- I visit him every day on the internet before logging
off.
-
- His name is Amir Ayyad. He is a Palestinian, and lived
his whole life in the Khan Younis refugee camp in the Gaza Strip. I met
him about a year ago, as I, (like many people at the time) found myself
in the midst of searching for answers concerning the situation in the Middle
East. Exactly what it was that led me into this search remains unknown
up to this point. For many of us, there seemed to have come a breaking
point in the aftermath of 9/11, like the snapping of two fingers in front
of our eyes, waking us from what seemed to have been a lifelong trance.
I, as an individual who had paid little attention to the whole matter,
suddenly in the span of a yearís time had reached a limit with respect
to what was my complacency and gullibility, and in the midst of looking
for answers to this riddle, I met Amir.
-
- I credit running into him on the internet as being an
act of divine providence. Looking back, it can honestly be said that it
was one of those life changing events that one never seems to forget. I
am sure that had I not run into him, chances are better than not that I
would still be trying to sort out all of this business. In the days running
up to the war, trying to make sense of anything was like playing pin the
tail on the donkey in the middle of an empty field full of shouting madmen.
The war machine, which wielded the most terrible propaganda and intimidation
campaign in the history of mankind certainly didnít make things
any easier. With the new laws in place, people were being arrested for
asking questions or making waves. Those who werenít arrested ended
up losing jobs and friends, as well as becoming the recipients of anonymous
death threats over the internet or over the phone. Spies and snitches on
Americaís college campuses were diligently keeping an eye on anyone,
including professors, who dared to exercise their right of free speech
and freedom of thought. "Unpatriotic" individuals maintaining
some intellectual individuality would then find themselves in the clutches
of the "proper authorities," leading to disciplinary actions
of some sort. In the media, all honest discussion surrounding the origins
of the Middle East conflict were shouted down by individuals who charged
their opponents with the unforgivable crime of being anti-Semitic racists
for opposing Zionism, yet who themselves interspersed their attacks with
their own racially-laced slurs such as "raghead lover" or "Haji."
-
- And in the midst of this cyclone, I met Amir.
-
- For me, his reasoning proved to be the most balanced
and sensible. His argument certainly possessed a certain amount of authority,
since he had lived in the midst of this conflict his entire life, and saw
more of the reality encompassing the situation than any of the paid loudmouths
on radio or television could ever imagine seeing. And although our discourse
suffered by virtue of a language barrier, he still managed to make his
point more clearly than anyone I have ever encountered, and continues to
do so today. He was able, using but a few words, to convey entire chapters
of comprehension and insight, and brought more truth to the discussion
with just a few arguments than his opponents would attempt to bring in
hours of shouting, snarling, and growling. He has never cursed me for asking
questions, even when I played Devilís advocate. He has always spoken
softly and patiently, never vowing vengeance on his oppressors, even though
his life has been a testimony to their inhumanity.
-
- How he maintained his composure with me was a miracle,
since I, like most brainwashed Americans, refused to consider the possibility
that I could be the victim of a giant hoax. At the onset of our discourse,
the haughtiness in my refusal to consider his argument was rooted in the
idea that such a conspiracy of silence surrounding the injustices inflicted
against the Arab peoples was impossible to maintain, particularly in a
country full of such smart people like America. It was in my reluctance
to ponder the terrible possibility that I had been taken for a fool over
the course of several decades that fueled the largest part of my reticence
and doubt. In examining the roots of my own disbelief, I have now come
to understand that this is one of the biggest reasons for Americaís
unwillingness to consider the plight of the Arab peoples, namely just sheer
pride, in addition to the shame that would accompany the process of coming
to terms with the situation. Like most Americans, I refused to believe
that my government could be party to something as magnanimous in its inhumanity
as the circumstances he described. After all, we were America, the land
of equal rights and freedom and compassionate conservatism. We were the
bringers of liberty to the oppressed, and justice to the afflicted. Our
whole identity was wrapped up in this pretty packaging, and for him to
allege that crimes of this nature not only were taking place, but had been
for 50 years, was just too much for me to consider.
