This really has stirred up a hornet’s nest. Michelle Malkin has, perhaps rightly, been going to town on it.
Last night RTE’s Prime Time decided not to show any of the cartoons.
I have decided to link to the cartoons, I actually think they are not that good, and to be honest I can’t see what all the fuss is about. Decide for yourselves whether you think these are offensive, feel free to comment below.
Click here to see images of Mohammed from history.
The cartoons are not really the issue, they’re just the catalyst that allowed expression to something that’s been building steadily for the past 10 years or so.
There are basically 5 important groups here:
1. The American Populace:
Generally anti-muslim (check out latest surveys – or for an even more interesting stat, try check out what % of americans surveyed who believe there were actually Iraqis flying the twin tower planes!)
a) This anti-islamic fear in the US populace is understandable, when you consider:
i) americans are constantly fed on distorted and simplified 9/11 pop stories,
ii) are engaged in distant wars against misrepresented foes (safety, popularity & certainty is always a powerful pull-factor in opinion formation, on the other hand if you are morally anti-war, its probably because its often cool among your circle of friends to hold such liberal attitudes),
iii) constant media sensationalism and patriotic buzzwords,
iv) widespread religious and political leaders’ extremist/jingoistic rhetoric.
b) Opinion is obviously still going to be dispersed along a wide spectrum from tolerant to skeptical to macho-psycho-attention-seeking-sad-life. However on average americans are now highly xenophobic as a result of the above.
2. The American Elite:
a) Are very happy. This is because:
i) They have successfully replaced the ‘faceless external threath’ of the ‘commie aggressors’ with an even more invasive and amplifiable enemy: ‘global terrorism’. This allows them to continuously use the fear lever to do whatever they want to advance their own agenda at the expense of every other broad interest group involved with them in some way.
eg 1: Wolfowitz: I have always wanted to invade the middle east.
1990s Populace: Thats ridiculous, we don’t want to spike oil prices, and go where we have no business.
2000s Populace: Thats quite appealing, we now fear muslims and sort of want the hit back at ‘them’ somehow anyway. Oil prices are already riduculously high, and we could really use some sort of show of strenght or we would realise we’re overspending, have an enormous housing asset bubble, an unsustainable national debt, and no real leaders who inspire us to unite despite the fact that many of us no longer speak english and fear our neighbours.
eg 2: World Court: USA, we would like you to respect the rights of prisoners, at the very least not torture them.
1990s USA: Yeah,,,,,, “human rights”…….. eh fair enough, we do say we support that alot anyway, so it would be pretty blatent if we tortured people. ok, we wont,,,, much.
2000s USA: HAHAHAH……oh, eh, sorry I was thinking of the something george said this morning. Anyway, no torture is a very messy word. You see, ‘Global Terrorism’ is a threath that justifies us in doing anything we want, dont you know that? I mean, theres no REAL difference in us killing and torturing both average and elite people in S.America since 1900, and what we are doing now in Eastern Europe and in dictatorships like Kazahkstan with which we have unofficial agreements, but now its just so much easier – because people can almost imagine the ‘ticking bomb’ scenario, and generally really think of muslims as slightly more faceless and therefore worth less because they aren’t white like the russians were.
eg 3: Top-Bracket Tax Breaks:
1990s Populace: I will not reelect you if you do this, with no external threaths I am focused squarely on the economy and taxes.
2000s Populace: I don’t really care that people I can barely imagine are getting taxed less, I am afraid of muslims are you are protecting me and getting revenge on them for me.
There are really alot more examples of this in everyday life. In fact, just try and imagine you are a leader. Imagine you had an excuse, a wonderful magical excuse…. whenever you used this people were both sympathetic to you, and they thought you were strong, and they thought you were morally justified. You wouldn’t just use this excuse on stuff it applied to, you’d keep pushing the limits, trying to see just how much stuff you could get away with! And you would LOVE it. You wouldn’t really want to stop this excuse, but you’d be happy to do alot of stuff that looked like you were stopping it, all the while fulfilling your own agenda. In fact, Global Terrorism, you would conclude, is one of the best things that ever happened to you.
3. The European Populace:
Europeans look on amercians as stereotypically arrogant, isolated, egocentric, coming from an unhealthy society, poorly educated, gullible, naive, loud, brash, un-classy, simplistic, etc. Core social beliefs and attitudes differ, and you are very aware of this. You would however, still prefer a white person whose attitudes differed to a non-white person whose attitudes differed even more. Therefore, you are sympathetic, but not supportive of genuine anti-islamic policies. Mock/disguise anti-islamic/anti-’global terrorism’ policies, ie policies where you use the excuse when it has nothing to do with the issue, you do not support, and don’t you generally cannot appreciate the factors above which make the american populace buy them.
4. The European Elite
You don’t like the USA getting too powerful, you don’t like the way recent developments have made relations between christians and muslims in your own countries unstable.
Meanwhile, you gain nothing like what the American elite is gaining and your populace is a lot more cynical about your ‘Global Terrorism’ excuse. In fact, in most cases, people laugh at you and tell you exactly where to go when you’ve tried to use it so far. So the excuse doesn’t work for you, and you don’t like how its working for their elite, becuase they are gaining power that might otherwise be yours, or at least you not theirs.
If you are a rich naton you resent them, but want to use them when you can, which is often. If you are a poor nation, you resent them, but want to use them when you can, which probably isnt that often, but when it comes, its very useful indeed.
5. Muslim Populace:
Generally anti-american
You resent america, and are told that it will never help you. in fact it wants to hurt you, and it has hurt people like you and is continuing to do so every day. You don’t really care about abstract “freedom” but you don’t like tangibly getting hurt. This is about the core of the logic here.
6. Muslim Elite:
On the one hand, you resent america and you would like to continue to use them. On the other hand, you’re quite scared they could remove your position of power. Your populace doesn’t like them, if you tell them to shut up, they will, but if you want to say something really popular, and pretty true like ‘america wants to hurt you and we want to protect you and few of us like jews’, thats a good option too. So really, what you say will just depend on how america is treating you. If they look like they wont remove you, then you tell the populace to shut up. If they look like they might remove you, its probably a good idea to get everyone behind you by being anti-american and hope the opportunity never arsises for them to carry out their wishes.
Analysis following from these groups:
American elites and European elites are innately friends, but resentment of power sours this relationship.
American populace and European populace innately dislike each other, but are told to like each other by elite, so this is not expressed. The important thing is that they would take each others corner against a non-white target, especially a muslim one, any day.
Western relations with the Muslim world have deliberately entered a troubled phase.
Traditional support for the status quo has been shattered by the new atmosphere and carte blance excuse. The policy/ideology of ‘spreading democracy’ to you is newly aggressive in tone, and American have already invaded Muslim neighbours.
[just in case anyone takes 'spreading democracy and human rights' seriously, another interesting fact is that the US overseas aid spend on a country is inversely proportional to that country's governance and human rights record. This means that the USA's foreign aid programmes de facto encourages/sponsors human rights violations. The more violent and less democratic a country is, the more the USA in generally willing to help it out financially and militarily. However, 'spreading democracy' is a another good excuse to get the populace fired up - it is just not as powerful as 'terror' becuase it is appealing to people's sense of paternalistic benevolence, whereas fear is a much more powerful motivator.]
Sumumary:
I am not proposing a ‘clash of civilizations’ or a great war. Elites would never ever endanger an arrangement that is working so well for them at present. Rather they will continue to utilise the climate of fear of an unseeable enemy that validates their more aggressive and self-interested policies happily.
What seems to be happening though is that the USA (elite) because pissed off with the Mid-east following OPECs formation. USSR collapsed, no one strong enough to oppose intervention in the area. Friendly/’Moderate’ (ie controlled) regiemes like Saudia were fine, the sons and daughters of their elites could play games and make business deals with american elite sons and daughters. Hostile/’Fundamentalist’ regiemes (ie not doing 100% what would like) were a problem. Post 1990 Saddam was not doing what he was told. Iran never really had since the revolution, but had been quieter.
‘Axis of Evil’, now contains Iran,,,, somewhere ‘ Global Terrorism’ lurks and hides and multiplies, heard of but unseen so feared, and scheming up new ways to hurt average americans.
American elites now have no need to lurk or hide, they do multiply, they are largely unseen but are also unfeared becuase they are not demonised and publicised to anything but a marginalised extent. They are not scheming up new ways to hurt average amercians, nor muslims, nor anyone. They are ordinary people but in extraordinarily powerful positions. However, like all but great people thrust into this position, they are weak, they don’t scheme to hurt others, but they don’t REALLY mind if they do hurt others either. And so they hurt alot of others. Alot.
Why do they do this?
1. No Counterbalances:
* No strong enemy (USSR gone, very weak UN authority)
* No internal supervision (waived by new excuses)
* No strong leaders who take a moral postion
[note: the US President's role has changed dramatically in comparison with e.g. FDR.
Then = decision maker, who sets tone of policy
Now = decision approver, who acts within a premade policy framework]
2. Human Nature.
Conclusion:
The Cartoons are not really the issue, they are just the catalyst for the tension caused by the situation that has been building for at least 10 years.
These tensions WILL GET WORSE.
I can only speculate what will occur in the next 10 years, so I won’t do so. That’s not what I wanted to write about. I wanted to try to give my view on a possible clarification of the issue with the Cartoons. I hope this posting does give some people who read it another perspective on the general situation, and will allow for a more psychologically realistic and pragmatic approach to discussing the underlying issue causing problems here, namely: how to change our world and create structures that mitigate the divisional influence of Religion, Race, Social Class and limit the potential for such Abuses of Power as currently occur freely.
To Evin, WELL SAID!
This whole thing is completely outrageous. So youre offended at these cartoons. So what? Of course I would be offended if someone showed me a picture of Jesus as a terrorist, or of him in some other disrespectful way. But I most certainly would not get 1000 of my buddies together and start a riot, burning cars and killing people along the way just because I was offended. It seems to me like the Muslim community is throwing some sort of adult-version temper tantrum. GET OVER IT YOU IMMATURE, CLOSED MINDED JUVENILLES! Write a letter, hold a peaceful protest, but don’t start riots! The muslim community is only reinforcing the concepts drawn in those cartoons with their responses. Not to mention the absolute and total hypocrisy of these rioters. Have you seen the kind of cartoons they draw about Jews and Christians and their leaders? Far and above, these cartoons are much more disturbing.
fuck all the fuckun dachins that says bad things on my prophet and its god that gonna replace it but you made me realy sad and i will never remmemberet
firstly i wanna say this cartoons is an attack to religion islam and its prophet muhammed.we do not agree with this pictures.muhammed was always very kind to everyone. and he never approved terrorism. shame on you danish newspaper
Those who protest in Islamic countries are expressing their anger and their refusal as a reaction to that naughty Danish kid who published that stuff.If protest turns out to be violent or destructive, It’s a question of organisation.Crowds are not easy to control when you have heated them.Danmark has a certain amount of responsibility in it. They should have interfered in a deplomatic way and apologize.After all It happened in their country and they represent everyone even the danish Julliands Posten and its staff.
you will not believe the number of pamphlets printed in my country {Nigeria} by muslims about Christianity and Jesus. Nothing could be more derogatory. yet these people protest the cartoons. the cartoons were just cartoonists expressing their perception of Islam and Mohammed. i think the resulting violence shows how right their perceptions are.
bastards all of the denmark peoples envolved in these picture making mother fuckers
1.) The Danish cartoonist most likely isn’t racist, or some sort of hate-monger.
2.) They are satirical cartoons.
3.) This means that they are meant to convey a MESSAGE, not HATRED.
4.)The artist is commenting on a situation.
5.)The situation is where a peaceful world religion has a splinter sect that has broken away from the mainstream religion that promotes violence, through manipulating the one thing that everyone holds as a holy thing….Mohammed.
