One day, I'm going to get Ta-Nehisi to teach me how to blog and report at the same time. Until then, I'm a don't-walk-and-chew-gum-at-the-same-time sort of Atlantic employee. I've been driving around all day in the Land of Milk and Honey, including on Road 443, the Palestinian road-to-nowhere, but also up north. The landscape is drying up now in anticipation of summer but it is still breathtaking (or maybe that's just my allergies). As we were driving alongside the Sea of Galilee (which Palestinians refer to as the "Nakba"), I saw in the distance a stringy-haired Jewish dude about a hundred yards from shore, standing on the water. Oh, shit, I thought, they're right, and I crossed myself, just to be safe (I learned various Catholic gestures in my brief career as a Marrano on Long Island). But then I realized that the guy was standing on a surfboard, which is just bonkers because there is no surf on the Sea of Galilee. His appearance on the still lake made as much sense to me as anything else around here these days.