Boris and the Burka

El Inglés uses the recent controversy over Boris Johnson’s remarks to introduce some little-known historical examples of Islamophobia.

Boris and the Burka

by El Inglés

Boris Johnson is at it again, it seems. Just when you thought it was safe to go back in the kitchen, Britain’s most/least-admired/hated (delete as appropriate) white, straight, male, privileged, politician has caused a stir by saying that Muslim women in burkas look like ‘bank-robbers’ and ‘letter-boxes.’

Given that no bank robber in the history of the world has ever actually looked like a letterbox, it seems clear that at least one of these two epithets must be inaccurate. Here, we will put that to one side and focus on the response to his comments.

One Lord Cooper, of whose existence I was unaware until fairly recently, communicated the following via Twitter in response to Boris’s comments:

The rottenness of Boris Johnson goes deeper even than his casual racism and his equally casual courting of fascism. He will advocate literally anything to play to the crowd of the moment.

Lord Cooper, which actually means Lord Barrelmaker, and is therefore a very weird title, had effectively accused Boris of being a fascist. Woop-de-doop. Another day, another fascist under the bed. So far, so original.

Let us ask, though: was the charge actually fair in this particular case? It is no secret that Boris is a gigantic, attention-seeking bellend. Could he also be a fascist?

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Whatever exactly one thinks of Johnson’s comments, we need to be clear about one thing: anti-Muslim feeling has by no stretch of the imagination been limited to fascists, historically speaking. People of all different political backgrounds have despised Islam equally. Let us consider a few examples here.

Ho Chi Minh — Communist and Islamophobe Extraordinaire

Ho Chi Minh was a hugely talented Islamophobe. According to his unauthorized biography Not That Type of Ho…, Ho was arrested for attacking a group of Algerian men with a meat cleaver during his days in Paris in the 1920s. He was quoted in his police statement as having said:

Why so many ****ing Muslims in Paris? Why they park all over sidewalk so no can pass? Why they shout at me and lady friend when we walk down street? Next time I kill even more, ****ing hate ****ing Muslims.

That hard-left sentiments and anti-Muslim bigotry often walk hand-in-hand is made abundantly clear by this tale of borderline psychotic Islamophobia.

Jane Austen — World-famous Victorian novelist and grand wizard-level Islamophobe

Jane Austen’s position as a greatly-loved English novelist seemed unassailable until 2014, when previously unknown letters of hers exposed her as a raving anti-Islamic nutcase. The following is a particularly choice demonstration of her unrelenting anti-letterbox bigotry.

I happened upon a most unlovely bearded bollockhead of a Mohammedan a few short days ago, whereupon I did immediately start screeching the vilest of slurs at him: goat****er, sand monkey, and others that quite escape me at present but that yielded great pleasure at the time. I went home feeling rather pleased with myself and enjoyed a celebratory scone with extra jam. Goat****ers everywhere these days, darling, you simply can’t imagine.

Pancho Villa — Mexican revolutionary Islamophobe

Not only an unreconstructed sombrero-wearer and tequila-drinker, Pancho Villa was well ahead of the curve as an Islamophobe too. An undercover documentary released on YouTube in 2013 constituted incontrovertible evidence of this. At one point, a voice, subsequently identified as Villa’s, is heard to say:

You haf to remeber wid de Moosleems dat dey dreenk de blod of two infeedels every day jos’ to stay alive, ese. We talkin’ bout som baaad hombres, hermano. In Mexico, we shoot on sight, no questions asked. No Moosleems in Mexico ese, an’ we aim to keep it dat way….

Edward the Third — Launcher of Hundred Years’ War against the French, and precocious Islamophobe

Edward the Third, when not busy battling the Valois dynasty for the French throne, was a tireless opponent of the Islamic religion and its adherents. Historians recently unearthed one of his angrier diatribes about the Muslims swarming his capital city. We quote from a post he made on Facebook in 1363:

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The Somalis, Post-Apocalypse

El Inglés muses on the role Somalis (especially Somali women) will play in Britain after the Apocalypse finally arrives.

The Somalis, Post-Apocalypse

by El Ingles

The Somalis themselves, of course, will not realize that the apocalypse has come. Indeed, they will have no sense that anything untoward has happened at all. Fire, brimstone, blistering heat, pestilence, plunder and mayhem: to them it will just seem like a normal day back in the Old Country.

