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tagsecretsanta · 2 months ago

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From @womble1

From @womble1 to @sailing-on-a-puddle

Prompt used: Kip Harris comes to dinner at the end of Flame Out

Completed by Womble1

Kip Harris had just finished tucking up his trusty little truck in the fire hall. It was the last one to park up, the rest of his team having made it back just before him. The air in the garage space was smokey, carrying that earthy bite distinctive of forest fires. But, better than lingering methane. Taking a last look to make sure that all the equipment was restocked and stashed just how he liked it ready for the next call, he picked up his hat and went to climb out of the truck.

Kip Harris was the kind of man who didn’t startle easily. It was essential in his line of work, and key to how he had managed to rack up so many years of experience without becoming a charred footnote on an incident report. However, the involuntary muscular spasm that made it appear that he jumped did tally suspiciously with the unexpected holocal appearing from his dashboard.

After a few totally normally paced heartbeats, Kip recognised the young man he had spoken to earlier when petitioning International Rescue for help.

“Hi Mister Harris, I hear you’re joining us for dinner.”

“I guess that's so, young man.” he drawled, waiting to see where this was going.

“Well you might need a lift, we’re a little off the main highways,” there was a half hint of a smile under the assumed professionalism. Kip wasn’t sure what the joke was but he knew there was one. He gave the boy the benefit of the doubt and assumed he wasn’t about to become the joke. The other one…Virgil, he reminded himself, he prided himself on remembering names, it was a sign of respect, Virgil had seemed so earnest that Kip had taken the invitation as genuine. He had learnt over the years to roll with whatever life threw at him, and you never quite knew where an unexpected invitation might take you.

The ghost of a smile had vanished as quick as it had arrived, and been promptly replaced with the same swift professionalism that Kip had noted in their first interaction.

“We’ll send someone over to pick you up in about 2 hours if that’s alright Mister Harris.”

“Much obliged.” and he touched the brim of his hat briefly.

Shadow touched down precisely 2 hours later, her motorbike section swapped for a module with a passenger seat. Kayo kept her steely poker face and politely ignored the ungainly noises the great Kip Harris made whilst trying to contort himself into the spare seat. She also keyed a quick message to John to ask him to run distraction at the other end so the poor man could climb out again without an audience. A job which John completed with his usual efficient economy of effort. Which in this case meant delegating to Gordon.

Gordon achieved this by dressing himself up in ski gear which had last seen the light of day in Scotts early teens and jamming every possible zip fastening. Because as everyone knows, jammed zips can only be fixed by a grandmother's gentle persuasion. Ok, maybe not a widely known saying, but Gordon played it for all he was worth, monopolising his grandmother's attention like a pro. In fact, what started as a 2 minute ad-lib piece, was quickly extended to a 10 minute improv performance at Scotts hasty command.

Scott and John, had been drawn with a sense of dread by the charred smell emanating from the kitchen. They had caught a glimpse of the culinary delights prepared by their loving grandmother, and the call to stall was sent out via morse code to Gordons watch.

“What I don’t understand is why she cremated lasagne from scratch when we have some in the chiller already, the nice stuff.” John was staring at the far more inviting cheese topped tray where it sat, still blissfully charcoal free, in the refrigerator. There was a wistful glint in his eye for the meal that could have been.

Scott prodded at the carbon encased remains that were left after Grandma had dished up all the portions. She had joyfully called it “extra in case anyone wanted seconds” and put it back in the oven.

“We can’t make Mr Harris eat this, Virgil will never forgive us if his hero chokes to death on….on whatever went into this.” it had a certain sulphur tang.

“It’s not like we have a lot of choice. Kayo is already inbound and this dish will never warm through in time.” Big enough to feed a family with a heavy percentage of “growing boys”, the catering sized lasagne took up the entire shelf.

Scott shut the oven door decisively, squared his shoulders and turned to John. “Let's work the problem then. Give me options Thunderbird Five.”

John sighed, there was no fighting it when Scott got like this. Yes, it was what made him an amazing leader out in the field, but in the domestic setting it could get a bit grating, especially for a man who had already spent far too many hours that day “working the problem” and frankly all he wanted was comfort food and maybe a hot bath.

“Antacids and a lot of wine?” John shrugged feebly.

“No, I think you were on to something with the chilled lasagne,” Scott started pacing around the kitchen island, always working better when he was on the move.

“Only raw lasagne isn’t going to pose any less of a risk than the crispy one. I said, it’s too big to cook in time.”

