Whose Nose?

Whose News?

2009-06-29T22:38:00.000-05:00

Who knew which nose . . .

Would be the news,
That was all the nose,
Fit to print?

She Gave Up Smoking at the Age of 117

2009-05-13T02:33:00.003-05:00

. . . only five years before her death.

Only five years . . . before . . .

Wait! Let's just see if I got that right. The longest lived person ever . . .

Jeane Louise Calment

Well? There it is in stunning Wikipedia black and white. And always, I kept promising myself, "Next year I'll quit." But now I figure, hey! Why push it? Why not wait till I'm 118? And while I'm at it, just maybe I can also break the record of Jeanne Louise, for the world's longest living person--still smoking!

Lucky for her, she lived during a time when a smoker was not at hazard of catching her death of pneumonia, snatching a few puffs on lunch break; driven out into the cold, the wind, the rain, sleet and snow by a cruel, sadistic society of hysterics and upight squares who refuse to face the fact of a Mademoiselle Calment!

But at the price of an extortionately taxed pack of cigarettes these days? Shoot! you'd be first driven to poverty, starvation and death, simply for trying to keep puffing so long as that darling old dame.

And what a shame! Think of the Virginia Slims ads in Life Magazine we never got to see: Jeanne Louise in art nouveau vignette, her pretty plumed hat haloed in white curlicues of a slogan blown from her own rosebud lips, "You've Come a Long Way, Baby!"

Like Jesse Ventura keeps saying, "Don't Start the Revolution Without Me."

And God Created Brigitte Bardot

2009-03-26T02:06:00.001-05:00

She's 73 years old, and still HOT. And what's so hot about her, might you ask? She's hot under the collar, for one thing, having to show up in court now for a fifth time, charged with the crime of hating Islam.

Bardot was busted for something she said in a letter to French President Sarkozy. As a dedicated animal rights addict--excuse please!--'advocate', she was protesting the ritual slaughter of sheep for the Muslim high holiday of Eid-al-Kabir. The letter was sent in 2004 when Sarkozy was yet French Minister of the Interior, and as it was subsequently somehow leaked to the press--now she is being prosecuted and tried for what she said privately, in a letter.

To think of it. To see everything that Orwell would, in view of this, seem to have prophesied for his horror fantasy of totalitarian European government post-1984; that this may now be threatening to have come true, today for France, and tomorrow, why not for the rest of a former "free world"?

The offending language in Brigitte's missive was, to wit, "this population that leads us around by the nose, [and] which destroys our country." Time Magazine

There is another girl by the name of "Brigitte" who also is totally HOT. Her last name is Gabriel and she, a best selling author, is today here in the USA as an immigrant and new American citizen from Lebanon. I hear from her every day in a newsletter. This morning I read this . . .

Dear John,

While Americans are lulled into complacency as to the threat of Islamofascism because there have been no “9/11’s” since 9/11, the kettle that slowly boils the frog to death is heating up around us.

If you take a frog, put it in a kettle of water, and gradually raise the temperature, the frog will, without thinking and without awareness, adjust to the temperature changes until it boils to death. This is THE metaphor for incrementalism.
--
Any connection between the words "frog" and "French" would be entirely coincidental, and not intended to be understood as being in any way 'significant' or 'prophetic', let alone, least of all, "frog-bashing."

But getting back to the French Brigitte; if all this were not enough to get a free spirit like Bardot hot, after she was already hot and had long been hot, especially in the 1950's and 60's when she was the hottest thing on the international marquee since Theda "Kiss me, my fool" Bara--then consider how trying the whole thing must be for that poor zealot of a prosecutor acting in service of Big Brother, France; Anne de Fonette who has made her feelings plain for the reporters of Time magazine, having said, "I'm a bit tired of trying Madame Bardot," as again according to Time, "she urged the court to impose 'the most striking and remarkable' punishment in the case. A verdict is expected on June 3." Time

Here once again they are saying that Brigitte Bardot "hates Muslims" but how absurd! How can this be, that a lovely little retired sex-kitten like Bardot could 'hate' anything so innocent and defenseless as a religion? What, after no more than five arrests by the French flics, four convictions, four fines and suspended sentences--all this for 'hate'?

Hardly! Such punishment as this can only have been suffered for love, by a French woman--everybody knows!

It is only because Bardot loves France, and loves for France to be France, to stay French and not to be changing into something other, something alien and utterly foreign to French culture and manners.

Where is the 'hate' crime in that?

