Newsgroup: it.politica.internazionale
Titolo: usti che rosicata

Gli ebrei di ultima generazione uscita  a sinistra prendono proprio
male il successo di Birthright.
 
www.thenation.com/print/article/161460/romance-birthright-israel
 
 
The Romance of Birthright Israel
Kiera Feldman | June 15, 2011
 
This article was reported in partnership with The Investigative Fund
at The Nation Institute [1].
 
The seekers are young, just beginning to face the disappointments of
adulthood. Their journey is often marked by tears. They may weep while
praying at the Western Wall, their heads pressed against the weathered
stone, or at the Holocaust Museum, as they pass the piles of shoes of
the dead. Others tear up in Jerusalem’s Mount Herzl military cemetery,
while embracing a handsome IDF soldier in the late afternoon light.
But at some point during their all-expenses-paid ten-day trip to a
land where, as they are constantly reminded, every mountain and valley
is inscribed with 5,000 years of their people’s history, the moment
almost always comes.
 
When Julie Feldman (no relation), then 26 and a Reform Jew from New
York City, arrived at Ben Gurion Airport in December 2008, she called
herself “a blank slate.” She returned as the attack on Gaza was under
way, armed with a new “pro-Israel” outlook. “Israel really changed
me,” she said. “I truly felt when I came back that I was a different
person.”
 
It was mission accomplished for Birthright Israel, the American
Zionist organization that has, since its founding in 1999, spent
almost $600 million to send more than 260,000 young diaspora Jews on
free vacations to the Holy Land.
 
Birthright co-founder Charles Bronfman claims he just provides free
airfare and lodging. “Then,” he says, “Israel does its magic.” Indeed,
in 2009 Brandeis University researchers found that almost three-
quarters of alumni describe their Birthright experience as “life
changing.” “If you come here, and you connect to the origins of the
Jewish people, the country that forged our existence, our faith, our
values,” then–Likud Party leader Benjamin Netanyahu promised in a 2008
Birthright video, “it’ll change your life forever.”
 
Bronfman’s partner in founding Birthright, Michael Steinhardt,
professes faith in Israel as “a substitute for theology.” Steinhardt
understands that for a generation weaned on irony, Birthright could
offer an opportunity for deep, wholehearted conviction. “My liberal
arts education taught me that any distinct concept or ideal will
crumble under the scrutiny of too many questions,” laments a recent
college grad writing on her Birthright experience, which taught her
“it was okay and even honorable to believe in the state of Israel, to
adopt, so to speak, the settlers’ original dream.” Her Jewcy.com essay
is hardly unique: Birthright has generated reams of effusive essays
and blog posts over the years.
 
Barry Chazan, a Hebrew University professor emeritus and the architect
of Birthright’s curriculum, explains in a celebratory 2008 book, Ten
Days of Birthright Israel, that the trip is designed so travelers “are
bombarded with information.” The goal is to produce “an emotionally
overwhelming experience” that “helps participants open themselves to
learning.” On my own Birthright trip last year, I experienced the
Chazan Effect. Chronically underslept, hurled through a mind-numbing
itinerary, I experienced, despite my best efforts to maintain a
reportorial stance, a return to the intensity of feeling of childhood.
 
“This is not a vacation,” a Birthright employee pronounced the first
evening, before shooing us to the hotel bar. “You are embarking on a
journey.” Just four nights later, my steel trap of a heart was
overcome by emotion upon seeing my new Birthright crush dancing with
another girl. I fled to my room and cried.
 
Conceived as “the selling of Jewishness to Jews,” in Bronfman’s words,
Birthright trips are offered in dozens of varieties, from secular to
Orthodox, from outdoorsy to LGBT-friendly. Crisscrossing the country
in rollicking tour buses, Birthright participants between 18 and 26
swim in the Dead Sea, ride camels, visit the occupied Golan Heights,
listen to lectures on Zionism and spend their nights boozing and
flirting with the IDF soldiers assigned to accompany them. Trips are
conducted by a variety of contracted tour providers, each designing
itineraries approved by Birthright’s central office in Jerusalem.
Itineraries must include core sites (the Western Wall, Masada) and
curricular themes (“The History of Zionism”), and Birthright maintains
rigorous quality control. Currently, there are seventeen tour
providers, with Hillel, the international Jewish campus group, among
the largest. Each trip is overseen by two American camp counselor
figures, an Israeli guide and a rifle-toting guard.
 
