The Men In Black

October 26, 2006


It was something I was dreading for over a month, the prospect of having to deal with them. Like getting your teeth worked on or having to appear in traffic court over some molehill that no doubt would be turned into a mountain by some weasely little bureaucrat, this upcoming appointment was always there, gnawing away at what little peace of mind I had managed to squirrel away in this strange and frightening place known as 21st century America.

What an anti-climactic event it was for me…first dealing with the thrill of being asked to speak at the upcoming international conference sponsored by the American Free Press and then being told that I was going to be part of a discussion panel with the ‘Men in Black’ meaning the Neturei Karta fellows of the now famous ‘Jews not Zionists’ chorus line.

Don’t get me wrong. I have no problem with the clothes or the sober costumery. I grew up Catholic which means that I am accustomed to being around people whose non-ostentatious garb is part of their religious signature. Besides my Catholic counterparts, I also have befriended many Muslims in the past few years, some of whom (in rejecting what has become the nudist-colony mindset of the Western world) wage a daily fashion insurrection by wearing Old-Testament type clothing. Besides this, I have been known to wear robery that is not exactly ‘in’ with the times, given the fact that I have very many children and very little money. It was not their beards, as I sport one myself now that I have reached that ‘distinguished’ period in my life known as middle age. Nor was it the fact that they at least appear to have wed themselves to a fringe political movement, since I am also well-known for my many love affairs with groups that would be characterized as ‘radical’ by the feint-of-heart.

No, the part I was dreading was the fact that–once again–I would get the ‘honor’ of being the fly in the ointment, of being the stick in the eye and the wet blanket. Once again I would be awarded with the prestigious title of ‘party-pooper’ as a result of my unwillingness to ‘play nice’ and just get along with the boys from NK. Despite the fact that for all intents and purposes the conference in DC was going to be attended top-to-bottom by renegades and political malcontents, I was at least half-sure of the fact that everyone there would do the typically Gentile thing for which gentlemen and gentlewomen are known, and that they would be genteel in dealing with the Men in Black and that–as I said, once again–I would be the one who was left with all the fun of being frank, despite the fact that I don’t have a drop of Frankish blood in what are for the most part Middle Eastern veins.

There was no soothing my worries about the upcoming event. If the Men in Black were there, then I knew one thing, which was that I would be the one doing the raindance that would bring dark foreboding stormclouds to what would otherwise have been a congenial gathering of Muslims, Christians and Jews. I did not entertain for a moment that somehow the immutable rules of nature would be suspended for 15 minutes and that just this once I would step out of character long enough to just ‘go along to get along’. Would I learn from history? Would I learn something from the fact that most of my friends and family have skedaddled in recent years as a result of my insistence upon expressing what are considered to be extremist political and religious views?

Not likely. For better or for worse, most of this creature known as my personality is an heirloom of sorts that I inherited from my dear old Middle Eastern grandfather. What this means is that in addition to getting a double-dosed portion of his physical attributes–my short, squatty stature, protruding forehead and bushy eyebrows, I also received this seemingly microscopic-sized sense of patience for foolishness along with its evil apprentice which was a mouth that at times was unruly.

In this case the problem with the whole looming event was this thing known as foreknowledge. I knew what kinds of wares these salesmen were planning to peddle at the upcoming conference because I had tried these gadgets out on several occasions previously and found them to be defective. As much as a bargain as they appeared to be, the truth was that they were damned expensive, since buying junk at even rock-bottom prices is still a waste of money. I suppose that I should be grateful for the fact that as a result of this foreknowledge I would not be walking into any traps, but nevertheless I would still like to track down that individual who came up with that old saying ‘Forewarned is forearmed’ and have a polite discussion with him where there are no witnesses present.

It was not by accident that I had stumbled into them, the Men in Black, in fact, of the two scenarios, not running into them would have been the more difficult given the amount of exposure they were getting in those days. They were seemingly everywhere in those awful moments immediately following the 2nd Gulf war, whether it was on evening television programs featuring political discussion, internet chat groups, websites getting lots of traffic or whatnot. When the war in Iraq started and the images of death and destruction began making their way before the eyes of those in America who were proudly part of the ‘I-don’t-give-a-good-goddamn-about-anything-except-my-own-miserable-hide crowd and the sleeping giant known as the conscience of the formerly Christian West began to show signs of emerging from its coma, the Men in Black started ‘popping up’ in all sorts of places and all of it seemingly due to the fact that as orthodox Jews they maintained what was a rather unorthodox position with regards to the state of Israel.

