Elder of Ziyon Daily News |  |
- A short story for the weekend: The Golem by Avram Davidson
- Friday links (Ian, plus)
- Latest Latma (plus a followup from last week's)
- Church of Scotland decides Israeli viewpoints are irrelevant
- NYT op-eds in May: 4 anti-Israel, zero pro-Israel (David G)
- The IHH shot guns on the Mavi Marmara and we have photos
- UNESCO has no idea what the Kotel is
| A short story for the weekend: The Golem by Avram Davidson Posted: 01 Jun 2012 12:00 PM PDT Classic science fiction, with a Jewish twist: The Golem by Avram Davidson The grey-faced person came along the street where old Mr. and Mrs. Gumbeiner lived. It was afternoon, it was autumn, the sun was warm and soothing to their ancient bones. Anyone who attended the movies in the twenties or the early thirties has seen that street a thousand times. Past these bungalows with their half-double roofs Edmund Lowe walked arm-in-arm with Leatrice Joy and Harold Lloyd was chased by Chinamen waving hatchets. Under these squamous palm trees Laurel kicked Hardy and Woolsey beat Wheeler upon the head with a codfish. Across these pocket-handkerchief-sized lawns the juveniles of the Our Gang comedies pursued one another and were pursued by angry fat men in golf knickers. On this same street—or perhaps on some other one of five hundred streets exactly like it. Mrs. Gumbeiner indicated the grey-faced person to her husband. "You think maybe he's got something the matter?" she asked. "He walks kind of funny, to me." "Walks like a golem,," Mr. Gumbeiner said indifferently. The old woman was nettled. "Oh, I don't know," she said. "I think he walks like your cousin Mendel." The old man pursed his mouth angrily and chewed on his pipestem. The grey-faced person turned up the concrete path, walked up the steps to the porch, sat down in a chair. Old Mr. Gumbeiner ignored him. His wife stared at the stranger. "Man comes in without a hello, goodbye, or howareyou, sits himself down, and right away he's at home … The chair is comfortable?" she asked. "Would you like maybe a glass of tea?" She turned to her husband. "Say something, Gumbeiner!" she demanded. "What are you, made of wood?" The old man smiled a slow, wicked, triumphant smile. "Why should I say anything?" he asked the air. "Who am I? Nothing, that's who." The stranger spoke. His voice was harsh and monotonous. "When you learn who—or, rather, what—I am, the flesh will melt from your bones in terror." He bared porcelain teeth. "Never mind about my bones!" the old woman cried. "You've got a lot of nerve talking about my bones!" "You will quake with fear," said the stranger. Old Mrs. Gumbeiner said that she hoped he would live so long. She turned to her husband once again. "Gumbeiner, when are you going to mow the lawn?" "All mankind—" the stranger began. "Shah! I'm talking to my husband … He talks eppis kind of funny, Gumbeiner, no?" "Probably a foreigner," Mr. Gumbeiner said complacently. "You think so?" Mrs. Gumbeiner glanced fleetingly at the stranger. "He's got a very bad color in his face,nebbich, I suppose he came to California for his health." "Disease, pain, sorrow, love, grief—all are nought to—" Mr. Gumbeiner cut in on the stranger's statement. "Gall bladder," the old man said. "Guinzburg down at the shule looked exactly the same before his operation. Two professors they had in for him, and a private nurse day and night." "I am not a human being!" the stranger said loudly. "Three thousand seven hundred fifty dollars it cost his son, Guinzburg told me. 'For you, Poppa, nothing is too expensive—only get well,' the son told him." "I am not a human being!" "Ai, is that a son for you!" the old woman said, rocking her head. "A heart of gold, pure gold." She looked at the stranger. "All right, all right, I heard you the first time. Gumbeiner! I asked you a question. When are you going to cut the lawn?" "On Wednesday, odder maybe Thursday, comes the Japaneser to the neighborhood. To cut lawns is his profession. My profession is to be a glazier—retired." "Between me and all mankind is an inevitable hatred," the stranger said. "When I tell you what I am, the flesh will melt—" "You said, you said already," Mr. Gumbeiner interrupted. "In Chicago where the winters were as cold and bitter as the Czar of Russia's heart," the old woman intoned, "you had strength to carry the frames with the glass together day in and day out. But in California with the golden sun to mow the lawn when your wife asks, for this you have no strength. Do I call in the Japaneser to cook for