The free trip is framed as a “gift” from philanthropists, Jewish
federations and the State of Israel. Far-right Casino magnate Sheldon
Adelson is the largest individual donor, having given Birthright $100
million over the past five years. The Israeli government provided
Birthright $100 million during the program’s first decade; Prime
Minister Netanyahu recently announced another $100 million in
government funding. Birthright’s budget for 2011 is $87 million, a
number expected to reach $126 million by 2013, enough to bring 51,000
participants to Israel that year alone.
 
To apply for a Birthright trip, participants need just one Jewish
grandparent—and to pass a screening interview. (Practicing a religion
other than Judaism is an automatic disqualifier.) After their ten days
on Birthright, participants may postpone their return by up to three
months to travel in the region, and it is not unheard of for
progressives to “birth left” in the West Bank afterward (as I did)—
though Birthright policy is that anyone discovered to have a “hidden
agenda” of “exploiting” the free trip “to get access to the
territories” to promote “non-Israeli” causes can lose her spot.
Birthrighters planning anti-occupation activism with the International
Solidarity Movement have been dismissed.
 
“Welcome home” is a predominant message, a reference to the promise of
instant Israeli citizenship for diaspora Jews under the 1950 Law of
Return. (About 17,000 Birthright alumni now live in Israel, according
to the Jerusalem Post.) It serves as a pointed riposte to the right of
return claimed under international law by the 700,000 Palestinians
expelled in 1948 upon the creation of the Jewish state, and their
descendants.
 
The story of Birthright begins with the 1990 National Jewish
Population Survey. The findings unleashed a panic within the halls of
American Jewish institutions: 52 percent of Jews were marrying outside
the faith. Steinhardt, a legendary hedge-fund manager, was among the
Jewish community leaders who rallied to confront what soon became
known as the “crisis of continuity,” characterized not only by
intermarriage but by the weakening of Jewish communal ties such as
synagogue membership and a waning attachment to Israel. A Goldwater
Republican turned chair of the Democratic Leadership Council,
Steinhardt wanted to make Jewish institutions more appealing to the
young. He enlisted Yitz Greenberg, a well-known Orthodox rabbi and
educator, as director of the foundation that would incubate
Birthright. Reflecting on that 1990 survey some years later, Greenberg
said, “I felt I’d been asleep at the switch as this disaster was
coming.” Birthright trips, he hoped, would shore up a social order in
decline.
 
“Everybody feels good about it,” J.J. Goldberg, then–editor in chief
of the Jewish Forward, said in 2002, summing up the warm Birthright
consensus within the American Jewish community.
 
Today, at a time of rising criticism of Israel, the program has taken
on a different meaning. No longer is it simply a project to shore up
Jewish identity; Birthright has joined the fight for the political
loyalties of young Jews. It invites travelers to “explore Israel
without being force-fed ideology,” but you don’t have to be Althusser
to know that ideology almost always calls itself nonideological.
 
* * *
 
Birthright co-founder Bronfman, the billionaire heir to the Canadian
Seagram’s liquor empire, began directing his philanthropic dollars to
teen Israel trips in the late 1980s. “To me, in order to be a complete
Jew, one must have an emotional and physical attachment to Israel,”
Bronfman says. But he was bothered that the kids on those early trips
weren’t bonding with their Israeli peers. Bronfman’s answer:
developing the mifgash—the encounter—between Jewish Israeli teens and
their diaspora counterparts. This made the tour bus less of “an
isolated bubble,” according to Elan Ezrachi, the Israeli educator who
developed the mifgash on Bronfman’s dime. Birthright adapted the
mifgash by way of IDF soldiers. These encounters between American
youth and youthful Israeli soldiers “move very fast to what we call
‘hormonal mifgashim,’” Ezrachi told me. “Things happen.”
 
Soldiers meet Birthrighters in full uniform, spend the remainder of
the mifgash in civilian clothing and then dress back in uniform for
the encounter’s final day: the Holocaust Museum followed by a visit to
the graves of Theodor Herzl and fallen soldiers. Lynn Schusterman, a
Birthright funder and board member, told me the bonds formed during
the mifgash help participants gain an understanding of soldiers’
“moral and ethical standards.” After the 2006 Lebanon war, Brandeis
researchers found that Birthright alumni were more likely than other
young American Jews to view Israel’s military conduct as justified.
 