“Ok, but what if it wasn’t.” Scott shot back, still not slowing his pacing.

John dragged a hand down his face, “But it is.” he pointed out.

“Yes, but it doesn’t need to be.” Scott replied, pleased with himself.

John frowned and considered pre-drinks. “Come again?”

“We don’t need to heat all of it, if we can just get enough so that we don’t kill our guest, then everyone else can make do with the….with the original?”

John screwed his face up at the thought of it.

“Oh, come on John, we’ve managed worse. Push it around your plate a bit and raid the snack stash later.”

John shrugged and conceded with a limp nod. Scott had a point, but that didn’t mean John needed to be happy about it. “Fine, we can probably make that work, but you’re the one swapping it out.”

“Fine,” the risk taker in Scott took that condition in his stride, knowing that without John on his side the plan would be 100 times harder. “How much do you think we can heat up in…” Scott glanced at his watch, “.. four minutes.”

“One portion,” John answered, quick as a flash, “and it's going in the microwave.”

“Boys! Make yourselves presentable, and don’t you go messing with my place settings. I’ll know if you’ve stolen any garlic bread! I’m going to greet our guest!” Grandma hollered down the stairs before diverting to the elevators to head off their visitor. Gordon followed close behind, shedding pieces of skiwear as he jumped through the closing doors.

Thankfully, Gordons’ distraction had done the trick and by the time Sally made it down Kit had been able to extract himself from Shadows passenger seat with a little dignity still intact, and Kayo was leading him across the hangar floor towards the lifts.

“Hi again! Glad you could join us” Gordon stepped around his grandmother waving.

“Thank you for the invitation,” he took Gordons offered hand and gave it a hearty shake. “And who would this be?” Kip asked, turning.

“Oh that's Grandma” Gordon provided.

Kip held out his hand in greeting. “Well I can’t rightly be callin’ you Grandma now can I? It’s a pleasure to meet you…?”

“Sally,” she beamed back, as he doffed his hat with his free hand, not yet releasing hers. “You can call me Sally.” she giggled. “The boys said you knew Jeff?”

“We met just the once, at a training facility for advanced fire safety training. I used to help run a few sessions. Supplemented the income and kept the skills up to date. You never learn more than when you're helping others learn.” he said solemnly. “Jeff Tracy certainly had some original ideas for tackling the practice simulations, thinkin’ outside the box doesn’t usually involve setting light to the box. But pushing boundaries is how you grow, and eyebrows grow back on their own eventually.” he chuckled.

Gordon was all ready to dive in and ask some more questions around that one, and possibly provide a few eyebrow singing anecdotes of his one, but Grandma physically steered her guest towards the lift up to the residential levels.

Back in the kitchen it was all go! Microwave technology was deployed to a neatly extracted portion of shop bought lasagne.John managed not to cry as he put the rest of the dish back in the refrigerator. Scott had been sent up to the dining room to complete the swap out as soon as the pasta was steaming hot.

Scott bobbed on the balls of his feet, restless as he waited in the little used room. It was a space that had been part of the architects’ “vision” and fitted with the billionaire private island brief, but in reality it didn’t really fit the families needs. They weren’t hosting the kind of swanky dinner parties that the architect envisioned. The long glass topped table that sat 12, with chandeliers running its whole length and high backed chairs were meant to add contrast to the natural stone wall running one side of the room, and the expansive glass windows running the other. Scott had always wondered why it had survived beyond the drawing board stage at all, but it did offer the foundations for Virgil's studio space on the floor above, and Scott could see why their father had been keen to keep that design choice. Life on the island revolved much more around the kitchen table, just as it had for generations, they were “new money” after all.

Scott drummed his fingers on the table, but stopped when he realised that he was leaving fingerprints on the glossy surface. He looked up and down the table again, their grandmother had already laid out the portions of lasagne (?) in each place, they wouldn't even be able to get away with just taking a smaller piece.

He eyed up the place settings and tried to work out where Mr Harris might be expected to sit. They didn’t have their own preferred seats in here like they did at the kitchen table, so there was much more guesswork involved. She would probably insist he sit facing the view, because it was the best part of the room. Virgil was likely to claim a seat opposite. Brains usually preferred end seats, but might be drawn nearer if the conversation went to technical improvements. Kayo always took a corner, clear views and clear exits. Alan would probably be at Gordons side, and Gordon always made sure to pick somewhere with enough space for two because he knew that Alan got a little nervous when there were new people around, even if you wouldn't be able to tell by looking at him now he was older. Scott usually ended up wherever was left, much like John, but somehow the others usually orchestrated things so that Scott was near the exit in case he got called away, and a quiet corner for John in case he was at his limit for people for the day.

