We are all familiar with the expression, “You can’t make this stuff up,” meaning something true but so preposterous–sounding that it seems as if it should be fictitious.
Zionists broke into his house last night and stole… his shoe
The phrase seemed tailor-made for the story in Arutz Sheva yesterday:
According to Asghar Bukhari, founder of the extremist Muslim Public Affairs Committee (MPAC), Zionists broke into his house last night and stole… his shoe.
In his own words:
The hashtag #MossadStoleMyShoe went viral on Twitter as people mocked Bukhari’s paranoia. It does sound preposterous. But sometimes truth is stranger than fiction.
We have been caught out and there is no point in pretending
In the age of the internet and social media, nothing stays secret forever. Only this week, Britain was forced to pull its spies from “hostile countries” when it feared that Russia and China had decrypted identifying documents in the materials released by Edward Snowden.
So, too, the story of the world Jewish/Zionist conspiracy has emerged, bit by bit, to an extent that even the Nazis could not have hoped for in their fondest dreams. We have been caught out and there is no point in pretending any longer. The full menagerie of Zionist spy animals—sharks, vultures, storks—has been put on public parade. The story about aphrodisiac gum and infertility shampoo is out. We now know that European Jews have no connection to the land of Israel and are in fact Turkic Khazars. The game is up.
It was therefore only a matter of time before the other shoe dropped. Because blood-curdling stories of Jewish ritual murder were so much more dramatic, the sinister practice of Jewish-Zionist shoe-stealing has been forgotten—until now. Once one knows what to look for, the evidence is everywhere in plain sight.
Beware the Jew: Protect Your Shoe
Why, for example, do we find so many pictures of people—especially youngsters—clutching a single piece of footwear? From medieval Scandinavia to early America, adults and children alike were warned to be on guard. As the popular saying (sometimes falsely attributed to Ben Franklin’s Poor Richard’s Almanac) went:
For want of a nail the shoe is lost;
For want of a shoe, the horse is lost;
And for want of a horse the rider is lost.
Beware the Jew: Protect your shoe.
Those who refused to heed the advice did so at their peril as these paintings by Winslow Homer, generally reckoned the greatest American artist of the nineteenth century, reveal:
Was it mere coincidence?
Was it mere coincidence that depictions of lost or unattainable footwear became so prevalent in the age of the Dreyfus Affair, when antisemitism went viral in France and Theodor Herzl founded the modern Zionist movement?
The message had been lurking beneath the surface. We know Johann Heinrich Füßli’s famous drawing as “The Artist Moved by the Grandeur of Ancient Ruins” (1778-9), but the name he gave it in private—”The Jew Has Got Your Shoe: Deal With It!”—conveyed his true feelings of Schadenfreude over the collapse of the Roman Empire and growing power of the Elders of Zion.
Only now can we grasp the true meaning of William Blake’s famous verse:
The only Man that I eer knew
Who did not make me almost spew
Was Fuseli he was both Turk and Jew
And so dear Christian friends how do you do?
Füßli was part of the conspiracy and thus allowed to work unmolested. But throughout the years, other artists who came too close to revealing the truth paid dearly for their indiscretion.
Jean-Honoré Fragonard’s famous 1767 painting, “The Swing,” long interpreted as an expression of Rococo eroticism, can now be properly understood as a coded message about the Zionist shoe-theft conspiracy.
When the French Revolution came, it destroyed the aristocracy and deprived Fragonard of his patronage. He died a pauper. As the Hamas Covenant explains, the Revolution—along with World War I, World War II, and “secret societies, such as Freemasons, Rotary Clubs, the Lions and others”—was but one tool “for the purpose of sabotaging societies and achieving Zionist interests.”
Equally instructive is the example of Vincent van Gogh. He was, by all accounts, sympathetic to Jews. Thus, when he stumbled upon the Zionist trove of stolen footwear, he did not want to reveal the secret, and yet he was too much the artist to allow such a striking scene to go unused. To be sure, he painted only a small corner of the warehouse and gave his work the innocuous title, “Three Pairs of Shoes,” but even this was too much for the proto-Mossad, which had to send a warning.
That was in 1886. Here is his self-portrait from the following year.
This one is from 1889.
You have been warned.