Oh, Jerusalem

What to say about the latest round of Islamo-carnage in Jerusalem that hasn’t been said thousands of times before? Golda Meir made it all clear in her famous 1957 speech at the National Press Club in DC: “Peace will come when the Arabs love their children more than they hate us.”

In other words, basically never. The hate culture of the Palestinians — and almost all Arabs — is so deeply imbued it’s hard to imagine it ever changing. After this recent incident, they danced in the street with hatchets and gave each other candy.

Lots of people have tried to make peace with them. The supposed war-monger Ariel Sharon uprooted his own people and gave the Palestinians Gaza. We all know what happened. Then prime minister Ehud Olmert offered the Palestinians the peace deal of the century. They walked away.

The reason is obvious. The Palestinians don’t want a two-state solution and never have. And not just Hamas with their infamous charter urging the death of all Jews, even Jewish trees (whatever that means) — all of them. Well, not absolutely all. There must be one or two somewhere who really want to share the land with the Jews. I just don’t know who they are. Nobody does. Certainly not Abu Mazen, who started his career writing a Holocaust-denying thesis in Moscow, or Saeb Erekat, who by now must have a Swiss bank account to rival George Soros.

Besides the failure, since 1948, to even recognize the existence of a Jewish state on any territory, one of the more revealing aspects of the putative peace negotiations is that the Palestinians [sic] have always refused to have a single Jew living on their land once they have a state, while there are some million and a half Palestinians [sic] already living in Israel. Palestine must be judenrein — Hitler’s dream realized.

Of course, we get not a peep from the Europeans about this. Instead, according to Haaretz, we get new secret plans from the EU to boycott those horrible settlements that allegedly are the root of all this evil. Only the Europeans, Peter Beinart, the fuddy-duddies at J-Street and some Brandeis professors could believe something so absurd. Maybe the latter American group can be added to the old black comic joke, more apropos than ever: “The Europeans will never forgive the Jews for Auschwitz.”

So what to do? This morning when I woke up and saw the horrifying pictures of the blood-stained interior of the synagogue in Har Nof, themselves reminiscent of the Holocaust, my first thought was: Nuke ’em! Now, hours and several bourbons later, I realize we — particularly the United States — have yet to try something far more dangerous: honesty. The lame duck reactionary who is our president refuses to say there is anything wrong with Islam although it is the holy books of that religion that motivate this activity again and again and again and…

We never say what’s behind all this evil, the source of the psychopathic violence. We dare not mention the I-word, even when they desecrate a synagogue with the blood of rabbis or burn down a church in Egypt or cut off head after head after head. Obama, who grew up with anti-Semite pals like Bill Ayers and Rashid Khalidi, denies that Islam has anything to do with this — probably, not so deep down, because we all know it has a great deal to do with him, how he was raised. I count the days until this American Haman — drenched as he is in that great lie of moral equivalence — is gone.

While I write this, I receive news that the Holocaust memorial at Babi Yar was defaced Monday with swastikas. You remember Babi Yar, the ravine in Kiev where over thirty-three thousand Jews were killed in one two-day operation in September 1941. The Soviet poet Yevgeny Yevtushenko wrote a famous poem about it. I’ll end with that:

No monument stands over Babi Yar.
A steep cliff only, like the rudest headstone.
I am afraid.
Today, I am as old
As the entire Jewish race itself.

I see myself an ancient Israelite.
I wander o’er the roads of ancient Egypt
And here, upon the cross, I perish, tortured
And even now, I bear the marks of nails.

It seems to me that Dreyfus is myself. *1*
The Philistines betrayed me — and now judge.
I’m in a cage. Surrounded and trapped,
I’m persecuted, spat on, slandered, and
The dainty dollies in their Brussels frills
Squeal, as they stab umbrellas at my face.

I see myself a boy in Belostok *2*
Blood spills, and runs upon the floors,
The chiefs of bar and pub rage unimpeded
And reek of vodka and of onion, half and half.

I’m thrown back by a boot, I have no strength left,
In vain I beg the rabble of pogrom,
To jeers of “Kill the Jews, and save our Russia!”
My mother’s being beaten by a clerk….

That’s enough. You can find the rest here.