The behind-the-scene stories of our eleventh hour mission to Florida one week before the historic (they should only know) election. Pamela Geller of AtlasShrugs, Tom Trento of the Florida Security Council, and I rang some alarms, reached some hearts and minds, bumped up against closed ears and showed what can be done when individuals take responsibility for the course of events. Published in three installments on www.atlasshrugs.com --November 5, 6, and 20, 2008
The Great Reverse Schlep
Somewhere near Washington D.C., November 4, 2008
Nidra PollerNovember 3, 2008, Greta van Susteren (FoxNews of course) plays the video of 8th District NY Congressman Jerrold Nadler caught off guard as he was leaving a Boca Raton synagogue after his “Jews for Obama” speech. Asked why Obama stayed in Jeremiah Wright’s church, Nadler “guessed” that Barack [Hussein] Obama didn’t have the political courage to make a statement by walking out on a congregation of 8,000 potential voters. Someone asks, “For twenty years?” Nadler replies, “Yeah, for 20 years.” Van Susteren says the magic words: If Obama looses Florida it could be because of this video.
The revealing appraisal of Obama’s character by a Democrat who had come to convince Jews they could vote for him blindfolded (c’est le cas de le dire) was aired earlier that day by Brit Hume. And now it is all over the place. Just ask Google. It must choke them to do this but there’s still a bit of honesty in the search engine. Take it while it lasts.
Who nailed Nadler and how did we do it?
1. [Flashback: October in Paris] My friend Tom Gross showed me Sarah Silverman’s Great Schlep video (I had heard of it but hadn’t bothered to watch) and said “Why not write a reply?” Knowing me, the contemplative writer who tends to respond slowly and at length, he made sure I shifted into journalistic mode. Time is of the essence, dixit the real journalist. In a few days it will be old news. Make it quick and snappy. I put together The Great Schlock [Atlas Shrugs: THE GREAT SCHLOCK ] in record time. Ten days later, as I packed for a month-long U.S. stay, I tucked in some Florida clothes. You never know.
I hit these shores and the pace quickened. A phone call from Dr. Andy Bostom who happened to be in Florida was all I needed. “Could you come down here and do something with these mindless xxx?” Have sandals will travel. Atlas- Pamela would come on board. We went into thread-mode. Conference e-mails, ten-point proposals, who’s got the gigs… We threw the whole thing together in record time. Our goal was simple: save America from Obama or at least win Florida for McCain and if all else fails save the honor of the Jews. Sarah Silverman used her Jewish identity to bully young Jews into bamboozling their grandparents. We would use our Jewish hearts and minds to tell anyone who would listen: an Obama presidency would be fatal to Israel lethal to the Jews.
October 28, in line for my JetBlue flight to West Palm Beach I hear a grisly New Yorker on his cell phone talking politics. I had noticed him earlier on…with the Transport Worker’s Union patch on his jacket. He’s giving someone the lowdown on Obama. “… we don’t even know where the guy was born! There’s a whole lot of stuff about him on the Net…”
As we JetBlue to Florida I finish writing my Sarah Palin article [Continue reading "SARAH IS WOMAN HEAR HER ROAR!" » ] and turn my attention to the soft-spoken woman sitting next to me. She was born in Cairo, left in 1966, speaks French, and punctuates her conversation with “God bless.” As we get to know each other better I realize she’s translating “baruch hashem.” Her story is familiar (cf. Bat Y’eor). In France we have both histories—survivors of the Shoah and Jews kicked out of Arab lands. Before: refined people living in peace. After: angry mobs, another round of Diaspora. She has family all over the world. And Cairo today is a disaster. And now, she says, they are doing it to Europe, and they want to bring it here. There is no bitterness in her voice, no hatred of the Other. She is so delicate. My heart goes out to her. She is on her way to her grandson’s wedding.
One of her sons, an undercover agent in NY, was shot to death at the age of 30. She wears a NYPD medal on a chain.
