I was a child prodigy. At the ripe age of 10 months, I was already a warrior in the brutal occupying Israeli armed forces. I invaded and occupied my playground in Hevron, ridding such territory of its inhabitants. While in the arms of my father, I was shot dead by a sniper?s bullet, which tore through my skull. The international media sympathized with my parents for a couple of days, but then woke up and remembered that the poor Palestinian sniper was acting in self-defense against my territorial advances.
Then I was reborn as an American teenager who made aliyah with my family at the age of seven. One day, when I was fourteen, I was hiking with my good friend in the wadi near our home in Tekoa. Although we appeared to be merely taking a nature walk, the Arab gang that set upon us and brutally murdered us must have known that we had skipped school to go on a clandestine reconnaissance mission in support of our objective of invading this strategically important territory.
First, the Arabs smashed our heads repeatedly with rocks, in order to destroy the intelligence information we had gathered. Then they stabbed us so many times we were virtually unrecognizable, just to make sure we were really dead. I guess if those calls for restraint from Colin Powell and others preaching ?even-handedness? would?ve applied not just to the Israelis, those Arabs really would have had something to worry about. As it was, I felt bad for having damaged the peace process by my actions on behalf of Zionist expansionism.
Then I was reborn as a recent immigrant from Russia. As Zionist invaders, under the guise of wanting to escape from decades of state-sponsored repression of our Judaism, we naturally chose to support the international Jewish conspiracy by settling in the occupied territory of Tel Aviv. One night in early June of 2001, my elite unit amassed with other Russian immigrant high school warriors for the purpose of invading the Dolphinarium (ostensibly a discotheque, but potentially an enemy stronghold). Our impending attack was repulsed by the noble suicide bomber, who doubtless secured for himself a lofty position in Paradise by his selfless act of self-defense.
Once again, our benevolent neighbors had prevented us from destroying the peace process. As the last pieces of my flesh were being scraped off the pavement by the Chevra Kadisha (yet another front for an Israeli clean-up operation), I could only admire the suicide bomber for the measured restraint he had shown in defending himself against us Zionist occupiers. From our fresh graves, I and twenty of my schoolmates and warrior friends heard with appreciation Yasser Arafat?s words of comfort. We were grateful for his agreement to another five minute ceasefire and we expressed approval of the decision to entrust the safety and security of our surviving friends and families to such a great protector of the Jewish people.
The correctness of our perspective was born out, and our deference to world opinion amply rewarded, when another valiant suicide bomber (obviously competing with his aforementioned comrade for that elevated place in Paradise) blew himself up in the midst of that bastion of occupation, that hotbed of Zionist activity, Sbarro?s pizzeria in Jerusalem. By that time, I had been reborn as the four year old son of immigrants from Holland. We (my parents, four of my warrior siblings and myself) had nearly completed our plans for the renewed Judaization of Jerusalem (hatched over the standard military fare of penne arribiata and zucchini pizza), when our nefarious designs were thwarted by the self-sacrificing suicide bomber. He had chosen to place himself as near as possible to myself and other infant Zionist warriors, in a last heroic act of self-defense and restraint.
As I watched the Chevra Kadisha removing the last pieces of flesh from the overturned strollers, I wondered whether my people would be thusly inspired to turn away from our ?provocative? actions and instead exercise such magnanimous restraint. Then I saw the newscasts that very night. Before the earth was even dry on my tiny fresh grave, I was reminded by Colin Powell, et al, that our responses had been ?excessive? (especially when we blew up that empty police station) and that if we did not learn to show more restraint (we obviously had a lot of room for improvement), we would once again destroy the peace process. I then finally realized the suicide bomber?s true objective: He was simply trying to prevent me from escalating the conflict.
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Brian Belmont is a Toronto-based attorney.
Then I was reborn as an American teenager who made aliyah with my family at the age of seven. One day, when I was fourteen, I was hiking with my good friend in the wadi near our home in Tekoa. Although we appeared to be merely taking a nature walk, the Arab gang that set upon us and brutally murdered us must have known that we had skipped school to go on a clandestine reconnaissance mission in support of our objective of invading this strategically important territory.
First, the Arabs smashed our heads repeatedly with rocks, in order to destroy the intelligence information we had gathered. Then they stabbed us so many times we were virtually unrecognizable, just to make sure we were really dead. I guess if those calls for restraint from Colin Powell and others preaching ?even-handedness? would?ve applied not just to the Israelis, those Arabs really would have had something to worry about. As it was, I felt bad for having damaged the peace process by my actions on behalf of Zionist expansionism.
Then I was reborn as a recent immigrant from Russia. As Zionist invaders, under the guise of wanting to escape from decades of state-sponsored repression of our Judaism, we naturally chose to support the international Jewish conspiracy by settling in the occupied territory of Tel Aviv. One night in early June of 2001, my elite unit amassed with other Russian immigrant high school warriors for the purpose of invading the Dolphinarium (ostensibly a discotheque, but potentially an enemy stronghold). Our impending attack was repulsed by the noble suicide bomber, who doubtless secured for himself a lofty position in Paradise by his selfless act of self-defense.
Once again, our benevolent neighbors had prevented us from destroying the peace process. As the last pieces of my flesh were being scraped off the pavement by the Chevra Kadisha (yet another front for an Israeli clean-up operation), I could only admire the suicide bomber for the measured restraint he had shown in defending himself against us Zionist occupiers. From our fresh graves, I and twenty of my schoolmates and warrior friends heard with appreciation Yasser Arafat?s words of comfort. We were grateful for his agreement to another five minute ceasefire and we expressed approval of the decision to entrust the safety and security of our surviving friends and families to such a great protector of the Jewish people.
The correctness of our perspective was born out, and our deference to world opinion amply rewarded, when another valiant suicide bomber (obviously competing with his aforementioned comrade for that elevated place in Paradise) blew himself up in the midst of that bastion of occupation, that hotbed of Zionist activity, Sbarro?s pizzeria in Jerusalem. By that time, I had been reborn as the four year old son of immigrants from Holland. We (my parents, four of my warrior siblings and myself) had nearly completed our plans for the renewed Judaization of Jerusalem (hatched over the standard military fare of penne arribiata and zucchini pizza), when our nefarious designs were thwarted by the self-sacrificing suicide bomber. He had chosen to place himself as near as possible to myself and other infant Zionist warriors, in a last heroic act of self-defense and restraint.
As I watched the Chevra Kadisha removing the last pieces of flesh from the overturned strollers, I wondered whether my people would be thusly inspired to turn away from our ?provocative? actions and instead exercise such magnanimous restraint. Then I saw the newscasts that very night. Before the earth was even dry on my tiny fresh grave, I was reminded by Colin Powell, et al, that our responses had been ?excessive? (especially when we blew up that empty police station) and that if we did not learn to show more restraint (we obviously had a lot of room for improvement), we would once again destroy the peace process. I then finally realized the suicide bomber?s true objective: He was simply trying to prevent me from escalating the conflict.
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Brian Belmont is a Toronto-based attorney.