Like most people, I was initially encouraged to see them out there holding up signs trumpeting ideas that for the most part should be no-brainers amongst rational, moral people. ‘The state of Israel is an abomination’…’Zionism = Terrorism’…’Palestinians are human beings too’ as well as a whole host of other bold slogans that initially eased my unease about the whole Jewish question. To call it refreshing was an understatement. These were people with whom I could ‘do business’ as the old saying goes. I could stand alongside them and express my outrage over the way that innocent people were being killed in places where the Zionist agenda reigned without having to worry about being penalized for my sense of humanity. I could speak my mind about the slaughter of the innocents in the land that was made holy by the life and death of my hero, Jesus of Nazareth, and not have to pay a sizable levy for possessing this thing known as a conscience. I did not have to be constantly speaking in hushed tones or looking over my shoulder every other minute as is the case in other parts of the ‘Christian’ West where speaking out against the beast is verboten…

And this mood of encouragement lasted for about 15 minutes. And then…

…then it was there, waaaaay back there in the deepest recesses of my mind, like distant thunder or like a waft of air that carries with it the smell of something fishy. In these days where only politically-correct conspiracy theories are acceptable I am sure that most would no doubt chalk this up to mere paranoia or an over-active imagination on my part.

I however prefer to call it prudence. I know, call me a race-bating/Jew-hating/anti-Semitic/Neo-Nazi/Hitler-loving/Right-wing/America-first/Isolationist/Christian-terrorist/Apologist-for-Islamic extremism/Holocaust-denier-hate-criminal lunatic, but it just sounded too good, this ‘Jews Not Zionists’ business. It was too convenient, like a broken-windshield repairman showing up seemingly ‘out of the blue’ in the parking lot 2 minutes after you come out of the store and find your windshield has been broken or like those email notices I get at least 3 times a day telling me that out of the billions of people on planet earth that I and I alone have been ‘chosen’ to receive $100,000,000.00 with no strings attached from some widow of a recently-murdered African king.

There was something missing in all of it, a case of ‘what’s wrong with this picture?’ Imagine for a moment this drop-dead gorgeous bombshell of a woman in an upbeat nightclub who could have her pick of any Tom Cruise-look-alike there that evening and who is last seen leaving the joint with some pimply-faced college kid with a calculator in his shirt pocket and eyeglasses an inch think. Hmmmmm…..something does not compute here.

And so there it sat, whatever ‘it’ was, gnawing away–nibble, nibble, nibble…scratch, scratch, scratch…distracting me and preventing me from being able to just go along with the rest of those making up the anti-Zionist, anti-genocide, anti-Armageddon coalition that was beginning to form. No matter how much I tried to ignore it, it was there, echoing within the corridors of my intellect like a dripping faucet that can be heard from miles away in the dead of night.

And so having had enough of this I finally put on my boots, grabbed my magnifying glass and went on what was a much-needed hunting expedition to put an end to all this foolishness. I looked in the closets and in the crawlspaces, behind books and curtains and finally, lo and behold, there it was, as big as an elephant, as ugly as a gorilla and as menacing as a brood of vipers…

…and it was this thing known as the Talmud.

I had heard of this creature before. It had been the topic of discussion amongst such noble notables as Israel Shahak, Israel Shamir, Benjamin Freidman and others who had once been part of the tribe but who had (to their own credit) successfully busted out of their respective Judaic prisons and found freedom amongst the rest of the unwashed of humanity. It was this thing known as the Talmud–the lifeblood of Judaism since the time of the Diaspora and which formed the bylaws of this Rabbinical Corporation known as the Sanhedrin. The same Talmud that spoke of Judaism’s most hated enemy–Jesus of Nazareth–as a sexual deviant and a sorcerer who for the last 2,000 years has been boiling in a cauldron full of semen and feces as just punishment for ‘the sin’ of having opposed the rabbis of his day. The Talmud, which speaks of Jesus’ mother Miriam as a prostitute who ‘played the harlot with princes and carpenters’ and in whose impure womb ‘Yoshke’ (meaning ‘the village idiot’) named Jesus was conceived. The Talmud which talks about non-Jews being cattle and beasts of the field and the Rabbis and their followers as being the apple of God’s eye who can do no wrong. Talmudism, this silent, insidious declaration of war against all non-Jews, this tribal gangsterism disguising itself as one of the world’s ‘great religions’ and which does not blemish or blush over its unabashed hatred for all those who stand in opposition to the Jewish supremacist agenda.

How does one go back to what he was doing previously when faced with something like this? How was I supposed to ignore this new development and be able to maintain my concentration on anything else? It’s like misplacing a $100.00 bill somewhere and then trying to concentrate on something as seemingly less important as clipping your toenails.