6.) This might remind you of something such as Hitler, or the crusades, etc.
7.) People are looking too far into this situation.
8.) Yes muslims in general are angry, but so would I. But I would have enough respect for the freedom of speech and religion to step back and examine the cartoons critically and take the artist’s message from it, and speak out against violence.
9.) It is the silent sects of Islam that need to stop this.
10.) Yes, us westerners are often very ignorant, but Muslims should recognize that we are a third party in the situation, and respect that we have opinions too, just like you.
THEREFORE…we can all have a sad irony laugh over the situation, because the very situation that the artist was commenting on actually worsened over his critical examination.
The World is a sad place.
İ am a muslum and educated person and lived in europe for a sorth while. So İ understand all of you in this case that you find it very silly that we ae getting angry about that cartoons.
We also sport free speech.
There are things you should understand about islam,muslum culture. We have belives.
Please just respect them.
And donnt forget that İSLAM MEANS PEACE
But some stupid people just gave us bad names and make you think we are all killers.
Please just respect….
Lets live together in peace…
There was a great quote on a programme i saw the other day(uk)”The root of all evil”
“in a normal world good people would be doing good things and bad people would be doing bad things. BUT IT TAKES RELIGION TO MAKE GOOD PEOPLE DO BAD THINGS”
To conclude, live and let live eh!
Ok hamza, you get middle-eastern governments to apologise for all the christian/western hatred cartoons and properganda and we’ll get the danish government to say sorry….. fair? remember its daily out there, but we just ignore it…. like the short angry bloke!
who ever wrote that respond to Hamza. hey listen you say you forget about the daily things which happens against you. well thats your problem and you christian/western don’t even give a crap about your parents how the hell you would have any feeling about your religion. first learn to follow and understand your own religion then you would know who it feels when some dum ass draw a horibal picture of your belief. if danish newpaper has the courage to draw the picture then bare the consequence.
Dear Eiza, you are obviously devoted to your religion and i respect that. Personally im not a christian, muslim, hindu or anything, at the end of the day there is not enough evidence to prove any one religion is right but i do believe in a higher power that guides us. I try to do my best in life, for me and the people around me and would consider myself a moral man. I make mistakes but im only human. However I am a westerner so I am offended by the anti western properganda. If you read my reply again, I did’nt say forget i said IGNORE! So the reason I dont burn down an Embassy building over it, the reason i dont give it a second thought is because i’m far to busy living my life to the full…….. try it!
Basically muslims are protesting for no reason. Whatever small reason they get they start violence. I mean they came into the western world for a better life and “freedom of speach”. If it was in their own country – they protested, then i’m sure many of them would be killed. Muslim religion is very restrictive and very miss-interpreted by millions of muslims. Overall many muslims behave erotically. take for example, the muslim who dressed like a suicide bomber in london during the protest – He was a convicted drug addict. I mean he is protesting on one side and on the other hand, he is a disgrace to Allah – by doing illegal things like drugs. So what reason does he have at all to protest?
I think what the muslims all over the doing destruction is wrong as many innocent ppl are getting damaged by this.Although, the guy who published this should be punished heavily as Pophet Mohammed is like second god to them in form of a human being.If anyone would have published something wrong about the pope u can imagine the hype in the western world.their protest is right as long as it doesnt harm anyone.And Denmark should just apologise as Norway did.So muslim worlds boycotting their goods is right so that the learn a lesson not to insult anyone’s religion and faith.
The point is michelle there are cartoons of the pope or similar daily and there is no outcry! As for boycotting the goods, big deal, I dont think bacon and beer sold that well out there anyway!
Who is harmed by the muslim protest against the cartoons.
Denmark no. Less than 2 % of our export goes to muslim countries, Danish industries have lot of orders to rest of the world. The industry is busy.
We get a bad name in the muslim world, but our name have been to good in the past so we might not get so many muslim imigrant in the future that is certainly not bad.
The muslim harms themselves, in Pakistan, Iran and Libya they have at least killed 20 people because of the protests. Danish help organizations have left Palestina and Pakistan, the money can now be spend elsewhere, Africa or Asia. Other poor people in the world will benefit from this money.
It sad to realize but Islam is a religion of selfdestruction a blind alley that leads nowhere.
In Denmark we have learned from Monthy Python “Always look at the bright side of life”.
Olfert, Copenhagen.
Ok…so people are offended by some drawings. If I see something that I find offensive, I sure as hell don’t feel the need to riot, kill, burn, etc. Grow up people… for your Alah’s sake. If you don’t like it, don’t read it. Simple as that. Hasn’t anyone learned by now that if you make a big deal about something, it just causes it to be in the spotlight longer. If people would have shrugged it off, we would be talking about something else right now.
Religion has always hurt more people than it has helped.
o my! is that all it is? a few doodles?
please tell me muslims really do have a sense of humor!
christians acepted Monty Python’s “life of brian”!
chill people chill!
well there has been some insensible moves from the Muslims. but i just wanna know that has all the Muslims have bombed embassies, has all of them have gone on to rioting n burning stuff ? ? NO rite ? there have been peaceful demonstrations aswell. if just because of a few people who call themselves Muslims n burn things doesn’t mean the whole of the Muslim community is violence loving. the westerners abused iraqi Muslims in abu-guraib does that mean all the westerners would do that if they got a chance ? ? perhaps most of them would but not all of them. n talking about freedom of expression, it has some limits too. u abuse a guy walking on the road n then say, “i’m using my right of free speach”. does that make any sense ? n some1 said about cartoons against the westerners, those cartoons were political n not religous.
I think the funniest part about these cartoons is their orgins. The newspaper was holding a contest because there was a Muslin childrens book writer who was having difficulty finding an artist who would illustrate his book about Mohammed because they all feared that nomatter what the portrayal, even though the book was just to edjucate young Muslims about Mohammed, they would be harassed for drawing the images. So the newspaper had the contest, and what do you know, there is backlash against them. Just radical Islamics proving the fear potential illustrators had true. That’s like when you won’t give someone a knife because you say they’ll cut themselves, they go out and buy a knife and cut themselves.
Check out the editorial printed today in our local newspaper, titled:
Muslim faith undeserving of world’s respect
http://www.recordnet.com/apps/pbcs.dll/article?AID=/20060220/OPED02/602200328
حمزةHAMZA
No,No,No!
Freedom of speech doesn’t necessarily include offending others.You strangely blame those who react against humiliation and offense but defend freedom of expression that allows it. Those to blame are the ones who started all this “war” and the Danish government whose arrogance prevented them from apologizing as if they wanted to show the world that It was none of their business.It’s the press not them!!But this press has a nationality and a government that can defend it as well as the country’s interests.Some seem to say that Denmark loses nothing in this conflict.This is not true It’s the whole country and its people who are the losers.
Some seem to say that It’s wrong to offend Muslims but it’s wrong as well to use violence to protest.Crowds all over the world can start peacefully and end up in violence without premeditation.There are risks when you protest.
The word that comes to mind with these people is “backward”.
It is not right to mock anyone’s religion, but come on!!
Freedom of speech and religion are 2 of our basic beliefs and these people are a generation (if not farther) from figuring this out.
I hope it will be sooner than later. We don’t need another world war.
Two Different Reactions to Mockery
Today’s headlines reads,
Deadliest cartoon riots leave 16 dead: Nigerian protesters torch 15 churches; most of the dead are said to be Christians.
Firstly, I’m puzzled. What has the cartoons got to do with Christians? Why were they targetted? Europe does not equate Christians. And so does America and the rest of the western world.
As I was reading this, I recalled an article by John Piper. With news of fresh violence, the article’s message would stand out all the more. So I am sharing it here with you. Also, let it be known that I do not believe all muslims react in similar fashion. I have personally known many peace-loving muslim friends who condems such acts of violence.
Being Mocked: The Essence of Christ’s Work, Not Muhammed’s
8th Feb 2006
by John Piper
February 8, 2006
What we saw this past week in the Islamic demonstrations over the Danish cartoons of Muhammad was another vivid depiction of the difference between Muhammad and Christ, and what it means to follow each. Not all Muslims approve the violence. But a deep lesson remains: The work of Muhammad is based on being honored and the work of Christ is based on being insulted. This produces two very different reactions to mockery.
If Christ had not been insulted, there would be no salvation. This was his saving work: to be insulted and die to rescue sinners from the wrath of God. Already in the Psalms the path of mockery was promised: “All who see me mock me; they make mouths at me; they wag their heads” (Psalm 22:7). “He was despised and rejected by men . . . as one from whom men hide their faces . . . and we esteemed him not” (Isaiah 53:3).
When it actually happened it was worse than expected. “They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, and twisting together a crown of thorns, they put it on his head. . . . And kneeling before him, they mocked him, saying, ‘Hail, King of the Jews!’ And they spit on him” (Matthew 27:28-30). His response to all this was patient endurance. This was the work he came to do. “Like a lamb that is led to the slaughter, and like a sheep that before its shearers is silent, so he opened not his mouth” (Isaiah 53:7).
This was not true of Muhammad. And Muslims do not believe it is true of Jesus. Most Muslims have been taught that Jesus was not crucified. One Sunni Muslim writes, “Muslims believe that Allah saved the Messiah from the ignominy of crucifixion.”1 Another adds, “We honor [Jesus] more than you [Christians] do. . . . We refuse to believe that God would permit him to suffer death on the cross.”2 An essential Muslim impulse is to avoid the “ignominy” of the cross.
That’s the most basic difference between Christ and Muhammad and between a Muslim and a follower of Christ. For Christ, enduring the mockery of the cross was the essence of his mission. And for a true follower of Christ enduring suffering patiently for the glory of Christ is the essence of obedience. “Blessed are you when others revile you and persecute you and utter all kinds of evil against you falsely on my account” (Matthew 5:11). During his life on earth Jesus was called a bastard (John 8:41), a drunkard (Matthew 11:19), a blasphemer (Matthew 26:65), a devil (Matthew 10:25); and he promised his followers the same: “If they have called the master of the house Beelzebul, how much more will they malign those of his household” (Matthew 10:25).
The caricature and mockery of Christ has continued to this day. Martin Scorsese portrayed Jesus in The Last Temptation of Christ as wracked with doubt and beset with sexual lust. Andres Serrano was funded by the National Endowment for the Arts to portray Jesus on a cross sunk in a bottle of urine. The Da Vinci Code portrays Jesus as a mere mortal who married and fathered children.
How should his followers respond? On the one hand, we are grieved and angered. On the other hand, we identify with Christ, and embrace his suffering, and rejoice in our afflictions, and say with the apostle Paul that vengeance belongs to the Lord, let us love our enemies and win them with the gospel. If Christ did his work by being insulted, we must do ours likewise.
When Muhammad was portrayed in twelve cartoons in the Danish newspaper Jyllands-Posten, the uproar across the Muslim world was intense and sometimes violent. Flags were burned, embassies were torched, and at least one Christian church was stoned. The cartoonists went into hiding in fear for their lives, like Salman Rushdie before them. What does this mean?
It means that a religion with no insulted Savior will not endure insults to win the scoffers. It means that this religion is destined to bear the impossible load of upholding the honor of one who did not die and rise again to make that possible. It means that Jesus Christ is still the only hope of peace with God and peace with man. And it means that his followers must be willing to “share his sufferings, becoming like him in his death” (Philippians 3:10).
This is not a question of religion. everbody knows what the right thing to do is, this is just an example of a few people doing the wrong thing. you reckon christians hold the key to world peace….. bollocks! nor does any religion. remember the k.k.k. great asset to christianity those twats were! theres always going to be wankers like that who hate there lives and use religion or race or whatever as an excuse for violence because it makes sad twats feel important. youve got to remember that these places are a few generations behind us and if you look back, it wasnt too long ago that we were burning witches at the stake! i just hope they come to the conclusion that all religion is a load of bollocks sooner rather than later!
