My friend Heather, who is Jewish, got an email advertisement today from Telecharge, the premier ticket-buying service for Broadway and off-Broadway shows. This one was offering a last-chance special price of $49.50 for tickets to “My Name is Rachel Corrie,” the play about the dead American extremist who interfered with an Israeli military operation that was destroying tunnels used to smuggle weapons that are used against civilian targets.

“What are these morons thinking!” remarked Heather, “sending this advertisement out to ‘Hymie-town?’” (If you recall, that was what Jesse Jackson dubbed the heavily Jewish-populated New York metropolitan area.)

Indeed, is the world so accustomed to Jews as self-loathers, to Jews voting against their own self-interests, to the Jewish over-enlightenment that brings about their self-destruction — the citadel of which is the Jewish-owned, anti-Semitic New York Times?

A short two years after her death, Rachel Corrie’s story was already in production, to be shared with the world. Meanwhile, six years since my sister’s death, her brilliant autobiographical novel still doesn’t have any takers — apparently because she didn’t die trying to help get Jews killed.