7. They Are Coming to Get Me (or Am I Paranoid?)

THEY ARE COMINGTO GET
ME (OR AM I PARANOID?)

IF I DON’T SHOW UP AT MY OFFICE TOMORROW, YOU’LL KNOW THEY GOT ME

Political Correctness (PC) is so potent that it can never be measured by the polls (who’d ask? who’d tell?), is scrupulously avoided by TV’s talking heads, and scares the hell out of academics. An effort to dissent on the following of many “hot” subjects would quickly reveal that PC reigns supreme. Winston Churchill and Abraham Lincoln are heroes. The invasion of the South and WWII were “good wars,” and that’s it. Case closed. Nor does death provide relief for villains. T.S. Eliot and H.L. Mencken, for example, are forever branded as purveyors of hate. But if there’s a “How To Successfully Employ Political Correctness” manual, the key chapter must be devoted to the Holocaust. Consider the extraordinary success in disseminating the prevailing Holocaust message, and the impact. How did this come to pass?

In a remarkable new book, The Holocaust in American Life by Peter Novick (New York: Houghton Mifflin), the author, himself a Jew, traces the history of the Holocaust. During WWII, policy makers feared that America’s participation would be credited to pressures from American Jews on behalf of their Eastern European cousins. All victims were considered together. Even by the mid-1960s the Jewish victims of the war were still just one group among 50–60 million others. After the 1967 Mideast War, and through the 1970s, however, things changed. Novick observes that “the Holocaust, as we speak of it today, was largely a retrospective construction, something that would not have been recognizable to most people at the time.” Indeed, the Holocaust has become atrophied by political correctness. Jewish groups, spearheaded by the Anti-Defamation League, have successfully relegated the Holocaust to “holy” status beyond analysis or discussion. If you listen to them, it was the seminal event of World War II.

There is something akin to medieval mysticism at work here. Jew and Gentile alike must swear a blood oath to the Holocaust. The very word “Holocaust” has been sanctified and withdrawn from general use. The Armenians better keep their hands off it and find some other term. Holocaust “churches” in the form of museums and monuments are required in every major city around the world.

If the religious metaphor is valid, how does “Holocaustism” deal with nonbelievers and agnostics? The dreaded twin charges of “Holocaust-denial” and Anti-Semitism are a death sentence for career and reputation. In some countries today Holocaust anti-blasphemy laws lead to jail for heretics. A Swiss newspaper publisher was just sentenced to three years in prison for an editorial, while the freedom of the press groups are terrified into silence.

There are pressures for similar laws in our own country, to abolish freedom of speech and the press in this area. Most distressing, political correctness permeates ever-expanding domains. To any complacent readers, I issue the following red alert. If you are a revisionist, conspiracy buff, member of a religious sect, an anti-anti-gun controller, a home schooler, a prolifer, an anarchist, one who is out of the “mainstream,” or simply make a political fool of yourself publicly, you are on borrowed time. And if your message is cogent, and you are winning adherents, especially watch out! Neither your livelihood nor social standing is safe. And it may get worse. The bounds of allowable debate are narrowing. The tentacles of political correctness pollute the schoolroom, the boardroom, and the bedroom. “Truth” comes only from the New York Times, the Washington Post, the Wall Street Journal, network TV, cable TV, the weekly magazines, and Sunday morning’s pulpit in mainstream congregations. The PC message may be delivered in a more subtle fashion through TV commercials or rammed down our throats via court decisions, legislative enactments, or executive branch edicts. Hollywood prepares the final package. The web is the last hope for free expression, and even that delicious miracle of inventiveness is under the gun. The boisterous nature of the web encourages the assassins of freedom to seek legislation making the web’s discordant product a possible hate crime. Only the First Amendment saves the US from the path followed by Germany, Canada, France, and Switzerland, where the accusation of hate crimes is a constant fear, and where mere words can land you in the slammer.