The originator of the Birthright idea was Yossi Beilin, a Labor Party
stalwart and an instrumental figure in the Oslo Accords. Widely
considered an archliberal and reviled by Israel’s right, Beilin is an
unlikely figure to boast the moniker “godfather of Birthright.” In a
recent phone interview, Beilin compared his worries about
intermarriage and Jewish identity to “the personal feeling of an old
man who wants to see that his family is still around.” Among Beilin’s
top goals for Birthright: “to create a situation whereby spouses are
available.” An ardent Zionist and longtime friend of Bronfman, Beilin
unsuccessfully pitched Birthright to him and Steinhardt in the
mid-1990s.
 
Eventually, Chazan writes in his book, Steinhardt saw Birthright’s
potential to “plug the dam of assimilation,” and Steinhardt got
Bronfman on board. “The people we wanted were those who were not
committed,” Bronfman says. “The only thing that would get them to
Israel is a free trip.”
 
The common denominator of the Birthright experience is the promotion—
by turns winking and overt—of flings among participants, or between
participants and soldiers. “No problem if there’s intimate
encounters,” an Israel Outdoors employee told American staffers during
training. “In fact, it’s encouraged!” Birthright boasts that alumni
are 51 percent more likely to marry other Jews than nonparticipants.
 
“The bus is a love incubator,” Elissa Strauss writes in What We
Brought Back, a glowing essay collection from Birthright’s alumni
program. “It works.” Strauss’s entry is written with her husband, whom
she met, naturally, on Birthright. Many groups pass a night in a fake
Bedouin tent, where participants sleep crowded together, a setup
conducive to first kisses.
 
Early Zionism, too, was marked by alarm over intermarriage and
demographic decline. Zionists saw the answer in the creation of a “new
Jew,” a virile conqueror and tiller of the land who would channel
sexual energy into nation-building. Today, the goal is a new diaspora
Jew who channels that energy into Zionist activism.
 
A baptized child of intermarriage, I traveled on an Israel Experts
Birthright trip in February 2010 that promised “serious programs for
serious people who want to have fun!” It felt more like a Zionist
summer camp for young professionals. We sang campfire songs, used
nicknames that ended in “Dawg” and made lunchtime dares to eat
unsavory concoctions. Lawyers, corporate strategists, a personal
trainer—my Birthright tour mates were twentysomethings with grown-up
jobs and responsibilities everyone seemed glad to leave behind. For
ten days, we basked in a second adolescence.
 
As if according to some divine script, my crush was soon requited, and
when the lights went down in the fake Bedouin tent, I got my mifgash
on. “I love it,” Harold Grinspoon, a member of the Birthright Israel
board, told me upon hearing of my romance. “You have a nice
interaction with a Jewish person—that’s great.” An octogenarian
philanthropist who made his money in real estate, Grinspoon rattled
off high intermarriage numbers and low Jewish birthrates. “We’re
really in trouble as Jews,” he said sadly.
 
Birthright’s boosters seem strangely unaware of the tribe’s more
visible woes, the forty-four-year illegal occupation of Palestinian
lands and the racism and legal discrimination that underpins Israel’s
ethnocracy. If the former was kept nearly invisible on my Birthright
trip, the latter was laid uncommonly bare.
 
Our guide was Shachar Peleg-Efroni, a second-generation secular
kibbutznik. Several times a day he said things like, “Arabs are those
who originated from Saudi Arabia.” Everything we saw out the tour bus
window was “in the Bible,” reinforcing Zionist claims to the land. He
used “Palestinian” interchangeably with “terrorist.” Driving through
northern Israel, Shachar gave a lesson in “Judaization,” the
government’s term for settlement policy. Passing through an Israeli-
Arab town, he called our attention to a litter-strewn road (perhaps
the result of inequities in municipal funding, which escaped mention)
and then pointed to a neat ring of state-subsidized Jewish towns.
“Judaization,” he explained, was necessary “to keep them from
spreading.” My American crush and I exchanged a knowing look.
 
From my notes on Day 8: “Israel just went in and cleaned Gaza,”
Shachar said of Operation Cast Lead, which had taken place a year
earlier, as we drove south to an organic farm along the border. There,
the Israeli proprietor explained that his low-hanging trellises were
Thai worker–sized and invited us to nibble the dangling strawberries.
“Thank you, Thai worker!” he instructed us to say when a laborer
walked by. En route to the next stop on the itinerary, Shachar pointed
to tin shacks—Bedouin villages—and jovially detailed the government’s
Bedouin home-demolition campaign, saying the IDF needed to “kick them
away.” We arrived at our far more picturesque “Bedouin Dessert [sic]
Village Experience” and rode camels into the sunset. A man named
Mohammed served coffee and played a familiar tune on the oud: “Hava
Nagila.”
 
