Fireproofed private parts

Tuesday, August 16, 2005

Heartbreak and Bravery in Gush Katif

May Gd bless and protect these very special people.

August 14, 2005, The Alamo from Moshe Saperstein, Neve Dekalim, Gush
Katif: E-mail:

It is late afternoon, the Ninth of Av, the temperature has been in the
90's much of the day, piled up garbage outside stinks and we inside
aren't smelling like roses.

Fifteen places are set out at our table and I'd rather continue the
fast than have to sit down and be sociable. My mood swings have
narrowed considerably.

Pessimistic: "If I had two hands I'd slit my wrists".

Optimistic: "Thank G-d I'm getting deafer [so I don't have to hear the
chatter in the house]".

Police vans manned by special bonebreaker squads tear up and down the
streets looking for `illegals' – by midnight we will all be officially
illegal – and many of those sleeping rough will seek a roof. Rachel
estimates we should have about twenty five by morning.

Our home, a spacious paradise for Rachel and I – two toilets, no
waiting – has been turned into a flophouse and Torah lecture hall. I,
who would get antsy if my children and grandchildren stayed more than
a weekend, now stand in line to use the facilities. And this has been
going on for weeks.

Among our guests are Rabbi Chaim Eisen and his wife and three sons,
from Jerusalem. Sunday through Thursday nights, from 9:15-10pm, he
lectures. Lately, as many as thirty people show up. Rachel is
delighted. You would think I would be pleased, as well. Alas, my
spiritual level is so low that I just sit in my room gnashing my false
teeth that I am being deprived of watching "Law and Order".

Adding to my discomfort… hourly public address announcements about
prayer sessions. Prominent circuit-riding preachers hold separate
sessions for men, women, transgender, children, pets. Now, I have
nothing against prayer, preferably silent. But loud exhortations to
the Almighty, with a capella weeping, leave me cold.


From reading the above you can understand why I haven't written in
over half a year. These are heroic times. They call for heroic prose.
Rachel provides that prose; short, declarative sentences, the message
stated and repeated. And what makes Rachel so effective is that she
writes from the heart. No jokes, no artifice. And her heart touches
the hearts of her many readers. While I write from the spleen, in long
and calculated prose. Clearly, my brand of self-indulgence is not what
is needed now.

From reading the above you can also understand why this will be my
last letter. Those who have been with me awhile have read these
pronouncements before, and are either yawning or smirking. But there
are lots of objective reasons, namely that as I write thousands of
soldiers and hundreds of police are smashing through the locked gates
of Neve Dekalim, and our electricity and water may be turned off at
any moment. So I have serious doubts as to whether I'll even be able
to finish this, much less send it off.

Now most of you know me for the con artist that I am, so you can take
the following with a pillar of salt.

I no longer have fantasies about sex, or Glatt Mart salami, or
conducting complete Mahler and Bruckner cycles, or scoring a hat
trick, or hitting the game-winning home run. My fantasies now are
Teutonic, even Wagnerian. I fully expect to be dead, in hospital or in
jail within a week. I have visions of myself shot, or beaten, or
crushed under the wheels of a large vehicle. [In my case it had better
be a very large vehicle.] I don't know if my fantasies are genuine
premonitions, as I've had before, or just my peculiar way of psyching
myself up for the battle to come.

The battle is very important to me. For reasons you all know I am
mistakenly thought of as a hero. There are people here who actually
greet me, without a trace of sarcasm, as "Hero", "Our hero" and
"Moshe, our hero". I cringe with shame. This battle is my chance –
ailing and aging, my last chance – to be a hero in my own eyes.

Added to this is the knowledge that I have twice been saved – in the
Yom Kippur War and in February 2002 – in ways that defy rational
explanation. Better people than I, younger and promising, died while I
was saved. Why? Certainly not to entertain you with these letters.
Right or wrong, I have come to the belief that I have been saved to do
something of worth in the battle, to redeem myself for lifelong
cowardice, to justify my taking up space on earth.