As a proud American Jew, I ask the Jewish leadership: how can you countenance a policy that creates genuine doubt and fear among writers, academics, political activists, and plain people? Your policy may lead to less public expression of bias and “hatred,” but at what price?

Jews for centuries have been victims in societies where uttering the wrong word or failing to comply with dogma meant danger. How can you sponsor programs that make Jews the oppressors?

However you define Anti-Semitism, the accomplishments and prosperity of the American Jewish community are without question. Second-class citizens we are not. There are ample laws to protect Americans against violence and real violation of our genuine rights. We need no hate crimes legislation nor vigilantism in the name of Political Correctness, let alone terror tactics to prevent feelings from being hurt.

May 11, 2000

HERE’STHE PROOF—THEY’RE OUTTO GET ME

I can’t stand trouble. Friends credit me with patience, serenity, and level headedness, all ingredients needed to throttle trouble. But, it’s all an act.

Trouble comes in the form of angry people. It hardly matters what made them angry, or that their anger isn’t even directed at me, it’s simply being around “trouble” that unnerves me.

Mind you, I lead a fairly normal life. Yes, I hate trouble, but I also hate alligators, and I have managed to conceal both idiosyncrasies from friends, family, and co-workers.

My wife knows the truth: “If you hate ‘trouble’ so much, why do you hang around with Lew Rockwell?”

She has asked that question hundreds of times and my answer is always the same, “Look, it’s not Lew’s fault, it’s those @#$%&*. . . .”

This time it started innocently enough.

Through the years, I have convinced Lew that the gold and silver consumer has a tough time finding reliable venders. I keep him abreast of industry horror stories and recently we launched “Burt’s Gold Page.” Our initial purpose was to provide LRC readers with up-to-the-minute market quotes.

A few days later we added a chart indicating Camino Coin’s, my company’s, selling prices. These prices allow a decent profit for Camino, yet are significantly cheaper than other gold and silver prices seen on the Internet.

Finally, this week we offered LRC readers a few “Special Introductory” coin deals.

Yes, the prices were at wholesale levels. What better way to get the LRC reader’s attention?

There was nothing innovative here. There are other old-line companies like Camino that offer the consumer good value, buying and selling, though they are not as visible as the high-profile, high-pressure, fancy-brochured firms.

Burt’s Gold Page was well received, and business was brisk from Day 1. Several important hard-money websites linked to the gold page at LRC, and we began to get phone calls from non-LRC people.

And then, it began to happen. “We got trouble, right here in River City,” sang Robert Preston in Music Man. It was a familiar feeling: “We got trouble, right here at LRC.”

First thing Monday morning, I received three angry phone calls from folks rudely attacking our company and the “phony” prices we had posted.

On the first call I tried responding, but it was clear that reason wasn’t going to prevail. One creepy guy actually placed a bogus order for 100 ounces of gold.

In my forty-plus years in the business, all this was a first.

I don’t know what prompted me to visit the hard-money web sites that had linked to LRC and our gold page. But you guessed it. All traces of any link to LRC were gone. An old friend at a big wholesaler explained: “You have caused no end of trouble with your prices. All the big boys are upset, especially the ones with lots of high-priced telephone salesmen.”

Oh well. My wife suggests that I secretly love “trouble.” That much of the trouble I credit to Lew Rockwell I bring upon myself.

What does she know? She better not make any trouble.

January 20, 2003

BLUMERT INTERCEPTS A WHITE HOUSE MEMO

Note: I cannot reveal how this interesting missive came into my hands.

To: the Board of Governors of the Federal Reserve System

From: Karl Rove, the White House

Date: July 19, 2002

Gentlemen:

The President was very supportive during his recent visit to Wall Street. Well, from here on in there won’t be any more of this “Mr. Nice Guy” stuff. President Bush has lost patience with the dismal performance of the equity markets and now demands that this situation be reversed immediately.

