Goodbye, So Long…..

It isn’t often that I read something on the internet that makes me laugh out loud, but today I did! And, I will say…it felt good. I laughed when I read that the co-founder of Hamas, Imad Al-Amani, 62, died of a self-inflicted gun shot wound to the face!

I am sorry if this offends you, but I’m not sorry he has died. Hamas is a terrible terrorist organization that has brought much anguish to Israel through terror attacks, lying accusations, and ongoing unrest. Do I cry when a terrorist dies? No. I don’t.

Al-Amani was just that – a terrorist! Not only did he help found and organize Hamas, an Islamic organization totally focused on the destruction of Israel and the death of Jews. While to some it seems like just another group struggling for freedom, the only struggle Hamas has focused on is death to Jews, in any way possible. He had lived in Syria until 2012 – perhaps the JV ISIS team scared him away – but he was living in Gaza when he died.

It seems that the talented terrorist was cleaning his gun – or maybe he was admiring it – in his home when it ‘went off hitting him in the face’. Poor baby. Of course, it wasn’t suicide. That would have been terrible for him to commit suicide and not take a bunch of innocent Israelis with him. And, there wasn’t even a video of him kissing the Koran or waving his gun or wearing a suicide belt. Nope. He was cleaning his gun and it went off! Ahhh, sweet justice.

I am sure he would have much preferred to have died in a glorious death at the hands of the Israelis, but that didn’t happen. Israel didn’t kill him. He killed himself, whether it was an accident or intentional I have no idea nor do I care. I am glad he is dead. I am thankful he is dead. May he have a suitable reward, wherever he ended up and may his virgin be 72 years old!

Am Israel Chai!

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Thirty Two Years Ago Today

When my boys were small we gathered around the television and watched every rocket that was launched into space. Those little guys were so intrigued by the beauty of the rockets going off and the great clouds of smoke and vapor they would churn from the launch site into the surrounding area and on into the atmosphere. It was great. We always had that patriotic thrill that this was something wonderful our country was doing – exploring the unknowns of space.

Life happened. My boys grew up and moved on with their lives. I was divorced, working full time and busy with my own life of church and friends. We knew the rockets were still being launched and we knew this special one was going up soon, the first flight to take one of America’s teachers with them but we weren’t as ‘into it’ as we had once been. It was exciting but it was far, far away from my life.

It was much closer to the life of thirty-seven year old social studies teacher, Christa McAuliffe, who had been chosen for the exciting experience from 11,000 teachers. Once selected she worked hard to be able to successfully accomplish her mission and bring those accomplishments, and all she learned, back to her students in Concord, New Hampshire where she taught.

Although she had probably been the most celebrated of the seven astronauts due to the circumstances of her being on that flight, she certainly wasn’t alone. Commander Francis Richard Scobee, 46, was exactly that, the commander of the expedition. Originally from Washington state, he brought a great deal of experience and expertise to the mission.

Also on the Challenger was Mission Specialist, Dr. Ronald McNair, 36, who held a Ph.D. in physics, and was the second black man to make a United States space flight. Originally from South Carolina, he had moved through the educational world obtaining many high honors along with his doctorate. Along with him was Mission Specialist, Ellison Onizuka, 40, of Hawaii, the first Japanese-American astronaut. Payload Specialist 2 (Engineer), Gregory Jarvis, 42, who had a long career of military and engineering feats.

Dr. Judith Resnick, Mission Specialist, 36, originally from Ohio, had made her first space voyage aboard the Discovery, two years previously. She was the daughter of Jewish immigrants from the Ukraine. Pilot Michael J. Smith, 41, originally from North Carolina, but as with most military career people, had lived in many places.

There is no end to the combined accomplishments and awards of this seven person crew, in and out of the military and through their respective careers. Each of them was an amazing individual with a zest for life that took them to NASA and their appointment in history. While the years have passed, their memories have not, nor should they. It is men and women like these that have been the backbone of this country. They have served in the military, in education, in medicine and innumerable other occupations all of which have brought us one step closer to the greatness that is America.

They were seven individuals that represented a social world of many races and religions, from Christian to Jewish to Buddhist, yet they served together as brothers and sisters on the flight that took them into eternity. They left behind mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, wives and husbands and children. And, they left behind a grateful nation that salutes them on this January 28, 2018.




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A Serendipity Moment!

‘He took them roundabout from the straight route to the winding one.’