you supper?" "Thirty years Professor Allardyce spent perfecting his theories. Electronics, neuronics—" "Listen, how educated he talks," Mr. Gumbeiner said admiringly. "Maybe he goes to the University here?" "If he goes to the University, maybe he knows Bud?" his wife suggested. "Probably they're in the same class and he came to see him about the homework, no?" "Certainly he must be in the same class. How many classes are there? Five in ganzen: Bud showed me on his program card." She counted off on her fingers. "Television Appreciation and Criticism, Small Boat Building, Social Adjustment, The American Dance … The American Dance—nu, Gumbeiner—" "Contemporary Ceramics," her husband said, relishing the syllables. "A fine boy, Bud. A pleasure to have him for a boarder." "After thirty years spent in these studies," the stranger, who had continued to speak unnoticed, went on, "he turned from the theoretical to the pragmatic. In ten years' time he had made the most titanic discovery in history: he made mankind, all mankind, superfluous; he made me." "What did Tillie write in her last letter?" asked the old man. The old woman shrugged. "What should she write? The same thing. Sidney was home from the Army, Naomi has a new boyfriend—" "He made ME!" "Listen, Mr. Whatever-your-name-is," the old woman said, "maybe where you came from is different, but in this country you don't interrupt people while they're talking … Hey. Listen—what do you mean, he made you? What kind of talk is that?" The stranger bared all his teeth again, exposing the too-pink gums. "In his library, to which I had a more complete access after his sudden and as yet undiscovered death from entirely natural causes, I found a complete collection of stories about androids, from Shelley's Frankenstein through Capek's R.U.R. to Asimov's—" "Frankenstein?" said the old man with interest. "There used to be a Frankenstein who had the soda- wasser place on Halstead Street—a Litvack, nebbich." "What are you talking?" Mrs. Gumbeiner demanded. "His name was Frankenthal, and it wasn't on Halstead, it was on Roosevelt." "—clearly shown that all mankind has an instinctive antipathy towards androids and there will be an inevitable struggle between them—" "Of course, of course!" Old Mr. Gumbeiner clicked his teeth against his pipe. "I am always wrong, you are always right. How could you stand to be married to such a stupid person all this time?" "I don't know," the old woman said. "Sometimes I wonder, myself. I think it must be his good looks." She began to laugh. Old Mr. Gumbeiner blinked, then began to smile, then took his wife's hand. "Foolish old woman," the stranger said. "Why do you laugh? Do you not know I have come to destroy you?" "What?" old Mr. Gumbeiner shouted. "Close your mouth, you!" He darted from his chair and struck the stranger with the flat of his hand. The stranger's head struck against the porch pillar and bounced back. "When you talk to my wife, talk respectable, you hear?" Old Mrs. Gumbeiner, cheeks very pink, pushed her husband back to his chair. Then she leaned forward and examined the stranger's head. She clicked her tongue as she pulled aside a flap of grey, skinlike material. "Gumbeiner, look! He's all springs and wires inside!" "I told you he was a golem, but no, you wouldn't listen," the old man said. "You said he walked like a golem." "How could he walk like a golem unless he was one?" "All right, all right … You broke him, so now fix him." "My grandfather, his light shines from Paradise, told me that when MoHaRal—Moreynu Ha-Rav Löw—his memory for a blessing, made the golem in Prague, three hundred? four hundred years ago? he wrote on his forehead the Holy Name." Smiling reminiscently, the old woman continued, "And the golem cut the rabbi's wood and brought his water and guarded the ghetto." "And one time only he disobeyed the Rabbi Löw, and Rabbi Löw erased the Shem Ha-Mephorashfrom the golem's forehead and the golem fell down like a dead one. And they put him up in the attic of the shule, and he's still there today if the Communisten haven't sent him to Moscow … This is not just a story," he said. "Avadda not!" said the old woman. "I myself have seen both the shule and the rabbi's grave," her husband said conclusively. "But I think this must be a different kind of golem, Gumbeiner. See, on his forehead; nothing written." "What's the matter, there's a law I can't write something there? Where is that lump of clay Bud brought us from his class?" The old man washed his hands, adjusted his little black