Deb Tambor rejected by New Square in life, accepts her in death

OTD Deb Tambor a young lady that left the New Square Community, took her life this Shabbos and will haver her funeral in New Square tonight.
OTD bloggers are rallying around her, blaming her family for her death at 33. Apparently, Deb was involved in a bitter child custody battle with her chassidic ex husband. Bloggers say that her entire family and support network turned on her because she was no longer frum. Her children were poisoned against her and her own father testified against her at a child custody hearing.

Just recently, Yoeli Spielman, a young man who was shunned by his chassidic community, also reportedly committed suicide right after Yom Kippur.

School Guard that chased Monsey Jews off the sidewalk on Yom Tov, "reassigned"

Dr. Klein

Dr. Klein, Superintendent of the East Ramapo school district had a meeting at the New Hempstead Elemantry School on Brick Church Road, and immediately reassigned the Anti-Semitic School guard that shooed frum taxpayers from walking on the sidewalk adjacent to the school.
Chag Sameach

Jews chased off sidewalks in New Hempstead!

Frum Jews walking on Brick Church Road, on the sidewalk adjacent to The New Hempstead Elementary School, were harassed and chased off the sidewalk by School personnel on Yom Tov.
Mind you, these people that were chased are the very same people paying property taxes that support the school.

Mr. Weismandl, the President of East Ramapo left a detailed message to Dr. Klein, the school superintendent informing him of this disturbing development!

Updated 9/22 at 10:27pm
Dr Klein in an email to Nat Losman, President of KNH, responded "This is unacceptable and I will investigate"

We ask the people who heard the command to get off the sidewalk to please identify themselves so that we can forward this information to Dr. Klein.

Ami Magazine defends the Crazy Radical "Asra Kadisha" Head Extortionist Dovid Schmidel

 Anti-Israel Ami Editor, Yitzchok Frankfurter, defends the Radical fanatical organization, called Asra Kadisha, in this weeks issue.

Everyone living in Israel knows that this group is a  compilation of a bunch of Hooligans and Extortionists, that can be bribed and bought for $$$$$$$$$$$$$$$$.
What they do, they learned from Al Sharpton; they extort money from developers, threatening them that if they don't cough up the shekels they will protest the development site and claim that the site is a former Jewish cemetery.

 They just started a campaign that will require all developers  to get a "Hechsher" from these mafia bastards in order to build!
 This  "hechsher" will provide income to these parasites so they will never have to work.
This past month they cursed the great Posek Hador Rav Shternbuch Shlitah because he was fed up with their hooliganism and ordered the developers to continue to build in Beit Shemesh!

The fanatic Yitzchok Frankfurter 

Yitzchok Frankfurter, who rewrote Satmar history, now attempts to re-write the history of the gangsters of Asra Kadisha!

ראב"ד 'העדה החרדית' הגאון רבי משה שטרנבוך תוקף בחריפות את ארגון "אתרא קדישא", שמארגן הפגנות סתמיות ומיותרות נגד חילולי קברים כביכול, ואף רומז כי אנשי הארגון שיקרו את מרן הגר"ש וואזנר וגרמו להוצאת נפטרים יהודים ממנוחתם. המכתב המלא (חדשות, חרדים

Frum Boro-Park Girl Marries a Muslim and Lives a Life of Hell: Her Story

Phyllis Chesler with her Muslim husband

Phyllis Chesler, 72, is a feminist scholar and a professor emerita of psychology and women’s studies at City University of New York. In her 14th book, “An American Bride in Kabul” (Palgrave Macmillan) out early next month, she shares for the first time the story of the five months she spent, as a young bride, held prisoner in a Afghan household. 

Naive and in love, I married a man from Kabul — only to discover the horrible life of a fundamentalist Muslim wife.

I once lived in a harem in Afghanistan.
I did not enter the kingdom as a diplomat, soldier, teacher, journalist or foreign aid worker. I came as a young Jewish bride of the son of one of the country’s wealthiest men. I was held in a type of captivity — but it’s not as if I had been kidnapped.
I walked into it of my own free will.