When the Israelites were leaving Egypt, why did God not take them on a straighter and much easier route? Perhaps it was because the straightway, the easiest way isn’t always the best way. Had they gone that route there was a strong possibility that they would have run into enemies and had to fight a war much earlier than the war they fought against the Amalekites just a few weeks later.

Also, there were several Egyptian fortresses along the straightway. They would surely have tried to turn the suddenly freed, former slaves back towards Egypt and the slavery they had just escaped from.

And there was another Egyptian god that needed to be defeated – the one at Pi-Ha’hiroth. This was a war of the gods. The One True God would show Himself as the God of above all other gods and He would bring His people to Freedom! In order to do this, He had to make Pharaoh think the Jews were confused, lost in the wilderness, waiting to be defeated.

For more information, watch for the soon release of my fourth book, PROPHETESS, which should be out within the next month.

Also, you can pick up my TV program, Serendipity at

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The Lottery!

The first time I heard of the Lottery for a foreigner to gain entry into the United States was about fourteen years ago when David and I still had our apartment in Jerusalem. One night we were entertaining a friend who had an administrative level job in Israel – a very good one. He is a Christian and certainly, in our opinion, should have been praising God to be in Israel and to have such an excellent job. He wasn’t. He wanted out.

He and his family were from South Africa and they felt like they were people without a country since things there had changed so much politically with the new government. His wife didn’t like living in Israel so they wanted to move to America. While I love America and am a red, white and blue flag waving patriot, I was incensed that they wanted to move here. As a Christian Zionist I know what a privilege it is to get to be in Israel and even more so in his capacity. But, that wasn’t his opinion.

We listened as they excitedly told us about the Lottery in our country and how they were trying to win it so they could come. Make no doubt about it, this guy and his family have no terrorist leanings at all! Absolutely none. That wasn’t the point. The point was their giddiness over the prospect of coming here and living here and being “kept” here by Christian donations. It’s a long story.

Eventually they made it. Not through the lottery but through other means. I didn’t like that either. It didn’t feel right – but that was his story, not mine. And certainly not the story of the NYC terrorist that just ran over and killed eight people and injured eleven others. He was a lottery winner and we are the losers!

I cannot believe our country is so ridiculous as to allow people, unvetted, to sign up on the computer and win a lottery to come here, to America, free and clear. They are allowed to have jobs, have driver’s licenses, and to kill U.S. citizens. I’m sure he’ll be read his Miranda Rights, if he hasn’t been already, provided a free attorney and allowed to live a very long time before, and if, we ever get around to sending him off to his 72 virgins.

This is disgusting. Lottery! Smottery! I don’t want us to continue this ridiculous program. What a shame that we are so trusting that we will openly invite those who wish to kill us to come on in. How stupid can we get. I pray President Trump can and will put a stop to this process.

In the meantime, there are those who are dead and wounded. What about them? What do they get? I am further saddened that five of the dead were guests in our country – real guests – that had come to the United States in the prime of their lives to celebrate 30 years after high school graduation. What beautiful smiles were on their faces. Now they are dead. How tragic. How tragic that this even happened. Close the doors. Stop the Lottery. Get a grip while we still can.


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Twelve Minutes

Shaped like a large fiddlehead fern, Hurricane Erin danced across the Atlantic Ocean toward the eastern coastline of the United States, moving like a giant snake threatening to strike at anytime. She had begun her journey from the coast of Africa on August 30, twirling across the ocean at her leisure with seductive eyes focused on the American continent where she promised to come ashore as a devastating Category 2 storm.

She shook her tentacles at the northern shore of Bermuda as she passed by, just to show them what could have been theirs. Then she turned north and slightly east. It appeared there would be no stopping her now as she headed toward her target enjoying the unhampered swim and wide berth she had been given by sea-going vessels. Weather personnel around the world watched their monitors, read their instruments and quietly predicted that, given the right conditions, she would strike the New York metropolitan area.

Fueled by unseasonably warm waters, the Category 2 storm increased to a Category 3 and continued in a north easterly direction, wobbling back and forth from east to west like a drunken sailor. She maintained her path parallel to the eastern coastline, huffing and puffing and causing strong winds, rip tides and high waves. Like a calvary charge from an old western movie multiple short-wave troughs blew in from across the United States declaring war on the threatening storm and weakened it to a subtropical ridge. Those winds continued to push the weakening storm further eastward into the Atlantic and away from it’s intended target of New York City. Audible sighs of relief could be heard in weather stations around the nation as they realized New York City had dodged a devastating bullet. It was September 11, 2001.