Given the success of his War on Terrorism, the President is formulating an Equity Protection Board (EPB) that will seek out and destroy all enemies of the equity markets. Ralph Nader and Patrick Buchanan are possible choices for the agency’s Czar. The prosecutor will be, of course, Rudy “Benito” Giuliani.

Effective Monday Morning, July 21, 2002:

1. Brokerage firms will be prohibited from dealing in short sales and any violators will be dealt with as felons. Any corporate official who sells his own company’s shares will face lethal injection.

2. “Bad-Mouthing”—speaking negatively about any aspect of the equity markets—will be considered lewd behavior and the perpetrator will be subject to fines and imprisonment.

3. At the start of the business day in every financial institution, all present will recite a short pledge of loyalty to the government and the equity markets. (No reference to God will be included.)

4. Any customer who seeks to sell a stock must provide documentation that he faces some emergency. A panel comprised of a physician, a mortician, a man of the cloth, and a bookie will judge if the need is sufficient.

5. All media outlets will be required to devote at least 25 percent of their time and space to positive articles and pronouncements about the stock markets. Since this is War, all public figures and celebrities will be required to travel the nation appealing to people’s patriotism under the slogan, “Your Country and Your Stock Market Need You.” A plan to extend this program overseas, headed up by Tom Hanks, in the spirit of WWII, is under study. Until a better name for the project is conceived, it will be called the USO.

6. In every public school across the nation children will buy stock, even if only a few cents worth each week. They will be exposed to this act of patriotism from the first grade and if the little ones feel that their parents are not sufficiently enthusiastic about the program, teachers will encourage them to report any such deviant thinking. Indeed, they should all be enrolled in the Youth Division of TIPS.

7. Throughout the business week, at every opportunity, corporate leaders will be humiliated and serious consideration is being given to publicly executing one per week. Your nominations are welcome.

Your government has already fired the first volley in this War. Yesterday, whilst most citizens spent their Sunday relaxing, this Administration was rolling out the “giants” to appear on the network and cable news shows. Dazzling performances by talking head Neil Cavuto, CEO of the New York Stock Exchange Richard Grasso, Congressman Dick Armey, and others made the selling of securities today by anybody very unlikely.

Your government also took decisive action so that the market makers in Asia and Europe get the message loud and clear. Collapsing equity markets will not be tolerated. The US Sixth Fleet raised anchors for Japan and American troops began military maneuvers in Germany.

Market stability is this government’s primary goal, but be assured that no bank, brokerage house, or other financial institution will be allowed to fail. Nor will your jobs or any government program be in jeopardy.

July 23, 2002

MY PALESTINIAN PALS

San Francisco’s Arab-operated grocery stores are living on borrowed time.

They’re located in dismal, dangerous sectors of town much like their Korean and Indian counterparts in other American cities.

These Mideast flavored, family operated businesses sprang up like desert flowers following a rain shortly after the immigration floodgates were thrown open in the1960s. Most came from Palestine and they measured success in two ways: How soon can I bring a family member to join me in San Francisco? And, when can I have my own store?

These little bastions of free enterprise survived in the most hostile environment, often in the middle of a battleground. In those days, before Starbucks and Krispy Kreme, there weren’t many American merchants anxious to commit economic suicide by locating in the ghetto.

These hardworking Palestinians, toughened by decades of danger back home, would be amused by the observation that what they do is brave, or that they were satisfying a market need by serving a community shunned by others.

But these bubbly, intrepid folks are facing more danger now than ever before.

I can’t remember the first time I sold a Palestinian a coin, but it was more than thirty years ago and a gold dealer could not ask for a more ideal customer. They are totally suspicious of paper money and always pay in cash. Once the dealer gains their trust they remain eternally loyal.

Unlike most customers, they are not frightened when gold prices drop, viewing cheaper gold as a buying opportunity. And they make life easy for the gold dealer since there’s only one gold item they favor.

“How much is the COIN today?” they ask on the phone.

