Rightful liberty is unobstructed action according to our will within limits drawn around us by the equal rights of others.
~ Thomas Jefferson

Monday, October 30, 2017

The Prodigal Son returns

Forgive me, Father. It has been almost a year since my last confession. I confess that I have been too lazy to write for this blog, initially due to medical issues, but really because I see too many signs that America as we knew her is circling the drain. Being a cynic and a professional pessimist, I am constantly surprised by the fact that things haven't become quite as bad as I expected, but that isn't the same as saying they've turned out well, either.

Not the drain we hoped to see in action when we somehow succeeded in electing Trump, and saving ourselves from the absolute horror of even just four years of the most corrupt public figure this country has ever known - even exceeding Obama. The drain we circle is the one opened and put into operation by the Left. By the Fabians in England, in 1884, after having been fired up by Karl Marx and Friedrich Engels, who wrote the Communist Manifesto in 1848. Marx moved to London shortly thereafter, and remained there for the rest of his life, content among the English, who might have gone full-Communist, if it weren't for that small stumbling block called a monarchy - another form of government that England had been trying to perfect for many, many years.

The Left - communists, socialists, fascists (but I repeat myself), nihilists, and tyrants - have been trying for almost 170 years to force people all over the world, in failed attempt after failed attempt, to form a collective version of society that would encourage and assist mankind in perfecting itself. In the image of the elite, our betters who look after us, in a paternalistic "we know what is best for you, and we'll make you do it in spite of you" sort of way. They have been exceedingly clever at urging us in that direction, only to find they haven't yet been able to tweak things into the utopia they have been promising each other - and us - for Oh, so many years.

Recently, another horse in the race toward "One World", globalism, a universal hegemony, has been experiencing a resurgence. That would be islam. Not a religion, but an ideology. A cult(ure) of madness, of perversion, of dominance and tyranny. A cult constructed by a clever - if actually illiterate - desert brigand named mohammed. A perverted fellow who thought he was clever enough to sit on the porch with the big boys - Judaism and the nascent newcomer, Christianity. When the Jews and the Christians were rude enough to ignore him and his newly made-up "religion" (which he named "islam", which translates exactly as "submission - NOT "peace"), he got mad, picked up his marbles, and went home. He thereupon decided to cross out all those nice things he said about the Jews and the Jesus crowd, and began to tell his followers to "strike their necks", damn them.

Well, since he couldn't read or write (even if allah [the moon god] did declare him the "perfect man", who could do no wrong), someone else had to follow him around and memorize (as best they could, but you know those desert dwellers - spelling and punctuation weren't their strong suits, so it may have gotten written down a little garbled later on, when everything he said and did was finally put to paper. Or papyrus. Or vellum. Or Charmin. Those scribes were lesser men, who _had_ to write it down, or they would forget it. mohammed never forgot, he merely changed his mind from time to time, and everything that _followed_ what he had said before, was obviously more important than what he had said before. This is known as the principle of abrogation, which means that he could change his mind at any time, but what he said _this_ time was the allah's honest truth. From the mouth of allah's messenger himself, never to be doubted. And NEVER to be changed, till the end of time. And then some.

So, now that mohammed had grown tired of "three stone monte", and sampling his neighbor's goat herd, he told anyone who would listen that allah (the one and only true god, no matter what the Etruscans, the Greeks, the Chaldeans, the Romans,, the Hindu, the Jews and the Christians said, nor how many they worshipped in the centuries before mohammed got bored (and picked up that nasty rash), that his visions were the allah's honest truth. He developed such a following that he was named "allah's messenger:, "mo the honest", "the truthful", and "the most moral" - of used camel traders.

And if anyone complained because the camel he had just traded had only one ball, he told them, "So, nu? It only takes one good ball." If anyone knew the truth of that statement, it was mohammed, who nonetheless went on to father some children, even if the first few died soon after their birth. In a dream, allah vouchsafed to mohammed that it was his wife's fault, because she was twenty years his senior. From then on, it was holy writ in islam that everything was the woman's fault. Even when she got gang-raped by fifteen devout muslims. [When NASA was charged with determining and celebrating the advances in science and cult(ture) for which the muslims were responsible, it was found that cricket and baseball originated with islam. Thanks to the frequent stoning of women to death for the slightest of faults, muslim men developed wicked pitching arms. They do pretty well at horse shoes, too.]

When mo discovered he just couldn't get no respect from those Jews and Christians, he decided to start striking some necks.  He only had two skinny little arms, hardly long enough to reach, on those lonely, lonely nights in the desert, far from the goat herds he loved so well. (And so often.) He was a clever little shiite though, so he figured out that he needed some followers with long, strong arms.

Ever since mo discovered that, compared to other men, allah had left him a little short, he developed a taste for young girls. Very young girls. Girls so young that they didn't realize how badly allah had deprived him. Safe from any comparisons, he was able to enjoy himself, in spite of missing the warmth of the herd - and they _never_ talked, even if they knew from comparing their other night visitors that mo had been short-changed. mo realized that, while he was sleeping, allah had visited him with a vision saying that little girls rocked. mo also learned that war brides (known as sex slaves in the civilized world, which didn't exist yet) were cool, and so were the wives of men you had killed so that you could acquire the wives for yourself. multiple wives were even better. The occasional bacha bereesh ("beardless boy", pre-pubescent) was a lot of fun, as well. Heck, your father-in-law, brother-in-law, nephew, cousin, or even Darryl, that cute looking shepherd with the pretty goats, were all approved by allah. [The Ayatollah Khomeini, supreme religious leader of Iran for a while, wrote a book called the Codes of Conduct which indicated all of these were fair game. But wait, there's more! Even sodomizing an infant is allowed, as long as you don't enter a female infant vaginally. (But if you did, there's a remedy for that, too.]

This simplified mohammed's need to obtain lots of followers who could strike a lot of necks for him, and gather some war brides for him while they were at it. What desert brigand, what desert scum could resist joining mohammed's banner when they learned that all of these fun things had the Good allah's-House Keeping Seal of Approval, including whacking some infidels? Why that was better than whacking - uh, better than anything else they could do short of a night wandering through the pens during the big All-Arabian Goat Auctions, held in Medina twice a year.

Because mohammed's short-comings were genetically passed on to his descendants, to this day muslims are thankful for allah's endorsement of child marriage, as well as Thursday night bacha bazi ("boy play"), where very young boys (pre-pubescent bacha bereesh, "beardless boys") are dressed up as girls and made to sing and dance, while the old, almost impotent muslim men drink tea and draw on hookas, until it is time to "call it a night". Then they take their choice of the boys to their rooms, where they use them, willing or not. Mostly not. This is done on Thursday nights, because allah is busy with more important things on Thursday nights, and won't know that they have been doing something naughty. I kid you not, they really believe that. Or so they tell themselves. Logic, reason, are in short supply (okay, I'll stop with the short jokes) in islam.

 Well, I'm going to call it quits here. I apologize if I bored some of you to death,


or if I have wasted a lot of your time telling you Things You Already Knew About islam.
[For those of you who haven't already heard my explanation, I refuse to use capitals for names and words in islam, because I don't want to show even that modicum of respect. I only capitalize ISIS or IS, because I don't want to confuse it with Bill Clinton's monolog on "is". I also don't want anyone to think I am showing Bill Clinton any respect.]

I will try to return here and continue this screed in a day or two. It wouldn't be fair to tempt the one or two people who use to read these scribblings (you still there Grog? How about you, Irish? I can't believe you are still carrying me as a blog you follow, when I haven't posted in eleven months. Thanks for hanging in there.)