That left one strong contender for their guests’ seat. Decided, Scott saw the light on the dumbwaiter turn green. Another remnant from the life the architect thought they would be living, but it did save lugging dishes across the villa and made the clear up less arduous. Reaching in, Scott nearly burnt his fingers on the hot plate, hissing, he quickly switched out the offending plate, replaced it with the far more appetising alternative and was just working out what to do with the excess burnt offering when John's hologram popped up from the table unit.

“Quick, get out of there now! They’re coming, she can’t find you in there Scott, she’ll assume you’ve been at the bread.”

Adrenaline coursed through Scotts veins, he absolutely could not get caught, not after the last time, he’d only just regained garlic bread privileges. He strode towards the door.

“Too late, she's on the stairs, hide!” John urgently whispered, before blinking out of existence.

“Hide? Where!?” all Scott could see was windows and glass! The sideboard was full of charger plates and serving dishes that saw as little use as the room, no chance of hiding in there. Then he saw it, the dumbwaiter. It would be a squeeze, but Scott knew he could manage it. For once grateful that the architect had thought big when it came to entertaining. Although big was relative, flinging the burnt food in the sideboard, a problem for later, Scott climbed onto the top of the counter and concertina’d himself into the narrow lift. Sliding the door closed with his fingertips, he jabbed at his comms watch “call the lift! Call lift!” he hissed when John appeared. A mechanical clunk confirmed that his orders had been actioned and Scott would have let out a sigh of relief if there had been enough space left, but with his knees pushing firming into his chest Scott made do with briefly resting his forehead against his leg.

Alan looked like his jaw might drop off in surprise when he was instructed to open up the kitchen hatch, only to find Scott curled up in the small space within. Alan remained standing there, lost for words as Scott extricated himself out with no little difficulty. He was nearly set for a collision course with the hard kitchen floor, when Kayo materialised at his side and hoisted his torso up while he got his feet under him. Once again Kayo was required to politely ignore old man noises as, for the second time that day, she prayed that the popping joint sounds didn't mean something had dislocated.

Grabbing Alan by the scruff of his shirt, and Scott by an elbow, she steered them in the direction of the dining room without a word. John tried to distance himself from the whole thing by keeping out of her eye line, even though he knew that was a futile hope.

As they walked into the room Grandma was steering Mr Harris to his seat… the wrong seat. Scott hadn’t taken into consideration the angle of the sun at this point of the day, and the place Scott had earmarked was no longer the prime position at the table. John was being directed to the table setting where the one and only edible portion of lasagna was steaming gently.

Alan walked past as Scott calculated the new state of play, making his way to the seat Scott had predicted for him. Kayo also claimed her seat according to Scotts’ plan. At least some things didn't change. Gordon was just walking past the end of the table having just set the water jug back on the sideboard, seemingly going back to take his seat next to Alan. Another peg in the right hole, but how to get all the other pieces to align? Scott sized up his options and took action. It was going to take a Tracy Fix. He stuck his foot out, silently promising to apologise to Gordon later, and his brother tripped and went flying across the thankfully plush carpet. It had always seemed an odd choice for a dining room, but Scott didn’t question it now. Gordon rolled into a well practiced breakfall mostly by muscle memory, Scott knew he would be fine. While everyone was distracted Scott gestured to John with a combination of desperate hand movements and cobbled together ASL, he made it very clear that the lasagne needed to be relinquished and swapped with Kips this instant, and no puppy dog eyes or pouty faces were going to change that.

The disappointment was clear in his face, but John quickly complied, and relocated the plates with no verbal complaint.

It was the work of a split second, and Scott was able to help Gordon back to his feet before anyone could notice.

Scott took the last remaining seat, the satisfied feeling of a successfully completed mission was quickly overtaken with revulsion when he looked down at the quickly congealing charred lump that was sat where his dinner ought to be. Oh well, he had overcome worse, he grabbed a fork with the same forced calmness of someone facing a root canal.

The meal progressed, with carbonised lumps of pasta being chased around plates and hidden under salad leaves. Grandma barely touched hers, mostly because she was far too distracted by her dining companion. Mr Harris seemed quite willing to regale his audience with anecdotes from interesting experiences throughout his professional career. An observer would have been hard pressed to decide who was hanging off his every word more - Grandma or Virgil.