The COIN is a British gold sovereign. To those unfamiliar with “the coin,” it contains a bit less than one-quarter ounce pure gold, and was produced in seven different mints on five continents. The gold sovereign reflects the span and wealth of the British Empire from the late nineteenth century through the1930s. It was the closest to a true international currency the world had ever experienced.

It is obvious that Palestine under the British Mandate—an island of freedom and free enterprise as compared to rule by Istanbul or Tel Aviv—led its citizens to a love affair with the gold sovereign that becomes more entrenched with time.

The women, colorfully attired in billowing silk dresses and head scarves, do all the gold buying. Cash is secreted in every fold and hem and it’s amazing how much paper money could be concealed in one garment.

I don’t know how they run their grocery stores, but it’s a safe guess that the women wind up with all the proceeds at the end of the day.

I haven’t mentioned the one tedious aspect of dealing with my Palestinians. Negotiating the price of “the coin” is an agony that is part of every transaction. Late one Friday afternoon, Mary, one of my favorites, called, agitated, with the usual question about price.

The dialogue went like this:

Burt: “Mary, it’s too late. It’s Friday, it’s three o’clock now and you won’t get here until four and since our dealings are always slow, I’ll never get home. Why don’t you come in Monday when we have more time?”

Mary: “No, it can’t be Monday. We have family here from Cleveland and they’re going home tonight. I promise we will buy fast so you can enjoy your weekend.”

Burt: “All right—but I want you to promise that we will get it done quickly with no bargaining. You know my prices are always fair, so no haggling this one time. OK?”

Mary: “I promise, I promise.”

True to her word, Mary arrived breathlessly, in record time from San Francisco to our shop in San Mateo. As usual she was accompanied by her array of family members. I sat the entire crowd down in my office, and proceeded to exact a pledge from every family member present, from grandpa, to Mary’s six-year-old nephew to her husband, his two brothers, and the guests from Cleveland.

“Does everybody agree that there will be no negotiation, that you’ll trust my fair pricing and that we will get out of here quickly?” I went around the room until I obtained everybody’s reassurance, even the six-year-old’s.

“Okay,” I said to Mary. “How many coins do you want today?”

She said, “60.”

“Terrific,” I said, pulling several tubes of gold sovereigns from my desk drawer. “Mary, the price today is $82 each.”

Dead silence around the room.

Mary, as if struck in the solar plexus, gasped, “But you sold some coins to a friend of mine this morning at $80 each.”

Bolting out of my chair, I shouted: “Everybody out! You gave me your pledge, no negotiating! Out! Out!”

Stunned, and in a state of shock at my outburst, my little bevy of Palestinians staggered out of the office. I had never seen them so forlorn.

Standing in the hallway, I reopened negotiations, and we proceeded to establish the price at $81 per coin, and my group, now restored, went happily on their way.

Even before 9/11, I detected a change in my Palestinians. Although there is hardly a week that passes without one of their stores being hit, crime figures in San Francisco are somewhat improved and spending a night in an Arab grocery store isn’t as hazardous as it used to be.

7-Eleven, and other chain-operated convenience stores, succumbing to political pressures began opening stores where they had previously feared to tread, thus providing new stiff competition.

Worse is the coming of the food marts that are part of the current generation of giant, 24-hour gas stations. The ghetto customer has far more choice and feels less confined. The day of the neighborhood Arab store seems past—but 9/11 may provide the final death knell for these little dots of Middle Eastern culture in San Francisco.

My Palestinian pals always seemed to be returning from or planning their next trip to Jerusalem or Amman. It is as if they have two homes. They go back and forth with regularity, and if air travel has become an annoyance for the rest of us, can you imagine the problems these Mideast commuters face?

One fellow I know cancelled plans to attend his brother’s wedding in Cleveland. I started to suggest a strategy he might use to overcome the airport bureaucracy.

“Carry the wedding invitation with you and show it to every airport employee in sight,” I said. He smiled, thanked me for my advice and asked, “Would you look forward to traveling if you looked like me?”

