May It Be a Sweet Year

To the Jews of Jerusalem, Holy City, whose sovereignty over the eternal and undivided capital of the Jewish state of Israel is disputed and oppugned, though it is as ancient as King David’s: May it be a sweet year.

To the Jews of Judea and Samaria, whose every stud hammered and floor tile laid in that magnificent, empty lunar landscape summons the disapproving scrutiny of allies and the menacing outrage of foes, and who must contemplate the possibility of expulsion—or worse—every day for the sake of a “peace” with a people whose declared war against them has never abated: May it be a sweet year.

To the Jews of Ashkelon, Ashdod, Be’er Sheva, Sderot, Sde Boker, Mitzpeh Ramon, Eilat, Netanya, Tel Aviv, Haifa, Tsfat, Rosh Pina, Tiberias, Mahanayim, Kiryat Shmona, and all the kibbutzim and moshavim of the Negev and the Galil and the Golan—ha am im ha Golan!—who live every day under a death warrant issued by Israel-hating nations passing increasingly sophisticated weaponry into the hands of their proxies, Israel’s bloody, baleful neighbors to the south and west, north and east, for whom even the sacrifice of their own children is tolerable—worse, a cause for celebration—in the name of destroying Jews: May it be a sweet year.  

To the Jew of Gaza, Gilad Shalit, whose Rosh Hashana this year will be spent, as have the last five, imprisoned in a Hamas hell-hole: May it be a sweet year.

To all the Jews of Israel, surrounded, admonished, maligned, despised, threatened, condemned, attacked, wounded, murdered: May it be a sweet year.

And to the Jews of the United States whose astoundingly self-negating souls are fixed as if by bolts to the chilling heart of a president and a party and a politics progressively ill-disposed toward Zion: Please, wake up, wrench out those bolts, free yourselves, and tell the truth, before the Jewish homeland is destroyed by the erosive thrust of its friends and the blazing bombs of its enemies. And may it be a sweet year.

Rosh Hashana in the House Tonight

 

A sweet, blessed, hip-hoppin' New Year, brothas and sistas!

Stand Up, Man, and Veto!

They used to say in the George W. Bush years that if you cast a veto at the U.N. Security Council you could go home, because you weren’t going to do anything remotely as constructive—or rewarding—that week. Indeed, U.S. ambassadors to the United Nations have a proud history of demonstrating our powerful repugnance for the Third-World-Non-Aligned-Movement anti-Semitism, anti-Zionism, and anti-Americanism that seeped from the U.N.’s walls during the Cold War like sweat from the brow of a Patrice Lumumba University agronomy graduate, and pervades the One-Worldish-Oppressed-Peoples-Euro-Surrender air there to this day.

Which perhaps explains why Mr. Obama, whose distaste for the unilateral, muscular, internationalist American veto is no secret—viz. the venomous explanation by Ambassador Susan Rice of her last (and first) vote against a resolution attacking Israel—has his secretary of state “scrambling” desperately to avoid having to exercise it next week, when Mahmoud Abbas, the “president” of Arab-occupied Judea and Samaria, will likely come calling at the Security Council to demand a resolution seating “Palestine” at the table of nations, and, though he represents nobody but a collection of aging PLO terrorists, he will likely get it, especially now he’s got the backing of his new best friend, the Arab-leader-wannabe Recep Tayyip Erdoğan.

But if he does? So What? We’re Americans, Mr. Obama, and you’re our president, whether we—and you—like it or not. Show our closest ally in the great war we’re waging against Islamofascism that you know who our friends are, that you’re capable of honoring them—and us—more than your usual sensitive recoiling at even the tiniest little whiff of jingoistic cowboyism would suggest. Stand up, man, and veto!

Meet With Him Once, Shame On You . . .

Meet with him twice . . . shame on the alumni who root for the school and are thrilled to see their children accepted there; shame on the president, Lee “Prezbo” Bollinger, who hangs out on campus (because he is that cool) and raises reams of money for “innovative” programs; shame on the donors whose full pockets and open hands make that possible; shame on the parents who pay nearly 100K per annum so their offspring can receive an Ivy League education in the greatest city in the world; and most of all, shame on those students who are criminally “thrilled to have this opportunity” to dine with a murderous, tyrannical, Holocaust-denying, Jew-hating, Israel-threatening, America-dissing, nuke-building liar, Iranian “president,” Mahmoud Ahmadinejad, who will be in New York next week receiving blandishments of a less (and more) exalted variety from a blood-brotherhood of brutes, savages, despots, monsters, and butchers—and their fellow-travelers—at the United Nations General Assembly.