When Western countries finally collapse into Islamically-induced chaos, flaming crosses burn in the sky, and marauding bands of lunatics ravage town and countryside in search of a sack of grain or a packet of Crunchies, the Somalis will just be hanging out in the streets as usual, wondering why all the white people are acting funny.

Prudence dictates that we determine what to do with these people. Their menfolk will simply take the disappearance of law enforcement as an excuse to muck around all day, whacked out of their heads on khat and walking into traffic. Nonetheless, this leaves unresolved the question of what to do with the women. And ultimately, the choice is a simple one: eat or keep.

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Many white men will be familiar with that sudden wave of despair and panic that skitters across the surface of the brain when a Somali comes into view on the streets of a European city. Oh God, they’re here. Can’t we get rid of them? Who left the door open? All the more disturbing is the occasional flicker of recognition that some Somali birds are actually quite attractive. Even a foaming-at-the-mouth white supremacist like me has felt that familiar stirring upon seeing a fine Somali specimen on the streets of London. Reader, it is the only true form of cultural enrichment.

Our investigation of best-practice interactions with Somali females in post-apocalyptic situations has incorporated a wide array of stress-tested methodologies and techniques geared to leveraging our unique assets and experiences in optimising calorific intake vs. reproductive potential. We are therefore well-positioned to provide key stakeholders with necessary decision-making modalities in competitive, time-poor environments in which unrelated actors act not necessarily in the interests of said stakeholders. In this paper, we use real-world data to highlight the ways in which timely and appropriate decision-making in your interactions with Somali females could be the key to maximising the biological utility of both yourself and your posterity.

In other words, when the apocalypse is upon us, you will have to decide quite quickly whether to eat or keep a given Somali female, all the while fending off your neighbour’s attempts to strangle you and eat your intestines. Here we look at three ‘British’ Somali birds and try and decide whether they’re eaters or keepers. We’ve done the research so that you don’t have to. Let’s get stuck in.

Maya Jama

Instagram girl and social media fireball, best-known for her retweeting of jokes mocking dark-skinned women

Advantages:

1.   Half-Swedish, so you can always play the ‘she’s not really black’ game when you bring her round to meet your parents.
2.   Stonking hot. I mean, Google her.
3.   Half-Somali, so you can always play the ‘I’m so daring, I’m with a black girl’ game when you’re down at the pub.
4.   Stonking hot, in case I didn’t already say it.
 

Disadvantages:

1.   Nothing springs to mind.
 

Verdict: A keeper for sure. Gets into trouble on Twitter, but that will be inactive anyway during the apocalypse. Stick her in the back of your wagon and tell your minions to take her to your castle.

Fahma Mohamed

Anti-FGM campaigner and Guardian-backed wunderkind

Advantages:

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The Handyman’s Tale

For readers who are unfamiliar with the novel The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood — to which the following allegorical pastiche by JLH pays non-hommage — here’s the Wikipedia entry for the book.

The Handyman’s Tale

or

Margaret Atwood meets Quentin Tarantino

by JLH

Birth of a Nation

It happened in a place once called California. There was a surprising change of leadership in the national government, which had, until then, pursued a reasonable policy of social benefits for the poor to offset the incredible wealth amassed by the governing class and its consiglieri, and a sensible foreign policy of financial rewards for countries most likely to dislike and attack us. With the unexpected shift in leadership came a fanciful desire to improve an economy that successive bipartisan leaders had shown could not be improved; and a wrong-headed insistence that this country — like any other — should stand up for itself.

The final straws were perverted, “fundamentalist” interpretations of the 1st and 2nd Amendments. A brush-fire revolutionary movement formed, led by a retired power politician named Barbara Wrestler (known to friend and foe alike as “Barbie Bananas”). 10-term Governor Lunagleem was persuaded to declare the Feminist Nation of Westland, with the Golden Teddy Bear as its symbol. Its ready-made rallying cry was the title of the runaway bestseller, Cherchez la femme puissante. A widespread and visceral distaste for “flyover fundamentalism” among the elite of Westland was the impetus for a decree that the official philosophy of the new nation would be based upon principles outlined in the sociological milestone 50 Shades of Pink. The defining motto on the Teddy Bear seal of the new nation would be “allectio privus puellae” — To each her own.

