Features
Former Winnipegger Zev Cohen publishes book of short stories: “Twilight in Saigon”
Former Winnipegger Zev Cohen, who now lives part of the year in Israel and part of the year in Calgary, has just published a book of short stories titled “Twilight in Saigon”. The book is available for purchase on Amazon. Here is how the book is described on Amazon: This eclectic collection of stories crosses genre lines – war, crime, romance, espionage, science fiction, fantasy –
as it moves in time from World War II through the present and into the distant future. Its common thread is humanity and love in the face of adversity.
A journalist finds love and misfortune in the upheaval of the Vietnam war.
Working for the West, a spy is saved from the hands of the KGB.
A straight-laced British accountant finds the love of his life and evil in Hong Kong.
Immigrants grapple with despair, love, and the vicissitudes of life in new surroundings.
Politics, love and tragedy in the life of a president.
Stationed on a distant world, a Terran ambassador adapts to an alien culture as love overcomes sentient diversity.
A loyal android fights for his cruel leader.
Teenage romance during the Six Day War.
A day in a dog’s life.
…and much more
We present here one of the stories from the book, titled “Gulfs and Pleasures”:
I DO NOT RECOMMEND HAVING SEX WHILE WEARING A GAS MASK. BEYOND the empirical fact that it prevents kissing from being part of the act, it’s difficult to breathe during the strenuous effort. Within a couple of seconds, the mask fogs up, and you can’t see a thing. Moreover, the waves of giggling break your concentration. Try imagining what a naked woman and a naked man look like while wearing gas masks. You’d have to agree with me that it looks funny if not grotesque. But when there’s no choice, you do what you must do and enjoy it, if only in a limited way.
I called Orna’s cell phone as soon as the siren went off in the middle of the night. She picked up after the first ring.
“Are you alright? Is he at home?”
“No. Two hours ago, he was called up and ran off to join the guys and play war. I don’t believe that he’ll be back today. Who knows how long it will last? It’s scary, and we didn’t even prepare an airtight room. He insists that there’s no chance that it will hit us of all people. Anyway, what does he care? He’s sitting in the underground bunker ogling the girl soldiers. Nothing will happen to him.”
Orna was one of the regular participants in my first-year course on the history of European art since the Renaissance that I ran in the large lecture hall of the Gillman building. She used to sit in the front row with the other “stenographers.” Those were the co-eds who conscientiously scribbled down every word that came out of my mouth, including flat jokes and burps. She was older than them, mature and sure of her intelligence amid those Barbie dolls. As opposed to them, she would, from time to time, fire a challenging comment that proved she was listening carefully and under- standing. To my shame, or not, I wasn’t attracted to her brains, although they did arouse my curiosity. As I droned along, lecturing on autopilot, my look wandered from her hazel-green eyes to the swell of her breasts and her shapely legs. What could I do? Even a professor is a human being, isn’t he? On a depressing winter’s day, between perusal of desolate seminar papers on the play of light and shadow in Venetian painting and suicidal thoughts, I ran into her in the cafeteria. The usually hectic and packed room was unusually quiet. We were alone, not counting Sonia behind the counter. Perhaps the atmosphere of impending doom chased the regular café denizens away.
I’ll jump forward because there’s not much to say about the develop- ment of our relationship. We didn’t go for in-depth discussions about art, politics, or interpersonal relations. There was no sophisticated seduction or so-called love at first sight. We were two lonely people with their eyes open, who found something in each other that had been missing up to that specific moment. We went for it. For me, her presence filled a void that was characteristic of my life here since returning from New York and a string of what Erica Jong called “zipless fucks.” She never revealed what she found in me. I doubted that it was about my less than god-like physique. I didn’t ask for fear of bursting the bubble. I didn’t want to find out that I was just a reasonable alternative to Amnon, her here again, gone again husband. And the sex was great.
“Amnon will always be Amnon,” I replied with a tinge of baseless hypocrisy. “With or without Iraqi ground to ground missiles, he’ll always look out for number one. Anyway, you always know how to take care of yourself.”