The fact that muslims try to defend their religion renders their God powerless. If they are truly on the rail, then why not let God fight the battle ? do they think they can fight better than God ? if they take upon themselves to judge and execute the “unbelievers” while on earth, who will God judge at the end of the world ?. is Islam really a true way of life? then i suppose it should be most peaceful. Muslims have mounted many blasphemous films and clatrap against Jesus Christ, but then non of them has been hurt for that. On the other hand, thousands have lost their lives for talking against Mohammad, not even those who talk against God but Mohammad. This indeed brings much doubt on the so called islam.
The Bible says that ” by their fruits you shall know them” islam has demonstrated so much bad fruit, even contradicting their Qoran.
I’ve decided. There will be no peace. None. I have lost faith in our ability to react to one another sensibly and peacefully. Intellect plays no part in our modern world. If this is the way we end, so be it, we shall go into the void together and only fittingly, as absurdists.
This is great! I believe that there is no place for religions, ANY OF THEM , in Government. I hope this leads to WW3, beucause then, just maybe, enough religious fools, Muslim, Jewish, and Christian alike, will die to the point where people will have no other choice but to learn how to govern with NO religion.
It will take a disaster, similar to the holocaust of the Jews and the holocaust of the Japanese in WW2, to wake religious fools up. I’m just glad to see that Islam, the worst of the “big 3″, will be the first to suffer and burn, and eventually die out.
And trust me… any attempt at nuking Isreal will, with no doubt, lead to the ANNHIALATION of Iran, and any other Muslim religious state. I can’t wait to watch it on the television. HAHAHAHAHAH!
After so may thousand years why can we still only think in terms of hurt and pain.
At this time of year Jesus pointed the way of forgiveness, which is the only way forward. Let us try to forgive ourselves and the rest will follow.
Take care and may your god go with you
I was scrolling down reading the various comments, when i stumbled upon somebody comparing these cartoons to Muslims calling Jesus a terrorist. This brilliant person clearly is unaware that Jesus’ message, regardless of whether or not he is the son of God, was to love love, and to spread plenty of it. As for Mohammed? I believe it to be written somewhere in the Koran that all Muslims must kill all infidels. Should I create a religion in which i declare that all Muslims are the vermin of earth? and that they should be exterminated or converted to Christianity? No, Mohammed certainly was no Jesus. Not even close. When people call Mohammed a terrorist, they are correct in doing so. When people call Jesus a terrorist, they probably should go play in traffic.
see above^^
There are many depictions of Mohammed. On the ceilings of churches, in books, Indian temples, etc. E.g. Dore’s illustrated Dante’s Inferno. In other words, these cartoons are not so new as many people like to think.
Fuck Mohammed. Fuck Moslems. Not worth the time of day. Pity the Crusades failed so miserably…
In Islamic countries western values are respected and they similarly expect their values to be respected in the western world.
Freedom can not compensate insult and disrespect to 1.6 Billion people whom 87% of them are successful around the globe.
Fuck JEWS and their prophet as well.
Their idiot prophet opened a sea!!!!. He couldn’t even open his wife pussy to put his dirty dick in to reproduce jewish and fucking Israelies occupiers.
ISLAM is at the brink of being exterminated from the minds and lives of man.
Its a VIRUS.
Bad things never last long in this world.
U hear about a virus today…tomorrow you hear of a cure for the same.
Thats how fast we get rid of the Bad stuff.
And ISLAM is as bad as it can GET…
The antivirus is ready…
NUKE THEM from all sides..
Erase them from history..present..and future.
US, EU and Israel will take care of the middle east..
INDIA will handle Pakistan and Bangladesh..
Thats the antivirus…we have the cure.
Lost Verses of the Koran
Surah 115: The Pig
Bismillah:
The hurried flight of the Hegira had led the Muslims to a fertile oasis, where they were at last safe from their many enemies in Mecca.
Pausing, each thanked Allah the moon-god for their good fortune.
Assembling at a long table, they enjoyed rare delicacies brought by bare-breasted sirens whose faces were veiled. During the feast Muhammad sternly forbade his disciples to partake of pig flesh, while fondling the youthful breasts of a Nubian harlot named Sheba.
Obeying the Prophet, the pilgrims partook of the succulent flesh of jackals and vultures, washing their food down with strong wine.
“I never dreamed I’d have to eat the loins of a jackal, let alone the bitter entrails of a cursed vulture,” observed a hungry pilgrim named Ahmed to a fellow Muslim, choking on the unpalatable morsels.
“Neither did I, but the Holy Prophet has ordered it,” grumbled another starving follower, almost heaving as he consumed greasy vulture flesh.
“A rancid pork chop would taste a hell of a lot better than this crap does,” retorted Ahmed.
“It’s an acquired taste brother, you’ll get used to it,” spoke up another, smiling with a mouthful of rotten teeth.
“I don’t think so,” said Ahmed, forcing down a burned jackal testicle.
An uncaring Muhammad, famished, greedily wolfed down roasted jackal in enjoyment, quaffing from an earthenware wine carafe on occasion, while choosing which of the sirens that would soon endure his favours.
The meal finished in the late afternoon, a drunken, lustful Muhammad initiated a sex orgy with the sirens, the debauched Holy Prophet, Allah speaking through him, declaring all earlier betrothals or marriages of the women he knew null and void.
The Muslims celebrated their good fortune, again thanking Allah for the bounty they had been blessed to receive.
Later, as Muhammad sat half-naked under a palm tree, masturbating to the thought of molesting little girls, Ahmed chanced by and remarked, “Oh great prophet, why does Allah say that we cannot dine on delicious porcine flesh?”
“Why?” asked Muhammad, closing his filthy, tattered, moth-eaten robe, “Because Allah’s younger retarded cyclops brother is a pig, and Allah doesn’t want us killing his holy kinfolk.”
“Allah is a pig?” asked Ahmed, staring at Muhammad.
“Of course,” replied the deranged Prophet, hallucinating thanks to ingesting strong hashish minutes earlier.
“That’s ridiculous, why in hell do we worship pigs?” asked Ahmed, thinking his flight from Mecca may have been the result of heeding the words of a false prophet, possessed of a capricious desert demon who delighted in seeing them consume the flesh of vermin.
“Because they’re better than we are,” answered a smiling Muhammad, now fantasising about raping little boys, “Look at me, I’m little more than a lecherous child molester, thief and murderer!”
“True, but pigs can’t even talk!” exclaimed Ahmed, digging a heel into the sand.
“Allah can, he speaks to me in my dreams,” retorted the wildly hallucinating Muhammad, barely able to focus on Ahmed, seeing him in double vision.
“You’re a madman,” declared a disgusted Ahmed, “I’m heading back to join the infidels in Mecca!”
“Who cares?” retorted Muhammad, slurring his words and breaking into riotous laughter.
Prophet Muhammad, opening his robe and again reaching for his flaccid sex organ, was too occupied with masturbating his building erection to reply further, while Ahmed disappeared behind a sand dune.
“What a stupid, perverted, licentious bastard,” spat Ahmed, walking off, “Muhammad is crazier than a shithouse rat!”
Surah 116: The Pervert
Bismillah:
And it came to pass that Muhammad was growing ever hornier and more depraved: In a dream it was revealed by Allah that he was to molest a young girl named Ayesha.
Drunk on strong wine, the Prophet looked to a follower named Khalil and announced, “Allah has said I am to have sex on this day with a child; the virgin daughter of my brother in law Abu.”
“What?” asked a frowning Khalil, holding a wine bottle, taken back by the remark and turning to Muhammad.
“I am to know Abu’s daughter Ayesha,” declared Muhammad, a finger in the air, becoming visibly aroused at the thought having sex with her.
“She is but a little girl who plays with dolls; her womb does not yet weep, are you insane?” asked Khalil, knowing in his heart that the Prophet was little more than a pervert, thief, liar and murderer.
“Probably, but it is the will of Allah”, Muhammad said to himself, staggering off to the hovel of Ayesha.
“What a twisted devil the Prophet is – the will of Allah my ass, he’s just an evil, depraved monster who lusts after the flesh,” Khalil mumbled, putting the bottle to his parched lips.
An oblivious and uncaring Muhammad blundered down the street, weaving as he went, arriving at the hovel shortly thereafter.
Knocking on the door, Ayesha’s mother Umm appeared.
“What do you want Prophet?” she asked, staring at the debauched Muhammad, clad in a filthy tan robe covered in dust and wine stains, a lone flea crawling upon his moustache near his nostrils.
“Bismillah, I am here to take your daughter Ayesha in bed,” the Prophet answered, slurring his words.
“You licentious beast!” exclaimed the girl’s mother, “She is only six years old, if it is indeed the will of Allah, take me instead to satisfy your wanton depravity!”
“Taking you is not the will of Allah,” retorted Muhammad, the scent of wine heavy on his foul breath, “You are a wrinkled and faded flower without comeliness; be gone with your favours; I could never get a hard on at the likes of you.”
Enraged by her rebuff, Muhammad smote her upon the face with a backhand.
“That’s what one gets for disobeying the will of Allah,” declared Muhammad, his words punctuated by a loud belch, “Take me to Ayesha, that I may know her on this day!”
Obeying, Umm reluctantly led Muhammad to the room of Ayesha, opening the door.
“This perverted Prophet here wants to screw you,” announced Umm with a frown, Muhammad ogling the virgin child in double vision.
“But you knew my cousin Abdullah, younger brother of Ahmed not an hour ago,” replied a shocked Ayesha, dropping her doll, revolted by the sight of the filthy, lascivious paedophile Muhammad.
“Be that as it may, Allah has said I will also know you,” said Muhammad with an expectant smile, the gleam of lust in his eyes.
“Why me?” asked Ayesha, looking to the Prophet with trepidation.
“Because Allah has said it and I am horny, let us lay down, that I may know you,” ordered Muhammad as he removed his robe, Ayesha’s mother shaking her head in helpless disgust and closing the door.
Surah 117: The Murderer
Bismillah:
Muhammad and his followers enjoyed many days away from Mecca at the oasis, home of his oafish brother in law, Abu Bakr, who was also Muslim.
Dining on roast jackal, vultures and snakes, their strength was renewed by the bounty Allah the moon-god provided: plentiful food for their bellies and plentiful sirens for their carnal pleasure.
Khalil was upset that the Prophet was an evil lecherous paedophile who had known a little girl, so he went to the home of Ayesha to speak with her father, Abu the oaf.
He made his way to the hovel, and knocked on the door.
Ayesha’s mother opened the door, frowning as she beheld another of Prophet Muhammad’s followers.
“Is life not bad enough, what are you here for, to rape my daughter, me, or one of my sons?” she inquired with disdain.
“Indeed not woman, I must speak with your husband, not you,” said Khalil, who as a good Muslim, looked down upon women as little more than objects of pleasure, or dogs to be beaten into submission.
“My husband Abu is very drunk,” she related, lowering her gaze in respect.
Khalil entering the hovel, the oaf Abu appeared from a side room holding a wine bottle, and slurred, “What do you want here, follower of the Prophet?”
“I must speak with you regarding your little daughter Ayesha,” answered Khalil.
“What about her?” asked Abu, blinking his eyes and trying to focus on the man.
“The Prophet came unto her in her room a fortnight ago; do you not know?” asked Khalil.
“He has come unto her many times since, she is his wife,” replied the unconcerned oaf.
“His wife you say – you permitted it?” asked Khalil, stunned by the revelation.
“Of course; he has come unto one of my nephews too, Muhammad is a paederast, it is the will of Allah,” declared a shrugging Abu.
“He’s raping our child you drunken bastard!” exclaimed a tearful Umm, looking to Khalil.