Oblivious to having escaped a threatening storm, people on the east coast of the United States went about their business as usual. It was Tuesday. The weather was perfect with predictions of clear skies and low 80 degree temperatures. There was work to be done, planes to be caught, schedules to keep.

Four commercial airplanes took off that beautiful Tuesday morning for cross-country flights. Their tanks were full, their crews rested and on board as their scant passengers prepared for the long flights from Boston, Newark and Washington, D.C., to Los Angeles and San Francisco, CA. Airport security was casual, at best, with little concern over any possibility of hijacking or terror attacks. American Airlines Flight 11 took off at 7:59 a.m. from Boston’s Logan airport headed to Los Angeles, CA. Eighty-one passengers plus the crew were on board for the long flight. Forty-seven minutes later the flight abruptly ended as the plane-turned-bomb was flown into the North Tower of the World Trade Center, New York City.

United Flight 171, also headed for Los Angeles, CA, left Boston’s Logan airport only fifteen minutes later at 8:14 a.m. Fifty-six passengers and crew were on board the fully-fueled hijacked plane when it was flown into the South Tower of the World Trade Center at 9:03 a.m. The third plane, American Airlines Flight 77, loaded with fifty-eight passengers and crew, left Washington, D.C. at 8:20 a.m., twenty one minutes after Flight 11 took off. Like the other two planes, Flight 77 was headed for Los Angeles. At 9:37 a.m. American Airlines Flight 77 became a jet-fuel-enhanced rocket as it slammed into the newly remodeled and refurbished Pentagon in Washington, D.C.

Due to issues on the tarmac at Newark Airport, United Flight 93 was delayed for forty-two minutes from it’s originally scheduled departure time of 8:00 a.m. On board, in addition to the crew were thirty-seven passengers. The weather was exquisite, hinting of a fabulous Indian Summer and a beautiful fall. There was no threat from a hurricane or anything else menacing as the passengers kicked back and prepared for the long flight across the country to San Francisco. The brilliant sky promised a smooth flight and colorful views of the terrain below if the sleepy passengers wished to look out the windows.

The beautiful, crystal blue skies of New York City were pierced by the loud roar of an aircraft that had veered off of it’s flight pattern, flying low and fast across the city’s skyline. Then the unthinkable happened! The plane smashed into the extremely high and large North Tower of the World Trade Center building as though it were a magnet pulling the plane unto itself. The crash was deafening. The jet-fuel-fed fire was huge as it licked it’s way up the sides of the magnificent building creating flames that were almost exquisite in their hideousness. It was 8:06 a.m. People hurrying to work stopped and looked up. Sirens screamed. Mouths gaped. Media rushed to the scene.

How could this be? How could someone just fly into something so large? There must have been a medical emergency. Maybe the pilot had a heart attack. It was thought to be a small airplane, a private jet.

Policemen rushed to the scene, pushing stunned pedestrians away from the streets to allow rushing emergency vehicles through. No one could believe this. It was impossible. It just didn’t happen.

As shock-proof New Yorkers stood watching the terrible scene unfold they thought their eyes must be deceiving them as another plane, United Flight 175, banked at an extreme angle and flew into the South Tower. It was 9:03 a.m. and America was under attack! War had reached our shores. The unthinkable had just happened yet no one could imagine the horror that lay ahead.

Stunned airport control tower personnel couldn’t believe their radar screens as the flights dropped from view like disappearing jacks from a child’s game. But this was no game. Planes were disappearing, falling from the skies and crashing into buildings. People were dying. Then the inconceivable happened again. American Airlines Flight 77 dropped from the sky and hit the Pentagon so hard and fast that rumors were that it wasn’t a plane but a rocket that had hit the building, crashing through the tough exterior and creating an explosive fire.

Shocked. Dismayed. Terror stricken. America was beginning to comprehend what was happening. Phones were ringing as people were told to turn on their TV sets. Cell phones rang as loved ones left behind attempted to reach their family, friends and associates that might be on those planes. It was settling in. Shock turned to a need to reach out and warn and to hear the voices of their loved ones.

Meanwhile, United Flight 93 was piercing the other-wise-calm-skies as it flew over western Pennsylvania. Suddenly four men left their seats and began taking control of the flight crew and the plane killing anyone that got in their way. As the plane penetrated the sky over Ohio passengers were pushed to the back of the plane. The life blood of non-cooperative crew members saturated the aisle-way and carpets of the hostage aircraft.

Oblivious of what had already unfolded in New York City and Washington the terrified passengers began calling their loved ones to tell them what was happening. Using phones in the back of the plane seats and cell phones, they dialed their families, their work, their life and told of the hijacking. And they learned. They learned of the other three flights that had been hijacked, the planes turned into bombs and flown into major buildings.