Why Israel Had to Whack the USS Liberty

2008-10-05T18:16:00.009-05:00

All night and day in the hours leading up to the first day of the Six Day War, Moshe Dayan was in continual contact with executive offices in the White House of Lyndon Baines Johnson. Of chief concern to the Israeli defense minister was that the United States should keep him briefed as to the positions of all, and that meant ALL naval traffic in the eastern Mediterranean, international waters or otherwise; this in order to avoid the least possibility of exactly what happened to the incognito spy ship, USS Liberty.

The U.S. complied with this request only to a limited extent, this being due to a massive failure of understanding, or which is the more likely, a bull-headed lack of respect for Israel's critical position, one which demanded in the emergency, a war-time agreement for disclosure between allies, the neglect of which, in terms of the consequences for the USS Liberty, can be viewed by History only at so many fathoms of depth beneath contempt as to be completely out of sonar range.

At first, Dayan had made it plain that since the US, along with all Europe, had opted (in fear of the USSR-UAR alliance) to do nothing about the Egyptian naval blockade in the Gulf of Aqaba; about Egyptian expulsion of UN forces from Sinai; the movement of Syrian, Iraqi, Jordanian and Egyptian tanks, artillery and troops toward Israel's borders; therefore, because the US and Europe would not stand with Israel against this aggression, there was no reason at all, for US naval forces to be in place anywhere near the coasts of Israel--and that meant NONE whatever.

It was not in honor of Israel's critical position, that President Johnson ordered the Sixth Fleet drawn back a hundred miles and more from the theatre of potential conflict. It was done strictly to avoid any appearance in sight of the Soviets that America had even the least intention to honor any form of commitment to her ally, Israel.

Dayan put 'Israel's friend' LBJ on notice that any foreign ship in waters off the coast of Israel and Sinai would be regarded as a threat and an obstacle to Israel's unencumbered mobility in those waters--and because there was nothing to prevent UAR nations, or the USSR from disguising a ship for one of American or European registry, then minus 100% disclosure, there was no way for Israel to gain full assurance as to what the nature of any craft might actually be. Israel had to know the identity and coordinates of any US ship not pulled back with the Fleet, lest that ship should stand as a target, pure, plain and simple.

From Wiki . . .

"The IDF, in its History Report about the attack, says it asked the United States to inform them of any U.S. ships in the area but was not told of the Liberty's presence.[3](p.22) The IDF air and naval forces, respectively, misidentified the Liberty as an unknown destroyer and the Egyptian cargo ship El Quseir.[3](p.15)"

As the US had by this refusal of disclosure failed to stand out of the way of the logistical mobility Israel had to have, the Liberty disaster became inevitable. And it happened only because LBJ, in his tragic pride-bound way, was refusing to face the dynamic of what his timidity before the Soviets had come to; a greater threat, so to hobble an Israeli defense against a sure-fire Second Holocaust, burgeoning belly up to her borders and coasts. For Israel, there would be, in short, NO time for any complications: nothing would be allowed to stand in the way of an unfettered defense--no damned ambiguities of uncertainty and doubt would be tolerated, pure, plain and simple.

From Rabin's Memoirs . . .

"According to Israeli Chief of Staff Yitzhak Rabin’s memoirs, there were standing orders to attack any unidentified vessel near the shore. The day fighting began, Israel had asked that American ships be removed from its coast or that it be notified of the precise location of U.S. vessels. The Sixth Fleet was moved because President Johnson feared being drawn into a confrontation with the Soviet Union. He also ordered that no aircraft be sent near Sinai."
--
By brunt of critical necessity, Israel was forced to treat that ship for the thorn in the side to her defense that it was, and blew the bull-headed, disrespectful son of a bitch out of the water--sad as that is to say.

And that is the true story of Israel v. LBJ and a pitiful fate for the pride of the USS Liberty.

By Force of Historical Necessity

2008-06-08T17:56:00.007-05:00

And to think there are these days so many who would blame the Jews, if they would fight to save their lives. What is missing from the understanding of all but a few concerning the Zionist migration which led to the triumph of Israel as a Jewish state, is that what arises among a people by necessity of survival cannot be argued against.

For "Palestinian" Arabs and their supporters, the "not in my backyard" argument has no force, as the necessity for one people to keep their lives can be in no way equal to what that Arab is trying to keep in an exclusive title to land. The man who migrates and fights to preserve his life has the more valuable possession to keep and defend, life itself--and he will fight the harder for that, than any man can to keep exclusive claim to a piece of land. Titles to land can change hands, an entitlement to life cannot.

That's just life in a world governed by one immutable and inviolable law: Survival of the Fittest. There is no room in Darwinian necessity for ideals of "fairness" considered over puffs of pipe smoke in an easy chair. One man's rightful claim of exclusive ownership to his own backyard is suddenly made petty and indefensible, the moment that his fence is jumped by a man who does so in order to save his life.

