Two middle easterns are sitting in a Gaza Strip bar chatting over a pint of fermented goat's milk.
One pulls his wallet out and starts flipping through pictures, and they start reminiscing.
"This is my oldest son, Mohammed...he's a martyr. This is my second son, Hachmed. He is a martyr also."
After a pause and a deep sigh, the other says wistfully, "They blow up so fast, don't they?"