Governor Lunagleem — in recognition of his long and faithful service in government, and his unflagging advocacy of women’s rights — was retired with great honors and offered, by way of exception, a passport that would not expire, should he ever decide to leave Westland and seek the presidency of that other country.

Offal

Our tale of life in the Feminist Democratic Republic of Westland is largely contained in the life of Offal. We first encounter him in the exclusively female- staffed public pre-school (there was no private schooling, except for the few daughters of highly placed officials), where he learned that a dispute between boys was decided on the basis of which boy was perceived to be the aggressor, who was then punished by being sent to an isolation corner for a while. A dispute between girls was resolved by a serious talk with an advisor, who would mediate an agreement between them. A dispute between a girl and a boy was regarded as Right versus Wrong or Good versus Evil. The girl was Right and the boy was Wrong. He was required to stand alone, as all the girls circled him and slapped his face — some angrily, some more kindly and softly. If he resisted — which became increasingly rare — he graduated to being Evil. He was made to lean his elbows on the teacher’s desk; and each girl was given a willow switch to strike his buttocks as she passed by. Offal and his classmates learned two lessons from this: 1)Never argue with a girl within view of any authority; 2) Never wear shorts to school — some girls will choose to whip the bare legs.

Bathroom facilities in schools, as in all public institutions, were of two kinds: Female and General. Offal’s introduction to this system was witnessing an outraged 7-year-old classmate complaining to their teacher that there was a girl standing at the urinals, observing and commenting. “Of course, dear,” the teacher told him kindly, “How else will she learn? She aspires to be a urologist.”

After the conditioning of pre-school, Life Entry School offered more substantive knowledge in arithmetic, reading, writing and the History of the Golden Teddy Bear Republic. All classes were issued waterproof helmets for their required, weekly depilatory shower. Boys were observed, to decide when they should be issued facial depilatory. The goal was no visible hair below the eyes. Everyone alike. There would be no returning to the era of “hairy-chested men.”

A companion program in the summer found every boy at “Summer Camp” — a more social than pedagogical training. Instead of a recorded version of Reveille, the day began with a loud call of “Soo-ee, Soo-ee, Pig! Pig! Pig!” Breakfast was sugarless oatmeal served in lengthy wooden trenchers referred to as “troughs” and a thick slice of bread. After eating, each boy carried his trencher past an open spigot, rinsing it off as he passed and stacking it upside down on the large drainboard. Lunch was beans with some salt pork in the same trencher, and bread. Supper was meatballs in tomato sauce, and bread, with a suety chocolate pudding for dessert. Each meal was presided over by watchful female counselors, who roamed between the long tables, noting when a boy seemed not to be eating, and rapping him across the back with a bamboo stick, saying, “Eat, Piggy, Eat!”

Activities during the day were various kinds of manual labor: moving boulders, leveling paths and roadways, gathering firewood from the surrounding woods. The great advantage for both “campers” and “counselors” was that this regimen facilitated an exhausted sleep. Nonetheless, the older boys were pulled — one by one — out of their bunks during the night and taken to one of the counselors’ cabins for what the counselors laughingly called, “Sex 101,” where they learned all the ways in which a woman could be pleased.

Offal never did know what the girls’ Summer Camp was like, but he noticed that with each end-of-summer return to school, the girls seemed to become more distant and contemptuous of the boys.

The final levels of public education — before girls went to one of the plethora of Westland universities, and the boys went to either blue- or white-collar trade schools — were also the closing phases in the treatment of male toxicity. Boys were separated into algorithmically selected groups and pulled from class twice a week to attend “de-masculinizing” clinics, where they were electronically connected to monitoring devices. Conducted by therapists working in pairs, the clinics featured 50-minute videos of young people at various activities. Blood pressure, pulse and skin temperature often spiked with one of three things: dangerous activities like cliff diving or dirt bike racing; warlike confrontations between males; the sight of an unexpected expanse of female skin. Every boy who registered a spike received an instantaneous electric jolt high inside his thighs. By the end of the second year, the attraction of danger, physical conflict and sex had dwindled to such an extent that images that had once caused a spike now barely registered. Many of the boys just closed their eyes or looked away.

