This is my world and we are are all struggling to survive in it. It seems to me that with all the people and things that follow me that I live in the middle of a grand charade that is an exponential version of a Purim Costume Party. I warned people on June 30, 2006 that “The Longer You Take, The Worse It Gets.” No one in this vicinity has come close to restoring what has been taken from me. You have succeeded in making my life much more complicated and painful than it ever was three years ago and I am still doing what I can to help people while I have been living in my car for about six months. If you cannot accept my help than I cannot help you (Sea of Galilee).
I now reveal the following:
I know that the struggle between the right and the wrong the good and bad has waged longer than any of us can comprehend. But I am speaking of how it started for me in this lifetime. Read the book of Esther if you need some background refresher.
As I mentioned there was an attempt in Paris, France. I cannot say I am anxious to go back there anytime soon. There are reasons to go, but at this point I cannot see past the next hour. I live in my car, remember? None of my friends give a damn, let alone act like they do. It’s all my fault that doors get slammed in my face and there are so many people in the good ole USA that want from me but cannot give back? This is a world full of fools.
First part. Soon after my family returned from the Europe/Israel/bar mitzvah trip of 1977 someone told someone to tell someone and so on that the reason the short tour bus in Paris was left unattended for so long had a more sinister story. I thought the driver just had to go to the bathroom really badly. My Mom had started to panic and wanted all of us to get off the bus. I remember how shaky the driver was when he finally got back in the driver’s seat. He was really sweating when he dropped us off. I looked at him and patted him on the shoulder as I exited. Isn’t that cute?
Once I realized that someone had tried to blow up the bus I was more scared than I had ever been in my life. I distinctly remember running to my room because it was so scary and I had a hard time coping with the fact that someone wanted to kill me and my family. It took me many hours to get over it. For some reason I consoled myself that God had protected us and that was the important thing. Blowing up a tourist bus; what kind of evil, twisted, coward would do such a thing?
I still had no idea who this was or what he looked like.
Second part. I have the dream where I asked God what it meant to be the Messiah. The third part revealed the lunatic, and all the other lunatics that were like him. The black dot was how this was confirmed on my face so that I, AND NO ONE ELSE SHOULD EVER FORGET!
Third part. I am watching TV in the same house and I see my enemy, who felt “Nothing” on his triumphant return from exile, exit the plane. Someone asked me if that was him.
I responded “Yes.”
I was asked, “Do we have to go to war with him?”
I responded “Yes.”
I then looked down on the ground. I knew with those two words I had just declared war; my words had that much ultimate impact. I still had not graduated high school. I knew a lot of innocent people were going to die. The tears did not come right away. I knew I had just done what God had commanded and that to identify and defend against the one who lied about being authorized by God must be stopped. In my adolescent mind I thought moving swiftly and decisively was the correct course of action. If you asked me I expected him to be gone within a year, I suppose, but there is no way I would have made a prediction about that. I did not complain that the MI5, CIA, or some other secret agency should have killed him in the time between the tour bus ride and his return to Persia. That part had already happened. The important part had to be done by me.
Did I ever dream that this war would still be going on? Did I come close to comprehending how many people would be killed, maimed, scared, forced from their homes, and scattered around the world? No, I had no idea. However, all the rich refugees from Iran flooded the streets of the city I lived in so I knew firsthand what some of the problems associated with war are. Real estate agents loved this time period in Beverly Hills because they were flooded with cash.
During my undergraduate years I read and watched many reports of how many people were killed and displaced. When is this going to end, I often asked myself and this was before 1985. I knew there would be enormous pain from this. I never thought there would be so many mistakes along the way. I never dreamed there would be so many people having children and sending them to war in response to just two little words.
A soldier is a soldier no matter what nation they serve. I understand there would be many who would want to retaliate against me. The retaliations have not killed me completely but you have to understand I did what I had to do.
This country does not appreciate me. They have not rewarded my valor again and again for serving so far from the front lines but “slightly to Hell.”
You would have to understand the accumulated effect of all the conflicts in the region and those connected to them, and knowing, deep down, it all somehow connects back to you. Why does Ruhollah Khomeini, the Haman worse than the first, get away free from blame just because he is dead? The blame should rest on his shoulders squarely. When did dying get people to stop placing blame where it should be?
Do you understand what a “warrior king” is now? The king that yearns to be Prince of Peace?