-
- In the end though, his arguments finally made their way
through my thick American head by way of a single photo, the same photo
by which I came to know him. As the saying goes, a picture speaks a thousand
words, and this photo, which hangs on my office wall, most of the time
leaves me speechless.
-
- As I came to know him, I came to understand what life
was like in the place he called home, the Khan Younis refugee camp. Prior
to this, the picture that I as an American had been given concerning the
Arabs was that they were a mindless, senseless people who would have benefited
by the whole Zionist venture had they been more reasonable. The image that
the Zionist propaganda machine had painted was that of the Arabs as an
unruly people who had no just basis in their complaints or perceived grievances,
juxstaposed of course with the image of the beneficent Jews of Europe who
were the bringers of civilization and enlightenment. Now I have come to
see that this image entertained by Americans today is but a tragic mix
of folly and fantasy. For those who have eyes to see, it is plainly apparent
that the real savages have been those brandishing the whips of an oppression
rooted in the quasi-religious garb of racial supremacy against a people
whose forefathers were the bringers of culture to Western Civilization.
-
- Today, I have come to see that the arguments and justifications
vomited forth by this enchantress known as the Zionist agenda are no different
than those which slaveholders in America used to give in justifying the
unpardonable inhumanity that was their own bread and butter. The tactic
has been the same as well, in that rather than debating the matter on the
level of depravity and debauchery that the subject truly encompasses, instead
they have turned the argument in the opposite direction by attempting to
champion its merits for a brainwashed people who dare to call themselves
Christian. The truth given to me as a gift from my friend Amir was so different
from this fantasy that it cannot be said that there is anything in the
Zionist propaganda that is even accidentally right. The injustices that
have been wrought against the Arab peoples is so vast and so pervasive
in their scope that it is almost impossible to imagine that humans are
capable of such cruelty and such stupidity. If ever an argument was to
be made that the Beast of the Apocalypse was real and was living among
us then one would not need to look much further than this cancer known
as Zionism and consider the history of its deeds for validation of this
theory.
-
- The picture painted for me in perfect clarity by Amirís
words and personal testimony has been that of the daily nightmare in seeing
his friends and relatives killed on a regular basis. Whether such has been
executed by Israeli soldiers or Israeli settlers, and whether such victimization
has been achieved by being shot, or by being blown to pieces by explosives
hidden in toys that were left for a Palestinian child to find, in whatever
manner, for these people whom history has forgotten, it has been the nightmare
of the 20th century. Life for a Palestinian living in the Occupied Territories
has been that of a concentration camp victim, knowing that he or she lives
under a sentence of death, and who must wait out the minutes and hours
of this nightmare until that fateful number comes up. Every waking moment,
the Palestinian asks the question "Is this my day, or is it the day
for someone I love?" And in the moments right before falling asleep,
the question "Will this be the sleep that brings me to my eternal
rest?"
-
- As far as the gangsters of the Zionist mafia are concerned,
all of the bases have been covered, and this event can be said to have
been the near-perfect crime. Not only have those who boldly assert that
they are the apple of Godís eye mass-murdered almost 200,000 people
as a tribute to Cain, the first murderer and the founding father of their
ideological experiment called the state of Israel, but in addition, in
the interests of honoring him and his infamous attempt to lie about his
evil deed, they have cloaked this blood sacrifice in the whorish garments
of untruth and disinformation. In the midst of this nightmare, Amirís
oppressors have rubbed salt into the gaping wound known as the Zionist
Occupation by virtue of the fact that they have held in perfect totalitarian
fashion all the mechanisms of dispensing information into the collective
intellect of the Western world. The situation produced by such a stranglehold
has been one of the greatest causes of the hopelessness that pervades the
lives of those living in the Middle East today, and has been one of the
most important reasons for the cycle of violence that seems to be unbreakable.