I couldn’t help adding a bit of pretentious and hollow male know it all superiority, and I said, “But he’s right about one thing. The chance that a missile will land on top of you, in Ramat Gan of all places, is tiny.”
“Yes, definitely, Mr. Professor of art history and great international expert on ballistic missiles,” she shot back, taking me down a few notches. “Do you suggest that I drink a glass of water and calm down? In a minute, you’re going to replace Nachman Shai.”
I tried another tack.
“I can be over at your place in a few minutes to set up an airtight room. I’ve been hoarding plastic sheeting obsessively for months, and I’m sure there’s a technical drawing by Da Vinci that could guide me through it.” She giggled. It worked. She could have guessed that my building skills were negligible, but there was nothing like a bit of self-deprecating humor to bring her around and hide the truth. She accepted my generous offer, and I was on my way before she put down the virtual receiver.
The streets were abandoned at that early hour. The oily puddles left by the rain reflected the brake lights of the few cars on the road. On the radio, there was an endless stream of talking and talking. Nobody could say what was happening. Were we hearing distant explosions or just echoing thunder? Should we put on our masks or take them off? It all just went by me. My thoughts focused on expectations of Orna – hot caresses, electrifying touches, sweet breath, erect nipples, wet, wet, wet.
Here’s another suggestion for my male friends. Don’t come to your lovers tight as a spring, heart beating rapidly with passion and sweaty palms. And it doesn’t matter if it’s the first day of war or any other circumstance. You’ll come, in every meaning of the word, and it’ll be over in seconds. Much too quickly.
We were getting ready for another round when the second siren went off. Being good citizens, we put on our masks and checked the limits of human sexual capabilities under the threat of chemical attack. Between bursts of muffled laughter and the pungent smell of rubber, we got a passing grade for the efforts invested.
The cell phone rang, and Orna answered. “It’s him,” her lips expressed silently. Amnon.
“Yes, I understand. I’ll think about it. I’m not sure that it’s a good idea. She must already be hysterical, and she’ll make me crazy too. That’s the situation. Yeah, it’s disgusting, but I got them out of the attic, and if they tell us to, I’ll put on the mask. Be careful. Call me when you can. Kiss, kiss. Bye.”
She looked pale. “It looks as though it’s serious this time,” she explained after the short conversation with her loving and concerned husband. “His unit is moving, and for the next few days, he’s not coming home and won’t be available on the phone.”
“Where is he going? Somewhere around here?” I wasn’t asking because of some sudden fear for Amnon’s safety. I just wanted to weigh the chances that he might show up by surprise and see what the civilians were doing in the rear…at his home.
“He said that it’s secret and he can’t talk about it. He wants me to move in with his mother in Jerusalem until things calm down. You heard what I told him. It’s out of the question.”
Amnon’s secret location was troubling. My plan to get comfortable in Orna’s bed for the next few days has a whiff of danger about it now. Suddenly he calls. Suddenly he’s worried about her and wants to send her to Jerusalem. What is he scheming? He might even show up unannounced to see if she was okay.
There wasn’t much time to consider the options, as the undulating howl of a siren broke the silence. This time we could distinctly hear the distant boom that followed it. The minute that the all-clear sounded, we were in the car on our way to Eilat. We even sang “Heading South to Eilat” loudly on a childish high at 4 a.m. On the Arava highway, we joined a slowly crawling jam of vehicles. It appeared that others, lots of them, came up with Orna’s brilliant idea to get out of the bull’s eye and as far outside of the missiles’ range as possible.
Orna wanted us to move into a holiday apartment in the southern town owned by her former schoolmate, best friend, and current neighbor, Rachel. Thanks to her outstanding bodily dimensions, Rachel had taken up a modeling career that frequently brought her to Paris, London, and New York. She changed her name to Tiffany and, when traveling, left the keys to her apartment and the Eilat hideaway with Orna. She often invited her and Amnon to use the Eilat domicile. I tried to convince Orna to come to a hotel with me to survive the war in bed with room service.
Near Beer Ora, Amnon called again. He heard as we did that a missile had hit Ramat Gan, destroying his and my low probability theory.