There is more that I could say, even more that I won't say. But time
grows short.

A word about Rachel the Magnificent. When Gush Katif first came to the
attention of the world's journalists it was I who took most of the
interviews. Rachel, lacking in self confidence, did the overflow. As
her confidence and competence grew, and as I faded physically and
emotionally, she took over more and more of the burden. To the point
where today, and only with the greatest reluctance, I do the overflow.

There was a point where I was jealous. But when I saw the brilliance –
no other word will do – with which she does these things, and when I
recognized that my ego had blinded me to my incompetence as an
interviewee, and when I understood that the cause for which we are
fighting transcends us as individuals, only then could I sit back and
appreciate her for the marvel that she is.

A word about the cats. I had stopped feeding them many months ago, and
after a short period of whining they just kept their distance and
watched. An ideal situation. Then, one day, out of the blue, Minie
walked up to me while I was hanging laundry. I melted. And brought out
some food. And so it began again. And suddenly Minie appeared with
three kittens, one gold, one gold, black and white, one gold, gray and
white. Our French neighbor, Edmond, who had been the major food
provider to Ugly, Stupid, et al, left Neve Dekalim several days ago.
The cats seem to have left with him. Even Minie has disappeared. So I
am left with the kittens, whom I feed several times a day even though
we are supposed to be rationing our food. I wonder what will become of
them if…

Above I said I hadn't written in over half a year. Not quite true. I
have attempted to write, on occasion. And, bloated ego that I am, I
believe that whatever I write is worth preserving. So don't be
surprised if I send one or two `bleeding chunks'. They will be listed
as `appendices', as in appendix, a useless appendage.

Finally, as I am pushing my luck by not sending this off before the
power is cut off, a favor: please don't reply to this. Just control
your desire to answer. Without power I won't be able to receive them.
Even with power, I may not be able to deal with them emotionally.

Know that I am happy, doing what I want to do.

Moshe Saperstein, Neve Dekalim, Gush Katif: e mail:

My Last Letter From Gush Katif
From: Rachel Saperstein, Neve Dekalim

I am crying. Tears stream down as I write this letter to you.

We are packing. Tonight we will receive our eviction letter. The
soldiers will knock at our door and we will answer the door… Tomorrow
we will be put on to buses and brought… who knows where.

Our friends who have been living with us are packing up my home. I am
so grateful they are here and doing this awful work. I don't care if
my things are clean or folded carefully. They are just thrown into
cardboard boxes provided by the army, each marked with our name and a
blue sticker. An ugly red shipping container will probably be put on
our front lawn today, the visible sign that we are leaving.

Residents were called to the town hall for an emergency meeting this
morning. Our mayor, Lior Kalfa, gave us our instructions. Rabbi Yigal
Kaminetzky praised the large crowd of people who did not leave. Eighty
percent of Neve Dekalim residents are here today. We are the people
who have held out to the end under the most difficult conditions. War
weary after five years of bombardment and a year of extreme
psychological pressure, we are still here.

Ariel Sharon has won the battle but he lost the war. He has lost the
people of Israel. He has crushed the soul of our soldiers.

Gush Katif will rise again, at another time and in another place. We
were a source of inspiration, of greatness, a fight well fought, a
fight for the right to be a Jew in a Jewish land.

Gush Katif will rise and the Sharon government will be remembered with
contempt by the people.

And so this chapter is over.

From: Rachel Saperstein, Neve Dekalim, Gush Katif

Fireproof private parts?

Posted by Voice:
By Beth Goodtree
August 15, 2005

Having listened to the pundits and experts on Islamic suicide bombings, these narrowly-focused authorities all seem to miss one glaring point: a desire for debauchery. Take unrelenting hatred, a lust for the depraved and a religion that promises utterly unspiritual orgies of alcohol and sex and you often get a genocidal suicide bomber.