Such it has been that by the time Amir and others like him are able to
take the stand and argue their case before what they had hoped was a fair-minded
world, the jury pool had already been thoroughly tainted and corrupted
by the poison of the Zionist propaganda machine. In such a situation, all
the arguments they would make over the course of the last half century,
arguments pleading for justice and comprehension, might as well have been
pure gibberish to the average Western Christian for all the seriousness
that was afforded to them. This scenario is reminiscent of the now infamous
trials that took place in America, where the relatives of those negroes
who were the victims of lynchings, shootings, or arsons could expect no
justice in a corrupted legal system run by good old boys who would fix
things in favor of the thugs being tried.
-
- I must admit that I had a hard time believing the allegations
made by my friend Amir, until an article came my way, written by a former
New York Times reporter named Christopher Hedges, who described what he
witnessed himself in the Gaza camp where Amir lived.
-
- "It is still. And then, out of the dry furnace air,
a disembodied voice crackles over a loudspeaker.
-
- "Come on, dogs," the voice booms in Arabic.
"Where are all the dogs of Khan Younis? Come! Come!"
-
- I stand up. I walk outside the hut. The invective continues
to spew: "Sons of bitches!" "Sons of whores!"
-
- The boys dart in small packs up the sloping dunes to
the electric fence that separates the camp from the Jewish settlement.
They lob rocks toward two armored jeeps parked on top of the dune and mounted
with loudspeakers. Three ambulances line the road below the dunes in anticipation
of what is to come.
-
- A percussion grenade explodes. The boys, most no more
than ten or eleven years old, scatter, running clumsily across the heavy
sand. They descend out of sight behind a sandbank in front of me. There
are no sounds of gunfire. The soldiers shoot with silencers. The bullets
from the M-16 rifles tumble end over end through the children's slight
bodies. Later, in the hospital, I will see the destruction: the stomachs
ripped out, the gaping holes in limbs and torsos.
-
- Yesterday at this spot the Israelis shot eight young
men, six of whom were under the age of eighteen. One was twelve. This afternoon
they kill an eleven-year-old boy, Ali Murad, and seriously wound four more,
three of whom are under eighteen.
-
- Children have been shot in other conflicts I have covered,
but I have never before watched soldiers entice children like mice into
a trap and murder them for sport."
-
- And so has the music played on and on, for nearly a century,
repeating itself over and over again in the lives of those who know they
are the hunted. This is the diary of a Palestinian who was sentenced to
death the moment in which he or she was born, and the story of a people
who hunger and thirst for justice.
-
- This process of rooting out the truth concerning the
Palestinian/Israeli situation has been a journey through a hall of mirrors
to say the least, an unsettling, de-stabilizing event that leaves the individual
dizzy and full of nausea after it takes place. When one comes to grasp
the fact that a malignancy as brutal and careless in its willingness to
inflict injustice and violence upon another group of people on the basis
of race is not only running around loose, but indeed shares a lascivious,
illicit love affair with the worldís most powerful nation, well,
after such a realization there is little room left for hope. Even less
reason for hope there is when considering that virtually my entire nation
of almost 300 million people have come to worship this beast, and that
I used to be one just like them.
-
- Nevertheless, I have embarked upon the seemingly futile
gesture of attempting to wake others under this enchantment by passing
on this gift that Amir has given to me. In trying to convince my fellow
Christians who know or care to know little concerning the situation in
the Middle East, I will use the arguments that my friend has used successfully
with me. Unfortunately, it rarely does any good, they simply stand there
as I used to do, haughty in their composure, a slight smirk on their faces
as I flesh out a picture of what life is like for a Palestinian. I cannot
entirely blame them, since I know that they know not what they do, and
that their position on the matter is not a product of their own doing.
Their position on the matter is merely one part of a program that has been
surreptitiously installed and meticulously maintained on their psychological
hard drives by very competent and ruthless hackers. For these individuals
who shamelessly consider themselves as being enlightened by virtue of their
Christian faith, there was no independent inquiry nor any genuine desire
to know the truth that resulted in their present position on the matter,
far from it. For the last 50 years, they have been kept deliberately stupid
by means of an informational infrastructure that has defecated out Zionist
propaganda on a daily basis. They and their opinion on the matter are part
of a package deal that comes with the privilege of being an American today.
