Monday, April 20, 2009


So some of the spineless diplomats who didn't manage to boycott the Geneva charade did at least manage to wriggle out on their shameful serpent bellies during Ahmedinejihad's speech. Even by his standards, it was totally nuts - just the kind of finger one wants on the nuclear trigger. He started with the classic "Palestine was expropriated by the Jooz" tirade, which prompted a first wave of walkouts, then ranted on through Israel being "a most cruel and racist regime" and "genocide of the innocent Palestinians while the world stood by", before explicitly blaming "the Zionists" for the war on Iraq.

Still, all credit to him for his oratory skills, he kept steadily spitting bile as a solid hundred delegates got up and huffed out, not to mention a couple of protestors running in wearing very funky wigs.

Needless to say, the BBC managed its usual spin, with a preview report saying how the whole thing had been made a farce by all the nasty boycotters, then managing not to translate his speech. Prior to that, an interview with an expert about North Korea's nuclear arsenal was quickly turned by the Beeb anchor into a discussion about Israel's nuclear ambiguity, and suggesting that Israel could just declare then give up its weapons in return for Iran ceasing their nuclear programme. Nice one.

A little affirmation is needed; may I first recommend readers to Calev's wonderful blog, In The Land Of Milk And Honey, and secondly I am cribbing a passage from Amos Oz that he just used, by way of sticking two fingers up to Ahmedinejad, the people who stayed on the conference floor, and the continued insidious bias of the BBC.
Then he [my father] told me in a whisper, without once calling me Your Highness or Your Honour, what some hooligans did to him and his brother David in Odessa and what some gentile boys did to him at his Polish school in Vilna, and the girls joined in too, and the next day, when his father, Grandpa Alexander, came to the school to register a complaint, the bullies refused to return the torn trousers but attacked his father, Grandpa, in front of his eyes, forced him down on the paving stones and removed his trousers too in the middle of the playground, and the girls laughed and made dirty jokes, saying that Jews were all so-and-sos, while the teachers watched and said nothing, or maybe they were laughing too.

And still in a voice of darkness with his hand still losing its way in my hair (because he was not
used to stroking my hair) my father told me under my blanket in the early hours of the thirtieth of November 1947, ‘Bullies may well bother you in the street or at school some day. They may do it precisely because you are a bit like me. But from now on, from the moment we have our own state, you will never be bullied just because you are a Jew and because Jews are so-and-sos. Not that. Never again. From tonight that’s finished here. For ever.’

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