“Calm down. I’m still at home, and nothing happened on our street,” she told him. “There was a giant explosion, pretty close by, and the walls shook, but nothing more than that.” The lies slipped off her tongue smoothly. What else could she say?
“I might go to your mother’s later. In the meantime, if you can’t reach me on the phone, it’s because I’m down in the shelter. I don’t trust that plastic sheeting that we don’t have anyway.”
After saying goodbye with kisses, she reported no chance that he would make it home in the coming days. He must make do with the underwear he took with him. I breathed easier.
In Eilat, we dragged from hotel to hotel, the bed and room service plan falling to pieces. The same scene played out everywhere. Lobbies had turned into battlefields between separate Jewish combatants. Israel war-time solidarity gave way to exchanges of curses, pushing and shoving, and an awakening of Sephardi-Ashkenazi infighting. Never did hotel managers discover so many long-lost close friends from school and the army, relatives on the side of granny from Afula, and various other people with exclusive rights. Everyone was squeezing up against the reception desks trying to get hold of even the smallest partially furnished closet. It was a nightmare. In one of the luxury properties, the security guards were unsuccessfully attempting to take apart an outpost of suitcases and sleeping bags established by two families with a hive full of nervous brats.
Again, it’s Amnon on the phone. Orna shouldn’t try to reach him at his unit. He won’t be available due to radio silence and communications security. That’s fine, I thought. The walls have ears.
We dredged up Orna’s original plan. In a few minutes, we found the holiday apartment building. It was a nondescript structure with balconies overlooking a dilapidated neighborhood minimarket. The elevator was out of service, so we climbed the stairs to the fourth floor. On each landing, we stopped for a couple of moments of hurried necking, expecting what was coming. Hands were sent out to intimate parts, lips locked, tongues writhed. As Orna tried to fish the keys out of her bag while loosening my belt, I was busily unbuttoning her blouse to get at her bra.
The door opened, and we fell into the apartment. A pleasantly cold gust of air from the air conditioner welcomed us in. Someday had left it on since the last visit. We couldn’t wait for the bed. Clothes were rapidly removed and thrown aside, and the plush carpet hosted our vigorous sexual duet.
Eventually, things calmed down, and we could hear muffled, unidenti- fiable voices coming from somewhere else in the apartment: mumbling, quiet moaning, a cadence of creaking. We got up to check the noises that seemed to be coming from behind the closed but flimsy door of the bedroom. Just in case, I picked up a thick rolling pin in the kitchen. I pushed the door open, and no terrorist jumped me. Only Orna’s somewhat hysterical laughter penetrated my consciousness. Amnon pulled back from between Tiffany/Rachel’s legs spread wide as though bitten by a snake and stared at us incredulously.
Features
ClarityCheck: Securing Communication for Authors and Digital Publishers
In the world of digital publishing, communication is the lifeblood of creation. Authors connect with editors, contributors, and collaborators via email and phone calls. Publishers manage submissions, coordinate with freelance teams, and negotiate contracts online.
However, the same digital channels that enable efficient publishing also carry risk. Unknown contacts, fraudulent inquiries, and impersonation attempts can disrupt projects, delay timelines, or compromise sensitive intellectual property.
This is where ClarityCheck becomes a vital tool for authors and digital publishers. By allowing users to verify phone numbers and email addresses, ClarityCheck enhances trust, supports safer collaboration, and minimizes operational risks.
Why Verification Matters in Digital Publishing
Digital publishing involves multiple types of external communication:
- Manuscript submissions
- Editing and proofreading coordination
- Author-publisher negotiations
- Marketing and promotional campaigns
- Collaboration with illustrators and designers
In these workflows, unverified contacts can lead to:
- Scams or fraudulent project offers
- Intellectual property theft
- Miscommunication causing delays
- Financial loss due to fraudulent payments
- Unauthorized sharing of sensitive drafts
Platforms like Reddit feature discussions from authors and freelancers about using verification tools to safeguard their work. This highlights the growing awareness of digital safety in creative industries.
What Is ClarityCheck?