Such problems aren’t exactly new. Another of my Palestinian favorites, Eddie, had an experience that he laughs about to this day although the incident reeks of tragedy.

Eddie had prospered in San Francisco. He had his very own grocery store, and it was time to visit his family in Jordan and proudly show-off his success. He bought a brand new red convertible, making arrangements to ship it by freighter to the Port of Eilat on the Red Sea. He would then drive to Jerusalem to visit friends before making his grand entrance in Jordan.

Those were his great plans. After all he was rich and carried a US passport.

Everything went smoothly. His red convertible survived the long voyage without a scratch, and he enjoyed every minute of the drive to Jerusalem. He kept imagining the faces of his family in Jordan as they saw him pull up in his red beauty.

Poor Eddie could not have predicted the Yom Kippur War. All hell broke loose hours after he checked into his hotel in Jerusalem and he was confined to his room, along with most of the other guests.

For days the war raged about them and the hotel was actually hit by an errant shell. When it was over, an Israeli Army Major told him his car had been commandeered, and that he would find it in some parking area on the edge of town.

His pride and joy was a total wreck. There was no appeal or remedy open to Eddie. To the Israelis he was just an Arab to be looted despite his US passport. To the Jordanians he was suspiciously viewed as an American. Finally, he got permission to leave Jerusalem and headed for Jordan.

I don’t recall whether the bridge across the Jordan was out, or if he was barred from using it, but poor Eddie, trousers rolled up, had to wade across the River Jordan. An Israeli youngster carried his heavy baggage to the edge on that side, with an Arab kid waiting to help him with the bags on the other side but there was no help in between.

Loaded down, Eddie stopped in the middle of the River Jordan, looked around, considered his circumstance and started to cry. But it wasn’t Eddie’s nature to cry too long.

In recounting the story he admits that the tears soon turned to laughter when he realized how ridiculous he must have looked.

My Palestinians haven’t been calling much lately asking the price of the COIN. Their future doesn’t look too bright, but they have survived horrible oppression in and around Israel, and, maybe, just maybe they will persevere.

Meanwhile, I fear I’ve lost some terrific gold customers.

May 28, 2002

LRC HAS MADETHE BIG TIME, BUT, LEW ROCKWELL MAY BE EXILEDTO CHINA

What a wild ride for LewRockwell.com! Between Thursday morning, April 5, and Saturday night, April 7, Eric Garris, our webmaster, tells me, a record 248,000 hits on our website. This is almost double any comparable period in our eighteen-month history.

More astonishing were the 600+ emails directed to Editor Lew Rockwell, six times more than anything previously seen for a single article.

If this wasn’t enough to swamp our webmaster, add the additional new visitors and fresh emails linked from Yahoo, Antiwar.com, WorldNetDaily, and Free Republic.

What was the cause of this avalanche? The answer is in three little words: “China Is Right,” the title of Lew’s courageous article about the collision of the US and Chinese aircraft, and the events which followed. (If you missed it go to http://www.lewrockwell.com/rockwell/chinaisright.html)

Fearlessly, point by point, Lew refutes the US government’s version of the event. He reminds the reader of the history of the US as an international meddler, and warns of the danger of a new cold-war belligerency.

Frankly, although I expected some heat, I was surprised by the degree of vituperation and vulgarity that typified the incoming e-mails. If you’d like a breakdown, 90 percent were incoherently critical, 5 percent coherently critical, 3 percent mixed, and 2 percent supportive. It was like a drunken Saturday night at a veterans’ convention, and about as thoughtful (though a few Korean War vets, like me, agreed with Lew).

Most of the hostile emails urged Lew to move to “Red China.” My favorite told him to “go back to Austria.” We both could have done without the death threats. But I guess you can’t be a warmonger without wanting to kill people.

It all reminds me of the nasty climate created by the government propaganda machine during Bush the First’s Desert Storm: the bipartisan unanimity, and the media’s total acceptance of every government press release. Few questioned the “smart bombs” that found open windows, the characterization of Saddam’s military capability as “first class,” or the claimed Iraqi “atrocities” in Kuwait. Fewer still realized the genocide being put into place, which continues to this day.

