1) The Palestinians are unable to police themselves.  Regardless of why, there are terrorist bullies effectively dictating the de facto course of the Palestinian State and their murderous assault upon women and children is totally beyond other lip-servicing and well-meaning Palestinians' control.

2) The brutal savaging of innocent children, women, and other civilians of whatever nationality today is intolerable and MUST NOT be allowed to continue tomorrow.

3) If your'e an Arab sympathizer, fuck you.  If your'e and Israeli sympathizer, fuck you.  Death to you and your death-embracing sympathies--all.  If there were a bomb that could just kill you and your petulant life-denying instigators, I'd drop it.  Poof.  And I'd sniff the smoke of your collective incinerated bodies and get a hippy peace-flowers-free-love high.  Oh yeah.  Fuck your politics.  Fuck your diatribe.  There are mothers and children and sisters and brothers dying for your shit-god dreams and you're all just horse shit from a horse that should have been processed into dog food long ago. 

4) These Palestinian terrorist death-squad types dare not show their death-masques here.  Dare not.  Should they erupt, I will personally begin a mission of elimination to preempt.  Make no mistake: if it comes down to me or them, they lose.  I will spit up their nostrils, put a cork in their anuses, and dip them in a vat of Hershey's rich chocolate and then auction them off as pagan-candied Easter bunnies on e-Bay.  And if that doesn't stop them, I'll just unload a clip from my Colt 9mm Commander into their unfeeling, faltering hearts.  And then kneel over their blood-geysing, slumping bodies and pray to God and Allah and Buddha ( in English and Arab and Chinese--yes, multilingually) for mercy for their wasted lost souls.

5) For I say unto every Terrorist You, should you tread on me:  This is the way your world shall end, this is the way your world shall end, not with a suicide newsworthy bang, but with your lonely, dark-alleyed, blood-congested whimper.  Just remember: No one can do hashish like me.

"There is another experience worth mentioning: jamais vu.  It's the opposite of deja vu.  Instead of feeling extra familiar, things seem totally unfamiliar.  In this case there is too little connection between long-term memory and perceptions from the present.  When a person is in this state, nothing they experience seems to have anything to do with the past.  They might be talking to a person they know well and suddenly they person seems totally unfamiliar.  Their sense of knowing the person, and knowing how to relate to them simply vanishes.  A room in which they spend a lot of time suddenly becomes totally novel; everything seems new.  Details they will have seen a thousand times suddenly become engaging."

--from "Deja Vu in Spiritual and Scientific Views," Todd Murphy

And I believe there is yet another related experience in the vu family:  presque vu.  It’s the feeling that things are almost  but not quite familiar.  As if each breathless moment is one of trying on Cinderella’s slipper—while not quite  being Cinderella.  As if things would be entirely familiar if only one more miniscule detail would fall into place.  Like feeling one’s hair lift into a static clench while standing on an open field under an ominous thundercloud and sensing the lightning ladder latticing, building, ready to usher in the moment...when?...of fulfillment.  No it hasn't happened before, or yet, yet feels so pregnant...

Ah, presque vu, do I know you?  I seethe with thoughts-but are they mine? An encompassing madness seems to fill me with a clash of voices strange to me.  I often ponder: could this transient deluge be the disembodied degraded spewings of recent corpses’ rotting brains?  A collective psychic dribble not yet expunged from the biosphere but in the process of fleeting thither, without fixed reference, and of no patent use to life?  As this psychic wave of a world-passing washes over me, I wonder can I ride the surf?