It is 1959. I am only 18 when my prince — a dark, older, handsome, westernized foreigner who had traveled abroad from his native home in Afghanistan — bedazzles me.
We meet at Bard College, where he is studying economics and politics and I am studying literature on scholarship.
Abdul-Kareem is the son of one of the founders of the modern banking system in Afghanistan. He wears designers sunglasses and bespoke suits and when he visits New York City, he stays at the Plaza.
He is also Muslim.
I am Jewish, raised in an Orthodox home in Borough Park, Brooklyn, the daughter of Polish immigrants. My dad worked door-to-door selling soda and seltzer.
But none of this matters. We don’t talk about religion. Instead, we stay up all night discussing film, opera and theater. We are bohemians.
We date for two years. Then, when I express my desire to travel, he asks me to marry him.
“There is no other way for us to travel together in the Muslim world,” he says.
Like a complete heartsick fool, I agree.
My parents are outraged and hysterical. They warn me that no good will come of this union. Little did I know then how right they would be. We marry in a civil ceremony in Poughkeepsie with no family present.
For our honeymoon, we travel around Europe with a plan to stop off in Kabul to meet his family. I did not know that this would be our final destination.
When we land, 30 relatives await our arrival. Among them, not one but three mothers-in-law. I am too shocked to speak, too shocked to question what these three women might mean for my future.
I learn that my real mother-in-law, Abdul-Kareem’s biological mother, is only my father-in-law’s first wife. Her name is Bebugul.
There are bear hugs and kisses all around. The family is warm and inviting — I try to forget about my husband’s glaring omission.
But before the caravan of black Mercedes-Benzes can leave, an airport official demands that I turn over my American passport.
I refuse.
Everyone stops. Both the official and my husband assure me that this is a mere formality. It will soon be returned to me, so I reluctantly relinquish it.
I will never see my passport again.
That means — I would soon learn — that I would not be able to leave Afghanistan at will. I am now subject to the laws and custom of Afghanistan, and as a Afghan woman, that means hardly any rights at all.
My husband’s father owns a compound comprised of numerous two-story European-style houses where the various families sleep with patios, expensive Afghan wool carpeting, indoor gardens, and verandas.
I am only 20, and I am now a member of this household, which consists of one patriarch, three wives, 21 children (who range in age from infancy to their 30s), two grandchildren, at least one son-in-law, one daughter-in-law and an unknown number of servants and relatives.
This is my new home. My prison. My harem.

The author’s Afghan passport, given to her after her American passport was taken. It did not allow her to escape.

Our arrival is celebrated with a feast of unending and delicious dishes. Because of my foreign stomach, the foods — kebabs, rice dishes, yogurts, nuts — are baked with Crisco instead of ghee, an evil-smelling, rancid, clarified butter that is loved by locals but wreaks havoc on a non-native’s stomach. The smell of ghee alone can make you throw up if you’re unused to it.
Abdul-Kareem comes alive during the celebration. He speaks Dari (even though I cannot) and leaves me with the other women.
I am unprepared for my first-ever Muslim prayer service. Suddenly, all the men drop to the floor on all fours, prostrating themselves. I had never seen Abdul-Kareem pray before.
When I awake the next morning, my husband is gone. I am completely alone. And I will spend every morning and afternoon that follows alone with my mother-in-law and female relatives.
As the excitement over our arrival wears off, so does my special treatment. The household meals are now only made with ghee. I can’t eat any of it. Secretly I stow away canned goods that I indulge on in the brief moments that I’m left alone.
Two weeks into my confinement and I have only left the compound twice — both times with a calvary of people guarding and watching.
I am bored, so bored.
One day, I decide to sunbathe on the private terrace that adjoins my bedroom. I don a pink bikini covered in purple polka dots. Then I hear a loud commotion that sounds like men yelling at each other.
“What are you doing? You have managed to upset all of Kabul,” my husband says.
He explains that a group of workmen a quarter-mile away caught sight of a “naked woman” and could not concentrate on work. A delegation had descended upon our house to demand that all women, especially I, be properly dressed.
I start laughing.
“Please, please just come in and put something on,” he says. “Rumors spread here quickly. By tonight, they’ll be telling their friends we are running a brothel.”
I do as I’m told.

Author Phyllis Chesler in 1959, the year she was whisked away to Afghanistan.