In a symposium held by FrontPage magazine, Dr. Hans-Peter Raddatz, a scholar of Islamic Studies and author of a number of books, including Von Allah zum Terror? Der Djihad und die Deformierung des Westens (From Allah to Terror? Jihad and the Western Deformation), made the following revelation regarding these bombers:

“Some of the Palestinian suicide bombers wrap their penises into fire-proof aluminum foil to save them for the pleasures to come.’’(1)

Naturally, this begs us to question the Muslim contention that we worship the same one G-d.

Jews and Christians all say “There is no God but God.“ We’ll even say it in any other language you’d prefer: Il n'y a aucun Dieu mais un Dieu, não há nenhum Deus mas Deus, er zijn geen God maar God. Be it French, Portuguese, Dutch or any language of your choosing, we will say it in the exact words of that language.

But not the Muslims.

Ask most Muslims (Sufis are one exception to this) and they’ll profess that they believe in the one God we do, but will absolutely refuse to say it. Instead, they say “There is no God but ALLAH.”

Although they insist that ALLAH merely means ‘God’ in Arabic, one must ask then why won’t they then say ‘God’ in another language?

The reason is that, in true Muslim form, they are using the holy ploy of lying, known as al-Taqiyya, to confuse one’s enemies -- in this case anyone who is a non-Muslim is considered an enemy. They tell us that ALLAH means ‘God;’ they do not tell us that their version of God is the diametric opposite from ours. Their ALLAH-god celebrates what we consider to be evil incarnate.

Our God does not have a Heaven filled with every carnal vice. Our spirits are beyond fleshly perversions. In fact, according to Judeo-Christian philosophy (as well as other religions), it is only in the realms known to be inhabited by demons and the ultimate evil that sexual orgies, fornication, drunkenness and every other twisting of moral laws is said to take place.

But not according to most Muslims, who hand out candy every time a Jew is blown up, or some ‘Crusader’ site is rocked by explosions and carnage.

However, not only are their religious beliefs directly opposed to ours, their philosophy surrounding it is totally without logic. The whole concept of a fireproof penis proves this.

Logically, how can one fornicate unless one has arms, legs, a torso and even a head? Are they to be disembodied penises, ripping through 72 poor virgins again and again for all eternity? And if their ALLAH will supposedly restore their bodies once dead, why not the penis? Show me where in the Koran or Hadiths it says this.

So now we come to all those fireproof penises that supposedly forced Israel to turn her own citizens into refugees by stealing their homes, lands and businesses and turning them over, with no quid pro quo, to the very people who have been mercilessly and unrelentingly attacking them.

There are the children of Noga Cohen, who luckily escaped one fireproof penis suicide/genocide murderer only to succumb to his hate-filled compatriots.(2) Three of her children had their legs blown off while on their way to school from the town of Kfar Darom. Their school bus was sprayed by shrapnel from a mortar shell fired by Arab Palestinian terrorists bent upon killing off Jewish children as a way to commit genocide on the Jewish people by murdering their future generation.

In the end, Ariel Sharon, ever safe from fireproof penis genocidal murderers, has decided to give in to them. We may expect to see more fireproof penis murders, but this time in Jerusalem, Tel Aviv, Ashdod and the like. After all, just this past week, the leaders of the Arabs occupying Jewish Palestine just said that Gaza is merely the beginning.

Meanwhile Ariel Sharon and his buddies, who plan to establish a private casino on the ashes of the Jewish towns he singlehandedly destroyed, will probably sell these fireproof penis bombers the aluminum foil.

End Notes



Beth Goodtree is a popular writer covering Middle East politics, national interests and also writes the occasional science and humor pieces. Her website is Ms. Goodtree is a regular valued contributor to JewishIndy. Beth is also the inventor of the Mazel Tov Cocktail:
Start with some nice Kosher wine, add a bissele Cel-Ray tonic, serve with a cherry in a fancy-shmancy clean glass, and say this toast: "May my enemies be wealthy beyond dreams, may they have houses with 50 bedrooms, and may they not get a single good night's sleep in any one of them!"
She may be reached at
Website: Click here: Beth Goodtree