Abu smote her across the face, admonishing, “Take care woman, speak not ill of Prophet Muhammad, it is the will of Allah. The Prophet first knew Ayesha in a dream, when Gabriel showed her to him, uncovering her body for him to see.”
“That’s really sick, she’s only six years old,” observed Khalil.
“Better for the great Prophet to know her than one of the infidels,” declared a smiling Abu.
“Prophet my ass, Muhammad is a depraved monster possessed of a demon; how could permit such a thing, you are her father!” exclaimed Khalil in utter disgust.
“Yes I am, and the Prophet says I will know her too,” confessed Abu, contemplating the odd thought of having sex with his own daughter.
Umm burst into tears and sobbed, throwing herself to the floor upon hearing Abu’s repugnant words.
A fearful Khalil fled the hovel, not knowing what to think; realising Muhammad and his brother in law Abu were wicked licentious perverts and vicious rapers of children, possessed of capricious and malevolent demons.
Later, Abu spoke with the Prophet while they entered a brothel together. He told him of the strange encounter with Khalil.
Khalil’s an idiot, he takes Islam much too seriously,” replied Muhammad, looking to his oafish brother in law.
“It is a bad omen Prophet, Khalil woefully disdains your marriage to Ayesha, and disdains that I am to know her too,” declared Abu, even he feeling deep down that such a liaison was distasteful, but knowing it was the unalterable will of Allah, the moon god.
“It is the will of Allah for you to know your daughter, did not Lot of Sodom know his daughters in the cave?” asked a slurring Muhammad, quite drunk, leaning against a wall to steady himself.
“Yes Prophet, he did,” answered Abu with firm resolve.
“Indeed, it was and is Allah’s will,” replied Muhammad, picking a flea from his beard and crushing it between his fingernails, “As for our problem, I will have a dream tonight, and Allah will order me to kill Khalil.”
“He will?” asked Abu, putting a hand to his chin in confusion, “But I thought the Perfect, Most Merciful Pig Allah never revealed his intentions until you had a dream.”
“No matter oaf, he is making his will known to me by making me drink strong wine on this day,” said a quickly lying Muhammad, holding up a bottle.
“Don’t you drink strong wine everyday?” asked Abu.
“Not as strong as this stuff,” replied the Prophet with a broad smile, “It has hashish oil in it; let us partake of a pair of this brothel’s women and enjoy wine together.”
As Muhammad and Abu descended into more revelry and debauchery, a troubled Khalil approached another of the Prophet’s followers, the one with rotten teeth. Telling him of his woes, he awaited the reply.
“Who cares what he does, have vulture and some wine,” said the man, tearing a leg from a roasted, maggot-ridden carcass and offering it to Khalil.
“You don’t care that Muhammad is a deranged pervert who has sex with little children?” asked Khalil, taking the leg.
“Hell no, I’m only here for the food, I was starving in the alleys of Mecca before I met Muhammad,” replied the rotten toothed man, grabbing more vulture flesh and a wine bottle.
“Oh,” answered a defeated Khalil, taking a bite from the leg and reaching for wine.
Late evening came, with Khalil and the other followers drunk and passed out in their tent.
Muhammad and Abu awoke at the brothel after midnight, rested and refreshed.
“What are we to do about Khalil?” asked Abu as they left via a side door, avoiding an encounter with the brothel’s madam, to whom they owed money.
“Leave that to me oaf,” answered the Prophet, holding up a hand, “In my dream Allah told me how to deal with him.”
Muhammad headed down the street and stealthily entered the tent of his followers, intent on taking Khalil’s life. Abu Bakr followed him through the entrance, looking about for possible witnesses.
Holding an oiled leather garrote, the smiling Prophet mercilessly strangled the sleeping Khalil, knowing in his heart that it was the will of Allah.
The helpless follower struggled defiantly as a determined Muhammad gritted his teeth and pulled the garrote tighter, crushing Khalil’s windpipe, the Prophet letting out foul gas from his posterior due to the exertion. The struggling ceased; he and Abu then quietly removed the body from the tent and carried it into the desert.
“That takes care of that problem,” declared a satisfied Muhammad as he pocketed the garrote, he and Abu making their way to his hovel so he could know his young wife Ayesha again.
“When will I know her Prophet?” inquired Abu in the lamplit hovel, looking to his daughter’s room.
“Very soon, Allah has said it, go know your wife Umm for now, oaf,” suggested Muhammad with a smile, opening the door to Ayesha’s room.
Surah 118: The Liar
Bismillah:
Time passed, and a strengthened Muhammad and his followers left the fertile oasis. The Prophet was joined by his young wife Ayesha and her father, oaf Abu, who left the remainder of his family stranded at the oasis, his wife Umm dying of grief shortly afterward.
Not one of the party dared question the vanishing of Khalil, some fearing that they too would vanish, perhaps due to Allah’s will or worse.
Muhammad told his followers that Khalil was an evil infidel, and had fled because he had coveted Ayesha, the child looking to her husband the Prophet, she and her father knowing he was not telling the truth.
“That is not true my father, Khalil only came to tell you of the Prophet knowing me,” Ayesha whispered, she and Abu standing only a few cubits from Muhammad.
“Take care in what you utter among others child, some things are better kept to oneself,” answered Abu quietly, not half the oaf the Prophet thought he was.
The rotten toothed man was listening intently; he had watched from the shadows while a smiling Muhammad strangled Khalil, but wisely kept this knowledge to himself, vowing to flee the group at the earliest opportunity.
Abu Bakr, fulfilling the will of Allah, came unto his daughter Ayesha over several evenings in a tent at the beckoning of the Holy Prophet, oddly finding her favours more satisfying than those of his wife.
Feeling strange from the experience of knowing his own daughter, a troubled Abu sought wise Muhammad’s advice.
“It was the will of Allah,” declared the debauched Muhammad, drunk on strong wine, “Allah has also revealed it is you which will sire her firstborn in her twelfth year; her incestuous bastard child Fatimah.”
“I will?” asked Abu, incredulous that he would be siring a child by his own daughter.
“Yes,” replied the Prophet, removing his filthy robe, “But first I must satisfy my carnal urges, by indulging in her favours myself.”
Prophet Muhammad entered the tent and came unto the young Ayesha, who complained that she was sore from knowing her father three times in one day.
Striking her across the face, Muhammad admonished, “Keep your mouth shut wife and be thankful to Allah that only I and your father are knowing you.”
“Yes Holy Prophet,” Ayesha replied, closing her eyes and wincing in pain as Muhammad again knew her.
Arriving in Medina the following week, the Muslims found friends in this city, delighting in drunken revelry and the favours of veiled, tempting harlots with dark eyes.
A lecherous Muhammad, Ayesha and his brother in law Abu took up residence at a fine brothel, the Prophet and the oaf sampling the offerings over many weeks, finding that Medina had the finest of all harlots in the land.
Many residents of Medina found that Islam was a faith that appealed to them, Allah’s unalterable will moving the people, they abandoning their staid ways, joining with Prophet Muhammad in idleness, licentious revelry and drunkenness.
Abu later visited the Prophet in his tent, informing him of dreadful news that Medina was host to a band of Jews.
“Jews you say, the people of the book,” answered Muhammad, “They are bitter enemies of Allah and Islam; we will not suffer such people to live in our midst.”
“But there are 40 score or more of them in the city Prophet, do the warriors of Allah have the numbers to defeat them?” asked Abu.
“Of course oaf,” declared the evil Muhammad, “We shall wait until the dark of night, prowling by stealth, and then cut their throats as they slumber; Allah has willed it.”
Listening in the shadows, the rotten toothed man determined it was time for him to flee. Regardless of the free food, he wanted no part of a group of vicious, skulking cowards who would slaughter people as they slept.
Allah’s will was fulfilled on the next night, 40 score Jews meeting their end at the hands of the deranged, murderous paedophile Muhammad and his obedient Muslims.
Surah 119: The Thief
Bismillah:
A fortnight passed, with many of the remaining people of Medina embracing Islam, and others fleeing for their lives, with the exception of a wealthy merchant named Sabri and his family.
Sabri vexed the followers with his words that Prophet Muhammad was little more than a drunken liar, murderer, and wanton sexual pervert; a wicked, lascivious monster and paedophile who kept the company of prostitutes, drunks and the slothful.
In another dream, the Holy Prophet learned that the vexing merchant had to be silenced, and that he had been chosen by Allah to murder him.
Telling Abu of his dream, he and Abu plotted the murder of Sabri the merchant. After enjoying strong wine together, they headed to his home on a dark late evening, let in by a lovely servant girl.
Muhammad and the oaf Abu observed the opulence of his residence; Sabri dressed in a fine silk robe with a silk turban, seven rings of gold and silver on his fingers.
His wife and the lovely servant girl brought food and a carafe of wine for her husband, they disdainfully looking upon the filthy, debauched Prophet and his henchman Abu.
“Why will you not submit to Islam, it is the will of Allah,” declared the evil Muhammad, looking to Sabri, looking for the chance to end his life.
“The will of Allah my ass, you Muhammad are a murderous debauched lecher and raper of children. Your loathsome followers feed on the rancid flesh of vermin instead of fine pork roasts, and defile all that they touch,” declared a disgusted Sabri, noting that the Prophet was drunk, dressed in a filthy tattered robe, with his unkempt hair and long beard matted with dirt.
“I consume the flesh of vermin too, Great Allah is a Holy, Merciful Pig, it is not halal to dine on the sacred flesh of his younger brothers,” said Muhammad with a finger in the air, Abu nodding in agreement.
“No, it is you who are a pig, you deranged cretin possessed of a vile demon,” retorted Sabri, looking upon the Prophet with hatred in his eyes.
“Those who do not submit to the will of Allah will suffer dire consequences,” threatened Abu, looking about for anyone who would dare stop them. Observing only two women in the house, he smiled, knowing that the will of Allah was about to be fulfilled.
Sabri paused, staring at the Prophet and Abu in contempt, hoping he could in some way persuade them to leave the city, noting that business had fallen off to practically nothing since the arrival of the Muslims.
“Look, if I give you money, will you and yours flee Medina and never return?” asked Sabri with folded hands, hoping he could encourage them to leave with a payment of fine gold.
“I can’t leave,” declared a smiling Muhammad, “I am serving Great Allah, the Most Merciful Pig.”
Sabri, confused for a moment, replied, “But I thought Allah was the moon goddess of Mecca.”
“Whatever,” retorted a shrugging, uncaring Muhammad while picking his nose, he knowing that Allah didn’t exist anyway.
“You are destroying Medina with your vile harlotry and wicked ways!” exclaimed Sabri.
The Prophet laughed, and replied, “Indeed not, Allah is guiding my hand in this and all my actions, providing me and my followers with what we desire: food, fine drink and the company of willing sirens, like your lovely servant girl back there.”
“My servant girl is betrothed to a good man in Mecca, you will not speak ill of her, nor will you covet her favours,” declared Sabri, noting Muhammad leering through an open door, ogling the girl and his wife.
“I will do as I wish,” retorted the evil Muhammad with another laugh, reaching into his tattered, filthy robe and producing the garrote, “I covet the favours of your servant girl, and will take her to my bed for a concubine on this night. Those such as you will not stop the will of Allah or his Messenger.”
Abu rose while the Prophet was speaking and smote Sabri upon the face with a closed fist, knocking the silk turban from his head. Muhammad descended upon him like a viper, pulling the garrote tightly around his throat, strangling him in his chair while his wife and servant girl screamed.
“Be silent women, it is the will of Allah!” Muhammad yelled through gritted teeth as he took the life of Sabri. Oaf Abu moved into the room and beat them into submission while a struggling Sabri kicked the wine carafe from the table, it shattering on the floor.
Sabri’s life vanquished, Prophet Muhammad exhaled loudly and let the lifeless body tumble to the floor.