Being an American today, and having membership in this very elite and esteemed
club requires certain obligations from its members, one of which is to
forfeit oneís freedom of thought and freedom of conscience in return
for the badge of complacency and moral stupidity. Wearing this badge of
dishonor means that all must swear fealty to the ethos of the club, an
ethos that is by no means fair or egalitarian in its application. This
ethos, this pledge of loyalty can be summed up simply in its costly purchase:
It is the price of the soul, and all its most necessary components: Pity,
compassion, justice, wisdom, mercy, et al. And once these have been forked
over to the bondsman, their ownership is transferred to those who put it
to their own use and for their own interests, individuals who have no right
in justice to possess them in any manner, and who are, simply, the Zionists
of the Apostle Johnís Apocalyptic vision who "call themselves
Jews, but are instead a synagogue of Satan."
-
- Unbeknownst to the world, and in particular to the Christian
West, this war in the Holy Land has become the last battle for the soul
of humanity. It has become the contest between the forces of good and evil,
manifesting itself in the struggle between the qualities that raise our
natures to that of humans or reduce them to that of beasts. Being such
a momentous event in which matters of the utmost importance are at stake,
naturally it has become a contest that has been corrupted by graft and
bribery, and where might makes right. Understanding wherein lies the might
these days, it is obvious now that the only rule that applies to this contest
is that which brings victory to Israel and her inhabitants. Rather than
allow a level playing field to exist, falling back on the confidence that
accompanies knowing that the cause for which they are fighting is just
and knowing that the best man will win, instead the interests of Zionism
have resorted to doing anything necessary to win, no matter how outlandish
or unfair. As such, in this battle of ideas and ideologies, the apologists
for the state of Israel have demonstrated throughout their history the
complete absense of respect they possess for any of the precepts governing
right and wrong, save for those that can be successfully co-opted into
effecting their own victory. In the application of these corrupted values,
such individuals will on a daily basis throw sand into the eyes of their
opponents, as well as into the eyes of a watching world community, all
in the interest of gaining the upper hand in some fashion. These millions
of grains of sand, representing the millions of lies and millions of acts
of violence they have wrought upon innocent people, have been the building
block of the Zionist temple known as Israel and have been used to blind
the Christian West into becoming participants in the very same devilish
agenda against which their Master had given his life fighting 2,000 years
ago. In the information war that is so vital in keeping Wester Christians
stupid and lazy, Jewish interests ply the same mechanisms of lying, bribery,
blackmail and subterfuge that were the trademarks of their forefathers
20 centuries ago, and Americans, not realizing the depth of their enslavement,
willingly shackle themselves intellectually and spiritually in their service.
-
- No one should be surprised at this, as it has never been
asserted that the Zionist propaganda machine is by any means stupid. On
a daily basis, this propaganda machine has been able to take the most fundamental,
undeniable pieces of fact and turn them into pretzel knots in such a way
that they bear no resemblance to the truth in any form. By so doing, they
have succeeded in robbing those under such an enchantment of the ability
to follow the direction of good conscience or of an unfettered intellect.
In weaving this enchantment, these masters of deception have manipulated
words such as "targeted killing" to avoid the odious implication
associated with the word assassination. Young Palestinian children who
are gunned down in cold blood are referred to as "militants,"
the bombings of Palestinian school yards are called "military operations,"
and a whole list of other vocabulary phrases that have been molested so
as to best serve their own interests.
-
- In the midst of this seduction, it is easy to see how
the masses will surrender themselves and their humanity to the prostitutes
of Judeo ethno-centrism, who have taken the most eggregious examples of
moral outrage and made them look beautiful. It is a difficult seduction
to resist, and so, what I invariably end up doing in the midst of this
cacophony of lies is to make my way back to Amir and speak to him. As I
said, his arguments have always made the most sense to me, and in these
moments of doubt, I gather my bearings by talking to him, even if it is
only in my thoughts.