skull-cap, and slowly and carefully wrote four Hebrew letters on the grey forehead. "Ezra the Scribe himself couldn't do better," the old woman said admiringly. "Nothing happens," she observed, looking at the lifeless figure sprawled in the chair. "Well, after all, am I Rabbi Löw?" her husband asked deprecatingly. "No," he answered. He leaned over and examined the exposed mechanism. "This spring goes here … this wire comes with this one …" The figure moved. "But this one goes where? And this one?" "Let be," said his wife. The figure sat up slowly and rolled its eyes loosely. "Listen, Reb Golem," the old man said, wagging his finger. "Pay attention to what I say—you understand?" "Understand …" "If you want to stay here, you got to do like Mr. Gumbeiner says." "Do-like-Mr.-Gumbeiner-says …" "That's the way I like to hear a golem talk. Malka, give here the mirror from the pocketbook. Look, you see your face? You see the forehead, what's written? If you don't do like Mr. Gumbeiner says, he'll wipe out what's written and you'll be no more alive." "No-more-alive …" "That's right. Now, listen. Under the porch you'll find a lawnmower. Take it. And cut the lawn. Then come back. Go." "Go …" The figure shambled down the stairs. Presently the sound of the lawnmower whirred through the quiet air in the street just like the street where Jackie Cooper shed huge tears on Wallace Beery's shirt and Chester Conklin rolled his eyes at Marie Dressler. "So what will you write to Tillie?" old Mr. Gumbeiner asked. "What should I write?" old Mrs. Gumbeiner shrugged. "I'll write that the weather is lovely out here and that we are both, Blessed be the Name, in good health." The old man nodded his head slowly, and they sat together on the front porch in the warm afternoon sun. The End 
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| Posted: 01 Jun 2012 10:10 AM PDT From Ian: Caroline Glick The reign of the fantasists "Rather than accept this fundamental, but unpleasant truth, Obama and his advisors base their policy of engaging Iran on fairy tales about nonexistent fatwas that purportedly ruled out the development of nuclear weapons. As Vice Premier Moshe Ya'alon put it delicately this week, the Iranians are "laughing all the way to a bomb."" Reactions to Ehud Baraks unilateral withdrawal proposal: Israeli unilateral withdrawal from West Bank will perpetuate Mideast conflict, Palestinian official says So it's not about occupation? Clinton agrees Clinton rejects Barak's unilateral withdrawal "WASHINGTON – US Secretary of State Hillary Clinton on Thursday rejected the notion of unilateral Israeli steps toward separating from the Palestinians." Dennis Ross: Saudi king vowed to obtain nuclear bomb after Iran Funny how Israel's suspected bomb never provoked such a response. Egypt prevents aid convoy to Gaza (Iran's ABNA) "European activists have condemned the Egyptian rejection to implement the obtained regulatory approvals in order to reach the Gaza Strip through the Sinai Peninsula." Turks protest the slaughter in Syria – as if Thousands of Turks rally on anniversary of flotilla Israel's creation worst catastrophe to hit world' "Head of Egypt's Muslim Brotherhood Badie reminds followers of movement's "sacrifices" in efforts to destroy the Jewish state." Taliban vows to cut Pakistan's bin Laden doctor 'into pieces' Aren't leftists always saying the Taliban is separate from Al Qaeda? Also check out: My Right Word's article on Madonna in Israel Challah Hu Akbar on Fatah/Hamas continuing to arrest each other Israellycool on Israel's latest occupation Honest Reporting's slideshow about media objectivity 
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| Latest Latma (plus a followup from last week's) Posted: 01 Jun 2012 09:10 AM PDT Last week's Latma got under the skin of the head of Peace Now: Yariv Oppenheimer, who heads the ultra-leftist Peace Now group, is angry about a satirical imitation of him, in the form of a character named "Yariv Googleheimer" on the Latma website. Here's this week's episode: 