ClarityCheck is an online service that enables users to search for publicly available information associated with phone numbers and email addresses. Its primary goal is to provide additional context about a contact before initiating or continuing communication.
Rather than relying purely on intuition, authors and publishers can access structured information to assess credibility. This proactive approach supports safer project management and protects intellectual property.
You can explore community feedback and discussions about the service here: ClarityCheck
Key Benefits for Authors and Digital Publishers
1. Protecting Manuscript Submissions
Authors often submit manuscripts to multiple editors or publishers. Before sharing full drafts:
- Verify the contact’s legitimacy
- Ensure the communication aligns with known publishing entities
- Reduce risk of unauthorized distribution
A quick lookup can prevent time-consuming disputes and protect original content.
2. Safeguarding Collaborative Projects
Digital publishing frequently involves external contributors such as:
- Illustrators
- Designers
- Editors
- Ghostwriters
Verification ensures all collaborators are trustworthy, minimizing the chance of intellectual property theft or miscommunication.
3. Enhancing Marketing and PR Outreach
Promoting a book or digital publication often involves connecting with:
- Bloggers
- Reviewers
- Book influencers
- Digital media outlets
Before sharing press kits or marketing materials, verifying email addresses or phone contacts adds confidence and prevents potential misuse.
How ClarityCheck Works
While the internal system is proprietary, the user workflow is straightforward and efficient:
| Step | Action | Outcome |
| 1 | Enter phone number or email | Search initiated |
| 2 | Aggregation of publicly available data | Digital footprint analyzed |
| 3 | Report generated | Structured overview presented |
| 4 | Review by user | Informed decision before engagement |
The platform’s simplicity makes it suitable for authors and publishing teams, even those with limited technical expertise.
Integrating ClarityCheck Into Publishing Workflows
Manuscript Submission Process
- Receive submission request
- Verify contact via ClarityCheck
- Confirm identity of editor or publisher
- Share draft or proceed with collaboration
Collaboration with Freelancers
- Initiate project with external contributors
- Run ClarityCheck to verify email or phone number
- Establish project agreement
- Begin content creation safely
Marketing Outreach
- Contact media or reviewers
- Verify digital identity
- Share promotional materials with confidence
Ethical and Privacy Considerations
While ClarityCheck provides useful context, it operates exclusively using publicly accessible information. Authors and publishers should always:
- Respect privacy and data protection regulations
- Use results responsibly
- Combine verification with personal judgment
- Avoid sharing sensitive data with unverified contacts
Responsible use ensures the platform supports security without compromising ethical standards.
Real-World Use Cases in Digital Publishing
Scenario 1: Verifying a New Editor
An author is contacted by an editor claiming to represent a small publishing house. Running a ClarityCheck report confirms the email domain aligns with publicly available information about the company, reducing risk before signing an agreement.
Scenario 2: Screening Freelance Illustrators
A digital publisher seeks an illustrator for a children’s book. Before sharing project details or compensation terms, ClarityCheck verifies contact information, ensuring the artist is legitimate.
Scenario 3: Marketing Outreach Safety
A self-publishing author plans a social media and email campaign. Verifying influencer or reviewer contacts helps prevent marketing materials from reaching fraudulent accounts.
Why Verification Strengthens Publishing Operations
In digital publishing, speed and creativity are essential, but they must be balanced with security:
- Protect intellectual property
- Maintain trust with collaborators
- Ensure financial transactions are secure
- Prevent delays due to miscommunication
Verification tools like ClarityCheck integrate seamlessly, allowing authors and publishing teams to focus on creation rather than risk management.
Final Thoughts
In a world where publishing is increasingly digital and collaborative, verifying contacts is not just prudent — it’s necessary.
ClarityCheck empowers authors, editors, and digital publishing professionals to confidently assess phone numbers and email addresses, protect their intellectual property, and streamline communication.
Whether managing manuscript submissions, coordinating external contributors, or launching marketing campaigns, integrating ClarityCheck into your workflow ensures clarity, safety, and professionalism.
