Some forty years ago, there was an interesting character whom all of Jerusalem knew and were fondly tolerant of. This was an eccentric old man who stood all day long, rain or shine, in the middle of what was then the only entrance to Jerusalem from the west, helping the traffic lights direct traffic with his cane. The poor guy was a Holocaust survivor, and who knows what the Nazis did to his brain. Yet, why do so many of us act just like him?