Bibi Grows Up and Other Thoughts from the United Nations
As an aside, staying at UN Millennium Hotel with, among others, Mahmoud Abbas (yes, I saw him -- I was delayed about fifteen minutes entering the hotel at one point so that he and his entourage could leave in a "secure" manner), I had a funny/strange and weirdly heartening apercu about the Durban III conference.
As many PJM readers know, this is third of these UN-sponsored conferences, supposedly to attack racism but in actuality nothing more than an organized Israel-bash by the euphemistically-named non-aligned nations (along with a few quislings from the West like Norway). Each time this event is conducted increasingly in private with more of the sessions banned to the press. Few people attend, it seems. Many seats were empty even for Ahmadinejad.
So who actually goes to these things and what's the point of it anyway (besides wasting our tax dollars -- the U.S., although it refused to attend, still foots about twenty-five percent of the bill)? Well, delegitimization of Israel, obviously, but I strongly suspect for many of the delegates there's a much more important reason. It's a boondoggle. An all-expense paid trip to New York. The lobby of the UN Millennium was filled each night with dozens of handsome African women all decked out in their finest regional attire. They were lined up at the taxi rank too. Did they care about Israel or anything else political? I doubt it -- at least not a lot. They were hot-to-trot for a night of Soho clubbing. (Yes, I heard plenty of chatter in the elevator: Where should we go? Oh, not that place. I was there yesterday. Do you have to stand in line, etc.)
And it's your money, ladies and gentlemen. In a time of financial ruin.
No wonder Topic A at the counter-conference was defunding the UN. Ileana Ros-Lehtinen, you're on.
And, hey, all those nice African ladies are welcome to vacation in the Big Apple all they want, but on their own dime, not mine. I agree to pay for my own trip to Kenya.