Thomas Wictor

The law of unintended consequences

The law of unintended consequences

Before Operation Protective Edge, I was a staunch supporter of Israel. I bought pizza for Israeli soldiers, and I corresponded with a few of them. It never really occurred to me to study the motivations of the anti-Israel crowd, since we’re all free to have whatever beliefs we want. Also, I didn’t think much about the Palestinians, other than to hope they someday got their act together. But when this last war started, the anti-Israel crowd began flooding me with messages that showed who they really are. Even worse for them, the messages showed who the Palestinians really are. The law of unintended consequences created a result exactly opposite to what the message senders wanted.

Supporters of Palestinians began e-mailing and tweeting me photo after photo of horribly mutilated babies and children. It was supposed to make me ashamed that I support Israel, but all it did was reveal that Palestinian “paramedics” and “doctors” are deeply immoral.

This child’s head was blown apart.

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Do you see any emotion whatsoever on the faces of those “doctors”? Who displays corpses like that, holding them upright like dolls?

These “paramedics” are presenting the charred, half-gone body of an infant.

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The man in the red jacket appears to be the same individual holding the first dead baby. I’m sure he’s a Hamas operative.

Again, no horror. No sadness. In fact no emotion at all. The bearded man is yelling, but that’s what crummy actors do when they lack the ability to emote convincingly.

This “doctor” wins the award for Palestinian Medical Ghoul of the Decade.

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He presents the body of four-year-old Mohammed Sadallah, killed on November 16, 2012. The dead toddler was paraded for the press, his corpse manhandled and dangling awkwardly, and then in a display of mind-blowing perversion, he was handed to Egyptian prime minister Hisham Kandil and Hamas bigwig Ismail Haniyeh. Kandil kissed the dead child and pretended to cry.

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Look at those faces. Hard as cement. Even the female photographer in the background. None of them care in the slightest.

Initially the entire world accused Israel of killing Mohammed Sadallah in an air strike. Just one problem.

But there were signs on Saturday that not all the Palestinian casualties have been the result of Israeli air strikes. The highly publicised death of four-year-old Mohammed Sadallah appeared to have been the result of a misfiring home-made rocket, not a bomb dropped by Israel.

The child’s death on Friday figured prominently in media coverage after Hisham Kandil, the Egyptian prime minister, was filmed lifting his dead body out of an ambulance. “The boy, the martyr, whose blood is still on my hands and clothes, is something that we cannot keep silent about,” he said, before promising to defend the Palestinian people.

But experts from the Palestinian Centre for Human Rights who visited the site on Saturday said they believed that the explosion was caused by a Palestinian rocket.

People who exhibit the corpses of children are not fully human. People who send me photos of the corpses of children are not fully human, and they’re also stupid. Because of them, I now realize how degenerate Palestinian culture is.

An Irish Jew-hater sent me this gruesome photo.

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“Who killed these people?” she demanded, thinking she’d cornered me.

Hamas obviously killed them. With one of the 825 rockets that fell within Gaza. How do I know? Lots of reasons.

For one, they altered the scene and took a second photo.

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Bodies were removed and placed in different positions. Why?

Because they had to gather up the fragments of the rocket warhead.

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They used a rag, wiping some of the blood up off the floor.

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You can see the fragmentation damage on the wall above the victims. They were killed by a Hamas rocket. No doubt.

Palestinians have a long history of tampering with evidence, playing for the camera, and lying. When they kill their own people, they blame it on Israel.

Human Rights Watch “military expert” Marc Garlasco said the fragments recovered from the scene and bodies were from an Israeli 155mm round.

There was no evidence of a 155mm shell either hitting the beach or exploding over the family’s head. I knew instantly that Israel wasn’t responsible. What struck me was that the girl’s pain was completely unconvincing. And now we have film of her and her brother waiting until the cameras are on them before they react.

What kind of people have no response to the violent deaths of their own family members unless a camera is on them?

What kind of people use a mentally ill teenager as a suicide bomber?

This afternoon an idiot sent me a photo that shows Israeli soldiers “cruelly laughing” at a bound and blindfolded girl.

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Well, whenever people send me images, I check to see what the real story is. Palestine Media Gate cropped out something.

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Namely, the two BOMBS that the girl was carrying. On the top of the orange propane bomb on the left, you can see the cell phone used to detonate it. My guess is that a distant observer would’ve blown up the girl and her targets.

Today an Israeli soldier wrote me an e-mail describing an incident in which a child suicide bomber attacked him. He asked me to not use his name.

I don’t remember much from the scene. It’s always like in a dream. And you don’t want to remember it. 
The Palestinian was a child 50 meters in front of us. Twelve to fourteen years old, running from side to side of the street. 
We have stopped the operation because of the rules of engagement. Than I got a paint bomb on the front windshield, making me blind. I’m a D9 bulldozer driver. We were being shot with all calibers of weapons. All I remember was the radio screaming, “RPG!” Then I woke up in the hospital.

When a soldier tells you a story, never press him or her for details. Soldiers tell you what they can. I didn’t ask him what happened to the child. This soldier was severely wounded, but he recovered.

Palestinians proudly choose violence, ugliness, decay, and death.

Their supporters—the people who send me photos of mutilated children—are as thanatoid. The Palestinians have made their own deaths into an industry, and their supporters have made disseminating photos of Palestinian corpses into an industry no different from pornography.

What that did was open my eyes to how hopelessly degraded Palestinian culture is. It also showed me that those involved in the anti-Israel movement are as unfeeling as resurrectionists, the grave robbers and body snatchers of nineteenth-century Europe.

I didn’t think this way until the anti-Israel movement began assaulting me with its sacred death-smut. The Palestinians and the anti-Israel movement have only themselves to blame for how I view them.

I love life. Part of loving life and embracing beauty is supporting Israel.

And now I support her more than ever.

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