The trembling women remained silent as Abu returned to the Prophet with them.
“Where is your money?” asked a greedy Abu of Sabri’s wife.
“A box of gold and silver is in our bedroom,” answered his tearful wife, almost fainting from Abu’s foul breath.
“I’ll get it,” volunteered a smiling Muhammad, pulling the garrote from the body, “Get the rings from his fingers oaf.”
The Prophet returned with a box of glittering coins, pleased that Allah had provided such bounty for his followers.
“I can’t get the last ring off,” complained Abu, having pocketed six others.
“Cut off his finger to get it, and take his robe and turban too,” ordered Muhammad, determined not to leave one valuable item in the house.
Abu obeyed, reaching for a knife on the table, slicing off the finger and pulling the ring from it.
Arriving at the brothel, the Prophet celebrated his good fortune by knowing Sabri’s wife and the servant girl, annulling the widow’s marriage and the girl’s betrothal in the eyes of Allah.
Later that evening Abu was given Sabri’s widow for a concubine, as he had grown weary of Ayesha’s favours, also needing an able slave to cook and serve him.
Having to beat her before he knew her, Abu thanked Allah and Muhammad for the welcome gift of Sabri’s wife.
Surah 120: The Hypocrite
Bismillah:
More time passed, with some of Muhammad’s followers finding the Prophet’s actions in Medina going against everything he had preached in Mecca, seeing him as Khalil, the rotten toothed man, and the merchant Sabri had seen him: an evil, debauched rapist, paedophile, liar, and murderer.
These and other apostate followers were quickly slaughtered as infidels, fulfilling the will of Allah; a smiling Muhammad strangling many of them as they slept.
Even Abu began to think that Muhammad’s wanton depravity may have been going too far when he encountered him in a tent knowing several young Jewish boys that had been taken captive.
“Prophet, some of the followers are complaining that you are denying them participation in the bounty given us by Allah, and that you are also practicing strange acts that Allah has forbidden to others,” related Abu, frowning at the displeasing thought of Muhammad knowing little boys.
“They want some of the gold, right oaf?” asked a drunken Muhammad, dressed in Sabri’s silk robe and turban, seven rings of gold and silver upon his greasy fingers, the fine garb growing filthier with each passing day.
“That, and some of them would also like to have some of the girls and boys for concubines,” answered Abu.
“They cannot have the little boys, Allah has given them to me for my carnal pleasure,” declared the lascivious Prophet, “As for the little girls, give them to the followers as wives, so that their carnal desires can be sated; it is the will of Allah.”
“Others say that you don’t practice what you have preached,” added a fidgeting Abu, hoping not to arouse Muhammad’s maniacal wrath.
“I’m only the messenger, Allah’s revelations don’t apply to me,” retorted Muhammad, releasing a tearful Jewish boy from his carnal embrace.
“What about me?” asked Abu.
“They don’t apply to you either oaf; would you like a lovely little boy for your carnal pleasure?” slurred the depraved sodomite Muhammad, lustfully leering at another boy he had chosen next to debauch.
“No, I find not that boys appeal to me,” answered Abu quietly, though he was a lecherous paedophile and incestuous pervert, he had no desire to sodomise little boys.
“Suit yourself oaf, more for me to enjoy,” answered the Prophet with a chuckle, undressing another captive boy, returning to his lecherous paederasty as Abu left the tent.
The city of Medina had been taken completely by the conquering Muslims, they reveling in their murderous victory over the infidels and Jews.
In another dream, it was revealed to Muhammad by Allah that they were to attack and conquer the city of Mecca. They were to subdue it and convert the inhabitants there to Islam, after which the Prophet was to take a pagan shrine called the Kaaba and defile it in the name of Allah.
“In Mecca there is glittering plunder, fine gold to steal, and many women to be taken for concubines,” declared the Prophet, “Allah has said to have faith in him and we will not fail; are you with me, warriors for Islam?”
The devoted followers answered, shouting in unison: There is no god but Allah the Pig, and Muhammad is his prophet!”
“We will need weapons to defeat them,” Abu observed, looking to the Holy Prophet.
“Easily done oaf,” replied an unconcerned Muhammad, ordering several henchmen to plunder the city of metal so weapons could be quickly fashioned.
Bronze implements were seized from every home; plowshares were heated and beaten into fine scimitars for the devoted followers.
As his followers labored over hot forges, Muhammad gave a sermon, declaring that vengeance, blood and death would rain down upon Mecca in the name of Allah.
The work completed over several days, a feast was held by the warriors of Islam to further strengthen them for the long journey; the flesh of rats, snakes, vultures and jackals gracing their tables. The hungry Prophet had a willing siren prepare his favourite of all dishes, fat dung beetles boiled in seasoned vulture broth.
“We should give Allah our thanks for the bounty he has provided,” declared Muhammad, seated at the head of his table beside Abu, crushing the hard shell of a dung beetle between his filthy brown teeth.
All bowed their heads in prayer, thanking Allah for the food he had provided.
“Would you like to enjoy a tasty dung beetle oaf?” asked the Prophet, turning to his brother in law, offering one to him.
“No thanks,” replied a nauseated Abu, choking down a plateful of greasy rat flesh.
Washing the unseemly morsels down with strong wine, Muhammad and his followers filled their bellies with the bitter flesh of vermin and then enjoyed the welcome favours of tempting, veiled harlots with dark eyes.
The Muslims, their women and their captives set out for Mecca on the following week, determined to exact Allah’s revenge on the people who dwelt there.
“There are many able men in Mecca, much more than we have,” observed Abu, realising their numbers were wanting when compared to the teeming hordes of infidels occupying Mecca.
“Allah will watch over us oaf,” replied Muhammad, a sharp scimitar on his hip, he unsure as to what the outcome would be, but keeping this from the others and preparing for the worst.
“There aren’t enough of us Prophet – how will we win?” asked Abu with his arms in the air, looking at their limited numbers, no more than 50 score of able men in the service of Allah.
“Great Allah has said it, they in Mecca will embrace Islam or die for resisting his will,” the vengeful Prophet declared as Medina disappeared behind them in the distance.
A thoughtful Abu wondered why Allah would wish his followers to attack a fortified city where they were outnumbered, and also as to why Allah would have chosen a debauched murderer and licentious pervert for his Prophet.
“Oh well, it is the will of Allah,” agreed a sardonic Abu, much too committed to the deranged Prophet and Islam to back out, checking for the scimitar on his hip.
Surah 121: The Coward
Bismillah:
Returning to the oasis to gather strength before attacking Mecca, Muhammad and his followers again feasted on the bitter flesh of vermin and partook of the favours of eager women, the depraved Prophet coming unto the veiled, bare breasted Nubian harlot Sheba.
Oaf Abu learned that his wife Umm had died, Muhammad stating to him over strong wine that it was Allah’s will.
A grieving Abu came unto his new wife, the widow of Sabri, and also knew his daughter Ayesha, fulfilling the will of Allah the Pig.
The Holy Prophet also lusted for Abu’s bride, demanding that he be permitted to lay with her again.
A shrugging Abu handed her over, an angry Muhammad having to beat the stiff-necked infidel woman once again before he knew her.
“You evil murderous beast!” she screamed in tears as Muhammad was knowing her, “May the gods of my fathers destroy you and all you have wrought!”
“How dare you attempt to curse me or Allah,” grunted the Prophet as he reached orgasm, his fetid breath causing her to heave, “Take care woman, or I will expose you as the sorceress you are, giving you over to be stoned by my devoted followers.”
“Better to be dead than to endure your vile attentions again,” Abu’s wife retorted as the Prophet rose from her bed.
“Bitch,” Muhammad muttered as he left Abu’s tent, adjusting his filthy silk turban.
Leaving the oasis on the third day, the devoted Muslims resumed their journey to Mecca, Abu still troubled about their limited numbers and telling the Holy Prophet of his doubts.
“Don’t worry oaf, we will remain behind while the first wave of our brothers besiege and subdue the infidels in Mecca,” Muhammad declared in a low tone of voice, Ayesha looking up to him and frowning.
“Do you have a problem with that wife?” asked Muhammad, strangely controlling his compulsion to beat her for daring to disagree with Allah’s unalterable will.
Ayesha remained silent and looked to the ground, Abu answering, “I thought we would lead them in battle.”
“No, we are to remain behind and observe the followers take the city, it is the will of Allah,” replied Muhammad, he filled with doubts and preferring to watch from afar, as the strong hashish he had eaten in Medina had worn off long ago.
Arriving outside the city walls under cover of night, the Muslims prepared for battle in the only way they knew: skulking by stealth and murdering defenseless people while they slept.
As a full moon rose, a vanguard of devoted followers scaled the city walls, only to be discovered and cut down by the defenders of Mecca.
“Attack in the name of Allah!” shouted Muhammad while retreating to a bluff with Abu, his wives and several trusted followers, the Meccans opening the city gates to meet the glorious warriors of Allah in battle.
Seeing the Holy Prophet on the bluff by moonlight, this sight strengthened the attacking Muslims.
“The battle is not going very well,” observed Abu as the moon rose higher, watching the Muslim army being wiped out.
“Yes, Allah is displeased that our faith was not strong enough,” replied a strangely detached Muhammad, staring from the bluff at the carnage outside the walls of Mecca.
“That, or we didn’t have enough men, I told you,” retorted Abu, watching several followers being hacked to death by the defenders.
“That is possible oaf,” admitted Muhammad, Abu frowning at the reply.
“What do you plan to do to save your followers Prophet?” asked Ayesha.
“Nothing, it is Allah’s will,” replied Muhammad with a shrug, still watching the battle.
Abu’s frown grew into anger as he watched a smiling Muhammad delight in the butchery of his followers.
“You’ve lost at least 30 score since the moon rose, do you intend to stay until we are slaughtered too?” asked Abu’s wife.
“How dare you speak to me unless spoken to!” exclaimed the Prophet, preparing to smite her across the face.
“My good wife Fahimah makes a wise observation,” declared Abu, using her given name for the first time, grasping Muhammad’s forearm, preventing him from striking the widow.
Pulling away from Abu, the Prophet paused and replied, “It’s time for us to leave oaf, we shall retreat to the oasis to pray and fast.”
A defeated Muhammad and his trusted followers left the bluff and headed back toward the oasis in the moonlight. Looking over his shoulder, the Prophet feared that vengeful Meccans might pursue them.
“Let us make haste,” declared Muhammad, fearing for his life.
Several days passed as they retreated from Mecca, the remaining band of Muslims at last pausing for needed rest and making a camp in the desert.
The captive Fahimah had grown to respect her new husband Abu, as he had prevented the Holy Prophet from striking her outside the walls of Mecca. Making him a meal of jackal flesh soup, she presented it to him in his tent.
“Thank you woman,” Abu replied, taking an earthenware bowl and strong wine, she nodding and leaving him to eat.
As Abu was eating, a stir rose in the camp: a lone survivor of the battle having at last caught up to the followers. Putting down his bowl, he left the tent to find the survivor admonishing Muhammad.
“You coward,” he gasped, “You left us to die, have you no faith in your visions, or are they only lies coming from your vile mouth?”
The Prophet, drunk, answered, “I had a dream after the battle, it was Allah’s will that we were defeated, as it was his will that you survived. We lost because our faith in Allah was not strong enough.”
“You lied, telling us of easy plunder and women; there weren’t enough of us to take Mecca, 50 score died outside the gates for nothing!” the man exclaimed.
“No matter, have dung beetles and strong wine to renew your strength,” slurred Muhammad, picking fleas from his beard and flinging them into a small fire at his side.
The man, much too exhausted to argue further, gratefully took a plate of boiled dung beetles and a bottle of wine, trudging off from the deranged Prophet in disgust.
