I am in Toronto and I open my e-mails. Five people have sent me Yediot Ahronot's report on the Sharon giveaway. He had cut a deal with German Foreign Minister Fischer of the Bilderbergs and American National Security Advisor Rice of the Council on Foreign Relations. The Jews would be removed forcibly from Gaza. The Gaza Strip would be extended into the Sinai. Israel would hand Egypt most of the Western Negev to replace the land it "donated" to the "Palestinian" state.

The forces of the New World Order had united against the Jews of Gaza and Sharon was leading their charge. This time everyone meant business and would stop at nothing to get their way.

The next day the Likud would hold a referendum on Sharon's Gaza giveaway. A rally was organized in Tel Aviv to defeat Sharon's nefarious plans. A pregnant mother and her four young daughters were slaughtered on their way from Gaza to the rally.

I knew it was DELIBERATE. Our secret secret services had provided the intelligence to our Arab "enemies" enabling them to perform the most ghastly of atrocities to wreck the anti-pullout movement.

But the referendum passes anyway and everyone I meet in Toronto is delighted. They actually believe that Israeli democracy has triumphed. About 130 people gather for my lecture at the Toronto Zionist Center. I tell all that they just don't get it yet. Nothing will stop the pullout and revenge against the referendum defeat will be swift, ugly and deadly. Young Jews will die starting today and then Arabs too.

I fly to Miami to help film producer Peter Goldman put together a Rabin documentary. He is ebullient. Sharon was defeated by his own party. I say the same thing to him. If the New World Order wants something done, they could give a hoot about silly democratic referendums. The atrocities will begin and the Israeli public will be mind-controlled into demanding the uprooting of Jews from Gaza.

Then the blood starts flowing, but not just in Gaza. Thirteen young soldiers are blown apart when their WWII-vintage armored vehicles roll over powerful mines. You can be certain our secret secret services of the "peace" camp gave the "enemy" the precise details needed to murder these young men.

Odd, I think, that an American APC in Iraq is blown apart the same way on the same day as the second Gaza attack with about the same fatal results.

Now, 75% of Israelis want a Gaza pullout and 100,000 gather in Tel Aviv demanding it. We're on our way, but one more little push is needed.

So an Israeli tank shoots into a crowd of Gaza teenagers with the cameras rolling. This was NO ACCIDENT. Now world pressure for a Gaza pullout will turn the tide.

Odd, I think, that an American missile blows up an Iraqi wedding just a few hours later with even more fatal results.

Coincidence? I'll stick with coordination. A lot of blood will be spilled until the Gaza surrender. But nothing will stop it. The Jews will leave, the religious nationalists will be totally demoralized. The only people who believe in preserving a Jewish state will stop so believing. And a Sabbataian revival will replace love of Zion.

If not? Israel will face a new Holocaust as the CFR troops heat up the Arab world to the boiling point. How do you humiliate the Islamic sense of macho? You just go through your recruitment files and make prison guards of the most perverse sadists on the list. And no one will figure out how you arranged all the fun.

The Tour

We began in Sacramento with a cancelled conference and Ruel Jones saving the day. He hosted me and organized a successful last minute home meeting. I don't deserve to know so many wonderful people. So many, in fact, that I can't name them all without boring you. So here are a few highlights.

San Francisco is highly under-promoted and the crowd small. But Ari Goldberg and Bob Savage shelter me and provide much consolation. However, the ultimate compliment was the appearance of Gillian from my newsgroup who flew all the way from Chicago to hear me. She was the first of many to so flatter me. I think of the distinguished attorney who flew 2000 miles to hear me in Toronto, the rock star Paul of Poker Face who drove three hours to see me in Miami, not much further than the lovely Annie Tread who honored me in the same way in the same city. Wherever I appeared, people took great pains to see me and I will never forget anyone of them.

Reno was a nice improvement. Patty Lee did a nice job of organization, which included a major talk show interview a few hours before the lecture. The wise "Country Rebbe," Menashe Bovits invited me to lecture at the Temple Emmanuel, a very mainstream synagogue. It was a revelation. Mouths were agape for two straight hours. No one had ever heard even a rumor about the Rabin assassination. In mid-speech I asked the crowd, "Who here has heard of Avishai Raviv? No one, not a soul knew who he was. How great is the American Jewish media cover-up!

Off to Fort Collins, Colorado. There I speak at a synagogue on Friday night. There are about 100 in the congregation including children. They perform a spirited kabalat shabbat service. Their faces are Oriental, black, American Indian, Nordic. These are Christians who returned to their Hebrew roots to be closer to their God. It's a wonderful idea. I know the suspicions in the Jewish world and I believe Jews were meant to be Jews. What I saw was Christians showing deep respect for Jewish ceremonies and I liked it.

