“According to Swedish counterterrorism officials, in December 2010, a Swedish al Qaeda cell attempted to put part of the “Mumbai-style” plot into operation by driving to Denmark with a submachine gun, a silencer, several dozen 9 mm submachine gun cartridges, and plastic wrist straps to handcuff hostages. Their target was the Jyllands-Posten newspaper in Copenhagen, one of the newspapers that published controversial cartoons of the Prophet Mohammed. They were arrested once they reached the Danish capital. Security services believe the plan was to try to take up to 200 journalists hostage at the newspaper and execute many of them, a Swedish counterterrorism source told CNN.”
The Islamofascists truly have no idea the outrage they will spawn. Should they sow the wind, they will reap the whirlwind. The United States was very restrained after 9/11. That restraint will not happen again.
I originally published this on my blog at the Experience Project, September 27, 2013.
I pray that when those pigs who raped CBS reporter Lara Logan in Tahrir Square in Cairo get their 72 virgins in their pathetic afterlife, they discover to their dismay that each of them has a very, very, VERY sharp knife in her hand with each female virgin taking turns with the 71 others doing her part to make positively sure that those assholes will feel like John Bobbitt every single moment for all eternity.
Thank you, France!
Thank you for banning the burka, which is nothing but a symbol of barbaric, sexist, degrading female repression to signify we must give total submission to men.
I’m going out tomorrow morning and having breakfast at a local French bistro, ordering a croissant, French toast and French Vanilla Yoplait.
When I go out shopping later in the afternoon for some French perfume, I’ll snack on some French Fries at lunchtime.
For my afternoon jog, I will wear nothing except my running shoes, socks, a pair of probably too-tight-to-run-in tri-color shorts and my Lily of France in action sports bra. We’re supposed to have a thunderstorm or two but if I get soaked to the skin and my bra becomes transparent that’s OK, too.
In the evening, my boyfriend and I will go to the Bistro Campagne. I’ll order split pea soup and then have poulet roti forestiere for the main course while sipping on some French Chardonnay wine imported from Burgundy. For dessert, I’ll have the crème brûlée with a nice hot cup of cafe calva.
When we get back to my place we’ll watch Casablanca.
Then, afterwards, I’ll go into my bedroom and put on my Simone Perele lingerie. When I come out I’ll slowly strip naked, humming La Marseillaise before inviting him to bed.
So, again. Thank you, France. Merci beaucoup!
I loved all the Parisians I met there in 2008 and someday I hope to return to Paris and express my gratitude in person.
I originally published this on my blog at the Experience Project, September 17, 2010.