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| Church of Scotland decides Israeli viewpoints are irrelevant Posted: 01 Jun 2012 07:40 AM PDT From TheJC: The Scottish Church will no longer consider the Israeli perspective when campaigning on the Israeli-Palestinian conflict, its General Assembly has voted.It did not take long in looking a this "balanced" report to immediately see two examples that show how it deliberately twists facts. The first comes from the first paragraph: The Council's report to the 2008 General Assembly detailed the deteriorating situation in the Gaza Strip, quoting a report from Ha'aretz of 19/12/07. "Gaza", it said, "is surrounded and starved."If you look at the actual Ha'aretz article, it is not a "report" but a typical anti-Zionist op-ed and its characterization of Gaza as "starving" is not factual but hyperbole. (After watching reports out of Gaza for nearly eight years now amid charges of "starvation" by people like Jimmy Carter, I have still not seen a single example of someone who starved to death. Even the media finally realized the lie of starvation and changed their memes on Gaza a couple of years ago, something the Church apparently hasn't caught up with.) Another proof of deliberate bias comes from this: Exports from Gaza are very limited. In the first two weeks of October 2011 no exports left Gaza whatsoever.The reason? Because the harvest for Gaza exports begins in November! Given that this report was written after seven months of exports of tons of goods from Gaza, this is clearly a purposeful distortion of the situation. It simply doesn't bother to mention the 600 tons of strawberries, 250 tons of tomatoes, 50 tons of pepper and 10,000,000 flowers exported since then. Because the truth is not what the Scottish Church wants to push - but a one-sided agenda. At least they are now up front about it. (h/t Ron) 
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| NYT op-eds in May: 4 anti-Israel, zero pro-Israel (David G) Posted: 01 Jun 2012 06:10 AM PDT David G has been doing this for a while and notes that this is the first month he's recorded that the NYT had not even a single pro-Israel op-ed. New York Times Op-Ed Index For May 2012 
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| The IHH shot guns on the Mavi Marmara and we have photos Posted: 01 Jun 2012 04:40 AM PDT Since it is the two year anniversary of the Mavi Marmara incident, it is reasonable to remind people: IDF soldiers were shot on board the ship, and the IHH terrorists shot first. Bullet casings were found that did not match any IDF soldier weapons. We have photos of some of the guns from one of the passengers' cameras:   And we also have testimony from the soldiers who were shot and who witnessed IHH members with guns. So even if you want to forget the fact that IHH members prepared knives, iron bars and chains to mercilessly beat and stab soldiers as they rappelled down, remember that they were armed, too. They are in no way "peace activists." I don't think that this will be mentioned in the Turkish media today as they continue to demonize Israel on this anniversary. Here are my Mavi Marmara posters:     
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| UNESCO has no idea what the Kotel is Posted: 01 Jun 2012 03:09 AM PDT From the LA Times: Here is how this project describes Jerusalem: As a holy city for Judaism, Christianity and Islam, Jerusalem has always been of great symbolic importance. Among its 220 historic monuments, the Dome of the Rock stands out: built in the 7th century, it is decorated with beautiful geometric and floral motifs. It is recognized by all three religions as the site of Abraham's sacrifice. The Wailing Wall delimits the quarters of the different religious communities, while the Resurrection rotunda in the Church of the Holy Sepulchre houses Christ's tomb.
First of all, no Jew calls the Kotel the "Wailing Wall." That term was made up by Europeans in the 19th century, possibly as a translation from the Arabic "al-Makba," the "place of weeping." Using that term today shows, in its most charitable interpretation, gross ignorance. Secondly, UNESCO doesn't even know what the Wall is. This description indicates that they think that the "Wailing Wall" is what separates the Jewish, Armenian, Christian and Muslim Quarters of Jerusalem. This description, not surprisingly, minimizes the Jewish attachment to Jerusalem, making it appear that it is derivative of Abraham's sacrifice - the Muslim motif of the Temple Mount - and that there was never a Jewish Temple there nor a Jewish nation centered there. Other UNESCO documents are hardly better, and UNESCO still refers to the Kotel as "The Wailing Wall" even today. But this is hardly surprising from an organization that once called Maimonides a Muslim and that refers to Rachel's Tomb by the completely modern, artificial name "Bilal bin Rabah Mosque." See also my UNESCO posters here, here and here. (h/t Daled Amos) 
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