Later I write in my diary: “I have no freedom at all. No opportunity to meet anyone or go anywhere. His family watches me suspiciously. Am I getting paranoid?”
In fact, I have reason to be paranoid.
I discover that mother-in-law has instructed the servants to stop boiling my drinking water. Because the sewage system consists of open irrigation ditches that are used as public bathrooms and for drinking water, I contract dysentery.
Perhaps she thinks I am already “Afghan enough” to withstand any and all germs. Perhaps she wants me dead.
She then begins her conversion campaign. She gives me prayer rugs and prayer beads and urges me to convert to Islam.
If I don’t, I think, will she continue her campaign to sicken and kill me?
The next day she barges into my room with a servant and confiscates my precious hoard of canned goods.
“Our food isn’t good enough for her — she eats from cans,” she says.
I am her captive, her prisoner; she, my jailer, might treat me more decently if I find ways to please her. This is difficult for me to write about but I did it. I repeat the words: “There is one God, Allah, and Mohammed was his prophet.”
I am now a Muslim — at least in my mother-in-law’s eyes — but that still isn’t enough for her. When she is angry at me, she spits at me. She calls me “Yahud” or “Jew.” When I complain to my husband, he dismisses me as being dramatic.
I must escape.
Looking both ways, I walk out feeling like a criminal. I board a bus and notice that all the other women are at the back of the bus wearing burqas. I am horrified, slightly hysterical.
Meanwhile, all eyes are on me. I am without even a head scarf or a coat. In this country, a naked face is almost the same as fully bared breasts. I am lost and dizzy with fear. My husband is informed of my escape, and he finds me and brings me home.
But the desire to flee still nags at me.
“I have been here for three months and have been allowed out only five or six times,” I write in my diary. “Is this imprisonment meant to tame me, break me, teach me to accept my fate as an Afghan woman? I want to go home.”
Abdul-Kareem is fed up with my unhappiness. “He has begun to hit me,” I write. “Had I known something like this could ever happen, had I known that we would have to live with his mother and brothers, I would never have come here.”
I attempt a second escape to the American embassy. But once I arrive, I’m escorted away. Without a US passport, I no longer have any rights as an American.
I try twice more to escape — one with a return to the American embassy and another with the help of a friendly German expat. But before I can set any plans in action, I fall deathly ill.
My temperature climbs to 105 degrees, but I receive no sympathy from my family. After days of struggling — and falling into a coma—a local doctor is called. He diagnoses me with hepatitis, explaining there’s nothing more he can do.
This is my lowest point. I fear that if I die here I will be buried in a Muslim cemetery, forever forgotten.
I continue to fight for my survival and beg to see an American doctor. My family agrees, but only if I am closely guarded.
The doctor, however, manages to get me alone for a brief moment and tells me that I must return to the States for treatment. Then he orders a nurse to give me fluids. The next thing I remember is someone tugging at my IV line.
It’s my mother-in-law.
I call out and am rescued by a sister-in-law, who sits with me through the night. I tell my husband about his mother’s attempt on my life. He dismisses it.
But he now realizes that if I survive this disease, I will leave him. So he contrives a way to make me stay.
That night, a he climbs into my bed when I am feverish and sick and forces himself on me. I’m too weak to fight back. He is trying to impregnate me because if I am carrying his child, I will not be allowed to leave.
Slowly, I recover. But I have missed two periods.
I have to get out and it has to be now. I have only one card left to play: the royal card. I must appeal to my father-in-law, who alone has the power to return to me to my home. I send word through a servant that I would like to see him.
He arrives and almost immediately says: “I think it will be best if you leave with our approval on an Afghan passport, which I have obtained for you. You have been granted a six-month visa for reasons of health.”
He must have decided that he did not want a sick — or dead — American daughter-in-law who was trying to flee on his hands. Perhaps he never wanted a Jewish American daughter-in-law at all.
He already has the passport in hand: #17384. I have it still.
I feel saved; I feel graced. My husband grows incensed and begins to hit me and call me names. But I stand my ground. Even when I board the first plane out, he still believes that as a dutiful wife I will one day return to him.
When the plane takes off, I am filled with more fierce joy than my body can contain. And when I finally land on American soil, I literally kiss the ground.
I suffer a painful miscarriage shortly after my return. My body made that decision for me. I rush past any anguish, return to college, find a job and apply to graduate school. Two years after returning, I get my marriage to Abdul-Kareem annulled.
I’ve never told this story in detail before, but felt that I must now. Because I hear some westerners preach the tortured cultural relativism that excuses the mistreatment of women in the name of Islam. Because I see the burqa on the streets of Paris and New York and feel that Afghanistan has followed me back to America.
I call myself a feminist — but not just any feminist. My kind of feminism was forged in the fires of Afghanistan. There I received an education — an expensive, almost deadly one — but a valuable one, too.
I understand firsthand how deep-seated the hatred of women is in that culture. I see how endemic indigenous barbarism and cruelty is and unlike many other intellectuals and feminists, I don’t try to romanticize or rationalize it.
I got out, and I will never return.

