A Thanksgiving Farce
The mask slipped completely just days ago. Campus screamers who spent the last two years shrieking that Israel is a “genocidal, settler-colonial, apartheid entity” flew home for Thanksgiving to suburbs built on land actually stolen through conquest, ethnic cleansing, and broken treaties. They feasted on turkey bought with wealth extracted from that very colonialism, then flew back to campus still clutching the same passports and inheritances that colonization gave them. Their call to dismantle a country “by any means necessary, from the river to the sea” is reserved exclusively for the world’s only Jewish state.
Anyone who inherited money, property, tuition, or any personal benefit from colonization and slavery—yet spends their days demanding only Israel be destroyed—is a walking, talking hypocrite. If you truly believe those benefits are illegitimate, renounce them all today. Sign over the trust fund, deed the house to the nearest tribe, forfeit the college fund built on slave cotton and indigenous land. Until you do, spare us your lectures. Your selective outrage is worth less than nothing.
Not one house key mailed to a First Nation. Not one inheritance repudiated. Not one ticket booked to fight in Gaza. The silence remains vomitous.
This is not activism. It is a morally bankrupt, Jew-only blood libel wearing the stolen costume of “decolonization.” Every decent person should feel raw, unrelenting contempt for these frauds.
They also weaponize the grotesque lie that Jews ran the Atlantic slave trade. That lie is easily demolished, which is why I am publishing a meticulous seven-part series on The Times of Israel Blogs shredding it. (I no longer distribute these articles on Substack; the only place to read them is on Times Of Israel.) Part 5 is now live with links to all previous installments. Subscribe free on my author page to be notified the moment Part 6 drops:
https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/debunking-myths-of-jewish-slave-trade-role/
https://blogs.timesofisrael.com/author/grant-arthur-gochin/
Harvard, Yale, Brown, and Georgetown were built with slave money; these hypocrites never call for those campuses to be razed and the land returned. The outrage is saved solely for the Jewish state. That is not coincidence. That is ancient hatred in keffiyeh drag.
As a gay man, I watch the rainbow-flag clowns of “Queers for Palestine” and “Trans for Gaza” march for regimes that would murder them in a heartbeat, while living safely in the only civilization that ever gave them rights. Israel is the one place in the region where they could kiss in public and live. They scream for its annihilation anyway. They deserve nothing but scorn.
Thanksgiving 2025 exposed the entire fraud: “decolonization” is just the trendy, academia-approved way to demand a second Holocaust while gorging on the fruits of the first.
Happy (belated) Thanksgiving to everyone who still loves this country and the West. I am profoundly grateful to be an American citizen, profoundly proud of America’s founding principles—democracy, freedom, and human rights—and profoundly committed to defending the only democracy in the Middle East that lives those values every day. Those principles are the exact opposite of the America-hating, West-hating, Jew-hating movement that hides behind Palestinian flags.
To the America-haters and West-haters in our midst: we see you clearly. We see your absolute stupidity, your grotesque inversion of facts and truth, your utter lack of comprehension of history and the world, and your eager negation of your own future. One day, when you finally grow up, you will be mortified to realize you spent your youth calling for the destruction of your own families, your own freedoms, and your own way of life—all of it based on the most transparent Jew-hate propaganda since 1945. You thought you were “anti-racists”; in reality you became some of the most fervent racists on campus. Chinese and Indian students—focused, disciplined, and immune to this poison—watched you make fools of yourselves. They will out-compete you in every field for the rest of your lives. Your gullibility and lack of intelligence do not just embarrass you; they bode ill for America’s future. We hold everything you currently stand for in complete, withering contempt.
—
In Memory of Melody Ziff
Melody Ziff is dead.
Thanksgiving Day, 2025. She finally escaped the body that had tortured her for years. She was ready. I am not. That’s my problem, not hers.
She did not edit the piece above. Her red pen is silent for the first time in a decade. Good. Every ruthless line in it is hers anyway. Every incision between truth and lie, every refusal to spare the meretricious—that was Melody’s native language. I only held the scalpel she guided.
For more than ten years she was the invisible co-author of almost anything I wrote that I can still read without wincing the next morning. When my nerve failed, she poured molten steel down my spine. When my anger cooled to polite indignation, she twisted the dial back to incinerate. She never missed an opening; I did, until one raised eyebrow from 3,000 miles away showed me the exposed jugular I had strolled past.
She was not easy.
Exacting, allergic to mediocrity and self-pity, armed with a tongue that could skin pretense alive. People who needed coddling ran. I needed the skinning, so we were perfect—until we fought like alley cats and then, five minutes later, resumed slaying dragons side by side. That was our rhythm. It is gone.
Melody despised sentimentality, so none here.
Only this, in the plain words she would have tolerated:
I have lost a mind and a soul so ferocious in love and truth that no single lifetime feels long enough to have contained her.
The world is stupider today.
My spine is less straight.
My sentences will be duller.
Somewhere, Melody is already furious that I almost got maudlin.
Good. Let her stay furious.
It means she’s still reading.
I love you, my terrifying, magnificent friend.
Give the editors in whatever afterlife you just invaded absolute hell.
They’re going to need body armor.