The next crisis forced itself to the forefront of everyone's attention with the high pitched beeping of the kitchen fire alarm. It was all systems go, and everyone raced down the stairs. But the drama was short lived,as they were greeted by the sigh of Max deploying a fire extinguisher directly into the warming oven where the crumble that Grandma had left crisping had caught fire.

It was declared inedible by all including Grandma. Although Kips revelation that he had lost a significant proportion of his sense of smell and taste after a couple of interesting chemical fires early in his career forced Scott to have to fake a coughing fit in order to cover John's plaintive whine. Kip would have happily stayed discussing fire extinguisher suppression foam with Virgil and Brains had Grandma not suggested a sunset stroll on the beach.

Once the couple left, the stampede to the larder was akin to a full body contact sport. So much so that nobody noticed Max gliding off in the opposite direction looking as suspicious as it is possible for a quadrupedal robot to look. It was, however, noted that some of the snacks stash seemed to have already been taxed, but with a constantly active island population it was impossible to confidently attribute blame. Brains was able to enjoy a spot of supper a safe distance from the howling cacophony coming from the pantry.

Bags of chips were launched through the air, snatched mid flight by other eager hands. Packets of cookies spun over heads, sometimes bouncing off a shoulder only to be scrabbled at and claimed before it had any chance of hitting the floor.

Gordon, who had been complaining of a sore knee and pointedly looking at Scott for most of the meal, was now bodily hoisting Alan out of reach of a tray of jealously guarded and specially imported Reeses cups. These were quickly nabbed by a pasty arm with freakishly long reach, so the point was quickly moot.

Kayo ducked under one arm, jabbed a sensitive pressure point to her left and poked at ribs to her right with pinpoint accuracy. Through this method she manoeuvred through the brawling, scooped her preferred snacks up into one arm and exited the fray as quick as she had arrived. A collective groan was heard when the remaining combatants realised she had taken the last bag of Doritos , but nobody felt like challenging her for them as she sat, calm as a cucumber, eating her haul at the kitchen table, watching events unfold, a dispassionate 3rd party.

Alan was lifted by the scruff of his shirt by Virgil after he threatened to bite Gordon. He was forcibly parked at the table next to Kayo with a bowl of carrot batons from the refrigerator.

It was at this point that John remembered the tray of lasagne, with its single slice already removed. Only seconds passed before the others realised what John was up to and in no time at all a lasagne heating production line was in place. Dolloped portions of pasta and sauce made their way in and out of the microwave with well practiced efficiency. Teamwork at it’s best.

By the time Grandma was leading her guest back towards the villa in the hope of a willing taxi driver, the dishes had been stacked in the dishwasher and all evidence of the meal had been eradicated, baring the contented smiles on faces.

Unfortunately none of them were quick enough to stop their grandmother from pressing a box of leftovers on her poor unsuspecting guest. John's shrug signaled that by this point it was felt that Mr Harris could fend for himself, they had tried their best. A sentiment that all others present were quite willing to sign up to.

#thunderbirds are go #tag team secret santa #thunderbirds #tag team secret santa 2024

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demonicparalysis · 2 months ago

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Hey guys! I'd really appreciate your help in sharing and donating to Abdul's gofundme!! Him and his family are living in an unbearable situation, Abdul himself is only 15! If you have the means to I urge you to donate, even if it's only a dollar. If you cant donate but still want to help then PLEASE share this post, reblog it, and send it to your friends and family. As seen in my drawing, he likes football (soccer) and bees :)

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weaselbeaselpants · 12 days ago

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So Um. Yeah.

Skip indented screenshots to see my message to the Lily-fan who has alt motives in 'revealing' this.

There is a user in the critical space atm who is pro-Israel. That's not the same thing as being Zionist believe it or not, but yeah. That's that and also they have a disturbing nature of rbing/calling Palestine allies 'Hamasnik'. Pro-Palestine stuff is supposed to be about the safety and lives and helping of Palestinian people and then eventually also talking about the displacement (yes, I do see it as neocolonialism. As do many others. Including Israelis) and ongoing genocide being inflicted on them by the IDF/America. An ally's goal in all of this is to be supportive and not support what my own country and what the Nation of Israel is doing because it's wrong. As is always the case here, what makes this all so hard to do correctly as a gentile (friend says only other Jewish people are allowed to say 'Goyim') is to do this without being insensitive to Jews, appropriating the Holocaust or even antisemitic. I don't believe, in the name of the Jewish friends and family I have that saying what Israel is (has always been doing) doing is bad is the same as being antisemitic. Sorry. I've seen people who don't mean to be antisemetic be antisemitic in regards to this stuff/calling out Ben Shapiro and whatnot. I'm of the opinion of Art Spiegelman/Eli Valley as a gent, even though I'm obviously not in their position as a Jewish person. I could never. I'm an ally take me or leave me. I get doing either. And, as an ally to both Jewish people and Palestinians I just kind of find these comments made by this user pretty awful. Suffering makes you hurt. And I don't think their own suffering justifies this;

