[ Editorial ] American-Israel Party of Aggravated Corruption

Without American support, Israel will have to play nice with the neighbors it's spent decades kicking in the teeth. It will revert to its rightful owners: the Israelis.

Isn’t it positively hilarious to behold slabs of the American right-wing establishment—those tireless crusaders who’ve spent years howling about the “woke” menace—now shamelessly cribbing the very same playbook to gag any whisper of dissent against Israel or Washington’s policy toward it?

Antisemite! Communist! Racist! Nazi! The sacred quadrifecta of character assassination, served up fresh by the supposed defenders of untrammeled free speech. How the mighty have fallen... straight into their own trap.

Let’s not forget that glorious public pantsing Tucker Carlson delivered to Ted Cruz, with tens of millions gawking in schadenfreude. It all kicked off when Cruz slapped the “antisemite” label on Carlson for daring to call bullshit on the senator’s brazen lie: pretending the American Israel Public Affairs Committee (AIPAC) isn’t a full-throated lobbying juggernaut serving Israel’s every whim.

Ted Cruz, that Texas senator and hypocrite extraordinaire— a fitting heir to the throne of Lyndon B. Johnson, the Lone Star State’s senator-turned-VP-turned-POTUS, whose legacy as one of America’s most corrupt presidents is etched in the annals of graft and outright crime.

Spare us the sanctimonious sermon on exceptionalism—Israel ain’t Uncle Sam, and let’s dispense with the fevered fantasy that it’s some bastion of the West in the Middle East. Judaism? It’s not a pillar of that Christian-Western edifice the right-wing establishment is so desperate to defend. Sure, it has had and still have influence on Western civilisation—for good, for ill— and nobody’s evicting it from the West’s salon. But conflating the two? That’s historical cosplay gone rogue.

Picture this pint-sized Middle Eastern speck: a micro-nation of barely 10 million souls—say, 7.8 million Jews—squatting amid a sea of 450 million Arabs, 92 million Persians, and 87 million Turks. Geopolitical irrelevance on steroids, a blip without a bang in its own backyard or the global chessboard. Which begs the screaming question: why not play nice with the neighbors? Ah, but too many Israelis—blinded by entitlement or deafened by echo chambers—can’t be bothered to grasp that olive branch before torching it. Survival 101: don’t poke the hornet’s nest when you’re outnumbered 50-to-1.

And here’s the kicker: most Jews—over half of the world’s 15.8 million—aren’t even packing their bags for the land of milk and honey. So spare the “nation of all Jews” drivel; it’s not. Nor is it some pure ethno-state, with nearly a quarter Arabs alone and the rest a mishmash of “others” pushing non-Jews toward a solid third. Contrast that with America, where Yanks are glued to their stars-and-stripes patch. That’s the real glue—dirt, dialect, and shared quirks—not some atavistic blood tribalism. Israelis? They’re Israeli because they’ve planted roots there, not because of some divine DNA lottery ticket and sole religious belonging.

How the rot has set in: Israel’s morphed into a fascist wet dream, courtesy of a contemporary Zionism that’s swallowed the playbook whole. And fascism? Its proud papa, Benito Mussolini—that ex-socialist turned authoritarian showman—laid it out plain as a parade ground.

“For the fascist, everything is within the State, and nothing human or spiritual exists—let alone has any value—outside the State” - Benito Mussolini

Contemporary Zionism: a fascist fantasy masquerading as destiny, yanking the “Jewish” label from any co-religionist who won’t swear allegiance to its one-and-only ethno-state shrine. A Jew’s worth? Measured solely by their passport to this so-called “homeland of all Jews”? What a grotesque, galaxy-sized fib—shredded to confetti by the Haredim, those ultra-Orthodox Jews who flip the bird to Israeli allegiance like it’s yesterday’s matzo.

Picture them as the Jewish Amish: insular fundamentalists hunkered in their Torah trenches, churning butter (or rather, churning out yeshiva debates) in pious peace, foisting zero dogma on the goyim and the guys next door. No jackboots, no manifestos—just quiet contempt for the Zionist circus that dares redefine Judaism as a loyalty oath to an upstart. If that’s not the ultimate mic drop on ethnic essentialism, what is?