Adapted with permission from “An American Bride in Kabul” (Palgrave MacMillan) by Phyllis Chesler, out Oct. 1. The name of her husband and his family have been changeed

Crazy Israeli Rabbis Block "Abuse Crisis Hotlines" on the Kosher Phones!

by Sandy Eller

Pointing the finger of blame squarely at rabbinical authorities, Israeli cellular providers admit that access to mental health and sexual abuse hotlines are blocked on kosher phones.

According to reports on Israeli news service Ynet, which conducted an investigation into the blocked kosher phone numbers, the only service provider which allowed kosher phone users access to the mental health hotline, 1201, was Orange.  No cellular providers gave kosher phone users the ability to access either 1202 or 1203, the sexual abuse hotlines for women and men, respectively.

Legislation passed by the Knesset last year mandated that calls to the above hotlines would be free calls which would not appear on user’s statements in attempt to provide an extra layer of discretion, but also allowed the Rabbinical Communications Commission the ability to have input into the cellular communications system. 
Representatives at two major cellular providers told Ynet that the decision to block the numbers came directly from the Rabbinical Communications Commission.  However, according to one representative, the Ministry of Communications is equally at fault for giving the Rabbinical Communications Commission the authority to block the hotlines.

According to the Ministry of Communications, there are four numbers that have been set aside for emergency use:  100, 101, 102 and 104, and that there is currently no law that mandates having sexual abuse and mental health hotlines on cellular devices.

One chareidi kosher phone user who tried to call a mental health hotline on his cell phone said it was obvious that the decision to restrict access to the emergency number came from the rabbinic board.

“An act of this magnitude should generate huge public protest,” said the user.  “It makes no sense that as a citizen, I should be denied the ability to get help when I am in distress.”

“What is next?” added a friend of the user.  “Tomorrow they will tell me that I can’t call Magen David Adom, I can only call the chareidi Hatzolah?  There is a reason why these emergency lines exist and it is unacceptable that the Israeli government is playing a part in blocking access to these numbers.”

David Koren, the CEO of ERAN, Israel’s Emergency Hotline for Emotional First Aid, told Ynet that he was aware of the problem and blamed the Rabbinical Communication Commission for the blockage.

“For now what we can do is give people an alternate phone number for ERAN, which may not offer as many services as the hotline, but will at least provide some level of service,” said Koren.

Calls from chareidim to ERAN are not rare, according to Koren.

“While we have not asked the Rabbinical Communications Commission to remove the block, we would be happy to work with them so that we can continue to offer services to the chareidi community,” noted Koren.
A group of representatives from sexual abuse hotlines and crisis centers were shocked to discover that their numbers had been blocked, insisting that by law, emergency hotline numbers for abuse victims must be accessible as free numbers from all phones.  Citing the greater sensitivity needed when dealing with chareidi abuse victims and their increased reluctance to ask for help, they insisted that there is a dire need for abuse hotlines in the chareidi community.

Separate abuse crisis centers were created for chareidi men and women in 1993, allowing molestation victims in the religious community to come forward and receive support and advice.  Those centers can be accessed from any phone and are 02-673-0002 for women and 02-532-8000 for men.

Asra Kedisha gangsters flood Monsey Streets with despicable flyers again..

This Asra Kedisha group that protest ALL construction sites in Israel to shake down developers, have started an all out war against the sainted Rav Shernbuch who ruled that it was permitted to build in Bait Shemesh, and that it was never a Jewish cemetery.

The truth is that ALL of Israel is a cemetery, because it has thousands of years of Jewish history, and it was always in the cross hairs of foreign countries that constantly murdered and pillaged the inhabitants.

