Some people travel through deserts. Others skydive from space. Max Blumenthal, Sidney Blumenthal’s idiot son, gets his thrills trying to make it through an Israeli airport.
Max Blumenthal, political hack Sidney Blumenthal’s son, makes things up and makes himself into the center of the story. He’s like Julian Assange, except even lamer. Blumenthal’s claims to fame include being the son of a Clinton aide and making a viral video featuring drunken Israelis badmouthing Obama.
Blumenthal is following that up with Goliath, the epic story of how he made it through an Israeli airport in one piece. (Actually it’s a deranged screed about how Israel is the devil. Don’t take it from me, Eric Alterman at The Nation, far on the left said, “it could have been published by the Hamas Book-of-the-Month Club.”
Sure millions of people visit Israel every year. But only Max Blumenthal has the courage to turn his uneventful trip through an Israeli airport into a piece of suspense fiction.
Read and prepare to be thrilled.
Before any trip to Israel-Palestine, I receive a dizzying array of advice from jour-nalist and activist friends on how to pass through Israeli security with minimal harassment.
You could just arrive without any bombs. That usually works for me.
Blumenthal has been to Israel plenty of times, despite hating Israel more than Arafat hated showers. He’s managed to get in and out of the country before. But like every self-dramatizing jorno-brat visiting a foreign country, he has to make himself into the story.
Israel makes a lot of money from tourism. It makes a chunk of it from protest tourism which is why whiny leftist parasites like Max Blumenthal have the run of the country. They usually only get kicked out when they start throwing stones at soldiers.
A Jewish-American writer for a Palestinian diaspora publication told me she always wore blue-and-white clothing—the colors of the Israeli flag—and a gold Star of David necklace, and flirted openly with security officers of the opposite sex.
Somehow I don’t think this has anything to do with getting through security.
A left-wing Israeli activist advised me to behave in an irritable, churlish fashion, blurting out terse responses to questions from security officers to avoid creating the perception that I was overcompensating for any “anti-Israel” intentions.
Even left-wing Israelis are screwing with Blumenthal. I don’t blame them. I would advise him to shout that he has a bomb to avoid creating the impression that he’s overcompensating for having a bomb.
They reminded me about Lily Sussman, the twenty-one-year-old Jewish American college student detained in December 2009 by the Shin Bet at Israel’s border with Egypt because she was carrying suspicious items, such as an Arabic phrasebook.
Lily Sussman was crossing the border from an enemy country. Not the airport. Big difference. They suspected that she was carrying a bomb for a Muslim boyfriend. That sort of thing has happened before. Her laptop got totaled and she has never shut up about it since.
I hear she has a memorial to the laptop in her backyard.
After deciding that I was too lazy to purge my computer and cellphone of Arab contacts, I concluded that I had nothing to hide and that the Israeli intelligence services could not possibly be foolish enough to treat me as a security threat.
So the preceding paragraphs have been a waste of time. Blumenthal has gone to Israel before. He knows he’s self-dramatizing.
I then reminded myself that I was an Ashkenazi Jew who would be automatically afforded special rights according to the designs of Zionism.
Tell it to all the Norwegian leftists who get through Israeli security and then begin throwing rocks at Israeli soldiers. They do it without any Ashkenazi Jewish privilege.
My Jewish privilege would be borne out during many trips in and out of Ben Gurion Airport.
Also Max Blumenthal’s Jewish privilege was frequently borne out in his visits to Home Depot and Starbucks where he was given a toilet seat and a tasty latte in exchange for money… only because of his Ashkenazi Jewish privilege.
To the extent that he has any privilege, it’s being the spawn of a top Democrat who could easily get a senator on the phone to the Israelis if his son is delayed an extra 5 minutes in the airport.
Whenever a security officer greeted me with the requisite opening question, “Are you Jeweesh?” I have learned to casually respond, “Of course.”
If I were ever asked if I had any Israeli family, I would tell them about all my imaginary cousins in Tel Aviv or about my imaginary Israeli girlfriend. “Are you thinking of marrying your girlfriend,” a young female security officer asked me once., sure am!” I said with a bashful smile, bringing a satisfied grin to the face of the officer. Because the maintenance of a Jewish demographic majority is Israel’s national priority, the production of Jewish babies is a key national priority. With my promise to inject top-grade Ashkenazi Jewish sperm into the ovum of a young Jewish Israeli woman, I was marked with a level-one security classification.
Max Blumenthal really overestimates the quality of his sperm.
Security officers don’t ask you if you’re Jewish to give you clearance. They’re doing it to try and establish why you’re here and also to get you talking. Once they have an identity for you, they can more easily notice discrepancies. Similarly a Christian pilgrim might be asked which churches he’ll be visiting.
Israeli security has fantastically little interest in Max Blumenthal’s sperm. It’s interested only in whether he’s associated with terrorist groups or smuggling anything into the country. In the process it gets him talking about himself.
Blumenthal stupidly thinks he’s getting security clearance and “putting one over” on the officers. He could just as easily tell them that he’s a left-wing activist who hates Israel and wants to document the Zionist devil close at hand. It would probably get him through the airport even faster on honesty points.
But Max Blumenthal, like most left-wing idiots, wants to be the star of an adventure and to pretend that he’s outsmarting those fiendish Israelis.
Each time I reach the kiosk at passport control on my way into Israel-Palestine, I do my best to appear calm, and even a little bit bored, while the officer examines my documents. With bated breath I wait for the loud thump of the metal visa stamp when it meets the pages of my passport.
Blumenthal, like most compulsive liars, switches back and forth from admitting that he has no concerns to pretend to be agitated.
Thus concludes the exciting adventure of Max Blumenthal’s uneventful trip through the airport. Stay tuned next week when Max Blumenthal will brave a Zionist Starbucks and wait with bated breath as the barista draws him a pumpkin late.
Will he abuse his Ashkenazi Jewish privilege by refusing to tip her? Stay tuned.
Maybe if Max Blumenthal ever has an honesty breakdown, he would admit that he could stroll through BGU in a Hamas t-shirt, a suicide bomb belt and a button reading, “My Dad is a Hillary Clinton Advisor”.
Because that last one… that’s his real privilege. It’s not about race. It’s about whose idiot son you happen to be.