Hezbolla, Schmezbolla

I have a bit of difficulty taking seriously any political movement whose members cannot even agree upon the spelling of its name. Since this group of malcontents has put itself into the spotlight recently we've seen banners reading Hezbolla, Hizbolla, Hizbulla, and God knows how many other variations.

It's hard enough for a joe-sixpack type like me to absorb names that involve the letter Q, without a U immediately following. At least the protest group du jour unifies itself by the wearing of the keffiyeh, if that's spelled properly. Honest to God, if you'd mentioned the name of that head scarf to me two weeks ago out of context, I would have assumed it was some new watered-down-coffee drink from Starbucks.

All joking aside, I was astounded at the cowardice demonstrated in the Solmonia coverage of Boston's anti-Semite moonbat demonstrations. You could at least understand the ranting of the principal speaker in Seva Brodsky's video. That's a credit to both Brodsky and the organizers of the riot demonstration. There is nothing more frustrating than being really worked up for a good soap box speech, and having to deliver it over a crummy PA system. But back to the main point...by "cowardice," I refer to the demonstrators' unwillingness to be photographed. Is this not jihad, a holy war in which the holiest act is to give one's life for the cause? That being true, why would so many supporters be so afraid to be identified? Imagine, if you will, the birth of the USA, had it been the cause celebre of a flock of people who hid behind masks. OK, you'll argue that the Federalist essays were signed pseudonymously. But it's clear this was done in the name of presenting Publius as a unifying voice, not in hiding the identities of the writers.

The Brodsky video does entertain, and reveals how many of the Hezbollites (sounds like either a Biblical term or a brand of laundry detergent, doesn't it?) are the same old retreaded American radicals. (That's retreaded, not "retarded.") Look at the woman who attempted to grab Brodsky's camera. She is the very quintessence of the peace-and-justice types: menopausal, a little dessicated, to borrow Spiro Agnew's term, effete. (This is one spot where Brodsky's coverage falls short. Ann Coulter would have revealed whether or not this aging dame had unshaven legs.) Then there's water-bottle-boy, who looks like some dufus who was just wandering past on the way to his summer-school class in remedial reading. Very threatening, that empty plastic vessel. I'm referring to the water bottle, although the term could just as easily be applied to the kid waving it. He looks like a good puff of wind would carry him away, down the block until the next bright, shiny object caught his attention.

Certainly, Hez-, Hiz-, whatever ought to be taken seriously in the middle east. ("Taken seriously," as in exterminated, to a person.) But for this gang of fools to be wandering around in Boston traffic, I believe that nature will eventually take its course.

tags: antisemitism  zionism  radicals  boston  moonbats  hezbolla  

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