Let’s not forget the cherry on this heretical sundae: Zionism’s not just gone fascist, it’s outright blasphemy, a middle finger to the Almighty’s ancient eviction notice. God Himself—y’know, the ineffable One whose name we dare not utter (oh wait, it’s Yahweh, isn’t it? Silly me)—booted the Jews from the Promised Land as divine discipline for their sins, slamming the door with a thunderous “Not until I send My Messiah to bring you back”. But along come the self-anointed saviors—Herzl with his secular pipe dreams, Ben-Gurion barking orders like a soft tin-pot prophet, Jabotinsky flexing his revisionist muscles—and suddenly they’re playing Creator, rewriting the Torah with telegrams and treaties. Talk about chutzpah. In earlier eras (blessedly dust now), that hubris would’ve earned them a one-way ticket to the stake.

Yet—and here’s the delicious irony—Zionism started as a 19th-century backlash, a Jewish response to Europe’s nationalisms, even in its flint-hard, Jabotinsky-forged variant courtesy of that Ukrainian. Originally? Not a whiff of fascism —just desperate diaspora Darwinism, scrambling for a foothold amid pogroms and prejudice. How did the mutation happen, from survival hack to ethno-state worshipping cult? Who knew evolution could turn so sour?

Random Acces Memory

Tucker Carlson: one of America’s last bona fide journalistic titans still drawing breath, a right-winger who’s never once stuffed his Christianity into the closet. The man’s a facts fetishist—unapologetically so, ditching the opinion fog machine over a decade ago, which eventually got him the Fox News heave-ho. Little does he know (or maybe he does, the sly dog), he’s channeled Hannah Arendt’s razor-sharp zinger to perfection: “Freedom of opinion is a farce if the debate doesn’t hinge on facts.”

In a media swamp where spin doctors peddle fairy tales as gospel and pundits impressions as reality, Tucker’s allergy to bullshit is downright counter-revolutionary. And lo—behold the voice of sanity daring to drop a truth bomb: Zohran Mamdani, freshly minted mayor of the Big Apple that November 4, is not an antisemite. That’s a fact.

[ Analysis ] Zohran the Red, Mayor of the Big Apple

But let’s not polish his halo too shiny here—slap on the addendums: Mamdani’s no red-diaper baby socialist or hammer-and-sickle commie, despite the Democratic Socialist of America badge pinned to his lapel.

He’s your garden-variety “progressive” poster boy, all equity and identity politics, with a side of unapologetic Muslim swagger that screams cultural fortress over melting pot. Does that spell doom for America’s Jews? Hardly—more like a collective eye-roll from the delis of Brooklyn. The real peril—if it’s even percolating yet—isn’t tribal beef; it’s the vibe slithering through his low-decibel Islamism. Because nothing says “American dream” like importing Old World theocracies wrapped in rainbow rhetoric, we all know that...

And—gasp!—the outrage machine revs into overdrive: Tucker Carlson had the audacity to host Nick Fuentes, the hard-right provocateur whom the left and Zionists smear as a white supremacist and Holocaust denier. False on both counts? Let’s not kid ourselves—that’s not “false,” that’s Fuentes’ greatest hits, courtesy of his own unfiltered rants praising Hitler and questioning the gas chambers’ body count.

But peel back the pearl-clutching hysteria, and what emerges is a visceral nationalist torching the “dictatorship of minorities”—yes, all of them, from the identity-politics cartel to the grievance-grifting guilds—in terms so scorched-earth and eyebrow-singeing they could curdle milk at fifty paces. And that minority tyranny, real? Straight-up fascist courtesy not of some armchair edgelord, but Benito Mussolini himself, who would’ve nodded approvingly.

“Fascism denies that a majority—simply by virtue of numbers—can govern human society” - Benito Mussolini.

In Tucker’s confab with Fuentes last week, amid the MAGA meltdown and Heritage Foundation hand-wringing, we’re treated to the right’s own civil war: free speech vs. the forever-offended, where platforming a powder keg suddenly makes you the villain. How quaint— the same crowd screeching “cancel culture” now demands a safe space from spicy takes. Pass the popcorn; this implosion’s just getting good.