You tell that man to go back over the fence from whence he came and what you've done is to perpetrate the lie that ownership of land is a greater good than ownership of life. Such a liar as that, under a biological code of survival of the fittest will prove himself unworthy, flawed, not strong enough to hold that land against the claim of the other man who will enter it because he must, to save his life. The one man needs the land, the other only wants to keep it.

Necessity rules in the blindfolded, objective sight of Justice. Sometimes there is no force in the argument, it is mine because it is mine, or because daddy gave it to me."

Blue Steel Jews

2008-03-20T01:22:00.005-05:00

There was a day in these United States when messing with the wrong Jew could get you`messed up so bad that you'd never in this life catch a chance to do it twice. This was the day of such illustrious Jewish gents as Arnold Rothstein, Meyer Lansky, Bugsy Siegel, Mickey Cohen, Seymour "Blue Jaw" Magoon, and Jake "the Jew" Gusik, Isadore "Kid Cann" Blumenfeld and his fellow superbad whoop-ass Jew from Minneapolis, Dave Berman.

There was a parking lot out behind one of the Blumenfeld Brothers nightclubs in downtown Minneapolis, the "Pink Poodle" where parking those baby blue Blumenfeld Cadillacs one summer turned out to be a way for me to save up tuition money for college.

Everybody in town knew who Kid Cann was, how he got sent up in the late fifties to serve a stretch of federal time on a white slavery rap. What all but a few select people didn't know was that the Kid's brother, Harry "Yiddy Bloom" Blumenfeld was still running those downtown Blumenfeld clubs on Hennepin Avenue while Issy was, as they say, 'away'.

Odd thing of it is that no matter how you may search, you can't find it published anywhere, the date of the Kid's release from the . . . can. It was 1959 when he was sent up, and for so little as anyone knew including me, the man was still up the river come the summer of 1966, when I started working in that Blumenfeld lot, which I did not know for any such thing at the time. All I did know is that there was something kind of grand glimmering in the air about those two guys; something they showed you in a glint of blue steel from their eyes, from the way they walked, or dropped the keys to their Cadillacs in your hand.

You could call it 'class'. Or be a punk and call it "rockstar charisma," or then again, don't because there was never anything but jazz and pop standards playing on the radios of those two Cadillacs when they pulled in. Something about the lingering smell of cologne or whatever kind of fancy oil their barbers would rub into their scalps--sure. There was something admirable, so swell about them that you didn't even have to ask who those two were, or if you did it was at risk of being told by whoever was talking, "Well, who the goddam hell do you think they are? Take a better look next time--but not too good, if you know what's good for you.

There was an illegal poker game going at all hours down in the basement of the Poodle, and I used to park the cars of the gamblers. It was funny. There was this one hood who'd come tooling up to my shack one week, all pround and happy and tipping big as he'd come out from behind the wheel of a brand new Mercury convertible. Next week, it would be some old wreck of a '55 Plymouth with one of the bumpers hanging loose, and there he'd be without a shave or even the ghost of a shine on his shoes, or a quarter to flip to my hand.

One morning I grabbed the waste-paper basket off the floor of my little up-right coffin of a parking lot shack to empty it in the cans out behind the Pink Poodle. I opened the gate and was just about to dump when I spied in the garbage something green that didn't look quite like lettuce, but then again in the more vernacular sense, rather did; it was barely visible, just showing a little from under a mess of cigarette and cigar butts, swizzle sticks, napkins and sweeping compound.

I gingerly poked my fingers in to pull that wad of greenbacks out of there, and though I probably should have been honest, should of gone ahead and turned that 200 bucks or so over to those crooks inside the Pink Poodle, somehow the thought of how much closer I'd suddenly come to paying my Fall Quarter tuition, just wouldn't allow me to be jake on that. And so I banked it.

I must admit however that I did come to have second thoughts over it, one late summer's afternoon, after parking the Cadillac belonging to the short, portly, balding guy, who looked to be so much the spitting image of the other more regular Harry "Yiddy Bloom" Blumenfeld guy, which name I'd come to suspect not just quite yet. And when I had eased her into a good spot, I can't say why, something moved me to slide across the seat to get out on the passenger side, and as I did, my elbow somehow happened to catch the button on the glove box, which fell heavily open to reveal in all its snub-nosed blue-steel glory--don't you know what? I slammed the door shut on that and got my buns out of that Caddy quick.

Had I done this on purpose, on the chance that I might get a look at something just like that, to confirm or deny the substance of what was now starting to be my hunch about what was indeed the true news on this guy? You can read all about him and his pal Meyer Lansky with whom he spent the latter years of his life in Miami right here . . .

http://www.toughjews.blogspot.com/

Or you can turn up pretty much the same dope on these guys here . . ..

http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/US-Israel/gangsters.html

And there you will read as follows . . .

