One of the many terms that’s found its way into the lexicon of Zionism is “self-hating Jew”.
It the expression these folk use when they’d really like to call someone an “‘anti-Semite” – but they can’t get away with that because the target of their wrath happens to be Jewish.
For Zionists, “anti-Semitism” is probably the worst thought-crime imaginable . Ivory Towers throughout the western world, along with the US State Department itself in all its imperial splendour, have assembled large teams of grown men and women whose working lives are dedicated to combatting this terrible menace. They labour lest once again half a dozen million innocent lives are sacrificed in a frenzy of irrational, inexplicable, incomprehensible hatred.
I digress, but it’s struck me, ever since I took the trouble to become more familiar with the fables of World War Two, how debilitating the diseased emotion of “anti-Semitic hate” must be.
Northern Germany during World War Two. Having developed a far more substantial capacity for saturation bombing than Germany, the British leadership used it ruthlessly
Take Elie Wiesel, for example, grand-daddy of the surviving Holocaust survivors, a man widely admired as a Semite who, against all odds, survived the most anti- of anti-Semites at extremely close quarters and lived to tell the tale. As Mr Wiesel was, according to his own account, a resident of Auschwitz towards the end of the war, I wonder why didn’t his anti-Semitic German guards simply throttle him when they had the chance? They must have been too consumed by hatred to squeeze a trigger, or even use a karate chop. Hate like that must positively hurt!
More curious still, why did Mr Wiesel, again by his own account, choose to march out of Auschwitz with his Nazi guards – rather that linger a few days for the Red Army liberators to arrive? At any moment, one might have thought, a veangeful anti-Semite could have come out of his stupor of hate sufficiently to at least stick a pin in Eli or his dad. But no - the lamb chose to troop off with the lion, rather than await the liberating gazelles. A strange decision, strangley vindicated by history. Here’s what he writes is his famous book Nuit (Night):
“The choice was in our hands. For once we could decide our fate for ourselves. We could both stay in the hospital, where I could, thanks to my doctor, get him (his father) entered as a patient or nurse. Or else we could follow the others. “Well, what shall we do, father?” He was silent. ‘Let’s be evacuated with the others,’ I told him.
It also occurs to me that if the warriors who accompanied Elie Wiesel and his sickly father on their march westwards were so consumed by hate that they were unable to actually do anything about it, perhaps that’s why Germany lost the war?
The British are a different breed. Unlike Germans, Britons specialise in fighting just wars. Once at war, the Brits don’t mess around with half measures in a stupor of hate. They fight like hell – in a happy fusion of righteous might and mighty righteousness!
On paper, the British have started an awful lot of wars. But what’s truly awesome is that all these wars have actually been designed to keep the peace. The British often round up some of the losers they’ve attacked and put them on trial as “war criminals”. It’s a sport that was launched, in its modern form, at Nuremberg. Like many modern phenomena, it came about as a cultural compromise. Churchill apparently expressed a desire to “shoot the lot” of the Nazi leadership, but a well-known, rather shocked civil libertarian called Joseph Stalin insisted on the due process of a trial. And so it was.
There’s a direct line of historical and ‘moral’ continuity from Nuremberg to the attempt, currently underway, to arraign Muhammar Ghadafi before the International Criminal Court for his alleged “crimes against humanity”.
Once again, the British have started a war against another nation that was actively trying to be friends at the time. Once again, it is bombing the target nation in a one-sided delivery of massive carnage and destruction. Once again, it brushes aside all peace proposals and insists on its ‘right’ to keep fighting Once again, it intends to put the leadership of the resisting nation on trial for “war crimes”.
There is, quite possibly, a special place in hell reserved for the British.
Hitler, Stalin and Churchill have all passed on to the after-life and we mortals can only speculate on their ultimate fate. But as a “self-hating Anglo”, I have my own theory.
Dick Cheney at the Pearly Gates
I believe that in 1945, when Adolf Hitler arrived at the Pearly Gates, a stern looking St Peter inquired why he should even consider letting Adolf inside. He’d already heard that the applicant was the worst “anti-Semite” in history, a man who’d murdered six million Jews, then cunningly arranged for the evidence to be destroyed. “I was kind to animals” Hitler said in mitigation, but was forced to admit he’d suicided with his girlfirend “although we did get married first.”
St Peter shook his head. He feared there was no place in Heaven for the likes of Hitler… but after consulting with the All-Seeing Almighty, the former dictator was permitted to enter Heaven after all, where he remains to this day. Hitler’s main chore, assigned after taking his history into account, is restoration of the heavenly archives. As a treat, he’s allowed to paint heavenscapes on Saturdays and Eva visits often for conjugal reunions.
In 1953, another departed soul arrived at the entrance to Heaven. His name was Jo Stalin. He looked uncomfortable at the Pearly Gates, like a man who’s showed up at the wrong party. He explained to St Peter that, a confirmed atheist throughout his adult life, he’d clambered to the top of his God-hating party by being even more of a vicious murderer than his peers – and that he’d played chess with the lives of millions to satisfy his increasingly cynical geopolitical amibitions and lust for absolute power. He was a bit embarrassed about the show trials too. Stalin explained that if he’d known at the time that God was always watching, he’d have taken more care forging the evidence.
St Peter was very doubtful that Heaven was the place for the Soviet dictator, but did agree to consult God before an eternal decision was taken. After an instant’s thought, the All-Merciful took pity on Stalin, forgave his lack of faith, irrepressible deviousness and horrific misdeeds and allowed Jo into heaven, where he now passes endless time polishing the wings of angels in a state of astonished, blissed-out adoration. For intellectual stimulation, he also pusues a long-standing interest in theoretical linguistics.
Several more years passed. Finally, in 1965, Sir Winston Churchill arrived at the entrance to Heaven. He exuded confidence, but also seemed rattled. Winston had left his cigars behind. He was incovenienced by the absence of servants.
And screw you too, sir!
“I’ll have a double whiskey for now, there’s a good chap” he said breezily to St Peter, snapping his fingers in impatience. “I expect you have quite a mansion waiting for me in there”.
St Peter was unfazed. “Who are you?” he asked. “Why do you think you should get into Heaven?”
Unaccustomed to obscurity, the astonished hero explained that he was the Greatest Englishman of all time, the Man of the Century, an audatious leader of the British Empire in several just wars and the champion of the entire Free World in the greatest conflict the world had ever known. As well as saving civilization, Winston concluded, I’ve been an first-class artist, an accomplished orator, a brilliant writer, a great wit, historian, commentator – and a famous humanitarian!
At that moment God made one of His historically rare appearances at the Gateway to Heaven. (In fact, the only other occasion was when He’d personally booted out The Devil himself, shortly after the Big Bang.)
“One question!” boomed the Lord of Lords.
“Are you a Christian?”
Puffing out his chest and pulling on his waitcoat tails, Sir Winston Chuchill explained that he was, indeed, a Christian. He was about to say more when a trapdoor opened and Winston Churchill fell shrieking into a pit, deep inside the bowels of Hell, filled with boiling meths in a choking, detestable atmosphere of stale cigar smoke.
The adoring Gatekeeper looked on the face of the Almighty in search of Enlightenment
“Are you not All-Loving?” St Peter inquired of His God.
“As It Happens, I do forgive most things” replied the Almighty.
He paused for dramatic effect.
“But that guy… is a fucking hypocrite!”