My heart goes out to Benjamin Netanyahu. With one cold, cruel stroke of the pen, the rulers of the world have taken away his most beloved toy – the apple of his eye and the joy of his heart, the rock of his existence and the source of his strength, and above all, the rock of his refuge and safe haven. Or in short, the Iranian bomb.
It seems as if this very day, or perhaps tomorrow, a spoke will be put in the wheel of the Iranian bomb, and it will be ripped from the headlines and from our consciousness for at least the next dozen years or even more. And for Bibi, what will happen now?
A discerning glance can already see the first signs of panic in him: repression, avoidance, a slight quiver in his hairdo, a stubborn insistence that nothing has happened and nothing has changed. But the terrible truth is taking shape. The bomb has gone. From now on, Netanyahu is like a baby that has lost its security blanket, or like one whose favorite teddy bear was thrown into the garbage – the one that warmed his heart during the long nights and infused him with calm and serenity during times of trouble and election campaigns.