A shocked Abu observed this from the shadows and retreated to his tent. Such knowledge set heavy upon him, he meditating privately on the events.
Finishing his meal, he called for his wife Fahimah, she appearing before him.
I would hear your words wife on this matter: Muhammad preaches Islam, yet he does not follow the words of Allah.”
“He is your Prophet, you have sworn to serve him and Allah, my words are those of an infidel,” she answered respectfully.
“Still I would hear them, for there is wisdom in what you utter,” Abu replied.
Fahimah, still fearful of her brutal husband, yet bound by her personal honor to obey, told him of her thoughts on the Prophet and his actions.
“I care not what god he worships, but this demon in man’s guise is not a prophet of a clean desert god,” she began.
Abu looked at her as she continued, “He forces his followers to consume the flesh of vermin, delighting in their disgust. I truly believe him to be so perverted as to rape an infant – he has others carry out his murderous work while he has no courage to fight himself: you should draw a knife across your daughter Ayesha’s throat and my own to save us from the corruption of this man.”
Abu, oaf that he was, looked at her silently as she urged him to destroy the demon Prophet Muhammad, her wise words much harder to ignore than the screechings of his deceased wife Umm.
Surah 122: Muhammad the Merciless
Bismillah:
Abu Bakr, though he had listened to the wise words of his good wife Fahimah, found the prospects of strong wine, glittering plunder and wanton sexual pleasure outweighed her foreboding admonitions; he advising her to remain silent with regard to the Holy Prophet. For this request, he agreed that he would do his best to keep the depraved Muhammad from coming unto her.
The widow bowed her head respectfully, obeying her brutal husband.
Staying for a time to renew their strength at the oasis, Muhammad announced over a fine evening meal that they would return to Medina and take it in the name of Allah.
“That will be easy, considering we slaughtered everyone there who resisted us,” slurred a drunken Abu, he, the Prophet and their closest followers sitting at a long table. Veiled, tempting sirens with bare breasts served the bounty Allah had provided: the flesh of vultures, vipers, and lizards gracing the table.
“Good point oaf,” the deranged Muhammad agreed, seven rings of gold and silver on his fingers, his mouth stuffed with roast vulture. He swallowed, belched loudly and added, “Allah revealed to me in a dream that Medina will be our base, and from there we shall send brave warriors out to capture and recruit new followers.”
“More men will be needed after the debacle at Mecca,” replied Abu, looking to their limited numbers, choking down the bitter flesh of a fat, boiled viper with another gulp of wine.
The evil Prophet hid a smile at the sight of Abu’s nausea; watching from the head of the table in delight as his devoted followers dined on the flesh of vermin. “No matter about the others, they are dead and gone, it was the will of Allah,” declared an uncaring Muhammad, spitting a shard of fractured vulture bone to the table. Wiping greasy hands on his filthy silk robe, he grabbed a wine bottle and took a deep drink from it. “My belly still rumbles, bring tasty dung beetles to sate my gnawing hunger,” he ordered to a siren nearest him.
The lone survivor of the battle of Mecca, a swarthy Bedouin named Hamal, sat at the table, eating from an earthenware bowl of lizard soup, seasoned with ground peppercorns, onions and the juices of crushed scorpions. Having considered his low standing amongst his fellow Muslims for calling the Prophet a lying coward to his face, he wished to make amends by making himself useful to Muhammad. In return, he hoped the murderous Prophet would allow him to live, so he, like his debauched leader, would have the chance to kill, rape and plunder in the name of Pig Allah, the moon god.
Their meal finished, a lustful, drunken Muhammad initiated another sex orgy with the sirens, the warriors of Islam delighting in the licentious revelry: the debauched Prophet entering the tent of the Nubian harlot Sheba, relieving his carnal urges while held in her willing arms.
“Oh great Prophet, if it is the will of Allah, will you take me as one of your beloved wives to Medina?” asked Sheba, looking up to him with seductive, dark eyes as he continued to know her.
“Sure, as my young bride Ayesha often grows sore from my constant attentions,” grunted Muhammad, reaching orgasm for a third time, finding her the most satisfying harlot he had ever encountered.
“She is only six, most wait until they bleed first,” replied Sheba, the Prophet looking at her and frowning, both knowing that he was little more than a brutal, licentious paedophile who delighted in the rape of little girls and boys. Rising from the bed and closing his robe, he left her tent, adjusting his filthy silk turban.
Later, when others at the oasis were asleep or passed out from drunkenness, Muhammad, oaf Abu, and Hamal the Bedouin sat by a small fire, discussing plans for the recruitment of new followers. As the fire died down the Holy Prophet rose and walked into the shadows, releasing foul, pungent gas from his posterior while Abu and the Bedouin continued speaking.
“When will we be leaving for Medina?” asked Hamal, looking forward to visiting a comely harlot he had met there.
“Very soon, but you will not leave with us,” answered Abu, just as Muhammad leapt upon the hapless Bedouin with an oiled garrote. Pulling it tight around his throat with all his strength, he gritted his teeth and strangled the infidel to death, crushing his windpipe.
“That is what one gets for insulting Allah’s messenger,” declared the wicked Muhammad with a smile, allowing the corpse to drop to the ground. He pulled the garrote from Hamal’s throat and pocketed it in his filthy silk robe. Looking to Abu, he said, “Get over here and help me with the body oaf.”
Abu rose, the Prophet and his henchman carrying the remains of Hamal into the desert.
On the next day, Abu’s young nephew Abdullah appeared from his mother’s hovel at the border of the oasis. The adolescent appeared more of a man than a boy, his face having a short beard. Troubled, he asked his uncle as to why he had left his aunt Umm to die of grief, and why he had permitted the Holy Prophet to know him and his little cousin Ayesha. Not aware of Abu’s incestuous relationship with his daughter, he awaited the answer.
“My daughter Ayesha is his child bride, given unto him by Gabriel on high; alas, Muhammad is also a paederast, it was the will of Allah for him to know you,” a shrugging Abu replied, revolted at the thought of paederasty, not looking his nephew in the eyes.
“The will of Allah? Then Allah is an evil, insidious demon possessed of lust and caprice!” exclaimed Abdullah. “Your Prophet is a depraved sodomite sent from the depths of hell: grasping my crotch, he raped me after having a seizure, holding me down and declaring it was the will of Pig Allah!”
“I don’t know what to say, my nephew,” replied Abu, looking to the ground, knowing that Muhammad had truly hurt a beloved member of his family by raping him.
“I do,” said an angry Abdullah, tears welling in his eyes as he glared at his uncle, “I say be gone forever from our oasis, you, your demonic Prophet, your vile brethren, and never call me your nephew again!” Wiping away tears, he turned and trudged off, a saddened Abu watching as the young man disappeared into a date grove.
A fortnight passed; the Muslims returning to the nearly deserted city of Medina. The faithful inhabitants celebrated at the sight of Prophet Muhammad, joyously greeting his arrival with a spectacle of drunken revelry and lasciviousness. To the Prophet’s pleasure, he found the brothel was still open, the madam thankful to Allah that the brave warriors of Islam had returned unto their midst.
After indulging in the favours of comely, dark-eyed harlots for several days, Muhammad, his wives Ayesha and Sheba, together with his entourage of slavewomen and little Jewish boys, moved into the merchant Sabri’s house. Oaf Abu and wife Fahimah accompanied them, as the residence had more than enough room.
The body of Sabri, murdered by the Holy Prophet months earlier, lay rotting on the floor, a tearful Fahimah looking to the desiccated remains of her loving husband.
“Lamentations over infidels is forbidden, it is the will of Allah that such die for resisting him,” declared Muhammad, picking fat fleas from his beard and crushing them between his fingernails. Ordering other followers to remove the remains, they dragged the body from the house and dumped it in the street for all to see. Looking down, the Prophet smirked and kicked Sabri’s mummified severed finger through the open door.
“You soulless brigand, I am an infidel, why don’t you just kill me and put me out of my misery?” asked a defiant Fahimah, tears of grief wetting her cheeks.
The Holy Prophet raised an arm to smite her, Abu stepping between them. “You will not strike my good wife Fahimah, nor will you touch her in any other fashion from this point forward; there is much wisdom in her utterances regarding the likes of you,” warned Abu, staring at the Prophet with anger in his eyes.
Muhammad lowered his arm. Hiding his fear, he frowned at his muscular henchman. “Of course oaf,” he muttered, quickly turning and leaving the house. “Bastard,” he spat in defeat, heading to the brothel for the favours of harlots, strong wine, and hashish.
“Thank you husband, for what you have said and done for me,” said Fahimah.
“Don’t thank me, thank your gods,” replied a confused Abu, sweat on his brow, looking to the doorway that the madman Muhammad had passed through.
Charged by the words of the Holy Prophet, vanguards of devoted followers moved across the land surrounding Medina, converting scores to Islam in the name of Allah the Pig. Along the way, the warriors helped themselves to women, children and glittering plunder: slaughtering, torturing, raping and robbing as caravans, villages, towns and cities fell before them. Returning to Medina with fresh converts, the warriors rested, joining with their fellow Muslims in idleness, debauchery, licentious revelry and drunkenness.
Fearful of being exposed as the coward he was, Muhammad was determined to prove he was an able leader, chosen by Allah the moon god. Together with trusted group of followers, he, Abu and a band of vicious cutthroats entered a peaceful village near Medina in the middle of the night. A guard, subdued and beaten by a pair of the Prophet’s followers, asked Muhammad, “We have done you no harm stranger, what do you want here?”
“We want everything,” answered a smiling Muhammad. Pulling out his garrote, he strangled the defeated infidel to death, fulfilling the will of Allah.
Allah the Pig smiled upon the devoted followers; over time the Muslim army was strengthened to near invincibility, their numbers in Medina now amounting to over 300 score.
Surah 123: The Demon
Bismillah:
Growing restless at Medina, an insane Muhammad was determined exact his revenge upon the inhabitants of Mecca, so he could capture the city in the name of Islam and defile the Kaaba in the name of Pig Allah.
At his urging, followers created more weapons, seizing metal wherever it could be found, using captured infidels as slave laborers for the hot forges. Under the watchful eyes of brutal Muslim slavedrivers, cooking pots, utensils, plowshares and pruning hooks were heated and beaten into deadly scimitars for the warriors of Islam; those who refused to serve the warriors slaughtered, their bodies thrown into the fires of the forges.
The once peaceful Medina had been transformed from a prosperous trading centre into a filthy lair of vicious freebooters, brigands, and evil cutthroats, hungry for plunder and blood. Allied with the warriors of Islam were assorted perverts: depraved paedophiles, brutal rapists, and lascivious sodomites: comprising a revolting den of amoral, lustful, lecherous monsters who gleefully destroyed entire towns, taking the virtue of women, girls and boys at will.
The Muslims were led by the corrupting force, Prophet Muhammad, chief pervert of Islam, otherwise known amongst his fellows as Abu al-Qasim Muhammad Ibn Abd Allah Ibn Abd al-Muttalib Ibn Hashim.
The Holy Prophet, knowing from his vivid, epileptic dreams that his actions were the will of Allah, returned to his licentious paederasty, knowing freshly captured Jewish boys during bouts of drunkenness. At other times, strong wine having caused vile fits of vomiting in the street just outside Sabri’s house, he amused himself by eating strong hashish, molesting his young wife Ayesha afterward.
Seeing the depravity of Muhammad, the Nubian siren Sheba felt shunned, left out of the wanton debauchery, watching in horror at his perverted, drunken orgies with little boys from a dark corner of Sabri’s house.
“You’re hurting me Prophet, I bleed!” cried a very young Jewish boy of eight as Muhammad knew him, his ample girth having ruptured the boy’s posterior.