Lansky recalled breaking up a Brown Shirt rally in the Yorkville section of Manhattan: "The stage was decorated with a swastika and a picture of Hitler. The speakers started ranting. There were only fifteen of us, but we went into action. We … threw some of them out the windows. . . . Most of the Nazis panicked and ran out. We chased them and beat them up. . . . We wanted to show them that Jews would not always sit back and accept insults."

In Minneapolis, William Dudley Pelley organized a Silver Shirt Legion to "rescue" America from an imaginary Jewish-Communist conspiracy. In Pelley’s own words, just as "Mussolini and his Black Shirts saved Italy and as Hitler and his Brown Shirts saved Germany," he would save America from Jewish communists. Minneapolis gambling czar David Berman confronted Pelley’s Silver Shirts on behalf of the Minneapolis Jewish community.

Berman learned that Silver Shirts were mounting a rally at a nearby Elks’ Lodge. When the Nazi leader called for all the "Jew bastards" in the city to be expelled, or worse, Berman and his associates burst in to the room and started cracking heads. After ten minutes, they had emptied the hall. His suit covered in blood, Berman took the microphone and announced, "This is a warning. Anybody who says anything against Jews gets the same treatment. Only next time it will be worse." After Berman broke up two more rallies, there were no more public Silver Shirt meetings in Minneapolis.

Incongruities

2007-11-15T23:17:00.000-06:00

There is a certain mood that people get into sometimes where we wind up looking at life from one remove--or maybe two, three, four; how far gone you want to get? And it's not such a forlorn meditation as that may sound even though it kind of comes down to a looking back from the grave sort of perspective. Okay, but it has to be that or it's no good. It's a way of looking at the world and life just as you would see it with the grand nostalgia of knowing it for something forever left behind.

This is a rare and delicious perspective, so powerful as to allow a glimpse, at last and for once, of the funny little incongruities that above everything were making this world and life in it something you know you would have better appreciated, had you only not been quite so close, so immersed in it as not to notice. Put it this way: Go ahead and just try taking Harpo Marx out of this world; take his funny curly be-wigged head out of the picture; take the harp from his hands, take away from your sight the wild look of wonder in his eyes, take from his head that funny crushed opera hat; take it all out of this world as we've known it, and would remember it--as if we could--after we're gone, and what would be left of anything magical enough to miss?

Harpo Marx is incongruous, as also, by ever so vast a contrast is Hitler. Both were clowns under the Big Top of the Greatest Show on Earth. In the center ring of Circus Earth, here indeed was Hitler where he trod the sawdust with mustache and whip to make the opposite of what he wanted, happen; to make the face of his opposite, Harpo Marx all the more lovable than it already was. But here was Harpo, the image of an angel (he could swear like a veritable Mae West in the midst of a three sailor tryst, drunken or sober) golden-haired (though the wig was actually pink) and plucking none but the most ethereal music from a harp he'd taught himself to play, through a most incongruous genius, by ear, and by using a system of tuning he'd invented himself--and there is Hitler trying to rid the world of Harpo.

Incongruity! Oh! How can it be that some skinny, greasy looking kid, stuck with a hick from the sticks name that can conjure nothing but the image of an ignorant country plow-boy, an "Elvis Presley"? How he could arise to such stellar majesty--why, one must only marvel with none but the greatest delight at the very incongruity of it. But this is that kind of world, into which the wild and unruly force of the absurd is continually bursting, always to so marvelously confound our every prejudice and expectation. And here where the impossible is constantly transformed into the possible; here, with such a mystery attendant upon our existence, we find the only kind of life that can possibly be worth missing, in all its glorious and outrageously unaccountable incongruity.

Whose News?

2007-05-08T03:17:00.000-05:00

Who knew which nose . . .

Would be the news,
That was all the nose,
Fit to print?

The Great White Second Coming of

2006-03-23T00:05:00.000-06:00

What if it were to be shown that the Mafia had its beginnings in Muslim culture and traditions that came with the Saracen invasion of Sicily in AD 832, an occupation that lasted well into the tenth century?

One fellow, in commenting upon this pet thesis of mine had this to say, "Well, OK, but . . . anyway, the invaders brought huge benefits to the island and religious tolerance that didn't exist under Christianity."

To which I reply . . .

That is the ever so popular postmodern mythology of multiculturalist historical revisionism, which the body of this present research promises to blow so far out of the water, that as you see the geysering spout of it rise to the sky, you are apt to think you are out at sea in a boat watching the Great White Second Coming of Moby Dick.