I land in West Palm Beach and am whisked away to a dinner with the Desperate Conservatives in an Italian restaurant where the portions are so huge they could fill an Oxfam cargo ship. My hostess points to a round table. All those ladies voted for Obama. They hate us. She takes me over and I speak softly about my experience in France. Anti-Zionism, anti-Semitism, anti-Americanism, three faces of the same coin. That was the title of my speaking tour a few years back. (This time no one had responded to my offers, jabs, or queries. Can’t you organize something? Let me get over there and talk to people. They need to be told why Europeans love Obama.)
Back to our booth and the distressed minority of four. They were practically in tears. These people (the Obama disciples) attack us, no one will listen, they are so uninformed it’s pathetic. (Meanwhile, Amnon Lord of Makor Rishon is waiting for my Sarah Palin article and it’s 2 AM in Israel.) I promise I’ll do my best to bring a bit of light to the benighted. I’ll talk to anyone in West Palm Beach who is willing to listen.
My hostess shows me to my room, I pull out my super lightweight Toshiba, and run into a stone wall: there is no wireless connection. I check out the modem, don’t see any way to connect with my handy cable. Yeah, I had foreseen the sandals and the silk skirts, but I let the technological question slip through the cracks. Like, everyone must know I have to have a connection. I finish the article by midnight, transfer it to the flash drive, and start fiddling around with the house computer that has at least half a dozen portals and I can’t find out which one I’m plugged into. It will be dawn in Tel Aviv and Amnon is still waiting for my article so he can translate it and… Youpie! Found it. Portal “M.” Swoosh! It’s on its way.
Wednesday, on our way to the country club: I have been forewarned. They’re all for Obama and they’ve already voted. Looking at those neat clipped greens, that big swimming pool, those oversized verandas, that stuff-them-to-the-gills buffet, all that hard-earned luxury belonging to slow moving white-haired men and women who came up the hard way and made it big, I’m thinking they have the best and the worst of America. They voted with their Jewish hearts, convinced it was the right thing, the Jewish thing to give that young man a chance at the highest office. They’re willing to share the wealth. They think it’s about money, an abstract operation. They don’t see what I see—the angered masses bearing down upon them to take it by force. They don’t see the hatred that is being ignited.
One gentleman agrees to have a real conversation. I don’t want to give away information that could identify him so I’ll just say that someone he knows has his bags packed, ready to move into the Obama administration. This man is so sure Obama is going to win by a landslide…he’d bet tens of thousands on it in Las Vegas. I have no thousands or dozens to bet, but I parry that it is going to be a very very close race and McCain will win. We settle on symbolic stakes: if I win, the loser will pointedly admit it to the face of my hostess who has been mercilessly hassled by Obamites for close to two years.
Thursday morning my hostess takes me to interview Lt. Col Allen West who is running for Congress. A fine upstanding man. A gorgeous hunk of a man. And--for those who haven’t been able to think past the MSM’s nose--the living reminder that Barack Obama is not the only African-American who can run for office. West, who comes from the Atlanta GA inner city neighborhood where Martin Luther King grew up, is running on the issues, not on the color of his skin. He is not at all fooled by Obama’s hype. West, a man of integrity who has learned the lessons of history, says this moment reminds him of how the masses were misled in 1930s Germany by a totalitarian leader who played on their angst. Obama, says West, operates with a combination of a well-oiled propaganda machine and a campaign of intimidation. (The full interview will be transmitted soon.)
I move over to Boca Raton and get ready for action. Pamela is flying in this evening. We have a rally in Boca the next morning. Tom Trento is on the ground and ready to roll. I’m trying to shed my slow European ways and get with these dynamos.
(to be continued)
The Great Reverse Schlep Part 2
Somewhere outside of Washington D.C.
November 5, 2008
Today’s Washington Times headline reads like a theater marquee: President Obama / America picks first black chief executive. The weather is announced on the dateline: Gloomy – High 63, Low 52. And the truths start tumbling into our gloomy laps. They said it wasn’t about race, and now we have the first black chief executive. Dewy-eyed FoxNews journalists granted him a historic victory for blackness and suddenly discovered his undeniable pragmatism; now that he is elected, he will certainly move to the center right. Reaching apotheosis, the mindless crowd in Grant Park chanted Yes We Can in unison. Yes We Can said the president-elect, wielding power over his hapless disciples who responded in one voice like one man Yes We Can. Yes We Can he repeated, like a lion tamer snapping the whip, Yes We Can they responded, religiously.