In digital publishing, trust is as important as creativity — and ClarityCheck helps safeguard both.
Features
Israel’s Arab Population Finds Itself in Dire Straits
By HENRY SREBRNIK There has been an epidemic of criminal violence and state neglect in the Arab community of Israel. At least 56 Arab citizens have died since the beginning of this year. Many blame the government for neglecting its Arab population and the police for failing to curb the violence. Arabs make up about a fifth of Israel’s population of 10 million people. But criminal killings within the community have accounted for the vast majority of Israeli homicides in recent years.
Last year, in fact, stands as the deadliest on record for Israel’s Arab community. According to a year-end report by the Center for the Advancement of Security in Arab Society (Ayalef), 252 Arab citizens were murdered in 2025, an increase of roughly 10 percent over the 230 victims recorded in 2024. The report, “Another Year of Eroding Governance and Escalating Crime and Violence in Arab Society: Trends and Data for 2025,” published in December, noted that the toll on women is particularly severe, with 23 Arab women killed, the highest number recorded to date.
Violence has expanded beyond internal criminal disputes, increasingly affecting public spaces and targeting authorities, relatives of assassination targets, and uninvolved bystanders. In mixed Arab-Jewish cities such as Acre, Jaffa, Lod, and Ramla, violence has acquired a political dimension, further eroding the fragile social fabric Israel has worked to sustain.
In the Negev, crime families operate large-scale weapons-smuggling networks, using inexpensive drones to move increasingly advanced arms, including rifles, medium machine guns, and even grenades, from across the borders in Egypt and Jordan. These weapons fuel not only local criminal feuds but also end up with terrorists in the West Bank and even Jerusalem.
Getting weapons across the border used to be dangerous and complex but is now relatively easy. Drones originally used to smuggle drugs over the borders with Egypt and Jordan have evolved into a cheap and effective tool for trafficking weapons in large quantities. The region has been turning into a major infiltration route and has intensified over the past two years, as security attention shifted toward Gaza and the West Bank.
The Negev is not merely a local challenge; it serves as a gateway for crime and terrorism across Israel, including in cities. The weapons flow into mixed Jewish-Arab cities and from there penetrate the West Bank, fueling both organized crime and terrorist activity and blurring the line between them.
The smuggling of weapons into Israel is no longer a marginal criminal phenomenon but an ongoing strategic threat that traces a clear trail: from porous borders with Egypt and Jordan, through drones and increasingly sophisticated smuggling methods, into the heart of criminal networks inside Israel, and in a growing number of cases into lethal terrorist operations. A deal that begins as a profit-driven criminal transaction often ends in a terrorist attack. Israeli police warn that a population flooded with illegal weapons will act unlawfully, the only question being against whom.
The scale of the threat is vast. According to law enforcement estimates, up to 160,000 weapons are smuggled into Israel each year, about 14,000 a month. Some sources estimate that about 100,000 illegal weapons are circulating in the Negev alone.
Israeli cities are feeling this. Acre, with a population of about 50,000, more than 15,000 of them Arab, has seen a rise in violent incidents, including gunfire directed at schools, car bombings, and nationalist attacks. In August 2025, a 16-year-old boy was shot on his way to school, triggering violent protests against the police.
Home to roughly 35,000 Arab residents and 20,000 Jewish residents, Jaffa has seen rising tensions and repeated incidents of violence between Arabs and Jews. In the most recent case, on January 1, 2026, Rabbi Netanel Abitan was attacked while walking along a street, and beaten.
In Lod, a city of roughly 75,000 residents, about half of them Arab, twelve murders were recorded in 2025, a historic high. The city has become a focal point for feuds between crime families. In June 2025, a multi-victim shooting on a central street left two young men dead and five others wounded, including a 12-year-old passerby. Yet the killing of the head of a crime family in 2024 remains unsolved to this day; witnesses present at the scene refused to testify.
The violence also spilled over to Jewish residents: Jewish bystanders were struck by gunfire, state officials were targeted, and cars were bombed near synagogues. Hundreds of Jewish families have left the city amid what the mayor has described as an “atmosphere of war.”