As this research continues into the historical mystery of the Sicilian Mafia/Saracen Muslim connection, one would trace the linguistic sources for the word, "Mafia", which brings some fascinating material into view as from the following . . .

Here a number of possible etymological guesses are given, as e.g. that ". . . the word derives from the Arabic, 'either from mahias, meaning a bold man or a braggart, or from Ma afir, the name of the Saracen tribe that ruled Palermo.A third theory of Arab origin relates mafia to maha, a quarry or a cave in a rock. The mafie, the tuff caves in the Marsala region, served the persecuted Saracens as hiding places and later provided hide-outs for other fugitives' (2, Lestingi 1884). Hess states that Giuseppe Loschiavo (not to be confused with Giovanni Schiavo) writes that before Garibaldi's landing, 'the rebellious Sicilians had hidden out in the mafie near Marsala and had therefore subsequently, during their successful advance on Palermo, been called mafiosi, the people from the mafie' (2, Loschiavo 1964)."

But to have found such direct and positive support for the theory so early on just seems too easy, so I've been moved to inquire into the possibility of further corroborating documentation. You can imagine my chagrin to find that beyond the above cited, sort of Sicilian "Office of Tourism" site, there was really very little else to be found upon a search via the two keywords, "Mafie" and "Sicily", outside of what turns out to be the webpage of an AOL listserv containing the subject header, to wit: "UFO -- Mafia Connection".

Just what I needed to shore up the credibility of my thesis, I thought, but then, "Oh well, if wishes were sources . . ." So I searched the page for "Mafie", and here's what turned up . . .

"It is almost certain that, given the history of the island of Sicily, the term 'mafia' has Arabic roots. Some researchers have pointed out that the Arabic word 'Mu' means 'safety' and that the verb 'afah' means 'to protect': 'mu afah' would therefore refer to the Mafia as a clan offering protection to its members.The most likely source of the term 'Mafia' probably comes from the Arab word 'mafie' (actually 'maha' or 'mahias hajar' in Arabic), rock caves in the area of Trapani and Marsala, which were used by Saracens, later by bandits, and finally by secret groups and bands of anti-Bourbon volunteers. When Garibaldi and his men invaded Sicily, he and his thousand men lived in the caves and were known as the 'squadri della mahia' or the 'squadri della mafia'. The local Sicilian dialect transformed the sound 'mahias' into 'Mafia'." UFO-Mafia listserv

Well! I could hardly have lucked into a more directly corroborative source, as the material is in many points nearly identical of content to the first, from that sort of Junior Mafia Chamber of Sicilian Commerce site--but *who* now was the source of this information? Was it some alien UFO jockey of a sexy Mafia gun-moll from Venus?

Quite. Or, almost. It is Gaia Servadio, who is, in a sense, all that, and more. She is an Italian free-lance journalist, erotic novelist, and feminist biographer, author of e.g., *The Real Traviata: The Life of Giuseppina Strepponi, Wife of Giuseppe Verdi* and rather an impressive list of other biographies; the Rossini got a glowing review from PW; there's another on Luchino Visconti, and something under title of "Renaissance Women", but not least, there are at last, three books on the subject of the Mafia. Want to see a picture of her?

Of course you do!

And be sure to click that "Zoom Image" button.

But if that's not enough for you, try this

Or if any can find fault with that or even with this (to our left), then it's just a child being cranky and perhaps a change of diapers is in order. So we move on with another click to Amazon for a closer look into the imagination of this Amazon:

"She only knows him as R. But wealthy businesswoman Polissena Lockhart soon realises that the beautiful young man captive before her is ripe for a new kind of adventure. Even his shyness gives her a sense of power. From that moment on she wants to overcome him, to draw him into her game--and to dominate him. She is going to make him suffer. Because that is the way she likes it.

Millions shared the secret fantasies of "The story of O"--the erotic tale of a woman subjugated by her lover. "The Story of R" finally redresses the balance of power between the sexes..."

I now find myself compelled to say, in abject submission of conclusion, that the credentials of the second corroborating source for my pet thesis could not be more firmly established. And I can hardly wait to start reading her books--much as I am still deeply and most satisfyingly immersed, at present in the works of my very most favorite psychoanalyst, Anaïs Nin, even so, I aim to get me a copy of that Gaia Servadio's "Story of R"--and I don't maybe.

Haat! Haat! Haat!