“Vile Jew, how dare you question the will of Allah’s messenger,” retorted an angry Muhammad, slitting the boy’s throat to the spine with a sharp knife. He threw the body to the tiled floor of Sabri’s house; his filthy erection covered in blood and feces as it slipped from the murdered victim.
Shedding painful tears while viewing the murderous sodomy, the Nubian siren also witnessed the Prophet’s brutal fits of paedophilia with young Ayesha.
“You ingratious bitch, how dare you cry out as I indulge in your comely favours, my knowing you is the will of Allah!” grunted Muhammad, slapping the child, finally achieving orgasm within her.
“Yes Holy Prophet,” replied Ayesha in tears, having turned seven that day, wiping blood from her lower lip.
“These terrible actions of Muhammad are not the work of Allah, nor any other god; they are truly the evil ministrations of a vile and sadistic demon,” Sheba said to herself, withdrawing into the shadows.
Troubled, she approached Fahimah one evening and told her of her woes.
“You made your bed painted harlot, lay in it,” the widow retorted while cooking a pot of viper stew, not wanting to arouse the Prophet’s maniacal wrath. The house had grown filthy on the orders of Muhammad, it revealed to him in a dream that cleaning it was not the will of Allah.
“But what of you, how did you come to be here in this hell on Earth?” asked Sheba, surrounded by iridescent flies, filth and the butchered bones of vermin, not knowing how the upright woman had become part of a band of depraved brigands led by a demented, demon possessed maniac.
“Your disgusting Prophet murdered my good husband Sabri in this very house in which you stand. He took our money, raped me and my maidservant, and then gave me to his brother in law Abu as his wife.”
“As for Muhammad being my Prophet, I cannot be sure from what I have seen him do; how can you live such a life among such after what you’ve been through?”
“I am but a prisoner of uncivilised brutes: I cannot live such a life, except at the whim of my gods, perhaps one day I will simply die and be released from this dreadful fate,” said the widow, just as Abu walked in.
“I need food and wine,” the oaf announced, the harlot withdrawing from the room.
“Yes,” replied Fahimah, presenting him with a bottle and a warm earthenware bowl filled with snake flesh cooked in seasoned jackal broth.
“Viper stew – I can’t stand this shit!” exclaimed Abu, revolted at the boiled head of a snake floating in the bowl, an eye staring at him, surrounded by sliced onions, bits of scorpion shells, and withered parsnips.
“We have no more jackal, vulture, or rat meat, Muhammad has eaten it all, even to their rotting carcasses and the nauseating entrails; that and other vermin is all your Prophet will allow us to consume. I respectfully confess that I long for a fine pork roast to dine upon,” said his wife.
“That’s the truth; what did the Nubian harlot want here?” asked a resigned Abu, pulling the snakehead out and gnawing at it, pulling an occasional scale from his mouth with a thumb. Shuddering for a moment, he spat a tough, chewy eyeball to the floor.
“She came to complain to me about Muhammad shunning her comely favours, while knowing little Jewish boys,” answered Fahimah. “She also said the Prophet is knowing your young daughter too much; I have seen it, from the way she walks, she has grown very sore from his attentions.”
“Yes, he should come unto Ayesha only after a week or so has passed, as do I; for it is Allah’s will for me to know my daughter. Regarding the little boys, I fear that the Prophet’s wanton paederasty is both strange and revolting to me,” Abu replied, throwing the skull to the floor in utter disgust and drinking jackal broth from the bowl.
“Revolting; a filthy bitch in the throes of heat is not as vile as that depraved sodomite: he is an evil, lecherous, perverted freak who lusts after the flesh of men,” his wife declared, not telling of her revulsion to her incestuous husband knowing his daughter in their bed on many occasions.
“They’re not men, they are infidels, according to the Prophet, such does not matter in the eyes of Allah.”
“Flesh protrudes from their loins; as does it from the vile crotch of Muhammad. My gods frown upon such perverse acts, condemning those who engage in those practices to eternal damnation.”
“They do not yet spit their seed on the ground, as Onan did, they are nothing,” replied Abu, taking a gulp from the bottle.
“That has nothing to do with what I am telling you husband,” said the wise Fahimah, “Your Prophet knows little boys; it is wrong in the eyes of my gods: he is little more than a queer.”
Oaf Abu stared at her for a moment, knowing in his heart that she was correct. He returned to his meal, peeling snakeskin from a chunk of viper, the fat carcasses of boiled maggots infesting the meat. Looking at the maggots, a frowning Abu spat, “What the hell, I’m hungry,” stuffing the half-rotted flesh in his mouth and chasing it with wine.
After several weeks of preparation, the rebuilt Muslim army was ready to attack Mecca. Hordes of bloodthirsty Saracens were armed with sharp scimitars of brass and iron, their bellies filled and bodies nourished with the bitter flesh of vermin.
A drunken Muhammad, standing on the upper porch of Sabri’s house, gave a sermon, telling a crowd of devoted followers that pain, death and destruction would be visited upon the inhabitants of Mecca for resisting the will of Allah and his Prophet.
As Muhammad smiled in delight, the crowd shouted to the heavens in unison: “There is no god but Allah the Pig, and Muhammad is his Prophet!”
“He said that the last time,” Ayesha observed, Fahimah stifling a laugh while they stood only a few cubits from the vile Prophet.
Looking to her, Abu sighed. “Yes he did, but take care in what you utter child, for Muhammad has a great, malevolent power not of this world.”
“That’s because he is the Devil incarnate; may the gods of my fathers destroy that queer murderous bastard and all he has wrought,” retorted Fahimah.
“Do you beg for him to strike you down?” asked a frowning Abu.
“Perhaps I do, for death is better than this existence,” she answered bitterly, looking to the demon in man’s guise calling itself Muhammad, while feeling the life of an innocent unborn in her womb.
Surah 124: The Defiled
Bismillah:
Another fortnight passed, during which Muhammad and his devoted followers delighted in the vilest of debaucheries; the drunken Prophet leaving the bodies of several murdered Jewish boys in a dark annex of Sabri’s house; their posteriors ruptured and throats slit by him. The Nubian siren Sheba watched from the shadows, shedding tears for the slaughtered children.
Oaf Abu Bakr, fulfilling the will of Allah, again came unto his daughter Ayesha, she having recovered from the Prophet’s advances; a lecherous Muhammad occupied with knowing the remaining Jewish boys.
“Why is it that you know me, my father?” asked a satisfied Ayesha, sitting up on the bed after Abu had withdrawn from her and closed his robe.
“It is the will of Allah,” answered the oaf, looking upon her nude body. “Cover yourself from my sight child, have you no decency?”
“Do you not find me comely, or is the stiffness of your nether member only for my stepmother Fahimah?” asked Ayesha coyly, smiling and reclining before him.
“I do find you most comely, that is why you must cover yourself,” Abu ordered, finding his incestuous lust for her troubling.
“Yes my father,” replied an obedient Ayesha, pulling a sheet over herself.
Crossing the desert, the Muslim army left Medina and returned to the oasis to refresh themselves and rest among the palms, the inhabitants there vexed at the presence of the Holy Prophet. A defiant Mecca stood to the south, Muhammad knowing that with the help of Allah, the army of Islam would prevail over the infidels.
Abu learned that his nephew Abdullah had committed suicide by climbing a tall date palm and hurling himself from it, his broken body buried in the desert by his grieving father and brothers.
Troubled, he approached Muhammad and told him of his grief.
“Waste not time mourning over him oaf, it was the will of Allah,” said Muhammad blithely with a wave of a hand, drunk in his tent, dining on a bowl of boiled dung beetles smothered in thick vulture gravy.
The Nubian harlot Sheba looked to Abu in silence, sympathy in her eyes, recalling the Prophet’s licentious paederasty, having watched from in the shadows as he murdered those who dared to cry out in pain at his advances.
“That, or he couldn’t live with the idea of you having known him,” replied a frowning Abu, staring at the floor of the tent, sadness on his countenance.
“My knowing of him was a gift: how dare you question the will of Allah or his messenger!” exclaimed Muhammad, finishing his meal of dung beetles, his filthy fingers covered in cold vulture gravy.
“I don’t question the will of Allah, what I do question is the unrelenting stiffness of your nether member and your licentious paederasty, knowing little boys in his sight,” retorted Abu. “Are there not captive women in our camp that could satisfy your carnal urges?”
“Perhaps there are, but none are as tight as the lovely orifice of a little Jewish boy,” answered a smiling Muhammad.
“You are a hypocrite; you have repeatedly denied others of your inclination the ability to know them, stating that such actions are a sin in the eyes of Pig Allah,” said Abu boldly, revolted at the thought of paederasty.
Harlot Sheba silently wiped tears from her cheeks, she mourning for the young victims of Muhammad’s insatiable homosexual depravity.
“Hypocrite, no, for Allah’s revelations do not apply to me, nor do they to you,” answered the Prophet with another smile, wiping hands on his filthy silk robe. “You, oaf, along with myself, have sanction from Allah to do whatever we wish.”
“We do?”
“Yes,” answered Muhammad, pausing to squeeze foul matter from a swollen boil on his forehead, “It runs the gamut, from taking women in our beds, or lovely boys in our tents, or even to the knowing of pretty animals, indulging in their comely favours as it suits us.”
“The favours of beasts!” exclaimed Abu, “I always thought you were a twisted bastard, but the likes of us knowing animals?”
“A camel can be most attractive if one drinks enough wine: just look at their pretty eyes,” replied Muhammad, raising a bottle and drinking deeply from it.
“Such is bestiality!” exclaimed Abu in utter revulsion.
“No oaf, it is love; for Allah is love, and his Prophet is love: I spread Allah’s love by knowing those I desire; indulging in the favours of comely women, lovely boys, and pretty animals.”
“You are a depraved raper of young boys and a perverted molester of lowly beasts!” retorted Abu, looking the drunken Prophet in the eyes.
“Be that as it may, it is the will of Allah,” answered an uncaring Muhammad, growing visibly aroused at the thought of knowing pretty animals, a small, malnourished female camel with light brown eyes just outside his tent crossing his utterly deranged mind.
Pulling open his filthy robe, he reached for his erection and began masturbating, the harlot turning away in disgust.
“Have you no respect or decency, even in the eyes of your wives and fellows?” asked Abu, turning his head and covering his eyes.
“You needn’t look unless you desire to pleasure Allah’s Prophet, such is the will of him should you find my organ enticing.”
“I’m not queer, your offer is revolting!” exclaimed Abu, turning and heading from him.
“Very well, be gone with you, ugh, oaf,” grunted Muhammad, reaching orgasm as he finished the sentence, spitting his seed upon the ground and his filthy silk robe.
Leaving the tent, Abu chanced upon another of the Prophet’s followers, a dull-witted, nearly toothless man with a missing eye, known by his fellows as Sadi.
“Duh, where is the Prophet?” asked a staggering Sadi, he very drunk.
“He’s playing with himself in his tent over a camel, do you want to watch?” spat a disgusted Abu, pushing him out of the way.
Sadi tumbled to the ground, watching Abu trudge off into the darkness.
Returning to his tent, a troubled Abu told Fahimah of his terse words with Muhammad, and that the Holy Prophet was not only a paederaster, but also a vile practitioner of bestiality, knowing pretty animals in the sight of Allah.
“I told you he was little more than a depraved devil in man’s guise,” she replied, “Only such could lust for the loins of a beast. Muhammad is an evil madman desiring death for all who oppose him; you, husband, will come to blows with him, if not only to save your very life.”
“Do we have any food?” asked Abu, not commenting on her wise words.
“Yes, with the help of your daughter and the Nubian harlot, I caught and baked several rats for us this afternoon.”
“It beats viper flesh, bring some to me wife, with a full bottle,” ordered a frowning Abu, hoping that drunkenness would ease his contemptuous feelings for the Holy Prophet.
