Paging Hezbollah: There’s a new “Feel-Good Story of the Year” Leader in the Clubhouse (posted 9/18/24)

For those of you scoring at home, this is my third column in as many days, and I’m writing one for Friday, too.  I know what you’re thinking, and yes, I gladly accept the thanks of a grateful nation. 

Speaking of guys who are crushing it at life, how about those Israelis?  I thought they’d peaked for this week on Monday. 

Ooh, let me start this story a different way: 

Once upon a time, there was an Iranian-funded underground Hezbollah missile production facility near Masyaf, Syria.  (And yes, many Middle Eastern town names are apparently translations from Klingon.) But that was on Sunday, when Israel started hitting Syrian military sites in the area with very distracting air strikes.   

On Monday – as the local Syrian fighters were peeking their heads out, checking on the condition of their fellow jihadis and their goat girlfriends — Israeli special forces bad-asses fast-roped down onto the missile facility from a helicopter.  They killed 13 fighters, stole a bunch of intelligence documents, and then set explosive charges and got back into their helicopter, taking off and banking away as the missiles intended for Jew-killing blew up behind them. 

And if they weren’t blasting some eerie shophar music from under-mounted speakers as they streaked across the desert back home, they left some terrorist-intimidating money on the table!

So that was Monday, and already it was a great week.  But then… Man o’ Manischewitz!  On Tuesday, pagers started going off all over Lebanon. 

And I don’t mean “going off” as in beeping and words scrolling on a screen, but “going off” the way a hand grenade goes off.  Only much, MUCH funnier!

It seems that in recent months, terrorist leaders in the area had noticed that when many of their colleagues and underlings were on a cell phone, they had a tendency to get a spontaneous, drone-assisted colonoscopy courtesy of Mossad Mobile Phones.  After which their fighting effectiveness declined precipitously.  

So the leaders came up with a brilliant plan: let’s buy 3000 old-school pagers, and distribute them to all of our terrorist brethren throughout Lebanon.  They can’t be traced like cell phones, and if they were good enough to coordinate weed sales throughout NYC in 1990, why couldn’t they be used to coordinate Jew murdering in Allah-ville in 2024? 

Hilariously enough, they’d forgotten the third most famous rule in foreign policy, right after “Don’t invade Russia when winter is coming on,” and “Never go in against a Sicilian when death is on the line”:

“Never screw with a nation that has more Nobel prize winners than your nation has unmolested goats.”

It’s a cliché because it’s true. 

So somewhere between the pager factory in Taiwan and the filthy Hezbollah HQ in Lebanon, some clever Hebrew hackers get hold of the 3000 pagers and equipped them with the latest upgrade in detonating communications software. 

It was like the old Jewish vaudeville routine of putting a little charge in a cigar to make it explode.  Only much, MUCH funnier! 

Oh, to be a fly on the wall in the jihadi Costco warehouse where the pallets of pagers were being unloaded!  I picture a couple of flunkies slicing the packing tape on pager boxes, making small talk: 

Flunky 1: “How’s the missus, Bilal?”

Flunky 2: “Very content.”

Flunky 1: “You’re a lucky man.  She is one attractive ungulate!”

Flunky 2: “You too have done well for yourself.  Your Fatima has very shapely hooves.  And her coat? As white as the infidel Senator Elizabeth Warren!”

Flunky 1 (nodding modestly): “Hashtag ‘we must never stop mocking her,’ am I right?”

Then a middle manager comes in and gathers a crowd of jihadis around a long row of pallets.  “All right men, distribute these to everyone in your chain of command.  Make sure that they keep them on their persons at all times, preferably attached to their hip or in a pocket, close to their groin.  When the beeper sounds, have them hold the pager in their dominant hand, and look directly at it from a very short distance, to see the message.”

There probably aren’t any comedy clubs in Beirut, but if there are, I’ll bet Muhammad Dangerfield is facing a tough room right now. 

“It’s great to be here, you’re a wonderful crowd.  I’ll tell ya, I don’t get any respect from Nasrallah at all.  The guy hasn’t even talked to me in days.  (raising his hand) Has anybody else heard from him lately?  Show of hands?” (awkward silence, as angry weird beards stare sullenly at their bandaged stumps)  Oh, right.  Too soon.”

“Hey, things have been hectic at work, haven’t they?  I mean it’s only Tuesday, but this morning, pagers were blowing up all over the office.” 

Heckler: “Boo!  Get off stage!”

“My brother-in-law, he’s no prize either.  He got a message today asking him if he’d like to change his long distance carrier to Sprint.  As in ‘Sprint away from this pager as fast as you can!”

Heckler: “You are not funny man.  Go away now!”

“I’ll tell ya, he’s not doing well.  His beeper went off, and he lost his new robe and his old pronouns, if you know what I mean.”

And, scene.

Man, I love this story!  It’s such a masterstroke, tactically and morally.  There could not be a more satisfying way to strike evil people than to trick them into maiming themselves.  And this “Trojan pager” move has – for one, shining moment – solved the age-old dilemma of how to fight terrorists imbedded in a civilian population without killing tons of civilians.  And all without putting IDF soldiers at risk!

Every person with one of those phones proved his guilt and invited his just punishment, simply by possessing it.  And other than one or two innocents who might have been standing next to daddy (assuming daddy is a murderous scumbag) when he got his message from Jehovah, every person killed or wounded is part of a self-selecting surgical strike.

This ingenious move is going to bear fruit for a long time.  The terrorists had only gotten the pagers in the first place because their communications networks had been severely compromised.  Now they’re going to be frozen in place, and completely paranoid.  The only way to send messages will be by courier, and IDF drones can look for anybody running down a street with a missing hand or a scorched groin, and blast away. 

Between the PTSD, the career-ending wounds, and the recovery time necessary for those who can recover, thousands of evil killers have been taken off the board.     

Congrats, bravo, and l’chaim, IDF! 

And now, more than ever…

Hamas delenda est!