A “BROTHERHOOD” WHICH INTENDS TO KILL US
by OPOVV, ©2015
(Mar. 15, 2015) — When I was a little kid there was a school dance with another school across town. I was given the name and address of the girl who I was to “take” (meaning that my parents were to act as my “chauffeur and chaperone”) to the dance. When I found out her name was Eunice, I immediately started a campaign that would’ve made Eisenhower’s D-Day planners turn green with envy. If I recollect correctly, I faked an appendix attack: “Where does it hurt?” “In the very exact center of my belly button!”
I had a mental picture of an 11-year-old Eunice and the Wicked Witch of the West, or what the witch’s 11-year-old daughter would look like. It wasn’t good. I asked around school if there were any Eunices in any of the grades. There were none to whom I could compare my mental image.
My campaign to be disqualified from attending the dance intensified. Either my shoes were too tight or I didn’t have anything to wear; maybe all of my shirts and one tie were dirty or lost. It was like all of a sudden my Sunday School outfit wasn’t good enough. When my father got wind of my childish shenanigans, I was toast. I bit the bullet, and that was that.
Of course all of my friends at school knew I drew a Eunice. They had a Jean and a Molly, a Kathleen and a Sharon, a Fran and a Cheryl, and here I was stuck with a Eunice. I took the ribbing for a whole week.
And then came Saturday night. All dressed, shoes shined and off we went to the florist to pick up the corsage, and then to the witch’s cave, where my doom was to be sealed.
There have been many times since that first night when I walked in to a place with a good-looking woman on my arm, but that night was the one to remember. Now I’m not going to say she was the best-looking 11-year-old there, and maybe she didn’t have the best dress or any of the other things that could’ve gone wrong, but I will say this: I was walking on a cloud when we entered the gymnasium for the first cross-town 6th-grade dance.
The one thing I really got a kick out of was the looks on my friends’ faces when they saw what “With a name like Eunice, she’s got to be ugly!” she looked like. She was great, just about as perfect as one could wish for: no braces on her teeth; not taller; no gum: just one heck of a nice-looking 11-year-old girl. Man, was I one lucky guy. I was so on-top I didn’t mind it at all when my friends would cut in so they could get close to the “Ugly Eunice!”
I was looking forward to seeing her in high school but, alas, she moved away. But I learned something from that life’s lesson: don’t judge a book by its name.
Throughout history there have been many examples of calling something the exact opposite in order to deceive. Perhaps the most famous was the Vikings naming Greenland and Iceland. We have our own “Affordable Care Act.”
Military intelligence has been around as long as there have been humans on the earth. War is a fact of life. But there are all kinds of war, from corporate to all-out assaults upon a fortress or country. Lines of communication are perhaps the most one important part of any conflict: disrupt communications, and one side has an overwhelming advantage. One, if not the, most important part of World War II was the United States breaking the codes of our enemies.
But that’s just part of the picture. Even if one has the communication advantage, it doesn’t do anyone a lick of good if he can’t act upon it, and that’s when the USA outshone her foes during World War II and beyond: the ability of our military men and women to make capital decisions on a moment’s notice. No calling up the chain of command to ask for permission to fire back, as it is with Obama’s Rules of Engagement.
We now find ourselves in a world war, a conflict that is taking place on just about every continent and in every village. The enemy is legion only because we have been duped by its use of deceptive name identification practices. There is no “misunderstanding” Islam, nor is Islam “peaceful.” But the most outrageous of them all has to be calling an organization that commits the most atrocious acts a “brotherhood,” as if, they too, make up part of the human race, part of the whole, somehow identifying with contributing to the longevity of the human race; of advocating human rights to women; assisting in exploring space and acquiring Nobel Prizes on the way.
The “Muslim Brotherhood” is an army that has stated time and time again its goal to destroy Western Civilization. Take ALL the terrorist organizations together, of any sect, and the results are the same, as it says in Chapter One of the Qur’an: “Kill the Jews and the Christians wherever Ye may find them.” That is what your “moderate” Muslim in the burqa you saw at the grocery store read that morning.
There is no “brotherhood” in “Muslim Brotherhood.” Want to join them? Maybe ISIS, or the PLO? What if the initiation was to hold down an 11- year-old Christian girl and decapitate her while she twists and turns, crying and screaming. And don’t you forget to yell “Allahu Akbar” and then contemplate how murdering a helpless little girl contributed to the advancement of the human race.
There is no possible verbal dialog with the followers of Islam. The Jews in Israel sit on the brink of destruction by harboring any thoughts of “peace”: they still don’t “get it” and neither do we. Give the Muslims half of Jerusalem and they’ll leave Israel alone, they believe; give them school holidays and foot baths, don’t let the Old Glory offend them, and approve permits for mosques, the Muslims will leave us alone, we believe. Imagine, we have proclaimed members of the Muslim Brotherhood walking freely within our country when, in all sincerity, each of them deserves a bullet in the head.
AMEN!
Amen