For obvious reasons, I couldn’t concentrate, not with this gorilla in the room staring at me. What to do….what to do… As I said, ignoring it was out of the question and trying to co-exist with it peacefully was not an option either. That left only one other possibility which was to deal with it head-on and this meant was doing that typically un-American and un-Christian thing these days, which was to ask questions of my ‘elder brethren’ of the faith, the Men in Black. In particular I wanted to find out how they viewed this curious and seemingly dangerous creature known as the Talmud and what they had to say about the various disturbing items that were contained within it. As tempting as it was, I was not about to surrender what little common sense I had managed to squirrel away in this strange and frightening place known as 21st century America on the flimsy pretext of ‘Just trust us on this one’. I had heard that line everyday of my life for 40 years and now the results of doing this were making themselves manifest–I had no political voice. My country was at war and my children were in immediate danger. I had no real measurable political or material wealth, as it has all been gobbled up by a usurious legal and economic system. ‘JUst trust us on this one’–We hear that line of BS everyday and it is how we got ourselves into this mess in the first place–Gullibility. Disinterest. Trusting the kinds of people who should not be trusted. As the old saying goes, a fool and his money are soon parted, whatever form that ‘money’ happens to take, whether it is his hard-earned cash or whether it is his ability to think rationally. The seriousness of the times in which we find ourselves has made a serious, sober man out of me, and as such I am not in the least bit disposed towards investing my little nestegg of intellectual capital in any scheme that is shady or fly-by-night.

And so, I sent emails and letters and I made phone calls. Lots of them. I scoured the Neturei Karta literature, press releases, newspaper interviews and anything else I could find for any hint of something to allay my fears. I was not trying to find something with which to indict them but rather some gem of information that would acquit them from any suspicion on my part. More than anything else I just wanted to be able to put my fears to rest and go back to the business of inclusiveness as far as they were concerned. I wanted them in the club, since this is after all a group effort thing and the more the merrier.

But I needed to be sure. After all what we were talking about here were people’s lives, real life and death on a grand scale, real suffering, and there was no room for being sloppy or half-assed about things.

–No returned phone calls–not a good sign, but then again, these guys were superstars and I was just some nobody, so I was willing to let that one slip by. To their credit I did manage to get some response via email, but it was of the non-specific, generalized, one-size-fits-all variety of the ‘We hate Israel’ stuff–‘Dear Mr. so-and-so, thank you for your interest in Neturei Karta…As orthodox Jews we want the world to know that we abhor what is taking place in the Middle East and we do not support the state of Israel. Those interested in sending donations for our work can do so at blah, blah, blah, etc’…

…And there is was again, glaringly obvious and impossible to avoid noting, the silence that was as loud as the 1,000,000+ cluster bombs that fell on Lebanon in the summer of 2006–No mention of the Talmud and its vile, racist, anti-Gentile and anti-Christ teachings.

What’s the deal here? There is no way in Hell that these Orthodox guys haven’t heard of the Talmud. If I, some guy out in the middle of nowhere with 8 kids, a bunch of underfed livestock and a salary that is on life support can invest enough interest in investigating this thing then there was no way that these guys didn’t know about it.

They knew…they had to know, as much as the average Christian knows about the New Testament or the average Muslim knows about the Koran. After all, these were not Johnny-come-latelies to Orthodox Judaism who had not yet come to that part of the course dealing with the Talmud. It is and has been the bedrock of Judaism for 2,000 years and counting, or to put it in better context, 700,000 days and counting. Day in, day out, learned elders bobbing back and forth reciting its texts. It would be like someone who had gone through 12 years of medical school saying that they had never heard of the Circulatory System. The Talmud is as intrinsically important to Judaism as an alphabet book is to pre-schoolers who are learning to read.

And yet, I was supposed to buy into all of this? I was supposed to believe this little drama of them effecting a look of surprise, shrugging their shoulders and saying convincingly to me and to the rest of the non-Jewish world ‘Vat…vat ‘re you talkin’ bout? Da Talmit? Vat, vat is dis ting? Neva hoid ov it.”

As I said, not a peep. Not even a clearing of the throat. Had it been my organization and I was opposed to the teachings of this vile genre of hatred, it would have been in big, bold flashing letters on the front of the website…

…but there was nothing of the sort. It was just this ‘thing’ that wasn’t discussed, something that we were all supposed to pretend not to see, like an old aunt who has a mole on her face the size of one of those jumbo Greek olives. What I did notice though was the fact that they did mention the Torah, a section of the Good Book which Christians consider to be the forerunner of their own New Testament, and very conspicuously might I add. ‘Torah this’ and ‘Torah that ‘ as if it were all an effort to convey the idea that somehow Christianity and Judaism had something in common with each other, the contradictive warnings of Jesus notwithstanding.