2006-02-21T02:54:00.000-06:00

A pox upon the term "West Bank", and directly upon the flickering tongues of all who say that a Jew has no place in Judea--are these people nuts? No place in a city of Hebrew name, Jerusalem--are they out of their ever-loving Arabian hookah-pots for a brain? Or Hebron! Who dares sit there to insist that a horde of interloping Arabs have the greater claim just because they rode in all high-humped on their harem of concubines going, "Haat! Haat! Haat!" those armies of Islam invading to steal Palestine from the Byzantines who got it from the Romans, who stole it from the Jew and the Good Samaritan--not to mention the Philistine who is totally so not an Arab, but the only literal "Palestinian" of the bunch. And so it is only reasonable to ask: Is somebody off their nut, here?

Are you kidding? Then who is this that sits here at such an obtuse angle to reality maintaining the amazingly absurd claim that the Jew has no business after all this time to be taking back from that marauding Muslim bandit what he stole? What's the matter with somebody's head, that they should think keeping a stolen thing for around 1500 years makes it any the less stolen than if it had been filched only yesterday? And will they deny the greatest sacrilege conceivable, how they just waltzed in there to build their gaudy looking mosque right over the foundation of the Jewish temple, itself? Migod! How gross does it get? How would you like it if somebody came along and built a McDonald's drive-in over the crumbling ruin of the Alamo, or right on top of your own grampa's grave--you wouldn't like it much, would you. No, and you would be so insulted that you could hardly see straight. And yet, when it happens not to you, but to a Jew? Oh, well then now it's another story, isn't it? So you would be shocked right out of your brand new green plastic backward-billed baseball beanie to hear there is many an Israeli Jew today that would like nothing better than to set a wrecking ball swinging to that garish golden dome, in order that a nice kosher Colonel Sanders Fried Chicken might be erected on the spot, instead?

Don't be shocked. Do not wonder.

Are they out of their ever-loving monkey tree rolling around in the grass with the hyenas that they can't finger a lousy 7th century Arab aggression of Islamic imperialism for what it truly was? And how dare these Arabian Muslims claim to be the people indigenous to that land? Have they a screw loose in the caboose--or is this you that I'm talking to? Well then! Let's just see if we can be frank, very frank, in case you have the stamina to take a little criticism to your world view here, without that your cap should start spinning around on your head as you go off singing a duet with the coo-coo from the clock. Okay?

Fine. I'll tell you what--you can't get that obtuse by being stupid, you have to be deluded, indoctrinated, dogmatized, or which is worse, lobotomized by the Social Science departments in the universities of this day which are on a trip, teaching gullible students that everything was sunshine and roses with the rise of imperial Islam, as it went forth in conquest over the earth. But how could you fall for it in the first place! For on the very face of it, you see the armed aggression, the killing, the subjection of women to the status of slaves--and yet, because you are so trusting by nature, and are given to honor the authority of that person who stands before you in the robes of the academic priesthood, you are given to believe, without question--but ever so weirdly--that Islamic imperial aggression is something good, peaceful, kind and beautiful.

But how does your indoctrinator pull this off? It's easy. He steals the Jewish and Christian thunder by telling you that it's really the Muslim who is wearing the angelic flowing white garment of the martyr, as he shows you the sadly persecuted culture of Islam that has just always been misunderstood by the beastly Judaeo-Christian West, and by this perspective, students in high schools and college are given to understand that to see Islam in any other light is strictly racism!

So now you see everything in a new light so that what was dark is now that light, and what had formerly been down is now "Whassup!" The Naked Emperor is at the top of Mr. Blackwell's "best dressed" list; in this era of Postmodern Academe, there is no such thing as Islamic aggression, there is no such formerly rumored repression of liberty in Islam and all that History had so clearly seen as Muslims rode roughshod through Northern Africa, Asia, the Levant and the Balkans, even to Spain over the backs of women, that was all an hallucination of false interpretation--and besides! Who are we to stand in judgment of the way another culture does things? That is prejudice and bigotry!

And so a contemporary perspective of multiculturalism would see this ongoing mafia-style protection racket within realm and reach of the Umma, this regime of overtaxing every non-Muslim who refuses to convert, okay that would be seen as a thing of rare beauty that till now our own culture has made us too blind to appreciate. You are taught that Islam 'protects' the Jews and Christians under its dominion.

Don't laugh, lest you be not filled with a whole bunch of multicultural admiration and adoration for this faith of Mohammed that not only condemns but persecutes all the other religions of the world, as you are given Islam's excuse that it's only a measure of just retribution, which ought to be very easily understood since we all know what those greedy Jews and blood-drunk Crusader Christians are like! We saw those Christians and what they did upon trying to win the Holy Land back from the cooing, peaceful dove of Islam.

What you are left with, is you can adore the poor persecuted thing of Islam, and you can sort of mother it, stand in front of an Israeli bulldozer and cuddle it to your breast like a poor little lost puppy and while you are doing that, you have utterly the best reason in the world to hate like crazy that Israeli up there in the Cat-bird's seat. And what a surprise to learn, as he throws that thing in gear that the feeling is far more mutual than you could ever have dreamed!

