Archive for January, 2011

Here It Comes

January 22, 2011

The time has come to write a little about myself.

I graduated from the University of Miami in December 2008.  It was an exacting curriculum that tested my mental disciplines.  This phrase from a UM campus tee-shirt says it best, “All it takes — is all you got.”

During the literature side of my coursework, I studied under some of the world’s finest professors.  Literature scholars who enriched my mind with the classics and the greats.  Their class room was a delight of learning.  Every minute golden.  Their exams opened a vein of lyrical catharsis.  I bled ink to the last second.

Then there were exams in the sciences, maths, sociology and “political science” written by sadists.  Their agenda was a clear one.   See which students could weather it.

Hiding among these great professors like copperheads were outrages against the Western Canon beyond my wildest nightmares.  Abominations against culture, literary art and all decency.  They shook the foundation of scholarship and sullied the study of literature with filth and perversion.  Their classes were a disgusting quagmire of smears against the Catholic Church, the Bard’s finest and a descent into back-alley smut.  The language that came from their mouths was nothing short of street corner sleaze.  Somebody had to approve these jokers.  Somebody had to hire them.  But who?  It became my mission to find out.

There was one literature professor who had us fill out index cards at the beginning of a semester  with personal information.  He wanted to know what city we were born in for some reason.   As he began lectures, he would walk down the aisle by my desk, staring at me, lecturing Nazi atrocities.  I questioned in my mind as he beat the dead horse of Nazi Germany, why a literature professor was off on a tangent that had nothing to do with our reading assignment.  I felt that he was lecturing “history” to me personally because of his physical proximity and eye contact.  But also perhaps because of my birth city.  Who hired these jokers?  It was a literature class.  Not a history class.

Then there was the journalism side of the house.  Here I knew that I had stricken the mother lode.  The finest, the sharpest, the grandest.  They were the best.  Boy did they teach me how to write the news.  And how to investigate the facts of a story.  Check every fact three times come hell or high water.   I don’t care if your mother says it’s true — go behind her back and check it anyway.  Dig down to the bare metal.  Check public records.  Get it right.  “A journalist is in the business of truth-telling.”  Those were my marching orders.  And they sent me all over the city researching public records, investigating an assigned target.  I came up with the goods, fleshed out the narrative and learned how it worked.  They taught me hard.  They taught me good.

Along this grueling steep, I felt a pelting of slings and arrows.   My efforts were downgraded one to two letter grades from several Jewish professors.  Jewish students heckled my math questions, went for my throat in critiques and did other mean-spirited things to me that I found — unfounded.  The only thing I could come up with was that I was not a Jew.

Five minutes before the professor arrived, a Jewish student in one of my journalism classes cussed me out.  He belittled me harshly in front of the class with great arrogance and charisma — for being ignorant of a recent Jewish holiday.  He was full of hatred and venom.  I was shocked by his demeanor.  Nothing I said could have earned his response.  He was the student sitting next to me.  Having missed the previous class, I was only asking him for lecture notes.  What I did not know was that he had also been absent due to a Jewish holiday.  This lack of knowledge earned me his Vesuvius.

The next day many of the Jewish students were wearing golden Star of David pendants outside their tee-shirts, exhibiting solidarity.  The following day I wore a large golden Cross.  If there is one Man whom I am not ashamed of,  it is Jesus Christ.  I was christened in His name shortly after birth and baptised 18 years later just to make double sure.  I am a Christian soul and don’t care who knows it.

Later I learned that everyone in the class with the exception of one black student and one Hispanic student was Jewish.  I was the only non-Jewish white person in the class.  As the semester progressed I noticed how the non-Jewish professor tread lightly around her Jewish students.  She seemed cowed by them.  As if they had the power to make or break her career.  This got my attention.

Upon reporting to the professor my experience with the disrespectful Jewish student and his vulgar outburst, she said that she would speak to him about it.  I confronted her after graduation to learn that she never did.  She seemed intimidated by her Jewish students.

