Why Weep for #Gaza

Gaza. 2014.

Gaza. 2014.

Screen shot 2014-07-15 at 3.59.27 PM

Gaza. 2014.

Gaza. 2014.

Why Weep for Gaza?


Pro-Israel immensely wealthy hedge fund operators, war machine investors and wheeler dealers along with white-haired post WWII Zionists drive the imperial objective of the western corporatoracy.


By pushing the holocaust narrative at every single opportunity the American populous collective guilt complex is submerged, under the weight of its own baby boomer denial. Afraid even in the red, blue, or purple shadows to speak against any Jew lest one be embarrassed and blamed as anti-Semite and pro Nazi the silent majority go shopping and watch sports. Better to ignore the screams of Muslim mothers and look away than get involved. The abyss of apathy deepens, widens, and crawls in the nook and crannies of those on Social Security, stumbling along on ripped off IRAs, or stocking the aisles of Crap-Mart.


The majority of the people in the fifty states hide from the issue at hand, as the global casino spins and dirty oil drills baby drills. Neither do the progressives in the herded body politic come to rescue Muslim humanity. Not even in the simplest of right action do the left, liberals, and other non-sequesters send notice to their elected officials the IDF burning up of babies with DIMEs is evil, inhumane, ghastly and must stop now.


Without the support of extremely rich western Jews who proceed to build generational power and funding streams there would be no Israel bombing the shit out of Gaza. The 9/11 agenda to make all Arabs every American’s enemy has succeeded. The war of massaging the masses hailed victory when the Dow Jones climbed up over 17,000 during the first day of the latest horrors in Gaza. Overtly invading Iraq, Afghanistan, Pakistan, and Syria is part of the US of Dirty Oil’s war economy in goose step with its myriad of covert acts while with precision dismantle the Bill of Rights.


The peace movement, my life’s work, snuggled up to the deceptions of Obama ’04 and was so successfully co-opted it continues to lay in a self-made hibernating lair of disagreement and disorganization. I found Obama a wound up finger-puppet fashioned from the marriage of the remnants of the Kennedy political machine and the nouveau riche of hipster Gollywood and Silicone Valley.


Somehow, the noisy few of us rant on about the lie of two parties and SCOTUS being an enclave of dangling lackeys for the meta-national deep state and its surveillance appliances (read NSA). We, in contrast to the crowd sourcing countless, attempt to refute the party line of war with our every click and keyboard pounce. We serendipitously discover each other working independently via social media. We circle the wagons to share, write, and photograph plus offer constant posts of the real visuals, the real history, and real consequences of America’s insane inhumane foreign pro-greed policy.


Rebuffed, trolled, and contradicted from within and without, the humanity movement (you and me) builds every second across the planet over the Internet. Defiant to the piddle stream media of lies and miss-information, a hefty lot of articulate haecceity dissenters (ibid) pass along the actualities refusing to buy into paid denunciators operating in boiler rooms paid by Zionists, and other zealots and f*cked up puppies.


Some ask after too many years trudging the road for peace, if we, the elders of the peace movement, have accomplished anything as the younger peacenik set comes to terms with their own inner angst and communal burnout.


Gaza is the identified touchstone for most of us, balding and cranky to fresh, furry, and campus enshrined, as we saddle up the magic of solidarity. The 2014 version of unity for peace is not nailed to any particular society or format of political organization except by one overriding tenant – Peace and Earth are keys to human survival.


Commies, socialists, Christians, Anonymous, activists, journalists, whistleblowers, Muslims, Buddhists, Hindi, Main Street capitalists, scientists, organic farmers, pro-Pachamama, Occupiers, university professors, artists, musicians, aesthetes, gallery owners, atheists, poets, architects, sustainable entrepreneurs, the handmade movement, social conscious financial advisors, lawyers for justice, doctors without borders, are not too near the neo-cons, nut jobs, and trolls, as we coalesce.


Gaza is not a trend; the newest politically cool fashion, and is neither Syria, the Sudan, Iraq, Egypt, Nigeria, downtown Detroit, or the border of southern Texas.


