Thursday, July 28, 2005
Australian Leftists Don't Get It, Reward Essay on Suicide Bombing
Australian leftists are basically no different than leftists around the world: they hate the countries they live in, do their utmost to hurt their countries, and reward bad behavior. So it comes as no surprise that a leftist group of thugs in Australia has rewarded an essay on how it feels to be a suicide bomber - written by a juvenile girl, no less:
First prize for hatred
Here is our essay...where can we submit it?
I saw the Muslim standing in the street.
He was swarthy, he smelled, and flies flew around him.
He was carrying a backpack.
I got closer, and noticed that a wire was hanging out of the backpack.
I realized that this Muslim scumbag was going to explode himself and kill innocent people.
Instead of yelling, "Put your hands up!" I reached for my weapon, drew it, and fired three shots into the Muslim's head.
The lowlife was dead.
The bomb in his pack would not go off.
No innocent people were harmed.
Now all I have to do is find someone to clean this shit off the street.
Now...how is that? I bet it would make for a great song!
Australian leftists are basically no different than leftists around the world: they hate the countries they live in, do their utmost to hurt their countries, and reward bad behavior. So it comes as no surprise that a leftist group of thugs in Australia has rewarded an essay on how it feels to be a suicide bomber - written by a juvenile girl, no less:
First prize for hatred
IT is not just mad sheiks who are rewarding youngsters who dream up fantasies of evil Americans and heroic suicide bombers.
Our taxpayer-funded Adult Multicultural Education Services does the same, funding a writer's prize for a schoolgirl's essay on blowing up American soldiers.
Mad, I know. But multiculturalism does mess with minds like that.
I won't mention the name of the self-described "South African Kiwi" girl who has just won the junior short story competition at the annual City of Greater Dandenong Adult Migrant Education Services awards, sponsored by AMES.
She is only 11, after all, and clearly has compassion, imagination and fine writing skills -- so much so that when she says she might like to become a journalist, I can assure her she'll fit right in.
What's more, she is writing fiction, not necessarily describing her personal views at all.
So my criticism is not of her, but of those who try to mould her mind, and those of other children in this suburb of many Muslim students, by giving this essay -- with this message -- a multicultural prize. Here are extracts of her story of a young Iraqi girl fleeing Baghdad:
I waken to the sounds of bombs. Women and children crying. Rubble. That is all there is to see.
Baghdad: once filled with beds of flowers and happy smiling faces. Now destroyed homes: destroyed families -- no peace, no hope ...
I miss my ma and papa so much. Images of their mangled bodies lying in pools of blood will never leave my mind ...
The back door opens. Two American soldiers. The enemy. The destroyers, who say they are here to save us. I hate the Americans ...
"Get them to the camp," the gruff one orders ...
A prisoner of war with nothing to live for except maybe to uphold the memories of my beloved Allah, my parents and my country.
To truly show the world what it means to be Muslim, I reach under my salwaar kameez and release the catch of dynamite strapped to my chest. Two minutes. Silence. THEN!!!!!
How powerful is war?
Here is our essay...where can we submit it?
I saw the Muslim standing in the street.
He was swarthy, he smelled, and flies flew around him.
He was carrying a backpack.
I got closer, and noticed that a wire was hanging out of the backpack.
I realized that this Muslim scumbag was going to explode himself and kill innocent people.
Instead of yelling, "Put your hands up!" I reached for my weapon, drew it, and fired three shots into the Muslim's head.
The lowlife was dead.
The bomb in his pack would not go off.
No innocent people were harmed.
Now all I have to do is find someone to clean this shit off the street.
Now...how is that? I bet it would make for a great song!
