Terrorism: February 2008 Archives

Why, she's lobbying for members of the Muslim Brotherhood who face trial in Egypt. Why?

"I decided I wanted to do human rights work on behalf of people around the world who have been harmed by US imperialism.

Part of why I am here, also, is to draw attention to the parallels between the military courts here and the same kinds of courts that are being used to try detainees at Guantanamo Bay by the US.

...If we [America] really want to promote democracy in this region then we cannot silence the voices of the Muslim Brotherhood because they're the moderate voice here and they are the ones who are actually working for democracy."

Al-Jazeera also asked Sheehan, who waxed even more about her commitment to telling Egypt what to do, how a recent visit to the National Council of Women in Cairo went. Her response was absolutely classic:

"I didn't really understand a lot of what was going on. There was a lot of yelling in Arabic."

Bwahaahahaa!!!

But for Cindy's reference, the Muslim Brotherhood is not a moderate democratization savior. Egyptian Muslim Brotherhood leader Mohammed Mahdi Akef has called the Holocaust a "myth," the Brotherhood has advocated taxing Christians extra, is linked to violent acts and nefarious terrorists over the decades, promotes strict Islamic dress code for women and segregated schools (as well as separate female curriculum), promotes the Caliphate, allows democracy only up to what is deemed allowed by Islam, and lives by the motto: "Allah is our objective. The Prophet is our leader. Qur'an is our law. Jihad is our way. Dying in the way of Allah is our highest hope."

Heck, maybe she knows all that and loves 'em anyway...

First Hamas TV had Farfour, the Mickey Mouse knockoff who was beaten to death by an Israeli agent. Then there was Nahoul, the bumblebee who beat cats and now has apparently died from illness because of the Gaza blockade. Now comes Bugs Bunny knockoff Assud, who has claimed that he will "eat" Jews ("I, Assud, will get rid of the Jews, Allah willing, and I will eat them up"). The twisted kids' show, "Pioneers of Tomorrow" -- "pioneer" in this case not meaning someone who makes scientific advances or a contribution to society, but someone who blows him or herself up -- is still hosted by psychopathic little Saraa, who calmly decries "filth of Zionists" while giving approval to Assud's plans for a Jew buffet.

Watch the video, and see what this world's come to. I predict in the next episode that Saraa and Assud will show kids how to put Jews in their Playskool ovens.

I'd sure weep salty tears for the guy who sawed off Daniel Pearl's head, by his own admission. He's up for the death penalty now, along with five other Gitmo inmates, for murder and war crimes in connection with the Sept. 11, 2001, attacks (remember those?). I hope after waiting this long that the cases are ironclad, but there's already going to fuss about the fact that Khalid Sheikh Mohammed was waterboarded. (He's lucky he didn't get his back hairs plucked out one by one.) I also hope that Americans will hear as many of the ugly details as possible regarding how these men orchestrated nearly 3,000 deaths in New York, D.C. and Pa. -- and remember what KSM said about Encino native Pearl: "I decapitated with my blessed right hand the head of the American Jew, Daniel Pearl, in the city of Karachi, Pakistan."

Accompanying a story in The Sun about British spy planes picking up Taliban talking in Brummie and Yorkshire accents -- yes, British Muslims are going over there to fight for the Burqa Enforcement Brigade -- was this great photo. These Taliban have everything they need -- guns, ammo, and apparently a potluck green-bean casserole cradled by the second guy from the right.

When you're in a cave, where do you plug in the crock pot?

If you want to burst the enthusiasm of soldiers in Iraq, few words can do it like these two: Commo Blackout.

It means two very significant things, and, in the death-as-commodity environment of Baghdad that I knew in 2005, it was hard to judge which was worse. On the one hand, it meant all instant communication with the outside world was cut off. No Internet, no phones. Mail was delivered, but it took days any way.

The other thing it meant was that somebody was dead, or pretty close to it. Commo Blackout is the Army's way of keeping parents and spouses from being informed of a soldier's death by a passing comment in a grocery store, or via a reporter arriving at a door step ahead of the Notification Team.

There's a lot just about any Joe can complain about with regard to the Green Machine, but the dedication to supporting families is not really one of them. They honestly do the best they can, and inconveniencing troops for a couple of days so the most solemn ceremonies can be conducted as best possible is not even a question.

Of course, as soldiers, when you've survived another day, it's hard not to curse at prety much all involved when you walk to the phone trailer and find a scribbled note on the door, one that effectively says: "you're wife's just gonna have to wonder if you're alive, 'cause somebody else's is about to find out that her husband ain't."

I bring this up because an interesting trend has recently developed on my personal blog, Reasons to Believe. I've been posting a lot there lately, because over in the other Valley, my little town of Monrovia has been having a gang war in recent days. Certainly nothing akin to Baghdad, but enough to give me strange tickles, and make sure the personal protective systems for my family are in full working order, just like I would before a patrol in combat.

Anyway, while the traffic for my blog has spiked significantly, I've been getting a lot of referrals from Google, many of which are searches for those same two words. They all lead to this post: Things That Go Boom, Things That Do Not.

Now, two years seperated from the war zone, my heart sinks at that thought. Somewhere, somebody is getting the worst news possible. Somewhere not far away, someone else thinks she might. At some Army post in the south, or maybe Texas, a new bride who goes to bed worried each night hasn't heard from the love of her life for a week. Her nervous query has been met with a polite, stilted re-assurance from the head of the Family Readiness Group, "ah, don't worry, they're probably on a Commo Blackout." Knowing she already asks enough silly questions about the strange system in which she finds herself, she decides to figure that one out on her own.

My post, I assure you, supplies no solace.

I wonder if her silent world will awaken with a ring of the phone. Or, a knock at her door.