 But the Rabbis, the Tanaim and Amoriem and Geonim and even the Rishonim never prohibited any building in any part of Israel unless it was "Muchzak" as a Jewish cemetery.

The Asra Kedisha Gangsters protest all development sites except in Bnei Brak (Where they would get their behinds bashed in)and only stop when they are paid off.. just like Al Sharpton here in the USA.

 What happened in the last two weeks was that they were paid but not enough, so they stopped for two weeks, and today these bastards started again... So there you got the whole story....
Chag Samaich

Danny Lewin, ex Israeli - Commando who understood Arabic was the first 9/11 victim to be killed!

The remarkable story of the first victim of the 9/11 attacks and his doomed attempt to stop Al Qaeda terrorists who had hijacked a plane destined for the Twin Towers has been told for the first time.
Internet entrepreneur Danny Lewin, 31, was travelling on American Airlines Flight 11 when it was hijacked just 16 minutes into a journey from Boston to Los Angeles as it passed over Worcester, Massachusetts.
The hijackers then turned the plane north instead of south - heading towards New York airspace.
A veteran of an elite unit in the Israeli Defence Force who understood Arabic, Lewin appears to have immediately understood what was happening and challenged the terrorists, who were armed with box-cutters and knives.
It was an act of extraordinary courage which was to cost him his life. As the former commando fought with Satam al-Suqami, one of the five who had taken the plane, he was fatally stabbed.

Half an hour later, at 8.46am, the Boeing 767 became the first plane to crash into the Twin Towers. All 81 passengers, nine crew members and the two pilots died.
The story of Lewin's unimaginable bravery has only just been made public in a new biography No Better Time: The Brief, Remarkable Life of Danny Lewin, the Genius Who Transformed the Interne.
Author Molly Knight said she wanted to write about Lewin's life because she felt it deserved to be celebrated.
She told CNN: 'It was about the way he lived. I felt like if he was motivating me as much, I felt like I could do the same for readers.'

The writer was able to piece together his last moments from the desperate accounts of two flight attendants who had been in contact with the ground as the tragedy unfolded.

 

 

They told authorities that a passenger seated in 9B - now believed to be Lewin - had been killed as he tackled one of the terrorists.

 

 

Early reports by the 9/11 Commission claimed that Lewin had been shot but after extensive interviews with officials on the ground who had spoken to the attendants, it was concluded that al-Suqami had slit his victim's throat. 
Lewin's best friend Marco Greenberg told Slate: 'He was the first victim of the first war of the 21st century.'
There were to be many more. Seventeen minutes after Flight 11 crashed, United Airlines Flight 175 hit the South Tower of the World Trade Centre at 9.03am.
Then came the news that a third hijacked plane had crashed into the Pentagon in Arlington, Virginia, before a final aircraft was brought down in Shanksville, Pennsylvania. 

The second hit: The moment Hijacked United Airlines Flight 175, which departed from Boston en route for Los Angeles, crashes into the South Tower of the World Trade Centre

Devastation: An explosion rips through the South Tower of the World Trade Centre after the hijacked United Airlines Flight 175 crashed into it. The North Tower is shown burning after American Airlines Flight 11 crashed a little over 15 minutes earlier

As news of terrorist attacks spread around the world, it was Lewin's own technology which allowed the internet to keep up with the increased amount of traffic.
The Israeli-American co-founded Akamai Technologies which is responsible for more than 30 per cent of the world’s internet traffic.

His company's October 1999 share market float made Lewin an overnight billionaire and he became one of the world's richest high-tech entrepreneurs before he was even 30-years-old.
The multibillion dollar company's clients today still include Sony, Apple and News Corp.
But before his business success, Lewin, who was brought up in Denver, Colorado, before moving to Israel with his family when he was 14, served with one of the country’s most elite counter-terrorism unit, Sayeret Mat’kal.