I don't support them. I respect their bladder enough to not tell you the blog name or the alt blog they that they reblog this and express these ops on (they mentioned that they got genuine antisemtic harassment. I don't disbelief that because I've sadly seen that happening. Trying to not make a fire as much as possible), but yeah. I can't on my good conscious say I know EXACTLY what 'holocaust universalism' is. I only know as much as my Polish-American grandmother vocally said she and her children and grandchildren would be dead if we were in occupied poland- and that as a queer person with queer and transgender family that that does apply to us to. I hate to think that what I wrote out just now is somehow universalizing a Jewish experience. I'm not. I'm not using it as 'just a metaphor'. We (immediate family) aren't Jewish but that is what would happen to us.

---In any case, to Lily Orchard and her followers who I presume are the ones who are trying to instigate that in order to discredit allegations against you abusing your sibling and others.

Don't YOU DARE act like you've ever cared somehow about Palestine/being Antisemitic. In the case of the later I def know you don't care since you made jokes about Rebecca Sugar being a n@zi and 'jokingly' compared Pink Diamond to a woman who sold out other Jews during the holoc@ust. And then never even attempted to apologize. I don't know about me but personally I find that very antisemetic.

In the case of what Lily Orchard thinks of Palestine, well, I already know that one now too-

As for everyone else in the lorch tag that isn't one of her supporters who I've already blocked, I'm sorry abt divulging this. You have to trust me but I REALLY don't want any infighting.

As I just said to someone in messenger; barring legit MAPs and Bigots I don't think we ought to ignore any complaint abt lorch just cuz you disagree w someone politically.

I mean, I think Josh Scorcher is republican and likes Trump. That doesn't make Lily pedo-jacking him and once shipping him with a teenager okay.

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sefaradweb · 1 month ago

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Fidel a Ahmadinejad: “Basta de difamar a los judíos”

🇪🇸 Fidel Castro, en una entrevista con la revista estadounidense The Atlantic en agosto de 2010, criticó fuertemente al presidente iraní Mahmud Ahmadinejad por negar el Holocausto y difamar a los judíos, declarando que los judíos han sido los más calumniados a lo largo de la historia, mucho más que los musulmanes. Castro destacó la persecución histórica de los judíos, quienes durante más de 2.000 años fueron expulsados, perseguidos y acusados injustamente. Señaló que, a diferencia de los musulmanes, los judíos enfrentaron pogromos y sufrimientos que los unieron como nación. El ex presidente cubano también alertó sobre la peligrosa guerra inevitable entre EE.UU., Israel e Irán, criticando la postura religiosa y rígida de los iraníes, y expresando un pesimismo sobre cualquier posible resolución. Además, recordó la Crisis de los Misiles de 1962 y lamentó haber pedido a la Unión Soviética que bombardease a EE.UU., considerando que no valió la pena. Castro pidió que se reconociera la historia del antisemitismo para contribuir a la paz mundial.

🇺🇸 Fidel Castro, in an interview with the U.S. magazine The Atlantic in August 2010, strongly criticized Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad for denying the Holocaust and defaming Jews, stating that Jews have been the most slandered throughout history, much more than Muslims. Castro highlighted the historical persecution of Jews, who were expelled, persecuted, and unjustly accused for over 2,000 years. He pointed out that, unlike Muslims, Jews endured pogroms and suffering that kept them united as a nation. The former Cuban president also warned about the inevitable war between the U.S., Israel, and Iran, criticizing the religious and rigid stance of the Iranians and expressing pessimism about any possible resolution. He also reflected on the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 and regretted asking the Soviet Union to bomb the U.S., considering it not worth it. Castro called for acknowledging the history of antisemitism to contribute to world peace.

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rametarin · 1 year ago

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The situation: Fuzzy, rancid, fucky.

