In the 1940s, there was the Holocaust of Nazi Occupied Europe. In the 1990s, there was the Holocaust of Israel Occupied Palestine. There is a 3rd, yet lesser known Holocaust that happened just last year.

Last Summer I was grounded. This grounding was one of the worst atrocities ever committed on Oakridge Drive. It was remarkably similar in scope to the Occupied Territory of Palestine and also to the Holocaust. It all began with a little party that my younger brother and I decided to throw when my dad wasn't home.

I had many guests over (the Constitution guarantees me the right to a peaceful assembly) and my neighbors, who are collaborators with my father and older brother, turned me in. My guests were forcibly evicted from the land, and a mass deportation ensued. A large quantity of these guests were ethnic and religious minorities.

Afterwards, my father ordered my older brother to occupy "the house", hereafter referred to as the Occupied Territory. My older brother was elected by my father, despite the fact that my father well knew about my brother's war-mongering past, and about the atrocities that he had committed. True, he had never been convicted of war crimes, but he was a war criminal in every sense of the word.

Strict social and legal restrictions were put on me and my younger brother. We were to be legally confined to the Occupied Territory. There was a strictly enforced curfew, freedom of movement was banned, oppression and tyranny reigned. If anyone wanted to visit the house, they had to write down who they were and what they were there for. Clear violations of the Geneva Convention were occurring. All human rights and dignity were stripped away, and I was hopeless and desperate.

When my dad left the house, he allocated monetary resources to us. Why is it that more than 60% of the resources were allocated to my brother, when he only made up 33% of the population of the Occupied Territory? I'll tell you why, because the thug government that he put in place ensured social and political control.

A group of Mexicans who enjoyed wearing certain-colored bandannas and making funny symbols with their hands also liked to hang out with my younger brother. These freedom fighters bravely fought against my oppressors by breaking the human rights restrictions on them and harassing my oppressors. But you know what happened? My older brother used police action by the state against them and in retaliation, he bulldozed my computer privileges.

(Now this is where the essay devolves into fantasy) The Beastie Boys once said "You've gotta fight for your right to party." So that's exactly what I did. You can't win your independence through peaceful means when your enemies don't want to play fair. I strapped a bomb to my cat, and she became a martyr in the name of freedom, exploding in a glorious display at the collaborators' house, killing several. I also sent numerous gunmen to my father's workplace, leaving 12 of his co-workers gunned down. My brother was severely wounded in a bomb blast and my oppressors soon learned that every inch of soil they stole from the Occupied Territory would be paid for in blood. And did I eventually win my freedom and emancipation?

You bet I did.

Jon Dickey was inspired to write this article by a thread at Fark comparing the Israelis to the Nazis and the Israeli/Palestinian conflict to the Holocaust. Jon hopes this article will help to show them how trivial and whiny they sounded.

© Copyright 2001-2009 John Hawkins
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