And now, much to my disappointment, I began to smell a rat. A BIG rat in black, drab clothing and wearing a black rimmed hat with long orthodox curls dangling down each side of its head and which spoke in a distinctly Woody Allenesque Brooklyn accent. Now the whole thing began to resemble the same kind of evasiveness that is commonplace these days with politicians running for office in the New Jerusalem known as America as they painstakingly avoid discussing anything controversial such as the legalized killing of unborn children or the opening of America’s borders to the silent invasion of illegal immigrants, a case of ‘Come see me at my office so that we can talk about these things in private’. Likewise, the responses on the part of the Men in Black concerning what I felt were burning questions was the typical one of people who have something to hide and who are out to scam an unsuspecting populace, which was one of ‘No comment’.

Therefore, to what other conclusion was I supposed to arrive, but that these men–the pious Men in Black–were charlatans and snake oil salesmen? They were false prophets of the worse kind, the wolves in sheep’s clothing about which Jesus himself had warned us. They were the great great grandchildren of those whom Jesus had condemned and they were carrying on the same tradition of lying and hypocrisy that was the calling card of their forefathers. If the Talmud–with its legislation of theft, deception, rape of Gentile children and even outright murder of non-Jews was indeed their code of ethics (as their silence on the matter had indicated) then they had no place in any kind of discussion concerning the morality of what was taking place in the Middle East or anywhere else for that matter. If this was their book, then they were not our friends. By their evasiveness they were in my eyes like car salesmen who had welded the hood shut on a lemon so that the engine could not be inspected and who had put black electrical tape over the odometer so that it could not be read.

So what was it then? What was the real reason that they–the Men in Black–were out there with the rest of us, protesting and in general trying to impede this machinery of terrible suffering and injustice that was destroying the lives of innocent people in the Middle East? In my estimation I had every right to know the answer to this, since the cognitive dissonance produced by the contrasting themes of anti-Zionism and pro-Talmudism was ear-splitting. How does one reject the action of harming others but then have nothing to say against the philosophy that is fueling it? In comparative terms I suppose it would be like someone saying, ‘Well, I don’t like what Hitler did, but I sure did like his book ‘Mein Kempf’ that was the recipe for all of it.’

I wanted to be fair, and still do, but what options lie before me? Do I pretend not to notice these glaring contradictions? Do I accept my 30 pieces of silver and keep my mind quiet and my mouth shut? Does bringing an end to the suffering of innocent people all around the world mean less than possibly offending the ‘good Rabbis’ at Neturei Karta? The world has gotten itself into this present mess known as Armageddon because people behaved like sheep and did not think before consigning their approval and their assistance to the agendas of evil men. There was (and is) too much at stake here…real human beings, real flesh and blood, real suffering and injustice, and to take it all lightly and just say ‘Oh well, no big deal, here is my dime’ is an affront to all those who have had their lives devoured by this beast.

So what was it? What was the real message they were trying to convey? If they were Talmudists, it certainly wasn’t ‘love for fellow man’, that’s for sure. It wasn’t the idea that ‘the blood of a Goy is equal in value to the blood of a Jew’. The Orthodox Rabbis–both in Israel and America–have spoken quite clearly on this matter in recent years in the various news stories where they have allowed themselves to be quoted verbatim.

And so once again, I went a-hunting…

Ahhhh, it can be such a refreshing, invigorating thing in these days of obfuscation and duplicity when His words are proven correct, this man known as Jesus of Nazareth. It’s like having a brilliant stock broker who tells you where and where not to invest and then watching as his predictions come to life before your very eyes. It just goes to show you how backwards the times are these days, when the free council given by men such as these–men who are proven correct with 100% accuracy–is passed over in favor of the high-priced advise given by charlatans. ‘Seek and ye will find’ He once said, and being that I have found his investment advice to be the most reliable, I sought, and, just as predictable as cold weather is in January, I found.

Voila! There it was, as plain as day, right in front of me all along, the ‘what’ of Neturei Karta…the backbone of their argument. What it all boiled down to was a technicality of sorts, something that is certainly not unheard of when dealing with the Jewish issue, and in this case the mountain that had been made out of a molehill was one of timing.

‘Timing’– this was the fulcrum around which the whole ‘Jews Not Zionists’ merry-go-round rotated and the meat and potatoes of the whole Neturei Karta main dish. Their position was one wherein Israel was not supposed to be created until the Messiah had returned, at which time he would lead the Jews back to their ‘promised land’ and THEN it would be perfectly acceptable to slaughter and displace the people who were living there and to do so in the exact same manner as had been taking place over the course of the last century. Timing, not principle. Neturei Karta’s opposition to the state of Israel and what it was doing to the Palestinians was not based upon any lofty ideas rooted in an objective sense of right and wrong such as ‘Thou shalt not kill’ or ‘thou shalt not steal’, but rather one of ‘Thou shalt not kill or steal until the appointed time’.