Phenomena that were once largely confined to the Arab sector and Arab towns are spilling into mixed cities and even into predominantly Jewish cities. When violence in mixed cities threatens to undermine overall stability, it becomes a national problem. In Lod and Jaffa, extortion of Jewish-owned businesses by Arab crime families has increased by 25 per cent, according to police data.
Ramla recorded 15 murders in 2025, underscoring the persistence of lethal violence in the city. Many victims have been caught up in cycles of revenge between clans, often beginning with disputes over “honour” and ending in gunfire. Arab residents describe the city as “cursed,” while Jewish residents speak openly about being afraid to leave their homes
Reluctance to report crimes to the authorities is a central factor exacerbating the problem. Fear of retaliation by families or criminal organizations deters victims and their relatives from coming forward, contributing to a clearance rate of less than 15 per cent of all murders. The Ayalef report notes that approximately 70 per cent of witnesses refused to cooperate with police investigations, citing doubts about the state’s ability to provide protection.
Violence in Arab society is not just an Arab sector problem; it poses a direct and serious threat to Israel’s national security. The impact is twofold: on the one hand, a rise in crime that affects the entire population; on the other, the spillover of weapons and criminal activity into terrorism, threatening both internal and regional stability. This phenomenon reached a peak in 2025, with implications that could lead to a third intifada triggered by either a nationalist or criminal incident.
The report suggests that along the Egyptian and Jordanian borders, Israel should adopt a technological and security-focused response: reinforcing border fences with sensors and cameras, conducting aerial patrols to counter drones, and expanding enforcement activity.
This should be accompanied by a reassessment of the rules of engagement along the border area, enabling effective interdiction of smuggling and legal protocols that allow for the arrest and imprisonment of offenders. The report concludes by emphasizing that rising violence in cities, compounded by weapons smuggling in the Negev, is eroding Israel’s internal stability.
Henry Srebrnik is a professor of political science at the University of Prince Edward Island.
Features
The Chapel on the CWRU Campus: A Memoir
By DAVID TOPPER In 1964, I moved to Cleveland, Ohio to attend graduate school at Case Institute of Technology. About a year later, I met a girl with whom I fell in love; she was attending Western Reserve University. At that time, they were two entirely separate schools. Nonetheless, they share a common north-south border.
Since Reserve was originally a Christian college, on that border between the two schools there is a Chapel on the Reserve (east) side, with a four-sided Tower. On the top of the Tower are three angels (north, east, & south) and a gargoyle (west); the latter therefore faces the Case side. Its mouth is a waterspout – and so, when it rains, the gargoyle spits on the Case side. The reason for this, I was told, is that the founder of Case, Leonard Case Jr., was an atheist.
In 1968, that girl, Sylvia, and I got married. In the same year the two schools united, forming what is today still Case Western Reserve University (CWRU). I assume the temporal proximity of these two events entails no causality. Nevertheless, I like the symbolism, since we also remain married (although Sylvia died almost 6 years ago).
Speaking of symbolism: it turns out that the story told to me is a myth. Actually, Mr. Case was a respected member of the Presbyterian Church. Moreover, the format of the Tower is borrowed from some churches in the United Kingdom – using the gargoyle facing west, toward the setting sun, to symbolize darkness, sin, or evil. It just so happens that Case Tech is there – a fluke. Just a fluke.
We left Cleveland in 1970, with our university degrees. Harking back to those days, only once during my six years in Cleveland, was I in that Chapel. It was the last day before we left the city – moving to Winnipeg, Canada – where I still live. However, it was not for a religious ceremony – no, not at all. Sylvia and I were in the Chapel to attend a poetry reading by the famed Beat poet, Allen Ginsberg.
My final memory of that Chapel is this. After the event, as we were walking out, I turned to Sylvia and said: “I’m quite sure that this is the first and only time in the entire long history of this solemn Chapel that those four walls heard the word ‘fuck’.” Smiling, she turned to me and said, “Amen.”
This story was first published in “Down in the Dirt Magazine,”
vol, 240, Mars and Cotton Candy Clouds.