-
- "Hello, my little friend, how are you? Are you well?
Are you happy? Who are your parents? Do you have brothers or sisters? What
is your favorite color?
-
- And although I cannot hear his responses, I am fairly
confident that he can hear my questions, for in my mindís eye he
now exists in the next world and walks in green fields holding the hand
of God. For him all is serenity and peace, and he will never again feel
the pain that he experienced here on earth when an Israeli bullet ripped
through his tiny head as he stood looking out the window of his home. For
him, there are only the sounds of peace and comfort, and he does not remember
the shrieks and wailing that encompassed the last moments of his life in
Palestine. And when he is not walking with God, he is playing with friends
numbering in the thousands who were killed in circumstances similar to
his.
-
- "Whatís it like up there?" I ask him.
"Do you remember your family? You were only two years old when you
died. Had you learned to say their names by that time? Do you miss them?"
-
- I can only imagine his answers. In some manner, he probably
looks in on his family from time to time, moving in and out of their dreams
and thoughts, assuring them that everything will be alright someday. And
although he must look forward to seeing them again one day, he would probably
pass on the opportunity of being with them today in the refugee camp of
Khan Younis. It is understandable, since, given the serenity and happiness
that he now calls home, he wouldnít trade that in return for living
as a prisoner again in the concentration camp known as Palestine.
-
- "What are the names of your friends in heaven? Are
there really many rooms in his Fatherís mansion, like he said there
were? What was your home like? How did your father earn his living? Is
your mother pretty? She must be, because you certainly are."
-
- Amir Ayyad is the face of Arab terrorism, or so those
in the Christian West have been told on a daily basis. His death, a late-term
abortion committed by the ultimate abortionist in the Middle East, Israel,
is said to be a necessary procedure for the health of the motherland. The
shedding of his innocent blood, one crime in a sea of such crimes that
calls out to heaven for justice, is but a minor incidental today to a large
number of Christians who consider this situation either with careless disregard
or else with devilish celebration. This application of managed sentiments
to the daily murder of Palestinian men, women and children is but a Pavlovian
response inculcated into those Western Christians who seek the blessings
of the same Jewish people whom they secretly fear and loath. The essence
of his argument, the picture which speaks a thousand words and yet which
leaves me speechless, is the one of him, a 2-year old Palestinian boy with
a blood soaked bandage wrapped around his head who died with his eyes open.
After a year of looking for the truth, I had finally found it, and it was
the last argument that I needed to consider when making up my mind about
who was right and who was wrong.
-
- Well, almost the last argument, for in fairness, I needed
to hear at least something from the other side. In my foolish sense of
optimism, I expected that there had to be at least some pity left in Amirís
killers for what they had done, some whisp of humanity that led them to
harbor at least some sense of regret. I found none, and to this day have
yet to see any proof that such individuals possess even a single blood
cell in their beings that connects them in the smallest way with the rest
of the human race.
-
- What I heard instead was the chuckling of course individuals
who have lewdly danced about like schoolyard bullies, mocking and laughing
at the destruction and misery they have delivered into the lives of Arab
families for fifty years. No pretensions of regret, no feigned sense of
penitent sorrow. And if after this there had been any remaining doubt,
than the issue was firmly settled when I considered the cold, calculating
words of one of the architects of this process of extermination, just one
of millions who seeks to justify what was done to Amir and to the thousands
of others like him.
-
- "I vow that Iíll burn every Palestinian child
that will be born in this area. The Palestinian children are more dangerous
than the men, because the Palestinian childís existence infers that
generations will go on."
-
- And in these eloquent words, encompassing a century of
violence and genocide, I came to view in perfect clarity the image of the
beast, the harlot of the Apocalypse, Israel without her mascara. It is
a nightmarish image, this that has been hidden for a century from the Christian
West by layer upon layer upon layer of insulating blush and rouge, cover-ups
that give the appearance of life and vitality, but which when wiped away
reveal the nature of a beast possessing the face of death and duplicity.