Well, so much for all those signs they held up in support of the Palestinians. Now it was obvious that all the weeping that the Men in Black had done in front of the cameras for Palestinian suffering was nothing but an exhibition. It was as genuine as what took place in 2005 when Jewish settlers were being dragged from Gaza ‘kicking and screaming’ to their new high-rise apartments in the West Bank wherein they would each find a check for $250,000.00 a piece. With this one statement involving this issue of timing, all the moral grandstanding that Neturei Karta had done melted away like, like, well, whatever. It was no wonder that the various Jewish groups who went after anyone who was even slightly critical of Israel like a pack of wolves such as the ADL, JDL and the rest had nothing untoward to say about groups such as the Men in Black. They were all on the same team, it’s just that a few of them were sitting on the bench instead of being out in the field.

One down and one to go, as the old saying operates. Now I that had pretty much figured out the ‘what’ of the agenda being pushed by the ‘good Rabbis’ at, all that now remained was the ‘why’.

What was the angle here? What were they trying to achieve by this little sideshow? Was it money, a simple scam to get hold of a bag of easy loot as is often the case these days when dealing with the Good Fellas at La Kosher Nostra? Was it the ’15 minutes of fame’ business, something very prevalent amongst people who suffer a dual inferiority/superiority complex and who crave the acceptance of others for their own validation?–

–or, as is often the case these days, was it something more insidious and dangerous, another application of the ago-old Judaic practice of ‘By way of deception thou shalt do war’ that has become such a commonplace thing these days now that the rats have crawled out of the sewer and have taken over the city? Was it all just another smokescreen, a feint, an act of throwing sand in an opponent’s eyes?

To be honest I don’t know and I don’t care. I have my suspicions of course, given the business in which I find myself, but in truth at this moment I consider it all to be a caser of ‘6 of one vs. half a dozen of the other’. The important thing is to recognize the fact that it is all a big, fat lie. In truth it is no different than the way that a lawyer wants to be your best friend after you’ve just been run over by some fat cat in a Mercedes Benz. What I have now come to understand about this whole ‘Torah-True Jewishness’ stuff is that it is like the proverbial slice of cheese resting atop a mousetrap…It looks really good, like ‘white-washed tombs’ as Jesus liked to say. And it’s not that I am smart, because in truth I really am not overly-brainy, it’s just that I have a good sense of smell, and in this case the aroma of this rotten cheese known as Neturei Karta was and is impossible to avoid noting.

Perhaps it is the fact that I find myself in that ‘distinguished’ time period known as middle age where my physical eyesight worsens as my intellectual eyesight sharpens. Perhaps it is the fact that I am looking towards the future and that I have begun to realize what kind of hellish world my children and grandchildren are going to inherit one day. Or maybe it is just my unadulterated sense of anti-Semitism that seems to increase at seemingly the same rate as do the wrinkles around my eyes and the graying in my hair.

Yes, that’s right, my sense of ‘anti-Semitism,’ since this is the only ‘acceptable’ description of what it means today to politely refuse membership in the religion of worshipping all things Jewish…’Anti-Semitism’…an organic dislike or unease when it comes to the ideology known as Phariseeism, the same ideology that–just by coincidence, I’m sure–Jesus of Nazareth also did not like. An anti-polar, magnetic rejection of anything having to do with Israel, Zionism, or ‘God’s-chosen-peopleism’. A general aversion to the soul-destroying poison known as Judaistic thinking as well as to all the other things that have brought mankind to the brink of general extinction. Being opposed to the abuse of women through pornography, the murder of unborn children, usury, economic exploitation, a deviant sexual lifestyle, communism, all these things are symptoms of this disease known as ‘anti-Semitism’…

..And of course, last but certainly not least, opposing the Holocaust in-progress that is sure to dwarf anything that has taken place up until now, meaning the extermination of 1.5 billion Muslims around the globe who have refused to be kissed by the same angel of death (whose name coincidentally happens to be Azrael) that has all but destroyed the Christian West.