Those who questioned the bloody exercise were demonized as dreaded isolationists. Tax audits were the least thing to fear. Dissenting was dangerous stuff.

Months later, the mythology of Desert Storm began to erode. Little pieces of truth emerged: the smart bombs were dumb, Iraqi troops who had surrendered were gunned down or buried alive in the sand, and in the war’s aftermath, evidence of the horrendous damage US policy inflicted on the Iraqi civilian population became overwhelming.

Let us hope that today’s confrontation with China is no new Desert Storm in the making, or second cold war. The latter is ideal from the standpoint of the military-industrial complex, since they think they could tax and run us indefinitely, without any casualties. But the huge amount of trade with China, giving some established interests a pro-peace bias, may prevent this.

Indeed, there is some evidence that George W. Bush and Colin Powell may represent a new and less confrontational American foreign policy. We pray that this will be the case. If not, well, we have LewRockwell.com.

April 9, 2001

HELLO PG&E—ARE YOU STILLIN BUSINESS?

April 6, 2001: Pacific Gas & Electric, California’s largest utility voluntarily filed for Chapter Eleven federal bankruptcy protection despite months of effort by state officials to bail out the cash-starved company.

April 8, 2001: It was learned that $50 million in bonuses was distributed to PG&E executives the day prior to its declaration of bankruptcy.

—MSNBC News

PG&E: This is PG&E Customer Service. Your call will be answered in the order received. Since you are the last caller, we will get around to you last.

Blumert: Hold it, what’s going on here? You’re not a recording.

PG&E: I am too a recording.

Blumert: You’re not.

PG&E: Am too.

Blumert: This is ridiculous. Why in heaven’s name would anybody pretend to be a recording?

PG&E (suppressing a sob): Well, if you must know, they came and repossessed our telephone answering equipment yesterday.

Blumert: That’s very touching, but I have a serious problem.

PG&E: You have a problem? Well, it’s not exactly rosy at this end, buddy. We’ve all been on medication since April 6, but for all the good it will do you, go ahead and tell me your problem if it makes you feel better.

Blumert: My complaint is with the STING RAY ENERGY SAVER that you recommend and that I foolishly purchased. Here’s how you advertised it along with my last electric bill:

The dire energy crisis we face has been caused by unscrupulous suppliers of natural gas and electricity who, without conscience, have been charging us market price. This calls for a dramatic response. To fight back we recommend a terrific new product, the STING RAY.

The STING RAY is installed on electric switches in your home or business zapping the user with 5000 volts when he flips the switch on. This is a certain reminder to conserve energy.

The price of the STING RAY is only $85 and PG&E will send you a $20 rebate check.

PG&E: What’s to complain? The STING RAY has been responsible for some families lowering their energy use by 50 percent.

Blumert: With a STING RAY installed on all electrical switches, it’s a sure thing that most families will be huddled in the dark wrapped in blankets during the winter or sweating profusely with nothing but a garden hose to cool them in the summer’s heat.

PG&E: Patriotic Americans! The STING RAY is a winner.

Blumert: Sounds like you’ll only be satisfied when we are back in the Stone Age, but my real problem is with the $20 rebate check PG&E offered.

PG&E: So quit worrying about the check. You’ll get it, you’ll get it.

Blumert: My worry is I already got it and my problem is that it bounced.

PG&E: Bounced shmounched. Get with the times.

Blumert: You’re not much help, but maybe I can get some useful information out of you.

Tomorrow I’m going to the baseball game at Pac Bell Park, and I’m concerned that there will be a power outage in the middle of the game. A nightmare, forty thousand people groping in the dark.

PG&E (musing): To think, we used to be bigger than Ma Bell. It’s interesting that Pac Bell Park hasn’t paid their April electric bill as yet. Hmmmmmm . . .