Russian Imperial Bonds. The image sloshed around in my head last week as I looked at the long line of unread messages in my inbox. We were on the move, picking up steam, gathering confidence, building instant networks and I couldn’t add another log of information to the already blazing fire of damning information about Barack Hussein Obama. Our task was to transform that energy into light = McCain Palin votes. And we were dauntless. Hah!
I was wrong. I thought the pollsters were playing footsie with Obama and his media. Nope. They were predicting the outcome. I didn’t want to believe it, I kept saying it’s not going to happen that way (I lost my bet with the gentleman at the West Palm Beach Country Club) and the only hint that I wasn’t fooling myself was that metaphor: Russian Imperial Bonds. All the precisely documented information on Obama accumulated in my archives would be, I thought, as worthless as Russian Imperial Bonds if he wins this election. There will be no further investigation. Case closed.
Writer, trust your metaphors. Okay, so now how do I tell our story? You saw the crowd at Grant Park last night? Someone at our election night party kept asking “Where are the Blacks?” You saw the crowd, young, white, and yuppie, with a token Oprah, a token Jesse J., tears rolling down their cheeks. Not to worry. We’ll soon find out where they are, the African Americans who gave Obama a dictator’s score. (Could someone check on this for me? Has any demographic sector ever given any candidate such a near-unanimous vote? I don’t think so!) Call me names but I’m still going to say it: welcome to tribal politics. And don’t say I didn’t warn you.
So there was this big rally at Grant Park on election night, and Pamela and I drew a crowd of about 50 in Sanborn Square in Boca Raton last Friday, on the first day of our mission to Florida. They came with signs, badges, t-shirts, flags, and bumper stickers. Tom Trento prepped us: this is a rally, you have to put your lips right onto the mike, speak up, make it strong and snappy. I sat down on a bench in the windy square and wrote up my notes. Over there in Paris where I live there’s not much opportunity for joining rallies. We had a march in 2002 to protest antisemitic attacks in France and “suicide bombings” in Israel but aside from that the demonstrations are all for “peace” and the Palestinians, for perks and against capitalism, for the status quo and against reform.
In no time the three of us—Tom, Pamela, and me—were operating as a hilarious sharpshooting team. We met highly motivated volunteers, and they appreciated us. We heard directly from the person who had exposed massive fraud by the Obama people in the Democratic primaries. As it turns out, this crucial information would be transformed into more Russian Imperial Bonds, but I didn’t know it then. We had hope…in fact, that was my punch line: “Keep the Change, we have the hope, it’s called hatikvah.” People said where were you all this time, why didn’t someone send you around, you’re terrific. It felt good but we didn’t get any messiah complex.
A rapid pit stop at Publix for clean restrooms and some snacks. No time for lunch. We had to zip down to Fort Lauderdale for a press conference organized by Revered O’Neal Dauzier, former football player, military man (20 years of service) and now a lawyer and pastor in a fine cut dark suit and some flashy jewelry. Dauzier was a darling of the Bush administration…until he took issue with a project to build a mosque next to his church. His straight talk about Islam pushed the upstanding jetblack man out of favor. Buffeted by the wind, we waited in front of the courthouse for an eternity. No press in sight. A policewoman came over every ten minutes to herd us back onto the grassy strip… Our barely tolerated mini-conference without the press was not allowed to congregate on the sidewalk.
A Lebanese Christian missionary, learning I live in Paris, engaged me in a long meandering conversation in French. She’ll be off to Syria and Lebanon this spring to proselytize. Now that’s dauntless! Though she looked a bit down at the heels, she said her father had been a chief justice before they were forced into exile, and I believe her. She has revelations. She told authorities forty years ago that the Islamists would ruin America as they had ruined Lebanon. No one believed her. She’s no crackpot. We too might look down at the heels a few years from now.
My cell phone rings. One of those dynamic women who had come to our rally invites us to do a salon meeting tomorrow evening. The whole thing is put together before shabat. I’m dazzled by this American pace. It makes me realize how slow we are in France.