I will not try to pretend otherwise. Being in the presence of today’s Pharisees and their lapdogs gives me the heebie-jeebies, as a good friend of mine likes to refer to it. It gives me the same kind of sick feeling in my stomach that I used to get when I was a kid and had to accompany my Grandfather (a medical doctor) to the nursing homes on Thursdays so that he could give the older folks their medicine. It was not their old age that I found disquieting, since I prefer the company of older people to that of my half-witted Western peers, but rather the fact that most of them were neither lucid nor rational. They carried on conversations with the furniture and called me ‘Sally’ or some other name that indicated to me that they suffered from severe dementia. Oftentimes what came out of their mouths was nothing but a wordsalad of pure gibberish or else they wailed out loud over seemingly nothing…

…and I pitied them, just as I do all those who have fallen victim to this thing religious dementia known as Judaism, this delusional deification of what is in all honesty an artificially-created race. They are irrational and at times quite mad and all of it due to the fact that they have embraced a fantasy of sorts that cannot interface with reality in any fashion. Because they have spent century upon century waging a ceaseless war against the laws of reason and have done so under the direction of their Rabbis who care about nothing except their own haughty, self-serving agenda, they suffer from a sickness of the mind that rationalizes and justifies something as apocalyptic as WWIII.

And so, when I see such men coming forth trying to sell me on the idea that the real problem with the world is this thing known as Zionism and that it is as different from Judaism as oil is to water, I suddenly become very uncooperative. How do I keep from comparing their arguments to those offered by slick salesmen who suggest that the cause of lung cancer is smoking unfiltered cigarettes, and that if everyone just started smoking filtered cigarettes, all would be fine?

A perfectly appropriate comparison, by the way, the two poisonous ideologies of Zionism and Judaism. They are as dissimilar to each other as are filtered and unfiltered cigarettes. The only thing differentiating them is that one is a little bit more obnoxious and a little bit more dangerous…One will kill you somewhat faster than the other one, but make no mistake about it: Both are deadly and neither one is your friend.

Months of anticipation mixed with dread, like knowing that bullies were waiting for you after school, and then, suddenly, 2 months later, there I was, and, much to my dismay, there they were, the slick salesmen dressed in black who were going to try and sell me and everyone else at the conference in DC a lifetime supply of healthy, nourishing, great-tasting filtered cigarettes that would cause us absolutely no harm.

I took a deep breath as they approached and after exhaling cast my eyes downward and shook my head slightly. ‘Why?’ I asked out loud in as silent a voice as I could muster. ‘Why does everything have to be so difficult? Why couldn’t I just get up there and say something cheerful that would leave me and everyone else feeling hopeful and refreshed? What’s wrong with wanting applause? What’s wrong with half-truths? Isn’t a glass half–full of water better than no water at all?

For a microsecond I actually debated doing just that, of side-stepping the whole can of worms I was about to open when at once my mind was flooded with images from seemingly out of nowhere.

I think it must have been recalling the video that Dr. Frederick Toben played during his presentation earlier in the conference that stopped me dead in my tracks and which caused me to abandon the idea of making that infamous deal with the Devil that confronts all of us at some point in our lives. I didn’t realize that the human eye could produce so much water from weeping. I guess that viewing the footage of Palestinians and the masks of terror and anguish they wore after witnessing a family member being taken apart piece-by-piece with American-supplied bullets that were viciously fired by the Men in Black of the IDF had had a stronger impact on me than I had realized.

More than anything else though I think that it must have been the faces of the Palestinian children…children who looked very much like my own and who were tucked 3000 miles away, in relative safety in the mountains of North Idaho, with their dark hair, dark skin and dark, semitic eyes…

And here they came, sashaying up to me with their pale skin, reddish hair and bluish eyes, the Men in Black. There were friendly greetings, handshakes, smiles, exchanges of business cards and everything else that one would expect to find amongst a gathering of Captains whose ships were all sailing in the same direction. As they, the Men in Black stood there bobbing their heads and rocking their bodies back and forth agreeably as they no doubt did when reciting the Talmud I could not help but be reminded of that famous line from Shakespeare’s Macbeth…’They come to you bearing smiles and daggers…’

The hair on the back of my neck (or what remains of it these days during this ‘distinguished’ period of my life known as middle age) was standing up like the hackles on a dog’s back. I could feel as the muscles around my mouth started to pull back, not to smile, but to bare my teeth, and I am sure that were it not for the fact that I consciously prevented it, I probably would have. These reactions on my part were not things I had willed nor wanted. It was as autonomic and as automatic as pupils dilating when they are exposed to bright light and therefore out of my control.