To varying degrees, Birthrighters from an array of other trips have
recounted similar experiences. “Don’t go to the Arab Quarter, because
they will throw acid on your face,” Max Geller recalls his Birthright
guide saying in 2006. Geller’s trip also featured AwesomeSeminar.com’s
Neil Lazarus, a pro-Israel advocacy trainer who says he’s delivered
presentations since Birthright’s inception. (“When the Palestinians
kill Israeli men, women and children,” Lazarus says in one online
video, “they celebrate, and they give out sweets in the streets.”)
Lazarus’s take-home was, according to Geller, “Arabs want to kill
you.”
 
Jared Malsin went on a 2007 Birthright trip where IDF soldiers role-
played a checkpoint. “The message was every single Palestinian is a
threat until proven otherwise,” he recalls. EllaRose Chary recalls a
Birthright activity in 2009 in which soldiers described sending
neighbors to knock on the doors of suspected militants, an illegal use
of civilians as human shields. “I might die if I go up there,” one
soldier said to his new friends. “What should we do?”
 
* * *
 
A new era is dawning for Birthright. What began as an identity booster
has become an ideology machine, pumping out not only Jewish baby-
makers but defenders of Israel. Or that’s the hope.
 
With the relentless siege of Gaza, the interminable occupation, the
ever-expanding settlements, the onslaught of anti-Arab Knesset
legislation, Israel has earned its new status as an international
pariah. Meanwhile, the rise of J Street, the liberal pro-Israel lobby
group, suggests that the American Jewish center is inching leftward
along generational lines, and the Boycott, Divestment, Sanctions
movement is gaining traction among young activists. In the wake of
Operation Cast Lead, Republican pollster Frank Luntz found that Jewish
college students are “not standing up for Israel”; he calls the
results “horrifying.” Enter Birthright.
 
In the words of CEO Gidi Mark, Birthright trains participants to “go
back to anti-Zionists on their campuses and say to them, ‘Don’t tell
me what you saw on CNN—I was there.’” In May 2010 Hillel president
Wayne Firestone denounced campus divestment campaigns for seeking to
“delegitimize and demonize Israel,” declaring Birthright alumni to be
“the only way to combat these efforts.” In November, at an assembly of
the Jewish Federations of North America, Bronfman shared the cheerful
news that half of all pro-Israel activists on college campuses had
been on Birthright. “Many of our Birthright alumni come back and are
ready and eager to be advocates for Israel,” Susie Gelman, a
Birthright board member and funder, told me. “In the current
atmosphere, it takes on even more of a significant role than could’ve
been anticipated when Birthright began.”
 
At a recent Birthright open bar night dubbed “Zionism Is
Humanitarianism,” I approached Steinhardt and mentioned that I’d had a
Birthright boyfriend throughout last spring. “Is he the man of your
dreams?” Steinhardt asked. “Is he here in New York?” No and no, I
answered. “Well, a few months of pleasure is wonderful!” he exclaimed.
Later, from the stage, Steinhardt promised a free honeymoon to anyone
who met that night and tied the knot within a year.
 
Alumni often assure me that Birthright is just a fun heritage trip.
Funders and officials, too, reiterate Birthright’s “apolitical”
nature. In January, J Street announced it would sponsor a Birthright
trip. Shortly thereafter, Birthright said a miscommunication had
occurred—as a “political” organization, J Street was ineligible. Yet a
Birthright trip run by AIPAC, the far more conservative Israel lobby
group, has been renewed for years.
 
Very few trip providers offer sessions with Palestinian citizens of
Israel. My trip, advertised as “pluralist,” met an Israeli-Arab
computer programmer who spoke briefly about legal discrimination
against minorities, followed by an Israeli-Arab teenager who called
herself “pro-Israel.” When I asked her thoughts on the Palestinian
right of return, she giggled, consulted with a Birthright activity
leader, and said, “I don’t think it’s the right time for them to come
back.” My requests for a full list of Israeli-Arab groups on
Birthright itineraries were declined.
 