Boys’ credits for graduation — aside from the masculine detoxification sessions — included the ability to read a newspaper, math through plane geometry (algebra and beyond were considered too intricate), a comfortable acquaintance with a computer and keyboard, and at least six credits in gardening/farming, tool-handling and crafts.

Thus well-trained in the necessary rules and attitudes of the Feminist Republic of Westland, Offal matured into a shy, comely young fellow. He was appointed to be a Domestic Worker, and was given a multi-year assignment as a handyman for three of the leading Wives in his designated community, doing yard work, animal husbandry and carpentry.

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FaceAche Strikes Again

Well, that Terrible Twos developmentally delayed troika – Facebook and Gargle/YahooTube – have banned/suspended Jordan Peterson. This round goes to FaceAche, since it’s the one currently messing with him:

GoV readers know how much I loathe Zuck; but you may not know I traded in Gargle for DuckDuckGo a few years ago. YahooTube is a muddle of inconsistency: currently, Dr. Peterson’s 574,000 subscribers wouldn’t stop them from banning him, either – just as they did previously.

I didn’t investigate his experience with Twee; I’ll bet he’s living on borrowed time flying on the back of Stalin’s bluebird-brain, too.

What these totalitarians don’t realize is that Dr. Peterson is a force of nature. If they keep fooling around with his accounts, he’s smart enough to find/build alternative routes for his work. What he’s doing is far too important to be erased by The Totalitarians.

Just wait till the angry people start demanding these modern-day Robber Barons be brought to heel. They’ll get to learn a little history.

Dr Peterson, Ms. DimBulb, and a Lobster Walk into a Bar

[The title of this post was lifted and changed; with apologies to a YouTube channel, The Saad Truth, found here. Since seeing his title, all others seem too tame now, which will become apparent in the course of this takedown – on the off chance you haven’t yet witnessed this humiliation.]

Being an American, I was (gratefully) unaware of this BBC Channel Four news babe. Or journalista, if you prefer. Ignorance of her future work is greatly to be desired since, as is the case for much of the American MSM, she appears to suffer from a terminal case of cognitive dissonance. Combined with her inability to hear or to parse Dr. Peterson’s statements, these deficits should, one thinks, serve her well in her chosen profession (and we all know how old that profession is).

Dr. Peterson evidently appeared on this wymyn’s program in aid of selling his book,

12 Rules for Life: An Antidote to Chaos

Our GoV link for the book is here.

The book can be pre-ordered, to arrive tomorrow, if you want the Kindle version.

An editorial review (by one of my favorite culture critics) says:

Jordan Peterson is the most important and influential Canadian thinker since Marshall McLuhan. His international fame and impact continue to grow exponentially. Peterson’s bold interdisciplinary synthesis of psychology, anthropology, science, politics and comparative religion is forming the template for the genuinely humanistic university of the future.” —Camille Paglia

For those too young to remember McLuhan, he no doubt has a wiki page. For those old enough to remember his predictions, you know how prescient he was.

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Channel Four is no doubt off somewhere licking its wounds and wondering if they’re mortal afflictions. Those lacerations certainly are as wide as a church door. Well, at the very least, a small country church door.

My acquaintance with Dr Peterson’s work is fairly recent, but I plan to make up for my ignorance with an in-depth study of his writings. I do wish his early research on the sons of alcoholics was more widely available. Yes, the many articles are co-authored with other young scholars, but just based on their breadth, they deserve wider dissemination.

We’ll be posting more of his talks in the future.

I welcome your comments on this video or on his work in general.

For the Feast of All Saints: “Jesus Loves Me…” Updated

As a kid I loved Hallowe’en. Not only was it exciting but since we went to a Catholic school, the next day, November 1st, was All Saints’ Day (followed on November 2nd, by All Souls’ Day, but that’s another story).

Fast forward many decades later, to Texas and the Austin Lounge Lizards with their ditty, “Jesus Loves Me But He Can’t Stand You”:

When one moves from a childhood Catholic ghetto to the wilds of Baptists, this song is a good cure for ailments of dogma.

[NOTE: Mark H said he couldn’t open the one I put up, so this is another version. Lyrics below the fold. Mark would love this Lounge Lizards’ take on Ronald Reagan since the Republic of Austin is a socialist enclave:
The Ballad of Ronald Reagan]

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A Peek Under Hillary’s Smelly Sheets

Thanks to our reader/commenter Bill Keezer we have a reasonable account from Forbes of Lady Macbeth’s machinations immediately after she lost the election. Forbes is pretty strict about using their news stories, so this is limited to the first paragraph and a following header and links are also omitted.