Yeah, all those hard leftists ranting about Zionists? Give it 8-18 months. Then they'll be back to sweeping their anti-Israeli and by extension anti-Jewish rhetoric under the rug and attributing their rhetoric to the vague, invisible, "alt-right powder keg of racism and antisemitism" fears again. Suddenly all those instances of hard-left antisemitic attacks will be attributed to right-leaning people and neonazi skinheads, and any involvement by more red left will be aggressively filibustered out.

"Antisemites? What antisemites? Oh yeah, those right wing people hate Jews! Always yelling about how pro-Israel and Jewish Supremacist that Hollywood, Academia and news stations are!"

Because when you aggressively memory hole and collectively gaslight, you can blame all your filthy violence and anti-Israel talk on the ideologically different folks that also hate Israel and Jews, deflecting all blame for your side and No True Scotsmanning them into the estimated numbers of Nazis lurking about. While pretending hatred of Israel and Jews is an inherently right-wing exclusive thing, therefore, "those weren't real left leaning people."

Meanwhile you go to any Palestine rally and look at the signs, and they may as well be Nazi rallies. Except, they aren't. Hamas and co. are not your friends, are not freedom fighters, are not any different from ISIS/ISIL. They currently represent Palestine and therefore everything they do represents the non-state's actions and desires.

So when all this blows over and Israel goes back to hiding behind walls and the Gaza Strip has to rebuild after Hamas' hidey holes get blown up, suddenly the people in the west, "supporting Palestine" will forget about all the bullshit left-leaning ideologues did and attribute all that violence the Jews experienced and all the vile slander levied at them, to some incredibly stealthy army of right-wing fascists. Then spend the next few years dressing up their intolerance and assumption anyone they ideologically agree with is an antisemitic Nazi and the real party responsible for ALL the antisemitism, vaguely referencing, "all the antisemitic attacks Jews experienced throughout 2023-2024", and acting like no Palestine supporter was ever at fault for those. It was all just the Nazis, forever and always. No left-winger, and no left-leaning ideological interest was ever antisemitic.

For fucks sake, they literally fly slogans about driving the Jews and Israel into the sea, flying Swastikas and yelling, "Hitler was right," and you don't see the real hard leftists howling about "stocchastic terrorism" or " subversive dogwhistles" there. They're so hung up on their ideological interpretation that declares Israel is an invalid state, that the Jews are oppressive colonizers, and the oppressed is always right, that they refuse to even question whether those under the umbrella of Hamas are oppressed by Israel or Hamas more, and why. They simply pretend it doesn't exist and go on imagining Palestinians as woobified victims of Star of David adorned goose stepping fascists.

And yet stateside we have almost as many phoned in false report hate crimes as we do legitimate hate crimes. But those are still taken as, "conversation starters," despite being fabricated, and never removed from the list of hate crimes despite some of them being proven to've never happened. When it comes time to howl and scream about the "imminent" dangers of all these apparent Nazis hanging around, they wheel out the great big list of hate crimes, and generously attribute them all as proof racewar is on the horizon.

And the best part is, there are quite a number of hard-left Jewish people that will play along with it, because "addressing the problems of white supremacism is important in this modern era." Right now, the actual Zionist Jews and pro-Palestine gentiles are having a bit of a cold war. The Zionist Jews (specifically) that are hard left will be quick to point out the holocaust, that they're a minority and thus underprivileged and oppressed by the gentiles and thus, deserve benefit of the doubt as well as support from good, hard left leaning supporters and protectors of minorities .

And by contrast, the hard-left gentiles and Palestine supporters will tell them, "you are white-passing, and Israel is a fascist, colonizer, oppressor, capitalist state, therefore you are a majority and an oppressor against the oppressed Muslim indigenous people."

The feathers are flying as they both insist on interpreting exactly what the Jews will ultimately be defined as under hard leftism, with the Jews preferring the interpretation that they are both right and justified and an oppressed minority everywhere that isn't Israel, and the anti-Zionist hard leftists that insist they count as an oppressor, colonizer, not an oppressed minority.

They'll either sort it out, or agree to disagree, but in the end, they'll still pretend they never had this fracas between themselves, and the only people to cause this strife were white supremacists, and therefore Nazis. Must've been them. The relationship between hard-left gentiles that want that good press and face of protecting minorities from xenophobic white supremacists, and Jewish people that want the threat of antisemitism validated, have too much of a symbiotic relationship in the psychodramatic bubble of a relationship.

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