I could see it in their faces and in particular in their eyes…centuries of it. Hundreds of years of being taught–generation after generation after generation–700,000 days worth of it–that there was one group of people better than everyone else…That all the objective rules of right and wrong did not apply when dealing with Gentiles…That–just as the Jewish Holy Books of the Talmud and Kabbalah declare–a state of war exists between the divine sphere of the Jews and the satanic sphere of the non-Jews and that, just as that old saying went with regards to war, ‘all is fair…’

I could see by their features that the gene pool from which they had been ladled was very small, very exclusive and violently against any new dogs joining the pack. They were part of an artificially-created/genetically modified species made up of kissing cousins who were all related to each other in a manner that was way too close and which was probably–biologically speaking–not safe. I could see in their own features the characteristics that have been made famous by their well-known brothers and sisters throughout the history of the bloodiest 100 years of mankind’s existence, the ‘Jewish Century’ as it was put by the writer Yuri Slezkine–the Trotskys, Dershowitzes, Sharons, Feinsteins, Greenspans, and Sandlers. Each of the ‘good Rabbis’ had that well-known effeminate whine in each of their voices that is always one half-step short of a whimper of complaint.

It did not matter how many acting classes they might have taken, there are just some roles that a person cannot play, and despite their best efforts at pretending to be excited about meeting me and pretending to view me as an equal, I could see otherwise. Each held out a dead fish of a hand to shake, and when I extended mine, they each took turns in grasping only the tips of two of my fingers and then letting go ASAP, as if they wanted their contact with an inferior physical being to be as limited as possible. I did not notice if they wiped their hands on their clothing afterwards, although after the initial introduction I went and washed mine.

5 minutes later we stood there, all of us, waiting to enter the big room. It was the last event of the 3 day conference and the talk around town was that this was going to be the ‘big bang’ of the get-together and the ‘grand finale’. Christians, Muslims, and Jews, all sitting and ‘breaking bread’ (conversationally speaking) without any contentions. One big happy family, human beings looking at each other eye-to-eye in a spirit of mutual respect and admiration. The lion and the lamb, finally burying the hatchet and lying down together in peace and harmony.

My recently-acquired-within-the-last-year blood brother Hesham Tillawi looked at me with that glint in his eye that I have come to know very well, and said ‘Ready?’ which means ‘Okay, let’s go knock ’em dead.’ We had been looking forward to this conference for a long time, he and I. Over the course of the last year we had done some great work together with the movement we had started, –Crescent and Cross Solidarity-doing radio and television interviews together and showing that this whole ‘clash of civilizations’ thing was a hoax dreamed up and drummed into peoples’ thinking by those working for the Jewish agenda. He had done remarkable things in the last year with his weekly television program Current Issues and I admired him more than any man alive on the planet at that time.

I knew my brother-by-blood-but-not-by-birth well enough to know that if he had any inkling of what I was about to do, he would have ‘counseled’ me against it. He would have used reason, telling me not to set myself up so that ‘they’ could later accuse me of being ‘anti-Semitic.’ He would have spoken in the calm, rational voice for which he is famous, that same voice of reason that caused me to fall in love with him as a brother, and then, when these things didn’t work, he would have grabbed me by what little hair I had left on the back of my head (now that I have reached that ‘distinguished’ period in my life known as middle age) and said to me clearly but with a distinct Arabic accent ‘Don’t even think about it dumbass.’ I simply smiled at him and said ‘Ready, brother.’

Rabbi Weiss (the Woody Allen/Alan Dershowitz-looking one of the two glanced sideways at me with his head lowered, and I smiled slightly at him as well, but only with my cheeks and not with my eyes. “Sorry, Charlie’ I said to myself through smiling cheeks.

We were each allotted 15 minutes to speak in order to have time for questions and answers from the audience afterwards. Tillawi, in what was typical Arab politeness took his fifteen minutes and did not horn-in on anyone else’s time. It was the law of the desert–survival. I knew from growing up around my mom’s Middle Eastern family that the worst trait that a person could posses was this thing known as ‘thick blood’ which meant that you only cared about yourself and thought little of those around you. Drinking all the water that was rationed for 10 other people, eating all the food, in short, taking what was not yours, which explained a lot about why the Arabs and the Jews have been fighting for the last century. In the desert, everyone had to cooperate with each other if they were going to stay alive.

As I said, he was a typical Arab–fair minded and not interested in getting any more than what was his rightful share, and as I had expected, he brought down the house with his speech. How can you not love this guy? I was as proud of him as I had expected I would be.

The ‘good Rabbi’ whose organization was ostensibly devoted to speaking out against the theft taking place in Palestine nevertheless in typical Jewish fashion decided that the 15 minutes of fame that had been allotted to him was insufficient for his needs and thus went on for almost 45, cutting into the time that was reserved for the others. He obviously did not consider the fact that people had been there for three days, that they were tired and were ready to start making their ways home. I suppose he entertained the idea that he was a superstar of sorts and that he was doing all of us a favor by going on at length about who he was and what he was doing with his spare time.