So it gets weird and kind of subliminal and doubly dangerous--especially when the Israeli actually takes the gumption to drive it back into your flattening face like that--had it truly been on purpose. Most likely it wasn't, but in your sight, he was there on purpose on land not his own, so it was on purpose in either case; he is the monster you were told he would be, has always been. You see his every effort of defense an act of retribution in an offense of aggression.

This image of the Israeli as a storm-troop goose-stepping down the Champs Elysées of Gaza's main drag, bulldozing every Egyptian Taco Bell in sight, it so lushly affords the admirer of Islam such a warm and holy love for Muslims, for Palestinians that should never, ever be confused as hatred for that Jew in boots, who is not a "Jew", but a Zionist! Him you are free to hate with every dram of spleen in your guts, as you need listen to precisely none of his claims, such as how he just happens to be engaged in the life and death business for his people of bulldozing an Arab home strictly to get at that arms running tunnel coming up into the house from across the Egyptian border.

But you don't care about the Zionist brats who will be blown to bloody bits by those smuggled explosives, so you stand before that Caterpillar thinking yourself an Angel of Mercy. But you're not. You are a war criminal and a conspirator, a person who prolongs the mass murder of Zionists, and you deserve exactly what that Israeli behind the wheel might as well be none too pleased to give you as you screamed your hatred at him perhaps just one decibel over the limit of his endurance through your bull-horn.

It gets weird because it serves an ancient and primordial drive that is always buried down deep in the human social psyche, just waiting for the right set of insane stimuli to bring it forth in all its scapegoat hunting, blood-sacrifice lusting glory. The magic of stigma, too is so bound up in all this that it can't help being transferred by you from the Israeli to every Jew, and from the evangelical Crusader Christian to the whole tradition of Christendom itself.

So here, once again is your multicultural, postmodern ever so liberal and progressive magic of deniability: As the Palestinian becomes the brightest object of your affection, you have just the excuse you need to hate the piss out of that Israeli Jew, without being identified for an anti-Semite. Ain't that swell? The way you can kid yourself about it?

Sure, that's easy because you have found the go-between who keeps you clean of the crime: you love the Palestinian who murders the Jew, and who hates the Jew for the fact that is a Jew, Israeli or no Israeli, but this will be with every good cause, in your view--and there is nothing so lovable as a good cause, so you love him all the more as he gives you your cause and does his Jew killing by proxy for you, for your cheers and your tears of rage--and all the while you can claim that all this Jew killing and hating has absolutely nothing to do with you.

As you support the so-called Palestinian in her cause, you keep the flame of revolt in Israel a-fire. Without your support for that cause, and your demand for a further partition of what little Israel has, to force Israel to the insanity of going back to those prior pre-1967 indefensible borders, by all this you are calling for the extermination of every Jew within those borders.

The disinformation of outright lies taught as fact is that Jews and Christians under dominion of Islam were well treated! If a student does not get over to the library to check out such stuff for himself, he will never learn what life for a Jew under dominion of Islam was really like, with no protection of recourse through the courts, so that any Muslim who saw fit could walk into that Jew's home or business grab what he liked and walk out with it--and there wasn't a thing in all the Islamic world that Jew could do about it. That's what it was for Jews in Judaea and Galilee under the Ottoman rule until the end of WWI came to change everything.

Now, many professors who are committed to this program of whole-hog Islamic whitewash in their multicultural curriculum never stop to consider what is the nature of the agenda which in the first place gave monster-birth to it, during the Seventies. How did this brand new, perfectly squeaky clean anti-Semitism with deniability come into being, when back in the fifties, support for Israel and liberalism just went together like borscht and sour cream?

As Israel began to move away from the politics of Marxist socialism with the rise of the moshav over the kibbutz, it came to be the Soviet agenda to keep a foothold in the oil-rich Levant by means of infusing a strong dose of socialism into Arab nationalism; it came to arming all of the Arab states surrounding Israel, in order that U.S. influence and presence among the Arabs might be utterly wiped out by blackening the name of Israel and by proxy, the Americans. The old saw just proves itself true every time: Hell hath no Stalinist fury like Mother Russia scorned. To say that from the very beginning with the Soviet ostracism (let alone the latter day assassination) of Trotsky there has always been a malignancy of anti-Semitism in Russia waiting to become a pogrom--it just goes without saying. Israel's early romance with Russia was a marriage made in hell.