Killers: Waleed M Alshehri, pictured left, and Wail Alshehri, pictured right, were two of the hijackers on Flight 11

Terrorists: Abdulaziz Alomari, pictured left, and Mohamed Atta, pictured right, also helped to take over the plane

9/11: Nearly 3,000 people died when four hijacked planes were used in coordinated strikes on the Pentagon and the World Trade Center towers (pictured). The fourth plane crashed in Pennsylvania

 

After reaching the rank of captain, he decided to return to graduate school to study maths and computer science.
He studied at the Israeli Institute of Technology before going on to Massachusetts Institute of Technology (MIT) on a full scholarship where he came up with a ground-breaking idea to allow the internet to work more efficiently and at faster speeds.
The set of algorithms he created and called 'consistent hashing' formed the basis of his company Akamai which he set up with MIT professor Tom Leighton in 1998.
Describing Lewin, Leighton told CNN: 'He was really exceptionally smart. MIT has a lot of really smart people, and Danny stood out even among that rarified environment.

In memory: A plaque for Danny Lewin on the fence of a park named in his memory in Cambridge, Massachusetts, where he studied at MIT

Gone but not forgotten: After Lewin's death, the intersection of Main and Vassar Streets in Cambridge, Massachusetts, was renamed Danny Lewin Square in his honor

Success story: Danny Lewin created a set of ground-breaking algorithms which make the internet work more efficiently and formed the basis of his company Akamai which he co-founded with MIT professor Tom Leighton in 1998

'He liked working on the hardest problems, as opposed to the easier ones, because they would make more of a difference.'
He added he was intrigued by Lewin's idea because it would make a real beneficial impact on the world.
He said: 'In the area where we worked, in algorithms and the theoretical side of computer science, often that work is good, deep work, but it doesn't change the world. It doesn't impact people directly.
'With this work, we thought it would have relevance in the real world, and make the Internet be faster, more reliable, more secure. It was a chance that was pretty rare for us.'

Memorial: President Barack Obama, First Lady Michelle Obama, Vice President Joe Biden and Jill Biden observe a moment of silence to mark the 12th anniversary of the 9/11 attacks on the South Lawn of the White House in Washington

Memorial: President Obama, the First Lady, Vice President Joe Biden and his wife Jill remember the moment of the attacks

Emotional: President Barack Obama, accompanied by Defense Secretary Chuck Hagel, wipes his face as he speaks during a 9/11 remembrance ceremony at the Pentagon on Wednesday morning

Akamai is responsible for keeping some of the world's most popular websites running smoothly, including Facebook and iTunes.
Lewin had boarded Flight 11, which took off shortly before 8am on September 11, to attend a Akamai business meeting in Los Angeles.
After the terrorist attacks, almost every major news site remained up and running that day despite the hug volume of traffic because of Lewin's creation.
If he was still alive today, it is likely he would be placed in the ranks alongside Steve Jobs and Bill Gates.
Lewin is survived by his wife Anne and sons Eitan and Itamar. 

US President Barack Obama, left-rear, and others salute during the playing of the US National Anthem during a memorial service at the National 9/11 Pentagon Memorial

Paying their respects: The World Trade Center Flag is presented as friends and relatives of the victims of the 9/11 terrorist attacks gather at the National September 11 Memorial

Tributes: Flowers and pictures are displayed by a name along the north reflecting pool at the 9/11 Memorial to mark the anniversary of the attacks

  

Weberman's Victim thrown out of shul on Rosh Hashana

Victim with her husband, Boorey Deutsch

The brave Orthodox Jewish teen whose testimony helped convict the prominent Brooklyn counselor who had sexually abused her was driven out of her own synagogue on Rosh Hashana last week.

The married, 18-year-old victim was in the Williamsburg synagogue where her family has prayed for the past decade when a man yelled, “Moser, out of the shul!” the woman’s husband told The Post on Sunday.

The word “moser” refers to a Jew who informs on another Jew to secular authorities.

“They stopped the praying until she left,” said her husband, Boorey Deutsch, 26. “Some woman tried telling my wife to stay there and not leave. She shouldn’t care what they say. But my wife ended up leaving.”

“She felt horrible and mistreated. They treat survivors as if they are the abusers,” Deutsch fumed to The Post.

Deutsch and his wife have suffered harassment ever since she first accused Nechemya Weberman, 54, of sexually abusing her after she was sent to him for counseling as a 12-year-old.

“Several weeks ago, someone threw eggs at Boorey’s store,” a law-enforcement source said.

The gutsy victim testified at Weberman’s trial that she was afraid to report the abuse because he was “supposedly a god in Williamsburg” and nobody would believe her.