The pearl-clutching chorus wails anew: Tucker Carlson, that dastardly enabler, sat stone-faced through Nick Fuentes’ fevered filibuster without a single syllable of pushback! Pure fiction, peddled by the same outrage addicts who can’t tell a softball lob from a haymaker. Truth be told, Tucker peppered the pod with pointed interjections—slapping down Fuentes’ more unhinged Jew-baiting with a crisp “that’s antisemitic” here, a skeptical squint there—enough to keep the exchange from devolving into unchecked baloney.

As a journalist worth his salt, Carlson’s duty wasn’t to play guillotine, lopping off heads mid-rant like some Sean Hannity cum Rachel Madow fever dream redux. No, the real alchemy of interviewing? Shut your trap and let ‘em spill—watch the mask slip, the truth ooze out like pus from a punctured boil. Exhibit A: that Ted Cruz catastrophe, where his neocon neurosis bloomed live on air, all bluster and no backbone, exposing the senator as the AIPAC sock puppet he is. Magic happens when you unleash the mic, not muzzle it.

And Fuentes? Sure, the kid’s a verbal volcano, erupting obscenities and horrors that could scorch the Sermon on the Mount—white-hot rants on “organized Jewry” puppeteering the empire, minority tyrannies throttling the heartland and all that jazz. Ghastly? God, yes. But here’s the gut-punch: for all his bile, Fuentes has never once bayed for blood, never notched a call to “kill ‘em all” on his tally sheet. No fatwas from the fringe, no death-wish dispatches—just intellectual napalm, gaslighting sacred cows without slitting throats. That’s first amendment protected.

Cut now to the real rogue’s gallery: Florida’s own Randy Fine, that congressman turned unhinged uncle at the Thanksgiving table, who’s not just leading the lynch mob against Carlson and every Israel-policy skeptic in sight—he’s the one slinging actual slaughterhouse rhetoric. As if vaporizing innocent civilians is just spicy foreign policy.

Obscene? Fine’s the obscenity incarnate—more bloodthirsty than a Tarantino villain, yet crickets from the “free speech” faithful when he’s the one greenlighting genocide glow-ups. Hypocrisy’s not just a river in Egypt; it’s the Potomac, bloated with bipartisan bile. If platforming poison is the crime, start with the politicians swinging the sword.

The sordid root of Tucker Carlson’s latest lynching? As prosaic as a parking ticket in a pay-to-play swamp: where he and that provocateur Nick Fuentes actually lock arms—demanding an end to America’s blank-check bromance with Israel, the endless Middle East meat grinder that’s chewed up trillions and spit out body bags since forever. And oh, the real red-line ruby: forcing AIPAC—that smug octopus of influence-peddling—to finally register as a foreign agent under the Foreign Agents Registration Act (FARA), just like any other overseas meddling outpost.

Because nothing says “democracy” like a lobby that’s funneled over $100 million into congressional war-chests since 2024 alone, all while batting its eyelashes and claiming it’s just “pro-Israel Americans” doing God’s work.

AIPAC? It’s no mere mascot—it’s the pulsating heart of America’s institutionalized rot, the gilded fig leaf over a system where electoral “popularity” isn’t votes, it’s velocity of donor dollars slamming into campaign coffers like bullets in a MAGA rally. Worship the Almighty Buck, anoint a cabal of mega-whales to crown your kings—that’s the gospel of the Republic, Inc.

Yet even this fetish got a rude wedgie twice from Donald J. Trump: in 2016, when his shoestring war chest (a measly $400 million) outfoxed Hillary’s $1.2 billion behemoth; and last year, 2024, where he surfed to victory on $1.6 billion against Kamala Harris’s $2.1 billion steamroller, proving big money buys headlines, not heartland ballots.

Then, salt in the wound: November 4, just days ago, Zohran Mamdani moonwalked past $20 million in billionaire buckshot from the Hamptons hedge-fund horde, snagging NYC’s mayoral crown with 50.4% of the vote.

Turns out, when the little guy ignores the fat cats’ feast, the emperor’s got no clothes.

America, after all, cradles the world’s largest Jewish diaspora outside Israel itself—some 6 million strong, a powerhouse of brains and bucks that long ago sparked the great Israeli influence imbroglio. Flash back to Suez ‘56: French paratroopers, Tommy guns, and Israeli tanks storming Nasser’s nationalized canal like colonial cosplayers, only for Eisenhower to drop the hammer—”Pack it up, boys”—and send the whole clown car in humiliated retreat. JFK, drew the line twice over: stonewalling Israel’s nuclear joyride at Dimona (he demanded inspections till the cows came home, no dice), and siccing brother Bobby’s DOJ on AIPAC’s daddy, the American Zionist Council, to slap it with FARA cuffs as a straight-up Israeli outfit in 1962-63.