The next day was the triumph in Denver. Don Weidemann of the American Freedom Network had really made my visit unforgettable. About 500 people heard my Save Israel-Sabbataian lecture and when I concluded two hours later, I received a long standing ovation. In fact, this was a highlight of my life. The lecture was filmed and I will try to distribute it as soon as I can.

Of note. Rabbi Marvin Antelman provided me a carton of his book, To Eliminate the Opiate Volume II to sell at my Sabbataian lectures in Colorado and Toronto. It was no easy task hauling it from airport to airport. But Toronto never saw a copy. Denver purchased the whole heavy box. Rabbi Antelman's reputation is far more widespread than either of us realized.

Evidence In Toronto

Toronto was less hurried. I had a beautiful suite provided to me by the marvelous KC Black. And I had time to listen to people with information. Steve of middleeastfacts.com called to inform me that he had interviewed a very important witness who I should meet. And very important he was. His name was Eli and he was the IDF officer responsible for military security at the rally where Rabin was murdered. He had escaped his suspicions in Toronto. We drove to a restaurant to talk but he would not leave the car until he had told his story. Chain-smoking, the young and athletic Israeli related the following:

"I was the IDF officer in charge of security for the Tel Aviv area. Two days before the rally, all the security officers of the police and Shabak met in north Tel Aviv. I felt something was wrong right away. There was going to be a gathering of 150,000 people at a most sensitive moment and the meeting was open. Anyone could have come in. And the attitude of the meeting was all wrong. It was jovial. The police displayed an aerial photo of the City Hall square and instead of pinpointing problem areas, the meeting just discussed what a great photo it was.

"The Shabak controlled the security for the rally and barely gave the police any duties. But more shocking, they gave me nothing to do. They made it plain by ignoring me, that they just didn't want the army there. I left the meeting and decided I'd send a jeep and crew backstage anyway.

"I ordered the jeep to park near the stairs where Rabin was supposed to descend and then had a look around. It was at about 8:00 PM, just before the rally was to begin that I saw a reserve officer from my unit coming down the stairs from the stage. He had a security pin on his shirt but I didn't issue it to him. I asked him, 'What are you doing here? I didn't call you here.' He answered that he came of his own volition. I asked him, 'Who issued you the security pass?' and he didn't answer me. Something wasn't right and I decided to inspect the stage myself.

"I walked up the stairs with my gun in its holster. No one stopped me and there was no metal detector anywhere. On the stage I saw Benny Lahav, he was the Shabak's personnel officer and he was busy shining a flashlight at apartment windows opposite the square. That wasn't his duty. He was supposed to be coordinating his forces, not playing with a flashlight. I walked up to him and pointed to my gun, saying, 'I could kill Rabin if I wanted to.' He answered, 'Why would you do that?' I replied, 'How did I get a gun on this stage without being stopped?' He ignored the question and went back to shining his flashlight off buildings.

"I stayed until the rally ended and decided I was no longer needed. I ordered my jeep crew to stay backstage until everyone had left and took a bus home. Not ten minutes later, the crew radioed me that something happened backstage and Rabin may have been hurt. But at that moment I saw Rabin's limousine led by a squad car on Dizengoff Street. I assumed he was headed to a party in Herzlia Pituach and that everything was alright.

"Later, when I heard he was murdered, nothing made sense. What was Rabin's car doing so far from Ichilov Hospital? If he was shot, why was only one squad car accompanying him?

"The next day, I went to my base and expected, at a minimum, to be dressed down, and more likely, to be stripped of my rank. Rabin was murdered on my watch and I knew I was going to be investigated for dereliction of duty. But my commander, Col. Shlomo Arad, didn't call me. In fact, he never asked what happened that night. And when the Shamgar Commission convened, I expected to be called to testify about military security at the rally. But I never was and I still don't know why.

"I knew I could have done better if I was a bit smarter and I left for Toronto to sort out my life. I was set up to fail and I strongly suspected it was by the real murderers. Your book woke me up and that's why I wanted to talk to you."

So did my lecture. After hearing it, Eli bought a ticket back to Israel, realizing he had a country to try and save.

Friday night Shabbat with Dr. Reuven Lexier and his lively family. He has evidence for me. It is an account of Sam Bronfman's relationship with Canada's Prime Minister in 1939, Mackenzie King, as related by Mordechai Richler in an aged copy of Maclean's Magazine. Richler wrote that Bronfman conspired with King to make certain that no Jewish refugees from the Nazis found a home in Canada. The evil of the Bronfmans extends back further than many people know and does much to explain the behavior of the bootlegger Sam's children, Charles and Edgar (CFR), today.

