Martyrs

Two Arabs are sitting in a Gaza Strip bar while smoking hashish and chatting over a pint of fermented goat's milk. The first Arab pulls his wallet out and starts flipping through pictures, and they start reminiscing.

"This is my oldest son, he's a martyr." "Praise Allah! You must be so very proud," says the other.

"Yes, and this is my second son. He's a martyr also." "A fine looking young man... praise be to Mohammed!" replies his friend.

After a pause and a deep sigh, the second Arab says wistfully, "They blow up so fast, don't they?"