Until that day I was gullible, trusting and clueless as most non-Jewish Americans about the Jewish worldview and undercurrent.  I had no negative vibes toward Jewish people nor toward things Jewish.  But after getting cussed out in class by a cocky punk who was younger than my own son would be, I knew that I wasn’t seeing the whole iceberg.

My academic life went down-hill from there.   I was threatened with expulsion by the campus disciplinary lawyer.  He interrogated me in a room at the end of a long hallway and tried to trick confessions out of me for things I did not do.  He was a master of sophistry.  But I was a fan of Socrates’ Divine Faculty.  So he failed.  And I graduated.

I felt that I was persecuted on campus for not being a Jew, but particularly for being a Christian.  The campus chaplain was an aficionado of the weekly dining menu.  When I wrote him about the anti-Christian climate on campus, he had no comment.  I realised then how effete our church had become.  Sort of like the Queen of England.  Aye Lady, where is thy scepter?

As I wagged my books through tropical steam, the question occurred to me, “Why did Hitler want the Jews out of Germany?”  Nobody ever told me the why of it.  All we got in history books was the standard “because he was a madman and a hater.”  It occurred to me I had not read a single word of what Adolf had to say about it.  I knew that I needed to stock up on light bulbs.  Because I had some reading to do.

This observation sparked a new awareness.  I began asking questions about what Jewish’ness was and what it meant in society.  I embarked on extracurricular study.  As I devoured books, I was shocked to learn things that have been completely suppressed during my life time.  And shocked to learn that what was in these books had been removed from the halls of academe.   Juxtaposed against  the venom spat upon me by this Jewish student, I experienced an epiphany.  Zionism is a scourge on all that is right and good.  And lies at the heart of all that is wrong with the world.

Looking at writing the news in a burgeoning new wave of media, just months away, I thought about what I had just learned.  There was no way in hell I was going to work for the mainstream media.  Nor sell my soul to the father of lies.

Zionism read to me like a hornets nest of venom, hatred, racism and sinister intent.   Their media assassinates the characters of good people.  And jeers at virtue.  They calumniate, besmirch and lampoon Christendom, the Holy Roman Catholic Church and the Mosque of its spiritual counterpart.  I want no part of their kind of writing.

The books I read that spanned centuries seemed as though they were written by one hand.  The crowning Voice of which are the words of Jesus Christ.  He was direct about it.  And left nothing to wonder.  The many books and articles I read were also in lock-step with the Holy Qur’an.  I was onto something.

The truth.

So it was no surprise that after publishing my first articles in a newspaper known for its acerbic criticism of Israel and brass tacks reporting, that I would draw fire from Zionist Jews.  And earn a place on the shit list of my Zionist-dominated university.  I fully expected persecution, lampoonery and the usual line-up of their hate squad.  Death threats and harassment were not unexpected and I sure got them.  Since September 2009 I have had three people crash their cars into me.  A few others charged out of side-roads at me, but missed.  One of the crashers seemed under the influence but the cops protected her from scrutiny.  She said that she worked for CNN.   Surely it was all a coincidence.  The trash man forgets to pick up our trash quite often.  That sort of thing.  I now understand what Jesus meant when He said, “Take up your cross and follow me.”

During my time with Jewish students, I saw some who were truth-seekers like David Cole and Baruch Spinoza.  They stood out among their fellows like Shakespeare’s “snowy dove trooping with crows.”  So stark and pure were they.  Dancing in their eyes was the light of truth.  An eager incandescence.   They were ever washed along by their Hillel classmates.  Ever pressured and counseled not to consort with Gentiles.  Some wore a crestfallen, brow-beaten expression.  Those poor kids.  Purists and scholars were they.  Bless their hearts.  May they break free from the grip of Zionist pathogen before they meet their Maker.

Those who dare break away from their raven flock and seek the face of truth — I am for them.

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