Not all is so serious. After my lecture, beautifully organized by Atara Beck, as usual I offered an open invitation to anyone who so desired to meet me for drinks. Joining me were two academics, one a physics professor, both members of my newsgroup list. The journalist Marshall Shapiro was accompanied by a strikingly pretty lady named Deanna. Her mother was Jewish; she learned just months before, and her father Norwegian. Her looks were all Scandinavian but her curiosity was now Jewish. She had taken to lighting candles on Shabbat and learning her prayers. Hers was a fascinating story and she had the charm to mesmerize any man who heard it.

Over time, I've grown comfortable in the presence of beautiful women but my academic guests were too intimidated by Deanna's beauty to even address her. This would not do for members of my list. After visiting hundreds of my advocates on my tours, I knew they all shared the same decency, intelligence and concern. It was just a question of overcoming a little awkwardness.

Deanna asked me, "Is it easier to be a Jewish man or woman?" I didn't really have a good answer so I turned to my professorial guests and said, "I can't answer this lady's question."

From then on the conversation flowed. I remember the little human triumphs as much as a successful speech. I'm delighted to bring the special people of my newsgroup together.

And Away We Go To Miami Beach

The Gaza pullout atrocities are building steam. I know the real bloodshed is coming. I am interviewed by such great radio hosts as Stan Monteith, Keith Vyzgoth, Nelson Thall, Tsachi Gadish and repeat the message: The Gazan Jews are on the chopping block. The violence will increase until they are chopped. Israelis are told that Gaza will be the last payment before peace. They can't see the Mafia extortion. The payments will never stop until Jerusalem. The American-British CFR forces are building their world war and a truncated Israel will be the biggest loser. It's 1938 all over. They are putting up walls again, not to keep Arabs out but to keep Jews in.

I ask, "Is it worth the life of one American to bring democracy to Iraq?"

Peter Goldman informs me that three of the backers for his Rabin film have pulled out, taking half the budget with them. I think, Australia again. Last year my Australian tour was marred when certain upstanding Jews decided that taking down posters of my lectures and censoring press coverage was the patriotic thing to do.

But Miami turns out to be different. All three local Jewish papers publish impressive reports of my work. The Bnai Isaac synagogue is filled for my speech. A second lecture is hastily arranged in order to find Peter replacement backers. The Miami Jews are willing to listen.

I have just one stop left, the surprisingly pretty city of Birmingham, Alabama where I recorded two TV shows for Marge and Marvin Randolph. It's now or never. I have to go fishing.

On my previous American tour I went deep-sea fishing in Hawaii in nine foot swells and caught nothing but the most disgusting seasickness ever suffered by man. Australia was an improvement. Gillian and Kevin Norman took me up the Murray River where Israeli techniques worked wonders. The Israeli miracle bait is chicken fat and it caught me about fifteen nice mullets. But the Murray River is not the open sea, so there was no danger of seasickness.

Miami was different. My one opportunity to try the ocean again came on the windiest day of the year. Beaches were closed because of the riptides, and the swells were again, nine feet. I was asking for it by getting on that boat. But my reckless nature won out and I stepped onto the deck. I received my rod, put a little chicken fat on the hook and let it sink into the waters of the marina. I brought in a pinfish within seconds.

My fellow fishermen, four Japanese tourists, were very impressed. No one had ever told them that a chicken can catch a fish.

We left the harbor and the rainstorm hit just as we reached the open sea. The swells were ridiculous. The front of the boat was totally out of the water. We tilted 45 degrees left, then 45 degrees back. Not ten minutes into the sea, the first Japanese angler rushed to the head. "No," shouted a crewmate. "Over the side." Then came his buddies to join him. The first said to the skipper, "This is too much. We must go back." The skipper explained that he was stuck on board for the next four hours. That is how long the three Japanese unwilling sailors lay prone in the cabin. Their unsick buddy sat earnestly on his chair but not a fish bit his line all trip long. He told me, "We paid $125 to get sick and hold a rod for nothing."

An hour before, the crewmate baited the other anglers' hooks with baby swordfish. When he came up to me I turned down the bait. "I'm from Israel," I proudly stated. "And I'm using chicken fat."

"To catch fish?" he queried.

"That's why I'm here."

He grinned and walked to his own rod.

I noticed something. We were in a storm that could sink lesser boats. But I wasn't getting seasick in Miami. I threw my line in and was the first to hit a fish. I knew by its fight that it was strong and probably pretty big. After an invigorating battle I brought in a five pound ugly, inedible fish called a remora. I didn't care. This monster of the deep made me very happy.

The crewmate took it off the hook. He looked at me and said, "Chicken fat works."

"Yup," I answered. "Chicken fat works."