Surah 125: Mecca
Bismillah:
Having renewed their strength at the oasis, the vengeful warriors of Islam marched into the desert, heading south toward Mecca, killing any in their path that dared to resist. Along the way they recruited more converts: augmenting by several score a revolting cadre of amoral pirates, vicious brigands, twisted perverts, depraved paedophiles and lascivious sodomites, all hungry for glittering plunder, rivers of blood, and helpless victims.
Muhammad and his entourage followed, a string of captive Jewish boys in chains, having been thoroughly sodomised, trudged along with them, some forced to carry the Holy Prophet in an ornate litter. Fahimah and the Nubian siren Sheba, together with Muhammad’s child wife Ayesha, were carried in another litter behind the Prophet.
“What are we to do about that insane monster in man’s guise?” asked Sheba, her voice low in fear of the Prophet.
“Nothing harlot, we are but women, and haven’t the strength to subdue such as him,” whispered Fahimah, her belly showing she was with child, fearful the Jewish boys carrying them might hear and tell the evil Prophet of their words.
Oaf Abu, dismissing his utter disgust at the Holy Prophet’s revolting paederasty and bestiality for the moment, conversed with Muhammad in their litter as they were carried across the desolate waste.
“You told the followers that great Allah dwells in heaven; who else dwells there with him in his abode on high?” asked Abu, wiping sweat from his brow.
“His brothers,” answered the Prophet, drunk on strong wine. Covered in sweat, scratching at biting fleas in an armpit, he pulled his filthy, sweat stained silk turban from his head, revealing a head of lice ridden, matted hair drenched in perspiration. Frowning for a moment, he grunted, releasing foul gas from his posterior.
“What are their names?” asked a gagging Abu, pulling a curtain open for fresh air.
Muhammad, his head reeling from drunkenness, making up the story as he went along, replied, “Let’s see, Allah, Holiest of all Pigs, rules the heavens and the earth, sitting on his golden and bejeweled throne. His younger brothers, Hogallah the fat, Swineallah the wise, Boarallah the cyclops, and Porkallah the whiskered stand at his side, singing his praises for eternity.”
“You’re telling me heaven is filled with pigs?”
“Yes,” answered Muhammad plainly, his mind much too deranged to realise his utterances made no sense at all.
“If that is so, what use would they have for the likes of us or our worship, considering we are not pigs?” asked Abu, confused and doubtful of the words he was hearing.
“Upon our ascension to heaven, we too will become holy, purified Hogs, welcomed into paradise by
what the hell r u talking about. u christans suck donkey balls fu** u christians.
Mohammed was nothing but a child molesting bastard, a thug, a criminal and the starter of a worldwide hate movement called Islam, they have to be defied in order for them to realize that by trying to convince the world that there is any good in Islam is like trying to convince the world that shit smells like Jasmine.
Fuck muhammed.. bøsse bøsse….
Heil Hitler…
From Michigan, USA. Friday night
You good folks around the world just sit back and relax. We American love to kill the mussies, turban tops, towel head, sand n*****S (aint it funny, we white guys don’t say the N word, but we don’t mind if you call us cracker!) dune koons etc. Just let us havea few more years in the middle east and we’ll fuck them up good. Hell, lets face it, we could wipe their asses off the face of the earth anytime we felt like it! Were just playing them to train and build better bombs and war shit. Keep the oil flowing till the mussies run out. THEN we’ll tap our own fields. By then we’ll be off oil. Then the raggers won’t have anything but sand! We watch those assholes blow each other up every day and laugh! If those stupid jihadies had any senses, they would have stayed peacefull untill we left, then killed each other for Allah.
Fuck, if they had any sense you would be able to book a week at the casino on the Tigres river, chopper out to the desert firing a mini-gun at camels, smoke some good hash at the shieks Harem tent, you could trade your wife for the shieks daughter! Next, take a magic carpet ride back to Baghdad, take a dump in one of Sadams gold toilets (smoking some more hash!). Meanwhile, your buddy hits the jackpot on the slots when three Mohammads line up!!!
Do we crackers here in the USA no how to have fun or what! And guess what? We still have our guns! So to the Jihadies everywhere, bring your asses to Michigan, and we’ll fill you full of .308 holes! We hunt a lot of deer hear. We love testing our depleated uranium on you! We love seeing a 500 pounder take out the jihad house. We love flying the flag of Mohammad fucking a pig. You were the birthplace of civilization, but look what we anglos have built in 300 years in the USA! And lets not foget how you sold us the blacks you stole in Africa. You started slavery! We far from perfect here, thats why were great and you live like shit. We have diveristy. You have nothing, that why you need religion. We only do it to make money!
oh yea, get the UN (useless nations) out of here, if the blue hats come to the here, they expire rapidly!.
So, for the most part, the rest of the world should do the following:
Sit down, pour yourself a shot of Jack Daniels, shut the fuck up, and let the US military do its job.
I love you Danish, you have hybred the best weed in the world. Thank you
The cartoons are not that impressive. It doesn’t show the real mohammed completely..what about the 8 yr old girl he married..
look booooo mohameddd Jesus is the real prophet!!!
go danish magazine Jesus no #1 hahaah funyp pics
Giving without reserve
It is with reticence that I write this. I do not wish to place myself on the moral high ground or to sermonise anyone. This chapter tries to show the truth and importance of dreaming of our Holy Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet). These words seek to confirm that ours is a Prophet of Mercy, a Witness, and a Bearer of Good Tidings. It also aims to portray the consequence of du’aa in the Masjid al-Haram. It is moreover meant as a method of encouragement for our children to some day continue with the Prophetic Tradition of raising an orphan for the sake of Allah, The One of Unbounded Grace. So that they may by this means know that there is more to life than just prayer and fasting. And that they should give of themselves unreservedly. That they might through it also, temper their adhkaar with compassion.
We were asleep at the Mashrabiyya Hotel in Khalid bin Walid Street in Shubayka, Makkah al-Mukarramah when, by the Mercy of Allah, I had the most beautiful dream. I saw myself standing in the holy presence of our Truthful Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet). Our Prophet (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) was spotlessly dressed in white robes and a white turban. I stared aghast. Our Prophet (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) stood about two meters away and faced me directly. I do not have the words with which to suitably portray this most wonderful man, the Seal of the Prophets (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet). I have never seen anyone so unimaginably holy, so indescribably handsome. I reached for my turban, embarrassed for not wearing it. “Leave it,” I said to myself. “You are in the Company of the Prize of creation.” A brilliance shone from our Guided Prophet (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet). Our Prophet (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) smiled at me. The smile radiated light. I stood alert, too humbled to speak. I wished that the dream would last forever. The heavenly smile lasted between ten and fifteen minutes, it felt like.
Alhamdu-lillaah. I had never considered myself deserving of such an enormous honour. “What does that smile mean?” I asked myself over and over again.
Part of my da’waat in the Holy Mosque in Mecca, was to ask Allah, The One Who Makes Clear to us His signs so that we may be grateful, to Grant to ourselves the opportunity and blessings of raising an orphan for His sake.
My wife and I had, over a number of years, tried to adopt a baby by applying at several local agencies, and were given all sorts of excuses which disqualified, and sometimes discouraged us. Reasons given were that we were not married according to South African law, that few babies from local Muslim parents came up for adoption, and the fact that we have children of our own. We were also faced with, what was to my mind, the worse aspect of the South African race laws. These regulations and those administering it, in this case, the social workers, prescribed that a ‘brown’ orphaned child had to be matched with ‘brown’ adoptive parents. A ‘yellow’ baby could only be placed with prospective ‘yellow’ adoptive parents, a ‘white’ orphan could not be raised by ‘black’ adoptive parents, and so on. They played dominoes with human lives. Some social workers were more ready to read the ‘race act’ than others. In an interview and in response to a question on whether we would mind adopting a child from a ‘lower rung’ of the colour scale, I told them that “a nice green one would do.” A jab to my ribs from my wife quickly halted the acid flow down the sides of my mouth. Stirring the ire of our then masters by criticising their political beliefs would not help, she meant. “When the white boss tells a joke, and regardless of its lack of humour – laugh!” she chided me later. Race inequalities existing at the time ensured that hundreds of black orphans went begging in more ways than one. It virtually excluded us from adopting a child. No orphans that matched our race and blood mix were on offer and they weren’t likely to easily present themselves for adoption, we were told. My wife is of Indian (as in “Indian” from India, as opposed to “American” Indian) stock and I am of (well) mixed blood.
On the morning of Wednesday, 1st June 1994, just three days after arriving back home from Haj, we received a telephone call from Melanie Van Emmenes of the Child Welfare Society. She explained that a five-month old girl had come up for adoption. The baby had earlier undergone successful abdominal surgery and she asked whether we would adopt the child. We jumped at the chance.
A rush of adrenaline replaced the after-effects of travel. We were re-energised. Capetonians usually visit local pilgrims before departure and also on their arrival back home. We excused ourselves from the few visitors and asked my mother-in-law to host them in our absence. My wife and I immediately went to the Adoption Centre in Eden Road, Claremont. We signed the necessary papers.
Afterwards, we told our children that we were about to receive an addition to the family. We plodded through a maze of red tape in order to legalise the process. (My wife and I had to marry in court because Muslim marriages were not recognised then, believe it or not). A few days later, my wife, brother and I collected the petite infant from a foster-mother in Newfields Estate. I shall never forget the joyous feeling when I first carried the frail waif past the front door. Her name is Makkia. We named her after the great city from which we had just returned.
Taking her into our home is one of the better things that we have done. Makkia has added a marvellous dimension to our lives. She is part of our life’s work. I shall always be grateful to the people who had assisted us with the adoption.
The meaning behind the glowing smile from our Trustworthy Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) had played itself out in the most delightful way. In Our Prophet (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) we have a beautiful pattern of conduct. Like a lamp that spreads light, the Messenger of Allah (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) invites to the Grace of Allah by His leave. Weighing any other form of creation against our Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) is a fruitless exercise, I have come to realise. How should I express gratitude to the Holy Messenger of Allah (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet) for his kind intervention? I am unworthy of untying the laces of our Prophet’s sandals.
Allah, The One Who Is Sufficient For those who put their trust in Him, Had Granted our want through the barakah of our Beloved Prophet Muhammad (May Allah Convey His Peace and Blessings upon the Holy Prophet).
For the most part I’ve been fairly constant about wearing a turban during ’ibaadah since.
My dear al-…-athloni (May Jesus Give Us Patience While Reading Your Name), have you ever been thinking about Rorschach test? It may perhaps help you understand yourself.
Ciao
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People… people… so many postings, so many thoughts. I hear you insult religions, human races, even each others. For what?! Haven’t you learned anything from history?! Racial hate is created by politicians… and sustained by foolish people. What we’re doing today is playing along with those politicians. They have created a game, through which they gain control. They might even revert to acts of “terrorism”, which afterwards, are blamed on some fool… living in the mountains probably. POLITICS… it says it all.
As to religions, live and let live, think and let others think… Islam, Judaism, Christianity, Budism and others, were created thousands of years ago. By saying thousands of years, I mean those so called prophets, and I’m not being disrespetful, were living in the desert, or in the mountains… yes they had a vision… and a message… and probably very well spoken… but it was at lest 1500 years ago. it’s 2007 and most of the people on the planet don’t know that many things… and I’m talking about people who have access to modern day technology… and still, most of them are ignorant, un-educated and unfortunately un-cultered also, this is today! How about 1-2 or even 3 thousand years ago!
How can we fight, kill, and hate each other so much… based on religious beliefs. We should all be more open minded, and have a wider view of the situation.
I guess some mutual respect is needed to keep our human race on going for another millenium, cause without it we are all doomed… doomed faster than we could comprehend.
I’m absolutly for and pro free speech and thinking… Nothing and nobody is above the law, but even the law can be criticised… otherwise nothing would improve!