Like I said earlier.
From the always great Jonathon Cook (a bit long at 30 pages, but if I can read it, so can you), an American living in and writing from Nazareth, you know, the birthplace of, you know, that religion called, you know, Christianity? Except now Nazareth is part of something called a Jewish state, of the Jews, by the Jews and for the Jews.
The Christians are relegated to the background, to a footnote, and that’s at best. At worst, they are an oppressed minority like the Blacks under apartheid South Africa. But this is all necessary, you know, to give the Jews their safe haven from Holocaust 2 you know, because as Herzl and Hitler remind us from beyond the grave, everyone hates the Jews, with good reason.
Cook has the advantage of being neither Arab nor Muslim nor Jewish traitor, so no one quite knows what to do with these folks.
Yet I wonder for how much longer Mr. Cook can keep penning his prose from inside the heart of the beast amidst the deepening gloom. It’s no longer daytime in Israel, ever, anymore. Nor is it the darkest night. There’s still light, just enough to see by, but that’s it.
It’s dusk. The dusk of a settling fascist dark.