A Horror Tale of The Jewish Robbin Good
Ladies and gentlemen,
boys and girls,
the oppressed and the favorites,
I shall tell you the tale of a man;
his name is Itamar Ben-Gvir,
the Robbin Good of our times.
A settler entrenched in the occupied West Bank,
born of secular love,
yet fanaticism knocked on his door after the First Intifada.
The Moledet movement seduced his young heart
with ultra-nationalist, fascist ideals
decreeing that Arabs must abandon Abraham’s lands.
He found a more radical creed with the Kahanists,
a faction long declared a terrorist group.
Justice has tried to apprehend our Robin Good,
since he claims to desire only the good for his own;
yet he incited the glory of old-world racism,
chanting “Death to Arabs”,
what a good old Jewish chap,
wanting nothing but goodness for the Land of David.
Oh, what a profound misreading we have of him!
A cozy friendship with Bibi,
a fellow lover of power,
and a seat at the table to fulfill the Halakha.
Along the path that one walks, our Robbin steps right through the mitzvot
that El bestowed upon the chosen people;
hence, national security became Itamar’s grand endeavor,
even when we all know his reverence for killers like Baruch Goldstein.
He laughs, he shouts, punishing every non-Jew who dares disobey Israel,
taking away their shattered wealth to fill the pockets of his lords.
We watched our Robbin protecting the Holy Land,
pushing away with chilling, malevolent laughter
those who merely tried to feed the unwanted,
mocking their sorrow, laughing at their suffering.
Yet the tables turned when the Star of David
was itself oppressed by the very same zealotry
that our dear Robbin Good praises so highly.
Justice tried once more to strip away his virtuous title;
nations across the globe bar his presence from their shores.
For who would willingly stand near this Robbin Good?
Only unadulterated hatred can endure his stance
the very same dark mind that bore Adolf when he walked the earth.
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