Since its inception, Birthright has been funded by an illustrious and
varied lot; most of them just happen to share hawkish Israel politics.
In 1998, during his first term as prime minister, Netanyahu gave the
initial guarantee of Israeli government funding. By 2000, when the
first Birthright trips were under way, at least eight funders were
trustees of AIPAC’s think-tank spinoff, the Washington Institute for
Near East Policy—including Steinhardt and Bronfman. Casino magnate
Adelson, Birthright’s largest donor, staunchly opposes a two-state
solution. He once famously broke with AIPAC—for not being conservative
enough. Other notables: oil billionaire Lynn Schusterman, a Birthright
founding funder, thirty-five-year AIPAC veteran and the purse for many
“pro-Israel” youth initiatives such as the Israel on Campus Coalition,
which combats “the worrisome rise in anti-Israel activities”; diamond
baron and settlement construction impresario Lev Leviev; Slim-Fast
billionaire  S. Daniel Abraham, a member of the AIPAC board; and
neoconservative philanthropist Roger Hertog, emeritus chair of the
Manhattan Institute. Then there’s donor Marc Rich, a founding
Birthright board member, the billionaire oil trader controversially
pardoned by President Clinton; throughout his business dealings, Rich
gathered intelligence for the Mossad.
 
Several Birthright donors, including family foundations operated by
the Gottesmans, Grinspoons, Steinhardts and Schustermans, have also
financially supported illegal Jewish settlements; in 2008, for
example, the Charles and Lynn Schusterman Family Foundation gave
$25,000 to Ein Prat, a school in the settlement of Kfar Adumim.
 
In a phone interview, Robert Aronson, president of the Birthright
foundation, maintained that he simply wants the trip to be “the
opening of a door” to Jewish communal life. But should that doorway
lead to political engagement, Aronson hopes it will be through right-
wing Zionist groups such as AIPAC and Stand With Us, whose members
have been known to target Jewish anti-occupation activists with Nazi
slurs and pepper spray. Students for Justice in Palestine? “No, that
one I probably wouldn’t list,” Aronson laughed. Soon, his humor
evaporated. He ended the interview when I asked why the organization
encouraged Birthrighters to patronize settlement businesses, as was
done on my trip. “Not my issue,” Aronson said. “I never answer to
political questions.”
 
Birthright tour providers are allowed to take tourists anywhere
between the Dead Sea and the Mediterranean. Mark, the CEO, explained
that “as an apolitical organization,” Birthright does not concern
itself with the Green Line, the internationally recognized border
separating Israel proper from the illegally occupied West Bank. “If
security allows it, we allow for our participants to see the
beginnings of where the nation started.” Theoretically, a visit to a
Palestinian town in the West Bank would be within the boundaries of
acceptability—but Chazan said no trip provider has done it. Birthright
funders and officials see Palestinians as best avoided, for “security”
reasons. On my trip, we were given maps of Israel that referred to the
West Bank as “Judea and Samaria”—biblical terminology typically
favored by settlers and their sympathizers.
 
“I trust that they’re doing the right thing,” Jewish Federations
president Jerry Silverman told me, when asked about Birthright’s
support of settlements. Such was the predominant sentiment of the
funders on this matter, and on the overt racism expressed on some
trips: Birthright, like Israel itself, can do no wrong.
 
One night on Birthright we had a cookout at Gvulot, the first kibbutz
cum military outpost in the Negev, in southern Israel. We learned the
story of Gvulot’s founding—conquest over Palestinians—in the manner of
all summer camp lessons: skits with gratuitous cross-dressing. The
part of the man who prances onstage with makeshift breasts was played
by Yossi Mizrahi, then a goofy 21-year-old Israeli soldier, adored by
the entire Birthright group. He’d fought in Operation Cast Lead, and
he liked to show us the “terrorist headbands” he claimed to have
collected from the bodies of Palestinians he’d killed. The activity
came to a close with a round of sweet Bedouin tea. “L’chaim!“—“To
life!”—we cheered, raising our glasses, five miles away from the
largest open-air prison in the world. We were directed to the
kibbutz’s bar, a place so popular with the locals, our Israeli guide
joked, that “even people in Gaza are coming to the checkpoint.”
Everyone laughed.
 
My traveling companions were not monsters. Birthright’s
overstimulation brings about a deadening of feeling. It’s hard to
imagine the suffering of others when you’re having the time of your
life. In Tours That Bind, sociologist Shaul Kelner contends that
Birthright activities revolve around “fun and good feeling,” meaning
“the group’s hedonism is thus one of the most effective checks against
a determinedly critical politics.”
 