Since the Six-Day miracle of ‘67, Israel’s “strategic depth” relies solely on the Star-Spangled Sugar Daddy, $3.8 billion in annual aid (plus extras) that’s less “ally” than addiction, turning a ragtag survivor into a welfare queen with F-35s. Cut the cord? The whole house of cards collapses.

And Trump? The MAGA messiah who swore off forever wars like a vegan at a steakhouse—until he bent the knee to Bibi Netanyahu, greenlighting strikes on Iran’s alleged nuclear nest early in his second term, swallowing the Israeli bait hook, line, and fallout.

Reneging on that “no more blood for sand” pledge? We called it then: the beginning of the end for his presidency, a self-inflicted wound that turned “America First” into “Tel Aviv’s Errand Boy.” History, as they say, doesn’t repeat—but it sure does rhyme with regret.

MAKE AMERICA GOLF AGAIN

Six months on, and the coalition that Frankenstein-ed Donald Trump back into the Oval Office has detonated spectacularly—courtesy of that pint-sized pipe bomb called Israel, which also ignited trench warfare across both major parties.

Fast-forward to the 2026 midterms, and forget the tired old cage match of Republicans vs. Democrats; the real bloodbaths are brewing in the primaries, where each party’s nomination gauntlets will sort the America-First insurgents from the globalists and Tel Aviv toadies.

Twice now, Trump has stormed the Republican primaries like a bull in a neocon china shop, bulldozing the establishment fossils who still clog the congressional catacombs as the party’s parliamentary meat shields. These graybeards, from McConnell’s ghost to Graham’s grimaces, cling to their AIPAC leashes like life rafts in a sea of irrelevance.

Over in Dem-land, Zohran Mamdani’s Big Apple mayoral coup flipped the party’s blue-blood establishment arse-over-teakettle. These self-proclaimed progressives, who’d sooner sip lattes with lobbyists than question a Rafah rubble pile, now stare down a DSA disruptor who’s got the youth chanting “Not in our name” from Brooklyn to the Bay.

And the larger public? The scales have fallen: a majority’s gone cold on Israel, with the under-35s leading the revolt like avenging angels on TikTok, gagging on the endless Gaza gore-fests while Uncle Sam funnels of billions in taxpayer treasure to his ungrateful israeli client—cash that’s MIA for cratered bridges back home, student debt black holes, and healthcare that’s more hostage negotiation than human right.

They’re done—utterly, apocalyptically done—with the massacres masked as “mowing the lawn.” When Gen Z starts viewing your “ally” as a black hole sucking dry the American dream, that’s not a vibe shift; that’s a verdict. Tel Aviv, take a bow: you’ve turned your staunchest supporters into skeptics. Encore?

The bromance is officially on life support: Donald Trump has finally soured on Benjamin Netanyahu like a week-old falafel left in the sun—public spats over Gaza ceasefires, leaked gripes about Bibi’s “stubbornness,” and his October mic-drop: “I’ll decide what’s right for Israel.”

The Don’s patience? Shredded like a subpoena in Mar-a-Lago. But will he finally tune into the American’s growing concern—polls screaming 62% now view Israel unfavorably, with the under-30s at a blistering 69% siding with Palestinians amid the rubble and disapproving of the $18 billion aid that’s bankrolling Tel Aviv’s deadly tantrums.

Pivot time? Or is this the genius grift: let the MAGA trenches bleed out in Israel-infused infighting, a controlled burn to torch the neocon establishment at little risk? Because nothing snaps a lobby’s spine like a civil war where the foot soldiers start asking, “Why are we dying for Dimona?”

Either way, Israelis—wake up and smell the self-reliance: that unconditional Uncle Sam sugar rush? It’s flatlining faster than a Bibi approval rating. From JFK’s FARA feints to Trump’s arm-twisting on truces, the era of blank checks is buckling under public revulsion and balance-sheet revanchism. Time to trade the patron for actual neighbors, not bombs on the never-never. Israel, finally yours Israeli alone. We wish you... clarity. May it sting just enough to stick.