(To be continued. You understand the pain of it all. It’s like telling the story of a fantastic whirlwind romance-- the man you’d always dreamed of meeting, and there he was, in a tropical setting, and it clicked, and it soared, and the sails of your heart were billowing… and you parted at the airport with so many tender kisses and promises to resume the following weekend…and the next day the whole thing fell apart with one phone call… OK, this is just politics, so what if our country broke loose of its moorings right before our eyes. We’ll figure out what to do about it, n’est-ce pas? But I’d just like to go on record here and now: this was not an election, it was a coup d’état.)
POLLER'S FINAL INSTALLMENT: THE GREAT REVERSE SCHLEP
Nidra has outdone herself in this, her last installment of what seems forever ago, The Great Reverse Schlep (*sigh*)
THE GREAT REVERSE SCHLEP PART 3 & CONCLUSION
Think of it—the money that wasn’t spent to send us on speaking tours last year is gone now, washed away with the stock market crash, swallowed up in the subprime shill, down the drain, vanished in quantities I can’t even imagine. All we needed was a smidgeon. A smidgeon of money, a smidgeon of organizational savvy, a handful of people who knew what was at stake and recognized what we could do. I rang e-mail doorbells every few months. To no avail. And most of my editors, too, lent me a deaf ear on that issue. As if an American in Paris couldn’t understand the fine points of presidential elections back home.
Here, for example:
EURABIAN OBAMANIA
If European Obamaniacs had their way, they’d steal every American’s right to vote and elect BHO president of the USA, the world, and the heavens above.
Nidra Poller
Paris, July 28 2008
The flames of French Obamania leaped skyward last week when the once and future president, glowing from his mass rally in Berlin, stopped in Paris on his way to London. Pushing past the statistics—a recent poll showed over 80% of the French would vote for him if only they could—what does this wishful thinking reveal about the expectations aroused by the charismatic candidate? While Obama worshippers the world over clamor for a right to vote in the November elections, their enthusiasm should reciprocally help Americans understand what is at stake. Two interlocking redemptive fallacies, focused on Obama’s enhanced racial value and the international dividends this will incur, are clarified in the light of European incandescence.
Transposed to France, where 99.99% of the media are rooting for the “first black American president,” the Obama look-alike would not be a slim trim sexy Antillean intellectual. He would be a Muslim, a real Muslim, not a Christian convert. Modern, of course, with no ostentatious religious symbols that could disturb resolutely secular French voters, but Muslim in heart and soul, arisen from the beleaguered immigrant class and placed on high to prove that France, too, has atoned for its sins of racism and colonialism. Only a Muslim could fulfill this role. No other minorities—Chinese, Jewish, Brazilian, etc. —need apply.
[Read more (link)]
A French newscaster announced last night the first ripple of the “Obama effect:” The German green party elected a Turkish immigrant as its president. Youpie. They were ecstatic. Their own little Obama. And more to come.
Pamela and I don’t think we could have stopped the Obama disaster with our bare hands. But we know that as two individuals we assumed the entire responsibility for the fate of our country. And we stand by that.
Saturday morning I attended services with my cousin in one of those gorgeous Boca Raton synagogues. Twin girls were celebrating their bat mitzvah. Our little Marais synagogues are shabby, stuffy, and skimpily attended despite their precious art nouveau architecture. But this American Jewish opulence is a deadly trap. They don’t know, they don’t know what is breathing down their necks, they’re insulated, they feel safe, they indulge in the luxury of voting for a con man who is going to push Israel up against the wall, they think their man will heal relations with that suave, sophisticated Europe, haven for cultivated tourists, and model of universal health care. Hear O Boca Raton, Europe is already in the grip of the hand that is reaching for your necks.