And as much as the magicians and beauticians may endeavor to paint her
up in such a way as to hide the true ugliness of her visage, nevertheless
they cannot outrun the history of her utterances. This promise to wipe
out the children of Palestine, authored by Ariel Sharon, the "man
of peace" whom George Bush and American Christians have pledged to
support with their praise and their money, serves as a resume of sorts
for one whose hands have dripped with the blood of Palestinians since he
was a teenager. These words, by no means isolated, are but a few of those
that tell the unvarnished, uncensored, ill-considered testimony of Israelís
history in the Middle East. These words are the building blocks of a nation
whose existence has been outlawed by the weight of history for the last
2,000 years, and now for reasons that should be apparent to all who have
eyes to see. And let not the enchantress known as the Zionist agenda succeed
in lulling a Christian world back to sleep by reassuring it that these
words by Ariel Sharon, the Butcher of Beirut, are an abberation in any
sense. Lined up next to his testimony are the remarks of men like Ben-Gurion,
Weitz, Shamir, Begin, Rabin, Netanyahu, Dayan, and every other Zionist
vampire who has feasted off of the blood of the Palestinian innocents for
the last century.
-
- It is no wonder why Lucifer holds the human race in such
contempt. Robbing mankind from its sense of humanity and right thinking
historically has been as easy as stealing candy from a baby. How much he
must laugh when he considers the effortlessness of such an endeavor in
bringing before the consideration of mankind such blood thirsty individuals,
beasts in human form who are then celebrated and inaugurated to the highest
positions of prominence and power by fools who gladly forfeit their sense
of decency and humanity. A man like Ariel Sharon and all the founding fathers
of Israel can, in the midst of the bloodiest century in mankindís
history, utter promises to continue such a blood orgy, and will be given
all the money and firepower they demand in carrying it out. A Christian
world, in the most galling act of pretension and spiritual contradiction,
will call to mind the infamous Slaughter of the Innocents by Herod, and
yet will sit on the sidelines of its modern day equivalent and cheer like
the stupid, soulless animal it has been trained to become by the Zionist
agenda over the course of the last half century.
-
- And so in the midst of this, I come to understand why
there is this thing known as suicide bombers. I come to understand a fatherís
rage, who must spend the rest of his life trying to forget the last image
in his memory of a 2-year old son, the face of an angel whose brains had
been deliberately blown out and who died with his eyes open. I come to
understand the rage of a father who knows that all his children live under
a sentence of death, a sentence issued by racial supremacists who bow before
no moral precepts outside of that which they have created for the furtherance
of their own interests. It becomes perfectly clear why one day, a father
who fears every moment of everyday that he will get "the call"
telling him that his child has just been murdered decides he will take
no more. A father, after desperately trying to get to the hospital in the
hopeless effort of arriving before his young son dies, who then decides
one day that his hunger and thirst for justice can wait not a moment longer
and who makes the front page of every newspaper throughout America and
the West by blowing himself up in order to kill the Israeli soldiers who
did this thing. I come to understand the desperation of the Palestinian
people, who know that they cannot seek redress of grievances from a Christian
world that has been captured by the Whore of Babylon, these supposed followers
of the Prince of Peace who have allowed themselves to be used as pawns
in the program of exterminating a race of people considered by the Jews
to be animals.
-
- I come to understand how a people can be driven mad from
hunger and thirst, and in such a state of madness, commit themselves to
doing something that in other circumstances they simply would not choose
to do.
-
- Whether he knows it or not, Amir has become one of my
best friends, if indeed not my very best friend. His gift to me cannot
be measured nor compared to any other I have received in this life. Besides
breaking the spell under which I have been held captive with regards to
understanding the politics of my countryís involvement in the Middle
East, in addition he has led me to discover something of even more importance.