Internet activists for peace outnumber the negatives and the neo-cons in this non-Orwellian global undulating society of free thinkers and far-fetched innovators. The daily grind of standing up to the empire of greed and the weapons of fear takes its toll. Some of us go off the rails because we are getting old. A few of us are lost in a myriad of financial woes brought on exactly how we predicted in 1967, 1977, 1987, 1997 and 2007.


The recent university grads ear-deep in debt living at home with mom and dad, or their sister’s garage, or driving a motorcycle across Bhutan have access to the net. Many of them are the army of Anonymous even if they order too many pizzas and are hung-up taking down BBC or scientology.


I sit here in my gorgeous groovy hut on bio-diverse Finca Vigia grounded in an energized rainforest with its pristine air, water, food, and a wild galore of birds, bugs, and bats. Via the magic carpet of cyberspace, I continue to fight the good fight with snarky words and sometimes even impactful posts.


It is not the golden age – the one we chanted higher than Bali kites at the Human Be-In, January 1967. Certainly, my worldview is different from the rest of my multi-cultural family (American, Lebanese, Palestinian, Columbian, and Egyptian) who never come to see me. My familial dear ones continue to work and live in the echelon of the upper middle class involved in projects Hollywood stages as the American Dream. Their world is not mine yet I love them. I cannot honor consumerism or the branded blinkers they wear and relish.


My hippie heart spins = without justice for all, there is no justice. I am no do-gooder, really. I am an artsy Jungian analyst of the human condition who concluded after field studies and reaching a milestone of birds on my life list, I had to take direct action to thwart hatred, bias, and suffering of all living things by favoring life and peace.


Isolation from the invasive macho massage where war is acceptable (and preferable on Wall Street) provides fertile fields to row using a raucous hoe.


My golden goal today, and tomorrow, is to remind you, friends, followers, neighbors, and fellows SDSers from another era, we are winning the battle about Gaza, this cycle.


As to dismantling the warmonger’s globalization aspiration with its New World Order killing trade agreements and faux calls for democracy – it takes time for a societal paradigm shift. Such a meta consciousness raising requisites and consumes hundreds of years to build beefy bridges to tolerance, freedom, justice, and concords. I dunno if humanity has enough time on the cyclic clock of life. What do you think, or know?


If nothing else of late, as an independent investigative journo, I learned an indigestible bitter lesson by interviewing the fanatics of the Muslim world. These State of Islam crusaders understand they willingly serve in a unified campaign that will eat up three to four hundreds of years before it comes to fruition. Their icy pin-pointed eyeball to eyeball resolve is multi-generational and as cloying as it is unhealthy.


What is obvious in the wee small hours and funky stages of my puny personal struggle to end all armed conflict, the psychopath nadakind way to solve differences is weakening. It is becoming weedy, scrawny, and vulnerable. The wheels are coming off the machinery of war. The inability to fashion a new war plane (F-35) eating up billions of meals for the one-third of American children who go to bed with empty tummies is a major signpost for collapse. Having to steal the treasury of the American taxpayers to keep itself semi-afloat is a crash, merger and acquisition fit-a-thon, and contraction of the global war economy is still underway. An irremeable requirement to elevate corporate entities higher than human individuals is a wholesale malfunction. I contend it will return and return again with further crumpling. A POTUS who administers by executive fiat rather than political popularity and consensus building is a flop. Washington DC is a dug up graveyard of acridity and revenge.


I reflect how my 70-year-old brother is a WWII war baby, and I am the baby boomer. He is the techno-genius made while the atom bomb was fashioned and delivered. I am the ranch loving creative kid who grew-up in more plenty than any other generation of too many. My organic carriage remains strong, my sailor’s heart offbeat. Considering and conferring with younger warriors for peace keeps me breathing and the infernal eternal sighs manageable.


Via cyber borderless worldliness, I connect to new brothers and sisters, sons and daughters. My family extends into a vast array of geo-political states from Egypt to Bali to Bhutan to Fiji to Bangladesh to India to Gaza to Iran to Crimea to Latvia to Russia to England to Scotland to Iceland to Costa Rica to Guatemala to Brazil to Columbia to Ecuador to Chile to Canada to Trinidad to Cuba to Panama to France to Spain to Italy to Turkey to Tunisia to Saudi Arabia to Pakistan to Afghanistan, and even to downtown Yountville, Cali.