The Saturday night parlor meeting in a haven of intelligence. Sliding glass doors open onto the patio and, beyond, the swimming pool. Portraits of bearded rabbi-scholars, each one framed with an original specimen of his writings, encourage us. Precocious children listen intently. Our hostess and her teenage daughters flit in and out of doors carrying trays of fruits and cakes. We have a full house of alert, informed, concerned allies. One guest laments that no matter what you say to an Obama voter, you can’t change his mind. Another wishes we had come sooner, he would have taken us to a whole string of residents for the elderly…voter. And one woman came up after our talk and whispered, “I was undecided. You convinced me.” I had heard Biden that afternoon declaim the New Foreign Policy. America would be known “for the power of its ideas and not the idea of power.” Typical French rhetoric. Tell it to the Taliban, buddy. They’ll really be impressed. And bin Laden will walk out of his cave into the light shed by Holy Obama. Pamela said “Forget the media, that’s finished, it’s over, don’t expect anything, create new media.”
We’d only started on Friday morning, and already we were plugged into a vibrant network. It was exhilarating…and poignant. If only we had been there earlier, stayed longer, got to people before they voted. The early voting trick had worked wonders with Florida seniors. Most of them had voted for Obama before the LA Times video story broke. But so what? Did they care if Obama was buddy buddy with Rachid Khalidi, lied about it, added to the flames at an Israel bashing dinner in Khalidi’’s honor?
SOS! Informed that NY Congressman Jerrold Nadler would be preaching Obama at the Boca Raton synagogue on Sunday afternoon we promised to be there to confront him.
A whiff of the Florida night and back into the white Trentomobile that escorted us to our respective lodgings… And picked us up Sunday morning for the event at Wynmoor retirement center. We drew a pretty good audience…mainly drawn from the tiny minority of McCain-Palin voters lost in a vast Obamaland of transplanted Northerners with NY and NJ mentalities intact. A few indignant women slammed their walkers as they stormed out, complaining they had been misled about the tone of the meeting, but one brave Obama fan agreed to hear us out and ask us tough questions.
Tom had briefed us on the way down, and I think we gave our best performance that morning. We were rewarded with a quick visit to the windswept Delray beach followed by lunch in an Italian restaurant… calamari fritti e tutti quanti. We ran back to the hotel, Pamela was charging batteries…camera, computer, or both. I sit back in admiration of her high-tech operation that picks up speed as we go, inputting, downloading, broadcasting, all from a batch of material that could fit into a small picnic basket. I work without instruments, soaking up impressions, trusting my memory and wordsmithing to bring you the behind the scenes story…delivered in fits and starts due to circumstances beyond my control.
Oops, something is missing from Pamela’s pint size broadcasting network. No problem. It’s Sunday afternoon in the US of A. We stop at a Radio Shack (or is it a Best Buy?), she dashes in like Superwoman slipping into a phone booth and I muse on the tangle of regulations, derogations, and conflicts over doing business on Sunday in France. Workers want it, unions are against it, the government can’t get out of the mess and just say “Be Free and Prosper.” Tom drives around the parking lot, comes back to the starting point, and we find Pamela folded into four with uncontrollable laughter. She’s fitting the thingamajig to her computer, laughing her head off, and telling us how she’d found what she needed, purchased it, ran out of the store faster than the speed of light, and beelined for …ha ho hee ha…the Trentomobile but…oh ho hoo ha…it wasn’t that white car it was another white car…aie aie aie…and the occupants were flipping (lucky they didn’t shoot first and flip afterward)…when suddenly…now we’re all laughing our heads off…she realized…and we pulled up…and, still hilarious, she starts downloading or uploading or both.
There’s a plethora of white cars in Florida. But only one Trentomobile.
I know this Boca Raton synagogue at Montoya Circle. I spoke there about a year and a half ago. Had a huge audience. I told them about antisemitism, anti-Zionism, anti-Americanism in France… the atrocious murder of Ilan Halimi, lured, held hostage for 3 weeks, tormented, tortured to death in a homemade death camp in a banlieue of Paris.
Today, Jerrold Nadler, representative of the Soho, Village, Chelsea etc. yuppies, is there to talk up Obama--kosher for the presidency. I don’t suppose the Yes You Can Man has such a huge following in this Orthodox synagogue, but his groupies are there with badges and leaflets. Waiting outside I meet the mother of McCain’s Jewish Outreach guy. She tells me that Michelle Obama attended the wedding of Khalidi’s daughter…just two weeks ago.