Blumert: Uh oh! Sounds to me like you’ve got some mischief planned for the ballpark, and that you are going to hit them with a “random blackout” at tomorrow night’s game.

PG&E: Look, buster, this is war. Don’t try to squeeze any classified information out of me.

Blumert: War? Seems to me you have a bunker mentality. Unfortunately, the only casualties are the customers.

PG&E: Who told you we were in a bunker? As we speak, we are in a crossfire between two armies, the Gray Davis Brigade and the George W. Federalists.

Blumert: What’s the war all about?

PG&E (choking with emotion): The loser gets PG&E.

Blumert: You’re depressing me. I think I’d rather have Tony Soprano running things. At least my garbage is picked up with no problems.

PG&E: Listen, Blumert, you sound like someone we can trust. There’s a small group of us here resurrecting the company from the ashes. We call it Phoenix Gas & Electric, and we already have signed up thirty customers.

Can we count on you?

Blumert: Well, I haven’t made a correct decision in years so I might as well join you.

PG&E: Terrific. The Phoenix Gas & Electric service man will be at your home to hook you up next week. He will be there sometime between 8 a.m. on Monday and midnight on Sunday. You have to be there when he comes.

Blumert: Lotsa luck, fellas, but it sounds like the old PG&E to me.

MAY 21, 2001

MEMOTO ABE FOXMAN:
“ABE, I’M ONLY KIDDING”

There’s never a scintilla of doubt about their mission at the Anti-Defamation League (ADL), but wouldn’t it be refreshing if once, just once, something like the following exchange took place in their war-room:

Senior Staff Member (SSM): “Mr. Foxman, I have disheartening news. We have scoured all segments of the media worldwide, including the Internet and we can’t find one instance of anti-Semitism anywhere during the past 60 days.”

Abe: “Impossible! We have three fund-raising letters to get out and the bills must be paid. Get on it. What about the NY Knicks basketball team getting rid of Isaiah Goldberg? That incident reeks of anti-Semitism.”

SSM: “Goldberg was only 5’4” and the fact that he had committed to memory the statistics of every team in the NBA was of no value during an actual game. The Knicks signing Goldberg was another failed example of affirmative action, and it was the Jewish fans who actually led the campaign to have the team dump him.”

Abe: “What about those virulent statements coming from Malaysia attacking Jews? Let’s play that up. Surely we can find some atrocity photos that will fit into an effective fundraising piece.”

SSM: “Frankly, sir, anti-Semitism in that part of the world seems to be a non-issue. First, there are so few Jews living there, and the differences between Jew and Gentile is lost on most Asians. I just don’t see our donors getting worked up enough to mail in checks on that story.”

Abe: “You fellows are laughable. Anti-Semitism is suffocating all of us and you blithely go about your lives not finding anything. What about some of those leads to anti-Semitism I gave you last month?”

SSM: “We struck out, sir. Your wife’s assessment that Martha Stewart seems like a nice Jewish lady, and that the shoddy treatment given her smacks of anti-Semitism is of no value, since she’s not Jewish.

“Need I remind you of the embarrassment we suffered when you suggested that the Pope was guilty of an anti-Semitic cabal when he appointed eight new Cardinals and not one was Jewish? We still get nasty mail on that one.”

Abe: “I was misquoted—but I still feel that all the churches could show a bit more tolerance in their hiring practices. It wouldn’t kill them to have a few Jews around each church to provide a different perspective.”

SSM: “One other thing, Mr. Foxman, the entire ADL staff is fed up with picketing Mel Gibson’s movie. None of us share your concern that, at the close of the film, the entire audience would storm the closest video store to buy and then burn all Woody Allen movies. The only movement I witnessed were people moving closer to their faith.”

Abe: “I’m glad you were so touched by the Gibson film, but if you don’t find me some juicy anti-Semitic material soon you’ll be back slicing corned beef in the kosher deli.”

March 19, 2004