It’s pleasure as a medium for Jewish nationalism. In Birthright,
dissent is for fun-suckers. “Just enjoy the experience,” a tour mate
told me when I denounced the remarks of one Birthright employee, Gia
Arnstein, who had said, apropos Palestinian suicide bombers, “If I
impose a holocaust on them, what can I do?” In American discourse, the
logic of Jewish victimhood and Israeli militarism is rarely
articulated so clearly. A California native with a lone Jewish
grandparent, this tour mate, like almost everyone in my group, was a
self-described liberal. “Don’t focus on disagreeing,” she said.
 
To be sure, several tour mates told me that the Israel they saw on
Birthright troubled them, even using words like “segregation” and
“apartheid.” One fellow critic, Kelsey Alford-Jones, toured East
Jerusalem with me afterward, through the Israeli Committee Against
Housing Demolitions. But most of my tour mates experienced what Kelner
calls “guide worship.” Voting on the design for our commemorative
Birthright T-shirt, one faction favored a massive portrait of Shachar.
 
A few of my fellow travelers started out supporting a binational state
but became convinced on the trip of the necessity of a Jewish state
“to protect Judaism.” “Haven’t Jews been through enough that we can
just have this sliver of the world?” Josh Schlesinger, then 26, asked
me after visiting the Holocaust Museum. “Don’t we deserve it?” By the
final night’s sharing circle, nearly everyone said they felt “more
Jewish” and vowed to raise their offspring within the tribe.
 
After the trip, we all became Facebook friends. I was soon tagged in a
photo album titled “Thank you, Thai Worker!” Many of my tour mates
joined groups in support of Gilad Shalit, the Israeli soldier captured
by Palestinian militants in 2006 and held prisoner in Gaza ever since,
and “Israel’s defensive actions against the flotilla” (the IDF assault
a year ago against the aid ship Mavi Marmara, in which nine civilians
on board were killed).
 
* * *
 
“Buy Ahava products,” Megan McLean, an American Birthright support
staffer, instructed over the PA. “They’re lovely.” Our Birthright bus
was approaching the Ahava factory in the West Bank settlement of
Mitzpe Shalem, which our Israeli guide led us to believe was a
“kibbutz.” Mitzpe Shalem collectively owns 37 percent of Ahava, which
enjoys annual profits of $150 million by illegally exploiting
Palestinian Dead Sea resources.
 
“We have checked it a lot of times. It’s not against the international
rules,” Ahava board chairman Arie Kohen assured me over the phone.
These days, having up to 10,000 Birthrighters patronizing Ahava each
year is no small thing. “When they visit the factory they feel and
they take with them the benefits of the Dead Sea,” Kohen said. “Of
course it will also make money.”
 
In the factory gift shop, my tour mates bought armloads of Ahava
(“love” in Hebrew) products from the Orthodox settler sales force.
Leaving, I bumped into the Birthright guard and banged my shin on her
rifle.
 
We spent the afternoon on the Ahava factory’s private beach, laughing
and floating in the Dead Sea, the waters warm and crystalline. Couples
slathered each other with mud; women painted smiley faces on their
chests. As the Birthright bus pulled out of the Ahava parking lot and
onto settler-only roads, the sound of steel drums drifted out over the
PA. It was Bob Marley’s “One Love.” We swayed to the music, bound for
Jerusalem.
 
 

 
www.thenation.com/print/article/161460/romance-birthright-israel
 
 
"Il Rabbino Zwi Chaim Yisroel, studioso ortodosso della Torah, che
sviluppò il lamento fino ad elevarlo ad un'arte sconosciuta in
Occidente, fu unanimemente salutato come l'uomo più saggio del
Rinascimento dai suoi colleghi ebrei che rappresentavano un sedicesimo
dell'uno per cento della popolazione."


bravo, hai letto Woody Allen. Sei consapevole che non c'entra un
cazzo?


c'entra eccome. Quello che scrivi tu difficilmente interessa a più
gente del rabbino Yisroel

 cazzo?
 
   c'entra eccome. Quello che scrivi tu difficilmente interessa a piů
   gente del rabbino Yisroel
 
Bel colpo, chissa' se coglie. 
 
 


ah, vuoi dire che non fotte nulla a nessuno dell'eroica resistenza dei
giovani ebrei di sinistra contro l'egemonia sionista ?