We split up and blend into the audience. Nadler’s spiel is familiar stuff to me. He’s retailing the European foreign policy nonsense I hear every day. Obama is good for Israel because he’s going to push forward the peace process. There’s no other way so let’s get on with it. McCain’s a hothead. Wants to go to war with Russia over Georgia. Naw! Let Russian take care of its own front yard. Would we want Russian troops on our doorstep? So? Let them have Georgia, what do we need with Georgia, we’ve got our hands full already. Iran. Ah! This Bush administration pretends to talk tough but where did it get them? We know what to do with Iran. Give them a clear choice! You play ball with us, and we’ll be your good buddies. We’ll trade, we’ll schmooze, we’ll hang out. If not? Hoowoo, watch out, we’re going to give you some sanctions like you never saw in your life. And of course Obama will heal our spats with our European allies. Yeah, sure, and what else is old?
Pamela gets to ask a question and the fun begins. She wants to know why Obama attracts such unsavory endorsements. Hamas, Hizbullah, Black Panthers, Nation of Islam, Ghadafi…you name it. Nadler is no dupe! Look, y’have to understand, those people, they’re not stupid, they’re evil but they’re not stupid (watch out, here comes the punch line)…they endorse Obama so people will vote for McCain!!! Now tell me the Congressman is not sophisticated. Who would have ever thought of that one? Hamas, Hizbullah, etc. want McCain to win.
Pamela persists: There are phone banks in Gaza.
Nadler: Phone banks in Gaza? Where’d you get that story? From some stupid blog? There’s no phone banks in Gaza? If there were it would be all over the media, it would be a big problem for the campaign.
How many times did I see the Gaza phone banks on French TV? But let’s grant Nadler the greater truth: if everything we know about Obama were in the—mainstream—media it would be a big problem for the campaign. But it isn’t. So it’s created a big problem for all of us. But of course at that point in time, on November 2, 2008, we’re still pinning our hopes on that good old American common sense. We think McCain will win.
Now comes a Big Moment:
We jump into the Trentomobile. Tom pulls out his Blackberry. And gives us a preview of the Big Catch: a video of Nadler saying Obama “didn’t have the political courage to make a statement by walking out of Wright’s church.” Whoopy, this is the nugget we’ve been panning for. Someone had stopped Nadler in the hallway as he was about to leave the synagogue, no doubt satisfied with his brilliant performance, and asked him why Obama stayed in Wright’s church for 20 years. Nadler confides his “guess.” He’s a young man, he wants to go into politics, he comes to Chicago, doesn’t know anybody, Wright’s got 8,000 people in his church [not so, he had about 50 when Obama first joined]… Two years go by, he realizes the guy’s a lunatic, he doesn’t have the political courage to make a statement by leaving the church…that congregation of 8,000…
“For twenty years?”
“Yeah, for twenty years.”
And we’ve got the whole thing on tape. Before we reach our next destination, it’s passed from the Blackberry to the Atlas computer and out to the world. Here’s the guy who flew down from New York to vouch for Obama in a synagogue, and before he’s out the door he admits his hero didn’t have the political courage to stand up and walk out of the Jew-hating Jeremiah Wright’s church. The same Nadler who had the nerve to say—in a synagogue—that Jews who say bad things about Obama are guilty of lachon hora [the sin of calumny] now admits, as he is walking out the door, that what we were saying is true.
Were we riding high? I tell you! We’d bagged the white whale after a scant three days at sea.
I thought someone said Giuliani would be at the rally, maybe I misunderstood, maybe he didn’t make it. We got there late, but just in time to see our darling Allen West, soak up a bit of that luscious Florida night, and mill around with many of our new buddies. Some of them were going on to Miami where McCain would be speaking ‘round about midnight.
We opted for a little private celebration to show our appreciation for Tom who had been picking up all the tabs. Pamela and I invited for a splurge dinner in an upscale seafood place located in the closest thing to a European style neighborhood with restaurants, coffee shops, boutiques on the ground floor, apartments above, sidewalks, squares, and fountains…a real place where life is lived. Pamela’s pocket broadcaster had been chugging since the break of day. Now it was guzzling away behind the bar--she tipped the barman to keep an eye on it—while we delighted in stone crabs, great wine, and myriad delicacies. We walked out into the tropical night, Pamela holding her computer like a giant pair of castanets.