Loved ones on the ground comforted those in the air but encouraged them to fight. By now it had become obvious that any hijacked plane was not going to land safely if someone didn’t do something to fight back. They had to try. Their lives hung in the balance. They were going to die. If there was any chance at all for their survival it rested in their own hands.

Little is known for sure what all occurred on United Flight 93. Phone calls ended abruptly as the passengers moved into their planned attack mode. The black box, once finally recovered, told some of the story. What matters is that thirty-three amazing Americans took over a hijacked plane on that once-beautiful-Tuesday-morning and wrestled it out of the hands of the four determined terrorists. What was intended to bring death and destruction to the supposed target of the United States Capitol building ended up as a deep, dark hole in a field near Shanksville, PA, marked only by the smoke cloud that wafted heavenward. Had the passengers not taken control and the plane crashed when and where it did, within twelve minutes multitudes of lives would have been sacrificed in our nation’s capitol.

Twelve minutes. Seven hundred twenty seconds. One hundred twenty airmiles west of Washington, D.C., a smouldering sacrifice was made that would have ended much differently in only twelve minutes had the passengers not fought back and crashed the plane in that lonely field.

Lives were renewed in those twelve minutes while smoke clouds raced heaven-ward from the soil of Pennsylvania.

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Cross-eyed Thinking

No offense to people who suffer from being cross eyed but I have to wonder if some people don’t suffer from a more serious malady that could well be dubbed cross-eyed-thinking. I’m referring to the Palestinian chief negotiator’s demand that Israel provide him with a lung transplant! In my own limited way of thinking I can’t help but wonder how you can call for the demise – total destruction – of a nation and a people and then demand that same people provide you with a lung transplant! This doesn’t compute, but then…none of the Palestinian Authority theology computes in my mind.

Saeb Erekat, 62, is ill. In fact, this ‘Top PA Official’ is very sick. He was diagnosed with pulmonary fibrosis over a year ago and is currently taking medication for that; however, it seems that the effect of the medicine is lessening. Pulmonary fibrosis is a lung disease that occurs when lung tissue becomes damaged, scars and becomes thick, making it difficult for the lungs to work properly. Usually the doctors don’t know the cause. However, the patient’s ability to breathe becomes progressively more difficult as the condition persists. In Erekat’s condition, a lung transplant is being recommended.

In order for a lung transplant to happen, there has to be donor that is compatible. Hmmm. Wonder where he’ll find a donor. Wouldn’t it be a kicker – an Israeli-hating-Palestinian accepting the lungs of a Jew in order to continue to breathe. Is that something he would find acceptable? The lungs of a Jew in the chest of a Palestinian? Would that change his outlook on Israel? Would he soften his demands against Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyhu whom he calls Benzion Netanyhu as a direct in-your-face insult to his father, whose name was actually Ben-Zion, (son of Zion).

How would that happen? Would a Pro-Palestinian Muslim be willing to kill a Jew for Erekat so that there could be a lung transfer? Allegedly the attacks on the Jews at the hands of the Muslim murderers is for Allah! Would one of them do it for Erekat? How would they know which Jew would be the donor? Would they just keep killing Jews until they finally get a donor?

And what about the Jew? Since he – or she – would be dead in order to make the transfer, then we should ask “what about their family”? Can you imagine what kind of compassion would be required for the family of a recently murdered Jew – one that was murdered at the hands of a Muslim – have in order to agree to the transplant of the lungs of their loved one to the very one that hates Israel? Is that even possible?

No one really knows the answer to that. What we do know is that Erekat is sick and in need of a lung transplant. He alleges that it is up to Israel to provide him with one. Really? Israel should do this? And what about all of the Jews that are waiting for a lung transplant? I have a hard time wrapping my head around this possibility.

Perhaps it is time for the Palestinians to quit hating and killing and putting their resources into annihilating Jews and start putting their resources into building medical facilities in Gaza. Perhaps then, and maybe then, they could hire doctors and medical teams with the skills to make such a transplant. Yep. That could happen.

But then, where would they get the donor?




Posted in corruption, hatred, Medical Malfeasance, Muslim Brotherhood, Palestinian Authority, Political Correctness, stolen identity, Terrorists | Leave a comment

Murder for Hire?

How would you define ‘murder for hire’? Would it be called ‘contract killing’? Would it be called ‘pay for slay’? According to the online dictionary, Murder for hire can be defined as: ‘the unlawful premeditated killing of one human being by another’, or more precisely, ‘to kill (someone) unlawfully with premeditation or during the commission of a crime’.