In considering the weight of his arguments, I discovered this thing in
me, deep down there, that I had forgotten about through the many years
of this unnatural sleep. It is easy to forget about this thing called the
soul, since it has been one of the greatest casualties resulting from this
assault on humanity known as Zionism. As much as this beast has grown in
power and in viciousness by feasting on the blood of the innocents whom
it has slaughtered in the Middle East, with equal voraciousness it has
feasted on the blood of menís souls. It has been one of the main
objectives of the Zionist agenda in the Christian West (and more so in
America) to slaughter this thing that brings humanity to the masses, this
"targeted killing" that has left almost an entire civilization
bereft of compassion, pity, or justice. The reason for such a program of
assassination is easy to understand, since it has been the human soul and
all its precepts of life that have served as the one impediment to realizing
complete conquest of mankind and his existence. As such, the human soul,
with its sense of right and wrong which enables it to recognize that shooting
children for sport is murder, and that wiping out an entire race of people
is an abomination before the eyes of the Almighty, has been targeted for
extermination as well. The Zionist agenda, in its methodical application
of doing violence to the soul of humanity, has
- succeeded in corrupting the Christian West into becoming
a pitiless, bloodthirsty, ghoulish race of people willing to fight and
die for the state of Israel, exactly as is taking place now. The Christian
West, too stupid by now to recognize the war that is and has been waged
against it, does not see the fangs on this beast. It does not hear the
snarling or growling that erupts when this beast finds itself in the presence
of the same compassion and justice that are supposed to be the lifeblood
of Christian civilization. And having become blind and deaf to these realities,
the members of the Christian West have themselves become prisoners in this
holocaust called the Zionist agenda, and whose number will shortly be called
up, as it has for all those who are listed as the main course in this feast
of humanity.
-
- And so, in discovering this thing, this soul, I found
a treasure that I did not know existed, with more riches and wealth in
it than I could possibly imagine having over the course of a million lifetimes.
In allowing the humanity of Amirís reasoning to bypass the spiritual
and intellectual censorship that had been imposed upon me, I discovered
the treasure of my own humanity, buried under the mounds of complacency
and carelessness that had been heaped over it on a daily basis for decades.
In coming to understand the same Golden Rule often repeated yet poorly
considered, I became rich by its gold, and as I imagined myself in his
shoes, living what he lived and seeing what he saw, I finally came to be
one of those who hunger and thirst for justice.
-
- Amir Ayyad has not only made me a survivor, but indeed
a soldier. Recognizing that I was robbed of my birthright, the right of
all human beings to nurture the better side of their natures and to ameliorate
the beast that dwells within them, I have became a warrior in reclaiming
this birthright. In this war that has become the bonfire of human virtues,
where pity, justice, and compassion are hunted down and slaughtered in
the same manner as are the children of Khan Younis, I came to understand
the unseen depths of this war that have penetrated the lives of all those
existing today. Such an individual, living in the Zionist outpost called
America who realizes that he has become the hunted, and by being the hunted
has joined the ranks of those whose blood stains the soil of a land that
was once holy, in that moment he realizes that he too must join in this
fight alongside the others who hunger and thirst for justice.
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- For me, I will guard this last spark of humanity that
was rescued from the jaws of death, rescued from this beast known as the
Zionist agenda by the heroism of a boy named Amir Ayyad. How long such
a dangerous and tenuous mission can endure I cannot say, given the dayís
events, but it is the least that I can do in showing him my gratitude,
he who helped to rescue me from what was a certain death of sorts. As a
refugee from the holocaust of the Zionist agenda that has slaughtered like
sheep the last remnants of human decency and of Christian compassion, I
will choose death as a free man over the life of a slave.
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- And assisting me in this mission is my little friend
Amir Ayyad, who reminds me everyday about what is justice and injustice,
and who has promised to keep a place ready for me, should I be fortunate
enough one day to join him in Paradise.
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- "Those Who Hunger and Thirst for Justice" is
an excerpt of the soon to be released work by the author entitled "No
Beauty in the Beast...Israel without her Mascara." Mark Glenn is also
the author of "Not My Words, But Theirs...A Christian American's Defense
of Middle Eastern Culture and its People." The Website for the book
may be accessed at www.notmywords.com. The author may be reached at mglenn@mediamonitors.org
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