It was difficult for me to concentrate on what he was trying to say, as he kept bobbing back and forth when he spoke, again, in typical Jewish fashion. As I had previously expected, the Gentile crowd of gentlemen and gentlewomen were very genteel and thus gave him a generous helping of applause that in my opinion he did not deserve. Whether they did so because they appreciated his message or whether they were celebrating the fact that he was done I can’t say and won’t even speculate.

And then, there was…me…The fly in the ointment…the stick in the eye and the wet blanket. After 2 months of dread, the awful moment of truth had finally arrived wherein I was going to drive the nails into my own coffin and sign my own dis-invitation to any further gatherings of like-minded people. My career as a writer and speaker was about to go up in flames–not necessarily in any kind of manner dramatic and memorable, but rather like a simple ‘poof’ as if it were a stick of dynamite that had been left out in the rain for too long.

I won’t bore the reader with any details other than to say that I got up there and said what I said would be said–That the ‘good Rabbis’ of Neturei Karta, the Men in Black were frauds and that their organization was a lie. Zionism was not the issue. Talmudic Judaism was and is and always will be as long as it exists and if we as a people entertain any desire to take our civilization back from the white-washed tombs who have stolen it, then we better face up to some very ugly facts. I stayed within my fifteen minutes as I had been asked to do by Willis Carto who was sponsoring the whole event.

There was applause, which surprised me, but no big deal, really. I would have said the same thing if it had been at a meeting of the United Jewish Appeal. I am a poor man and will probably stay that way for the rest of my life here on God’s green earth. The only wealth that I hope to accrue is in seeing my children and grandchildren live in a world where they are safe, not only in the physical sense, but mentally, spiritually and politically as well.

Then ‘the good Rabbi,’ (in typical self-absorbed Jewish fashion) not content with his 45 minutes of fame, decided that the remarks I made about his organization and about the Talmud would not be left out there as the last word, and thus, in typical Jewish fashion, –meaning nervy–got up there, and amidst a performance of lisping, spitting, and bobbing back and forth, actually tried to sell the idea to us stupid, illiterate Goyim that the Talmud was a book of ‘peace and love’.

….peace and love. The Talmud, with its scurrilous description of Jesus and Mary, the sanctioning of murder, lying, theft and genocide was a book of peace and love…

…and then, there it was waaaaay back there in the deepest recesses of the conference hall, like distant thunder or like a waft of air that carries with it the smell of something beautiful to behold, that wonderful word that needed to be said…

….’boooooh!’ followed by another and then another, and a few other comments such as ‘just sit down and shut up, we don’t want to hear it!’

And I smiled, not just with my cheeks, but with all of it, my wrinkling eyes, my bared teeth and all of my soul. He blew it. He let the cat out of the bag. Had he remained seated and took his beatings like a man instead getting back up there and trying to defend the indefensible in the typically Jewish way, meaning whiny, effeminate, and Woody Allenesque, then he might have had a chance.

But not now. He blew it and he knew it and we all knew it.

And afterwards, the people came, shaking my hands, hugging me, thanking and congratulating me. Asking me for business cards which I did not have, since I assumed months ago that after my speech the last thing that anyone would have wanted to do was remember my name. That was okay, ‘Just look me up on the net’ I told them. I thought of my children and how I couldn’t wait to get home to see them, safely tucked away in the mountains of North Idaho. I thought of their cousins in places such as Palestine, Lebanon, Iraq and Afghanistan who at the very moment that the Men in Black were speaking, were lying beneath the rubble of a bombed-out home or weeping over a brother or sister or mother or father or cousin who had been murdered before their very eyes, and I choked up and had to excuse myself for a few minutes in the men’s room.

And when I came out of the men’s room wiping the tears away from my dark, semitic eyes, there they were, with their pale skin, reddish hair and bluish eyes, the Men in Black, the ‘good Rabbis’ from Neturei Karta, standing right in front of me, staring at me very intently. They both turned and began to walk away from the conference, and I could not help but notice something strange…Each of them struck at his breast with his fist, as if there were an imaginary knife that was not seen.

I had heard of something like this before, and I believe that it is something called ‘The Pulsa de Nura’ which is a curse within Talmudic Judaism that is hurled at those who are deemed as enemies of the Jews…

Well, all I have to say is, ‘Sorry Charlie, my plane did not crash, I did not choke to death on a chicken bone, haven’t slipped on a banana peel and as of right now I am in pretty good health, despite the fact that I find myself in this ‘distinguished’ part of my life known as Middle Age.

2006 by Mark Glenn

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