Who of us is not abhorred at the thought of someone killing someone else for money? Yet such stories are on television every night as evidenced by the “true crime” programs. It is always intriguing to see the amount of investigation that goes into solving the crime, forensics, it is called. With all the intrigue and disgust one might experience as the details of the crime come forth, none is quite so alarming as to find out it was done for money, whether it be for an insurance pay out, or simply because there is a vendetta, an inheritance and someone hired another to commit the crime. Rarely is it gotten away with once the crime detectives get involved.

That is, all but in Israel. In the last four years – 2013 to the current date – 79 Jewish lives have been lost at the hands of terrorists in Israel. That averages to 20 a year. The type of murder has ranged from car and/or truck ramming to knife or machete attacks in and out of private homes, in the public square, in restaurants. Wherever there is a Jew in Israel there is a target.

Fanned by hatred. Incited to violence by Muslim loud speakers and Waqfs (preachers), Muslims of all ages – but particularly youth – are arming themselves with knives, machetes, screw drivers – whatever they can find and head out to fight for Al Aqsa or whatever the cause of the moment is. It doesn’t matter that the victim is in a private home, quietly celebrating Shabbat with their families. Nor does it matter that the victim is asleep in their own beds. Nor does it matter that the victim is quietly walking down the street, or standing at a bus stop, or shopping at a local market, or ordering pizza in a pizzeria – wherever there is a Jew there is a Muslim waiting to kill him/her.

It isn’t important whether or not the attacker survives. It is all about being a martyr for the cause – whatever that cause is. It doesn’t matter whether the attacker is injured, or sent to prison, or disappears, the attacker is considered a hero in their local community as well as in the Muslim world. Muslim mammas are proud of their little boys that commit such heinous acts; they often say they wish they had more children to sacrifice for the cause.

One has to wonder, just what is the cause? Is it because the Muslim Palestinian Authority stands back with money in hand to pay the family of their martyred murderer? Is that the cause? Is it that these badly directed terrorists are achieving hero status at their own hands by earning a living for their otherwise poor families? With the price of a dead Jew’s hide being worth $401 a month to $3,435 per month, depending on the length of time the murderer serves in prison – if they survive – and the size of the family they leave at home.

Some say this murderous rage is because of the Al Aksa mosque, or the “illegal occupation” of Palestine, or whatever the cause of the moment is that is spewed from the loud speakers of the Muslim Waqf. It doesn’t really matter. They hate the Jews and they will only rest when the last Jew is dead or in the sea swimming for their lives.

What then? What would happen to these adorable little Muslim martyrs then? Will they have some of those lovely Jewish homes? Will they have jobs? Will they have educations? Probably not. All one has to do is to look at what happened to Gaza after the Disengagement (removal of all Jews from that section of land in August 2005). Nothing left but dust, destruction and hatred. The PA has done nothing to provide better homes, better jobs, better lives for those who were made jobless when the Jews moved out of Gaza for the promise of peace, which didn’t happen. What did happen was HAMAS (Harakat al-Muq wamah al- Isl miyyah Islamic Resistance Movement – a Palestinian Sunni-Islamic fundamentalist organization) moved in, lock, stock, gun barrels, bombs and all. Oh, don’t forget the rockets.

Once HAMAS moved in the reign of terror increased. Inciting to riot has been on an upswing accompanied by almost daily rockets lobbed into Israel from the once peaceful Gaza Strip. HAMAS has, for all intents and purposes, taken over the Palestinian Authority, doling out money to the murdering terrorists and their families, applauding the murderous actions, declaring them to be martyrs for the cause, and, if the deed was noble enough – meaning they killed Jews – then city squares and streets, and sometimes even schools, are named for the murderous martyr.

No matter what you call it and what reason you give it, this is nothing short of murder for hire. Kill a Jew and get paid, for life! Kill more than one Jew and get paid even more, for life. And, if you don’t survive then you’ll have all this amazing glory for allah and your family will be ‘well taken care of.’ The pay is higher than they would realize on welfare and, in some cases, is even higher than a well-paid Gazan would get through a civil service job. So why not do it? Why not kill a Jew and make a grand living for yourself and your family! Isn’t that what the world wants – all of the Jews gone? Heil Hitler!







Posted in corruption, End of time, Freedom, hatred, Israel, Muslim Brotherhood, Palestinian Authority, Political Correctness, Temple Mount, Terrorists | 1 Comment