The Heelers Diaries

the fantasy world of ireland's greatest living poet

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Location: Kilcullen (Phone 087 7790766), County Kildare, Ireland

Monday, March 03, 2008

the dancers

On Nine Eleven the children of Gaza danced in the street.
I had never seen such beautiful children.
Chubby cheeked.
Bright eyed.
Every one of them dressed in teeshirts, denims and shoes provided from the coffers of western aid.
How they danced.
Such spirit.
Such elan.
Such an outpouring of joy.
The murder of thousands of Americans had uplifted an entire generation of young Palestinians.
It was the happiest day of their lives.
And they looked so very beautiful.
So very well dressed.
So very well fed.
None of their parents working of course.
Their parents don't have time to work.
Their parents are engaged in a permanent terror war against the State of Israel.
Yet there were no starving children in Gaza.
None of them even a little hungry.
They could have danced all night.
Quite amazing.
Nor had any of these children been deprived of the right to go to school.
For they had all been provided with schools courtesy of the United Nations.
That is to say the UN built the schools using cash raised from free nations, and then handed over the running of those schools to Islamic Jihad, Hamas and their various psychotic incarnations.
So the children of Gaza, aged four and upwards, can recite:
"My heart burns to avenge my brothers and sisters. I will kill every last Jew. I will wipe the stain from my countries honour. I will erase the Zionist entity from the map."
They can't read.
They can't write.
They can't add.
But they can recite that nonsense word perfect on command.
This apparently is what the UN means by the right to an education.
The parents of Gaza need never worry about working for a living as long as the rest of us are providing funds to keep them in the fine style to which they have become accustomed.
And still the children of Gaza danced.
It was such a joyful day for them.
Thousands of Americans dead.
The billions of dollars in financial aid that Americans had given to their parents, the free clothes, the free schools, the opportunity of a better life, none of it mattered.
The beautiful children of Gaza danced.
And they danced.
And they danced.

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