever move out again.

The little guy and the big guy could be peaceful neighbors so easily. Except that the little guy's friends are sick. And the part of the brain that control's the little guy's decisions is sick.

In the first May issue of the New Yorker, there was an article about a very moderate Palestinian named Nusseibeh. He's an academic, an intellectual. He studied at Oxford. Unfortunately, he doesn't have much power in the Palestinian government.

The great thing about Nusseibeh is that he's ultra sensible. He realizes that the bulk of the problem now lies with his own people. He realizes that the idea of the suicide bombings is a sickness, and that the concept of martyrdom has no place in the modern Islamic world. I can't quote him directly, as I don't have the magazine here, but he states that the Palestinians are trapped into the idea that all they are is their fight against Israel.

Go find the article. It's hopeful to me that thinkers like this exist in Palestine. Unfortunately, Nusseibeh will never be in power, and we'll always have the two faced Arafat. Still though...moderates exist. That's good.

And so ends FadeIn's foray into international relations.

Now, as for dreams: It seems that a few of you were absent the day I laid down the rules when it comes to talking about your dreams in your diaries. That's fine. You have a note from your doctor, so everything's forgiven.

There are other rules too, but those deal with emoticons and overuse of song quoting priveleges to express mood, and no one has abused those too much recently.

The rule: If we simply must know about all the weird and wacky shit you of which you dreamed, do try ever so politely to consolidate it down to one sentence. A nice neat paragraph of three sentences, maximum.

I can think of at least four people I read who unwittingly violated this rule. I know you think I'm a jerk right now, and you probably hate me. That's OK. I understand. I still love you. You're still as pretty as the day we were married. There will never be another.

If you still hate me, go start a diary ring. I suggest "FadeIn is a Bastard."

Here is a true dream I had, in three sentences:

I was at a party in someone's apartment with a whole bunch of other people from Diaryland. Everyone was getting high, including me, which was weird, because I don't do that anymore. I was talking to KateBlump, and she turned to me and said "Bill, do you know what the best thing about you is? It's..."

And that was the end of it. My alarm went off, just as Kate was about to say something like "You're really not all that big a jerk, even though you try to make people follow silly little rules that they're going to break anyway."

Then again, she may have said "You have a totally hot ass."

I'm going with the ass comment.