According to an insider account, the Clinton team put together the Russia Gate narrative within 24 hours of her defeat. The Clinton account explained that Russian hacking and election meddling caused her unexpected loss. Her opponent, Donald Trump, was a puppet of Putin. Trump, they said, “encourages espionage against our people.” The scurrilous Trump dossier, prepared by a London opposition research firm, Orbis, and paid for by unidentified Democrat donors, formed a key part of the Clinton narrative: Trump’s sexual and business escapades in Russia had made him a hostage of the Kremlin, ready to do its bidding. That was Hillary’s way to say that Trump is really not President of the United States—a siren call adopted by the Democratic party and media.

Hillary and the Orbis Dossier

[…]

You can read the dirty details here, but don’t expect CNNMSNBCFBI, et al to ever look under the sheets. They only do Republican laundry and much of that is airy-fairy gossamer material; it dissolves as soon as the dew dries.

I swan. That Hillary is definitely not a beta male. One has the urge to peek under her kilt… I never did see such a conniving, testicle-crunching woman. No wonder she married The Letch. (Whose old age is morphing him into The Lurch. Sad.)

Time for Britain to Assume the Position

I was fooling around with some graphics this afternoon and put these together. I delivered versions to Vlad a while ago, and I believe he’s already tweeted them:

What Prime Minister Theresa May actually said on May 23, 2017:

I want to reiterate what I said this morning about the professionalism of the emergency services and the bravery of the people of Manchester. Through their actions, they proved that cowardice will always be defeated by bravery, that evil can be overcome by good, and that our values — the liberal, pluralistic values of Britain — will always prevail over the hateful ideology of the terrorists.

And this one’s from UKIP Daily:

White Masochists Just Wanna Be Safe, Ya Know?

At the recommendation of a commenter, I looked at Black Pigeon’s new video. I’ve seen his work before, but I don’t remember hearing about his own background before this. It proves to be quite interesting. One presumes he’s talking from his own background of The Privileged White…but then again, he’s a Black Pigeon, isn’t he?

The ugly phenomenon of White Masochism has a counter-reality: those mixed race folks who desire to “pass” as white and leave the burdens of ethnicity behind. That isn’t discussed by Black Pigeon but for American Southerners, it’s simply part of life – an obvious and eternal reality. “Whiter is Righter” is lived out in places like, say, New Orleans, all the time. The rage of those Black Lives Who Natter (on and on) stands against those silent “almost white” folks who sneak over the Color Border to get out of the whole mess, or those who marry whites in hopes their children can be spared the pain of being not-white. You can watch it happen among the rich and famous all the time.

Life is full of existential burdens, skin color – oops, “ethnicity” being just one of them. If Zeus would flash a bolt of white light and make the whole world pale – or at least those who found their rage on their color – they’d find something else to differentiate and kvetch about. That’s just how we are…

So onto the joys of being Japanese and not having to pretend we’re all alike:

We have a donor who lives in Japan. She’s been there for some years; from her name she would appear to be of European extraction. Considering what is going on, I pray she remains safe.

An important reminder:
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Wanna Vote for This Here Turnip?

As the days dwindle down to a precious few, Bill Whittle considers the advantages of a vegetative presidency:

Sounds good to me. Especially if we get to pan roast the president in butter. Yum!

I’m with her it. But I promise to send her “Get-Well-Soon” greeting cards care/of whichever federal prison she chooses to serve her sentence…because you know darn well they’ll let her choose.

Huma, on the other hand, will probably cut a deal, giving over all she knows in exchange for being placed in a witness protection program. That way, neither Hillary nor The Hon. Member can find out where she is.

OT: Why do you think a Muslim woman from Saudi Arabia would name her first son Jordan? Here’s my take: Jordan is a Muslim country, so that’s one part of her son’s heritage. On the other hand, the father of her child is Jewish. Thus, this could be an allusion to the River Jordan where the Israelites crossed into the Promised Land.

Turnips are both halal and kosher. Muslims and Jews can vote for one without committing any sins.