“Satmar would have kicked me out, and if Satmar kicks you out, nobody accepts you,” she said during the trial last year.
The pressure for her to drop the case against Weberman was at times overwhelming.

At one point, three Orthodox Jewish brothers, Jacob, Joseph and Hertzka Berger, tried to intimidate Deutsch and his then-girlfriend into dropping the case by ripping down the “kosher” certificate at his Williamsburg restaurant.

The men pleaded guilty in June in a deal that gave them no jail time.

Last month, Abraham Rubin, 49, also pleaded guilty to offering Deutsch and the victim $500,000 to leave the country so that the case against Weberman could be dropped.

Weberman — who is married with 10 children — is currently serving his 50-year sentence at the maximum-security Shawangunk Correctional Facility in upstate Wallkill.

Harav Shteinman call Lapid, "yemach shemo" and "rasha"

Very interesting, because when Rav Shteinman visted Monsey years ago, Satmar protesters called Rav Shteinman a "rasha" and yelled  "yemach shmo"!

מרן הגראי"ל שטיינמן על לפיד: "יימח שמו, רשע"

הגזירות הקשות והקיצוצים האכזריים שהוביל שר האוצר יאיר לפיד, במה שנראה כמסע שנאה נגד הציבור החרדי ועולם התורה ולומדיה, מביאים את מרן ראש הישיבה הגאון רבי אהרון לייב שטיינמן להתבטאות (נגדו בחריפות, כאשר שב לאחרונה, שוב ושוב, ואומר: "הרשע לפיד, יימח שמו" (חרדים

בימים האחרונים מתבטא מרן ראש הישיבה הגאון רבי אהרון לייב שטיינמן בחריפות רבה נגד שר האוצר ויו"ר מפלגת 'יש עתיד' יאיר לפיד וזאת בניגוד לסגנונו בדרך-כלל.

ההתבטאויות החריפות באות בפרט על רקע הגזירות הקשות על עולם התורה והקיצוצים הכואבים בתקציבי הישיבות ובפת לחמן של עשרות אלפי אברכים כמו גם בקיצוץ האכזרי בקצבאות הילדים.

לפני כשבוע, ביום שישי, נכנס אחד העסקנים אל מרן ראש הישיבה והציג בפניו את המצב הקשה של הכוללים ועולם הישיבות בשאלה כיצד יש להתמודד כעת.

ראש הישיבה התבטא בחריפות נגד שר האוצר, וחזר שלוש פעמים רצופות על הביטוי הקשה "יימח שמו", שוב ושוב.

אך מתברר, כי זו אינה התבטאות חריגה של ראש הישיבה נגד יאיר לפיד, הרודף את עולם התורה והציבור החרדי מאז דרכה כף רגלו בפוליטיקה ואף משתמש בציבור החרדי כדי להגביר את השנאה כלפינו ולהביא את התמיכה בו עצמו.

אמש, (מוצאי שבת), בסיום השיעור הקבוע שנערך בביתו בבני ברק עם צאת השבת אמר מרן הגראי"ל שטיינמן כי "אנו נמצאים בחבלי משיח, וכמו בחבלי לידה ככל שמתקרב הלידה החבלים קשים יותר, כך בחבלי משיח, ככל שמתקרבים למשיח הגזירות קשים יותר ומתרבים יותר".

לסיום, איחל ראש הישיבה כי "הקב"ה יעזור שנגיע כבר לגאולה, תכלה שנה וקללותיה", ואז סיים והוסיף התבטאות חריפה נגד לפיד: "שהשם יעזור שמה שחושב לעשות הרשע לפיד יימח שמו לא יעלה בידו".

DA Hynes cry "fowl" over campaign ad

'It’s time to beat kaporos,' says this ad depicting Brooklyn DA Charles Hynes and written in Hebrew, referring to a Yom Kippur ritual that involves slaughtering chickens.

The race for Brooklyn district attorney has turned into a zoo.

An ad depicting longtime DA Charles Hynes as a chicken set to be slaughtered before Yom Kippur has appeared online.

The ad states, in Hebrew, “It’s time to beat kaporos.”

