Schitthaus.com

*The following is a special feature to Schitthaus.com by Middle East correspondent and all-around sweet dude, the Notorious G.I.P. This thoroughly-researched article is the first in what will be a series of educational pieces about the Holy Land.

Shalom. (For those of you that aren’t familiar with the Hebrew tongue, the word is loosely translated thusly: “Eat shit.” Needless to say, I use it as often as I can.)

Well, let me say that my journey got off to an inauspicious start. While I was extremely excited to get to Israel, my luggage was having second thoughts and decided to stay at the airport in New York. All I have with me now are sunglasses and a passport. But then again, what else could anyone possibly need? In a related story, I shaved this morning with a sharp rock that I found in the parking lot.

And while El Al Airlines (whose motto is “Spread ‘Em!”) provided me with a complimentary bag of toiletries, it included neither a banana hammock nor a chest hair comb, arguably the two most critical accessories when traveling abroad. Sorry ladies, the rug might be a bit unruly for the next few days.

So, what do you do when you arrive to one of the holiest cities in the world? Head straight to the bar, of course. It didn’t take us long to find the hotel bar where we were greeted by Jamal (the bartender), Mimi (his assistant), and free shots of Jamison (that’s alcohol, jackass). Jamal is now my main man. Before we began drinking, though, we felt that it would be appropriate to reflect on some of the finer aspects of the city of Jerusalem, which is to be my temporary home for the next week. As it is his hometown, Jamal was more than happy to offer his thoughts on the subject. “Jerusalem has so much history, so much religion, and so much…fucking prostitution.” Well said.

The next day I had my first Arab mullet sighting while driving through East Jerusalem. Maybe it was just the fact that I was in the Holy Land, but I felt blessed. I have yet to see a Jewish mullet, but the back hair I have been witnessing is definitely screaming “party!”

Next on the itinerary was a lovely drive to the famed plateau at Masada, the site of the first rave party in 23 B.C.E. Back then of course, there were no glowsticks so the douchebags used wax candles and the girls ate small rocks instead of ecstacy pills and they all danced like complete tools until they had to get back to whatever they did before Xbox 360 was invented. Incidentally, I learned these fun facts from a short film (which, believe it or not, is not in danger of winning any Oscars) named “Masada: The True Story.”

Finally, the day was capped by taking a dip in the Dead Sea, which is named after Steve Dead, the first man to pee at the lowest point on Earth. Big ups, Steve.

Well folks, it’s time to go try and work some game, which will probably go something like this, ”Hey girl, I’ve been wearing the same pair of boxers for three days.” So, shalom, you yutches.