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Febtober Makes Sense

Febtober Makes Sense

By Shimon Apisdorf

Four months ago.

On February 7th, I went to the cardiologist for an annual check-up.

While I was waiting, a general walked slowly into the office. His uniform was wrinkled and stained. His kippa was quite large and his long white beard was unkempt. Was I looking at a just-back-from-the-war-front general, or was I looking at the dean of a yeshiva? He looked very tired. I didn’t want to disturb him with my query, so I kept to myself knowing that tired old guys like him, would keep less tired old guys like me safe and secure.

My always pleasant, originally South African by way of a thousand years in Poland doctor, called me into his office. “So how are you?” he asked. “You know, considering it’s February 7th …” My voice trailed off. “Not really,” he said, “It’s still October 7th.”

The good doctor was saying what we all live. It’s as if time no longer exists. There are only two “times” left in the world. Before that cursed black sabbath, and after. A year ago, my appointment had been scheduled for 4:00 pm on February 7th. This year it took place at 4:05 p.m. on Febtober 7th.

The examination showed something odd. In four months, my heart had only beat four times.

Beat …

Beat …

Beat …

Beat …

It’s called CBHD. Collective Broken Heart Disorder. Far more contagious than COVID, it infected everyone in Israel, instantly.

At a certain point, I mustered the courage to spit out a dangerously banal question. “How’s your family?”

The doctor’s answer: “So far, okay.”

That’s Israelspeak for “My grandfather’s not rotting away in a cage deep underground in the world’s first subterranean jihad city built for the express purpose of torturing and killing Jews.”

It’s Israelspeak for “My daughter who has been in a tank on the northern border for 120 days tells me I shouldn’t worry so much.” Because after all, those tens of thousands of larger-than-Hamas prepositioned Iranian-Hezbollah precision missiles aimed at Israel’s citizens and critical infrastructure will miraculously misfire the moment the Jihadi Nasrallahakbar gives the order to launch, right?

It’s Israelspeak for, “Do you think we’ll ever get that stolen baby back alive?”

All I did was go for a routine visit to the doctor. My G-d, you’d think I had done something crazy like going to a music festival, or taking a leisurely holiday stroll around my beautiful kibbutz.

The thing is, here, routine doesn’t exist anymore. Nothing about our moment-to-moment thoughts, emotions, conversations, and non-conversations make sense anymore. Until you realize that it’s Febtober.

Then everything makes sense.

In Febtober…

War against Jihad makes sense.

“Whatever it takes,” to thwart the carefully planned slaughter, burning, raping, and Gd forbid nuking of 7.2 million indigenous Jews in their one tiny little shared ancient home makes sense.

Suitcases stuffed with millions in cash found in Sunni Sin-War’s abandoned underground command center, happily supplied by Iran’s Super Duper Supreme Shia leader, Mr. “Death to Israel, Death to America” Seyyed Ali Hosseini Khameinei, makes sense. I guess.

Millions of marching Jihad supporters on Ivy League campuses and countless city streets across the globe makes sense. You know, that Febtober sort of sense.

The fact that in the land of the free and the home of the brave the #metoo mantra of “taking a woman at her word,” when entered into Google translate comes out in Jewishwomenspeak as, “I know there are blood stains, recordings of perpetrators openly celebrating their female body conquests, and numerous eyewitness reports of inhumane sexual torture,” “BUT.” But. But. “But we do need to fully investigate before drawing our conclusion.” That makes sense, right? Febtober sense.

War against jihad makes sense.

Not giving a damn about those who think Israel has gone a little too far makes sense.

Not caring about adult civilians that willingly joined the kill-all-the-Jews jihad by turning their own children’s bedrooms into weapons storage sites makes sense.

Not caring about doctors who willingly turned their hospitals into Jihad command centers makes sense.

Not caring about UN teachers and “aid” workers who willingly joined the jihad by turning their children’s schools, clinics, and homes into hidden access points to the underground city of death built beneath the entirety of Gaza makes sense.

War against jihad makes sense.

The destruction of Hamas military and “civil” governing apparatus makes sense.

War against jihad makes sense.

The destruction of Iran’s Hezbollah army in a shattered kidnapped country some still refer to as Lebanon makes sense.

War against jihad makes sense.

The US destruction of Iranian sponsored Houthi jihadi forces sworn to cripple the economy of the blasphemous Western enemies of Allah makes sense.

War against jihad makes sense.

Cutting off the head of the snake makes sense.

Hoping that “things will soon return to normal.” Nope, sorry. Reality says that doesn’t make sense, because “soon” is not around the corner. The only thing lurking around that corner is the  7th of Martober.

Hoping that soon a visit to the doctor or the barber or local fruit and vegetable store will be normal. Nope. No sense.

Hoping that they aren’t successful in their long-term jihadi plan to kill us all. Nope. This is no time for hope. It’s time for war. Because right now, in this jihadi-infested Febtober world of ours:

War against jihad is about the only thing that makes sense.

In addition, of course, to the remarkably beautiful and inspiring way in which countless Israelis support, care for, and love one another:








At a time.

That makes sense, and always will.

* * *

In memory of our son’s best friend, David Newman, whose cold-blooded murder on

October 7th made no sense. Unless you live in the land of Jihad sense.

In honor of David’s still hospitalized and recovering fiancé; beautiful, precious Noam, whose insistence that “We will dance again,” makes sense.

If you live in the land of Jewish Israeli sense.

Dedicated to all the soldiers; young, middle-aged, and even old. Men and women. And to their spouses, children, and families. Because without them, this miraculous no sense country wouldn’t exist at all.

Recognizing Soldiers Save Lives, a remarkable effort launched on October 8th by five guys who quit their jobs to bring plane loads of life-saving gear and humanitarian aid to Israel. Because when you rush into a war zone to find your missing friend and his fiancé, and all you find is a body, that’s what you do.

Makes sense.

Here in the land flowing with loss, trauma, honey, and sense.

Febtober Makes Sense

About the Author

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