The next evening I was watching FoxNews without the sound (I don’t like headphones) as my JetBlue flight approached Washington, and what do I see? Three little incrustations: Wright, Obama, Nadler, and the quote “He didn’t have the political courage…” Bingo! Later that evening Greta van Susteren played the whole video. Unfortunately she invited a little Howdy Doody from Politico to comment, which he did, dismally. But Greta really captured the essence of the incident, and said so at length and in detail.
That and a nickel could have kept Obama from winning, but it didn’t happen and now what will they say for themselves, the ones who voted for him, the ones who told Jews to close their eyes and vote for him? And all those clever journalists who managed to write about him in measured terms, as if he were a normal candidate in a normal election? They didn’t miss a step. They were out there on the 5th of November chatting about how he might do this and might not do that. Don’t they feel the slightest bit responsible for what happened? The MSM lied, cheated, and stole just like their hero. But many so-called conservative media fell down on the job and should be asking themselves why instead of clinging to their perches and blithely understating the disaster.
The most powerful nation in the free world has just handed over the keys to a snooty kid with a head full of dangerous isms and a closet full of radical hacks and he is going to wreck the place something terrible. It’s simple: the man is the continuation of what he was, he is the outcome of what he has done up to now, he will govern as he campaigned. Keeping the truth about Obama behind a stone wall didn’t make it go away. It’s in your face now, America.
Zawahiri has already stepped up to the plate. Please let me know if a single Obama disciple, Obama apologist, Obama voter, Obama-loving journalist has come forward to explain why Zawahiri doesn’t understand that he is supposed to love us now that we’ve put B. Hussein O’s face on our repentant nation? Love us, yes, he’s going to love us to bits. But how come he doesn’t understand the YesWeCan ethic? How come he doesn’t appreciate our post-racial generosity? Ahh, what a shame your NY Times intellectuals didn’t tell you about Muslim contempt for Blacks! Didn’t we warn you that Muslims could rightfully see the president-elect as a despicable apostate and not a shining emblem of diversity?
Meanwhile, it looks like he’s going to fill his cabinet with Clinton era retreads. Has the Washington Post gulped? Is MSNBC surprised? Does the Jewish Council for Research and Education (proud producers of the schlocky Sarah Silverman Great Schlep operation & film) have second thoughts? Since they didn’t have first thoughts, it wouldn’t be too early to begin!
It seems he’s going to get on board with the infamous Saudi Peace Plan. Of course that’s been denied. It seems Robert Malley danced over to whisper tender words in the ears of the Syrian and Egyptian dictators. That too is denied. Bashir al Assad and Hosni Mubarak are just guys who lived in Obama’s neighborhood. And the Saudi Peace Plan is even better than the Ahmadinejad Extermination Plan because it’s colorless, odorless, and guiltless. You can destroy Israel, place the rest of the world’s Jews in mortal danger and outdo the Shoah with the benevolent complicity of international opinion, and never get caught with an antisemitic word on your tongue!
And still there are so many who think it’s just a bump and not a disaster. They don’t think dissent can be stifled in the U.S. as it is, for example in France. But we just saw it happen in front of our eyes. As the 12 year-old boy wisely asked at the parlor meeting: how many people would vote for him if they knew what you just told us? It’s that simple. 1. Most people believe what they read in mainstream media and mistrust what is reported in the new media. 2. Fully documented, verified, cross-checked information on Barack Obama was available, and published by, for example, www.atlasshrugs.com. 3. Voters infatuated with Obama would have voted for him anyway. 4. A far greater portion of independents would have refrained from voting for him if they were well-informed. 5. If citizens can be so easily led astray by a campaign, how will they fare when he has all his fingers on all the buttons of power?
The worldwide hysterical adulation for the mythical person of Barack Hussein Obama is a terrifying threat to democracy. As we shall soon see.
Posted by Pamela Geller on Thursday, November 20, 2008 at 12:10 PM in The GREAT REVERSE SCHLEP: Save the Jews Tour | Permalink
Nidra Poller
nidrapol@gmail.com
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