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A Prayer for Peace

December 28th, 2005 at 12:26 pm by Preston Taylor Holmes

Palestinian apologist Steven Spielberg’s celluloid “prayer for peace” falls on deaf ears. Then again, maybe aging terrorist-mastermind Mohammed Daoud’s hearing isn’t so good since he spent all those years testing explosives.

GAZA (Reuters) – The Palestinian mastermind of the Munich Olympics attack in which 11 Israeli athletes died said on Tuesday he had no regrets and that Steven Spielberg’s new film about the incident would not deliver reconciliation.

The Hollywood director has called “Munich”, which dramatizes the 1972 raid and Israel’s reprisals against members of the Palestine Liberation Organization (PLO), his “prayer for peace”.

Munich is Little Stevie’s own version of “Someday at Christmas,” a holiday season fantasy rewriting of history – a little boy’s wish that the world could just “get along”. Like the rest of the Palestinian state, however, Daoud isn’t terribly interested in getting along.

“We did not target Israeli civilians,” he said.

“Some of them (the athletes) had taken part in wars and killed many Palestinians. Whether a pianist or an athlete, any Israeli is a soldier.”

I suppose that goes double for the toddlers that your minions murder with nail-bombs in Israeli pizza parlors. “Any Israeli is a soldier”. That certainly explains your targeting methods, you decaying mound of sub-human debris.


One Response to “A Prayer for Peace”

  1. Cranky Says:

    You know, I saw Munich this weekend. I have to say that knowing the agenda beforehand and taking it with a grain of salt left me enjoying the movie.

    OF COURSE Spielberg lives in a world where if we all held hands and enjoyed a Coke together, all would be well. But man, can he do a movie.

    What left me confused was the ending, which I think must be the work of Tony Kushner.

    How does one explain the scene where the protagonist is engaged in “the act” with his wife while experiencing flashbacks of the atheletes being murdered? I can only speculate that this is a heterophobic metaphor for something which I can’t place my finger on.

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