The New Left on campus through the 70's and 80's toed the line of the anti-Zionist Soviet agenda, and graduate students steeped in the pink politics of the era are now in tenure as professors all over Euro-American academe. As Israel became the scapegoat for everything that fit the image of the 'petite bourgeois', the hatred against her began to grow as a rank red weed in the garden of modern liberalism, but now as it blooms it is recognized only for the lovely flower of Islam, as the dull, desicated soviet scale covering the bud is lately exfoliated and fallen from view to rot in the ground where it is naught but fertilizer being made all the richer now by the dead agnostic Marxism of Chairman Arafat.

Before all this came to be, during periods of relative peace, many an Arab who so desired it was becoming assimilated (no different than a Mexican-American or Cheyenne-American, or Hawaiian American in the U.S.) to the political culture and prosperity of Israel. Arabs served (as they do yet) in the Israeli Knesset, and opportunity was there in Israel for Arabs as unlike anywhere else in the Levant, or that's how it was getting to be--until they were set upon in the 70's by the terror of doctrinaire soviet-trained Marxist insurgents behind the front of Arab nationalism whose livelihood from a Soviet paycheck depended upon their getting recruits for the manufacture of disorder, death and war.

While the international communist regime that was funding this is now in demise, the zombie organization moves on, undead, simply taking light, sweet Arab oil for its crude vampiric sustenance of life's blood. In like fashion, but much the more fraught with nightmare phantoms of the subliminal, the zombie leftist regime yet walks the earth in the Twilight Zone of postmodern, multicultural Euro-American academe.

And now, I'm talking again to you who would deny all this, speaking of what's the darkest part of this strictly unconscious, socially psychotic thing that you do. You wind up groveling around on the ground fashioning an idol of dirt and stone, to make of base human acquisitiveness an act of piety. Try getting that thought into your head, or just let me illustrate it for you:

It's their land you howl, raising your hands to heaven like some holy roller tumbling in paroxysms of religious ecstasy. And you carry on as though knocking a person off his alleged "ancestral home" is tantamount to murder while you rave on to claim that after the War, Jews could have settled anywhere in the world, other than upon an Arab's land in Israel?

Whoa, slow down there! You jump over Hitler to the end of the war, already? Do please explain why it is so convenient for your dogma, thus to brazenly ignore the illegal, but **necessary** Zionist immigration to Palestine while Auschwitz was yet smoking? Is this in order that you may pretend that Jewish existence did not depend upon running that British blockade? How easy for you to pass over the fact that the doors to the rest of the world were slammed shut in the Jewish face. Thus you also, in like fashion, find it so very easy to wipe from your mind the fact that by the time of the British White Paper of 1939, severely curtailing immigration to Palestine, the lists for emigration to anywhere out of Nazi Europe for Jews were already so long that the war would be over by the time those names came up, so that only the ashes of those Jews would have been available to book passage?

Once again, we hear you saying that everyone has the right to go on living--but not at the expense of your Palestinians who had been living "forever" on that land? I ask you this . . .

Exactly what 'expense' are you talking about? The expense to the Jew was to watch the smoke of his children going up a Nazi stack; it was very life itself, not just some mere nationalist claim to a "Palestinian" sovereignty that had never as yet existed free of Roman, Byzantine, Arabian, Egyptian, Turk and British occupation. The expense to an Arab in that land was next to nothing or merely this: that if he had no title to land and was herding sheep as a nomad or living as a tenant farmer, and a Zionist organization came to buy that land from the Arab, Turk or Syrian lord of it, then that shepherd or that Fellaheen farmer would have to relocate elsewhere on land which also he had no deed or title to.

And the bottom line is this: The Jew did have the right to see his children stay out of the ovens, to exist *at any expense* short of death to somebody else; to the very minor expense of anybody without deed to land, having to find somewhere else to live, lest somebody Jewish should die. For the Bedouin nomadic shepherd, there was no dying involved, and so his claim to that land is the lesser, there was only the expense of finding another place to graze his sheep.

And of course you will say that just as the Native Americans, your Palestinians have today a right to so fiercely fight?

Sure they did, but they lost. They lost after making it their vow to exterminate, to drown in the sea every Jew they could lay hands on, and of that, there is much more to say, as to why, on that account, Israel should never give up the west bank of the Jordan. But just to make it short and sweet, if it had been me instead of a nice, humane fellow like Moshe Dayan running things in '67? Hey, after a threat like that, believe you me, had I been the guy in charge of the IDF, there would not be one Arab tent-flap, camel-hump, or goat-hair still standing in the air around Mt. Zion, and there would be peace for Israel, and for her neighbors with no damn Middle-East crisis to even so much as think about.

Here's Lookin' At-Cha!

2006-02-20T11:24:00.000-06:00