Maybe, because I reside in a vital monkey bridge country with no military and no desire to go to war about anything or anyone the vibes here beget brawny winds under my threadbare wings. I know my myopic tail is tattered and my beak now like my fingernails, brittle and thinned. Yet, somehow, I get up everyday, boot my Mac and droid, and begin again to do battle with the creeping crap the empire would have us all succumb to, sooner rather than later.


I repeat, why weep for Gaza?


Except for the grace of God, we could be the people dying from F-16s bombs, tank shelling, and naval bombardment from the fourth largest military on the planet. The resistance of Gaza procured some drones, a cache of homemade 30-year shoulder fired missiles, and novel small arms weaponry. Yet, this stuff is minute in strength and capability to admonish the State of Zion with any longstanding whipping. What the resistance offers is backbites and stings while Israel blankets Gaza with societal death.


What Gazans possess in resolve, prayer, and an undeniable desire to forestall a possible horrific theft of their heritage and land is gargantuan.


The honorable people of Gaza grip the attention of humanists around the globe. The people of Gaza 24/7 tweet, chat, and post realities in the wake of immense death machinery constantly fired. The rest of us with compassion re-tweet, re-post, and write topical tomes such as this one and march in demonstrations for peace for Gaza, and the world.


This is why I weep for Gaza. Not just because I am equitably overwhelmed by the IDF’s layering of death, suffering, and injury or realize we are complicit to this mass induced insanity. The Gazan toll of innocent human lives from newborn to elders corralled on a dinky gas rich seaside piece of real estate is revolting.


Gaza is an isolated prison of 1.8 million souls trapped on a 25-mile long by 5-mile wide strip of what was an ancient human civilization. Palestine, Gaza’s mother, is no longer contiguous because the illegal State of Zion like an utmost vile cancer commandeered the lands of the Arabs and Christians. Even human holy Jerusalem is split apart, separated by Israeli built cement high walls and checkpoints. Shitty western foreign policy in bed with the commerce of war machines is present feeding the corruption – plane by plane, bomb by bomb, advisor by advisor.


Maybe because I am a shit disturber, I justly weep for Gaza because unfortunately on their martyred souls humanity begins to re-awaken to its bona fide mission as a whole species – the fashioning of worldwide peace. The Rocky Mt. high Indian soothsayer, No Eyes, envisioned an eventual rising Phoenix for humanity after earthquakes, nuclear meltdowns, mass killings, wars, and major accidents – maybe it turns out the colors[1] of the bird feathers are Gaza’s?


As Hallmark Card as this unsanctified concept may sound to cynics and profiteers from the slaughter of babies and hope, I recognize in its spirit, the heritability of Homo sapiens sapiens. Either we inaugurate a global acceptance of peace to live in synchronization with each other and the environment, or the grandest animate natural supremacy takes action.


Earth, indiscriminately, across the seven continents, will terminate our stinky hateful genetic pool in favor of a more harmonious gentle DNA set.


I pray you weep for Gaza, for any reason.


Tick tock. Tick tock.


[1] The Palestinian flag(Arabic:علم فلسطين‎) is based on the Flag of the Arab Revolt, and is used to represent the Palestinian people (since 1964), and the State of Palestine. It is forbid to be raised by Israel. There are a litany of Israeli suppressions on Palestinians.

The flag is at tricolor of three equal horizontal stripes (black, white, and green from top to bottom) overlaid by a red triangle issuing from the hoist. These are the Pan-Arab colors. The flag is almost identical to the one of the Baath Party, and extremely similar to the flags of Jordan, and Western Sahara, all of which draw their inspiration from the Arab Revolt against Ottoman rule (1916–1918). Prior, to being the flag of Palestine, it was the flag of the short-lived Arab Federation of Iraq and Jordan. The flag of the Arab Revolt had the same graphic form, but the colors were arranged differently (white on the bottom, rather than in the middle).



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