Kaporos is an 800-year-old ritual in which Orthodox Jews wave a live chicken over their heads before Yom Kippur, the Jewish Day of Atonement. In symbolic exchange for their sins, the chicken is later slaughtered.

A Hynes supporter, City Councilman David Greenfield (D-Flatbush), called the message “appalling.” Greenfield said the ad implies Hynes’ challenger Ken Thompson “wants to see Joe Hynes killed in the ritual tradition of slaughtering chickens.”

James Freedland, a spokesman for the Thompson campaign, said the ad was not “sanctioned” or generated by its staff.

UMAN FLYERS CAUSE CHILLUL HASHEM, RIOT ON PLANE BECAUSE OF DELAY

Several Hasidic Jews on a plane slated to take off for Ukraine were arrested after a riot broke out while the plane was on the tarmac Tuesday morning.

The unrest was sparked after the plane, one of dozens filled with religious pilgrims heading to Uman, Ukraine, for Rosh Hashanah celebrations, was delayed. The plane’s captain was forced to call police after excessive disturbances by the passengers.

Some passengers damaged the emergency oxygen systems on the plane, Israel Radio reported.

Thousands of pilgrims head from Israel to Uman each year to be at the burial site of Rav Nachman of Breslov, the 19th century founder of the Hasidic dynasty, during the celebrations of the Jewish new year.

At the airport earlier in the morning, in a separate incident, police and immigration authorities arrested some 50 people headed for Uman. Among those arrested were fugitives, people wanted for questioning and passport forgers.

It was unclear if all those arrested were actually followers of the Breslov sect or whether they had merely hoped to use the mayhem and abundance of people dressed the same way at Ben Gurion Airport as cover for their getaway.

Convicted Rapist "Rebbe" moving to Monsey

Shomer Amunim Rabbi, Yaakov Yitzchok Roth, who was convicted of raping his young nieces and sat 12 years in an Israeli prison, plans to move to Monsey and open a Shteeble.

According to B'chadrei Chadorim.

What the Dying Want Us to Know About Living

by guest writer:Alexandra Rosas 

Twenty-five years ago, I held my grandmother's hand as she passed away. Two and half weeks ago, it was my mother's hand that I held as she left our world. I was there for the last days of life with both my mother and grandmother, and in our time together, they spoke of things with a sadness and urgency that they never had before. 

 There’s an old photo I have of my mother, which I’ve always loved. In it, she’s a young, sharply dressed working woman in South America, and you can feel the determination in her stride. 

I showed her this photo just a few weeks ago, and you could've heard the pride in my voice as I asked if she remembered where she was going on the day it was taken. "I have always hated that picture," she said, which startled me. "I was always in a hurry. Hurrying. Always. For what?" She took a deep breath, and gently said it one more time, "Always in a hurry ...." 

What left me astonished and teary-eyed was not the surprise of her hating the picture, but that these words were exactly the ones my grandmother had spoken to me on the morning of her own passing. I had been sitting vigil at her bedside and she was growing weaker with each day in the hospital. Stroking her hand, I spoke softly to her, "Abuela. Abuela, do you hear me? Remember when you would take us to the grocery store across the street from our house at the start of every summer, and you began our first day of vacation with a popsicle?" 

 What the dying want us to do — and wish for us to know — is to regard our lives as precious moments making up our days. They want us to focus less on the big picture of building a large body of evidence that proves our accomplishments, and more on the true wonders in our life — the kind where we find unexpected beauty that will be remembered with a wistful smile. Like walking with your child alongside you, going somewhere without purpose. Or waiting patiently while five- and six-year-old children choose, change their minds, choose, and then change their minds again, about the root-beer-flavored or the banana-flavored popsicles. 

 My mother and grandmother were telling me loud and clear that as we live our lives, we have to stop running and chasing what we think leads to happiness, and slow down before we rush past the very thing we'll wish we had more of at the very last hours of our days. It's not too late to make sweet memories of children or grandchildren skipping alongside us, of us just being and not doing, of grateful children looking up to us smiling with orange-stained mouths, yelling excitedly, "Thank you for waiting for me until I picked my flavor, Grandma! I didn't know if I wanted the green or the orange!" After hearing these words — not once, but twice — from loved ones who know everything they are about to leave behind, I know this is something I'll be working on to change. And I'm forever grateful for the second chance.