Muslim violence and terror is not confined to Iraq and Syria, nor is the threat confined to the United States and other western countries. The Muslim terror stretches across Africa from Mali and Nigeria, to Algeria and Libya to Egypt and Gaza, to Yemen and Somalia, to Pakistan and Afghanistan and northern China. This is a war against the West wrapped up in a religious civil war between the Sunni and the Shia. Isis is a problem, al Qaeda is a problem, the Taliban are a problem, but we face far greater problems if we allow the Sunni monarchies of the Gulf to drag us into the civil war in an attempt to use the American military to save their worthless hides. We must not grab hold of the Sunni tar baby in the effort to reduce the threat from such as ISIS. We must specifically target ISIS and destroy them to show the rest of the bastards we can, but we should not, in the process, do to Assad what we did to Khadaffi. It is not our job to remove dictators. It is our job to kill Muslims who kill us.

How faint it seems, the stench of death
So very  far away
As Muslims take the very breath
Of life from those whom they
Define as infidels who must
Be slain on God’s command
And rendered to unredeemed dust
To Allah’s fierce demand
A thousand years the Muslim wait
A thousand years and more
To strike for God and Caliphate
To bring the West to war
And they shall find that what they wish
Is not what they will get
When they become food for the fish
And see the crescent set
Another thousand years and more
As millions quickly die
They dared the western way of war
And now we say goodbye

Life is fragile, and exits on its own timetable. The beauty of the rose is ephemeral, yet is reborn every Spring. The Mayfly dances for an hour and is gone, yet to the Mayfly the dance lasts a lifetime. The dinosaurs wandered the Earth for hundreds of millions of years, yet are gone, while Man has lived a tiny fraction of that time and believes he is immortal. The distant sound heard by all living things is the swishing of the scythe.

I believe that I’m included
In that group of simple men
Who believe they’re not deluded
By rank sophistry, but then
I look ‘round at all about me
Who think such as they can’t fail
And who listen not and doubt me
When I say that life is frail
Fossils show that life is given
Then is taken in its time
Civil life is often riven
Thrashing in a death throe mime
Life is rare in God’s great meeting
Of the chosen in His care
Life is good but oh so fleeting
One brief moment in the glare
Of the suns that light the heavens
Of the universe so vast
Life that is and was still leavens
Both the future and the past

The newest thing in the insane world of modern art is the invisible painting. A blank canvas by a celebrity fetches big money. Artists are getting their invisible paintings hung in galleries, and insist that just because there is nothing on the canvas doesn’t mean they haven’t put a lot of thought and work into it. The world is run on the invisible quantum. Is the quantum god? Is there such a thing as a quantum or a quark, or is it simply a convenient term for I don’t know why it works but it does? In such a world, is it truly inconceivable that someone would pay good money for an invisible painting of a tree?

I think that I shall never see
A thing as lovely as a tree
A tree whose leaves and branches seem
To lie beyond the edge of dream
The world a canvas blank and sere
Portraying that which is not here
The tree not seen, no leaf or bark
Content to sit beside the quark
And contemplate the men who dare
To say the lovely tree’s not there

We all remember the Obama people moving into the White House on 20 January 2009 and removing the letter W from all the White House typewriters and keyboards, so filled with insane hatred for the previous president were they. I have no hatred for Obama and his people. Disgust and loathing yes, but not hatred. I would never remove all the Os from the office typewriters and keypads. And yet, the letter W to those people meant something. It isn’t until you put the letters together into words that they mean something more.

Why should the letter W
Trouble you
Why should the letters AR
Leave a scar
Why is the acronym ISIS
A crisis
Why are the letters OBAMA
A drama
Why is this president like no OTHER?
Well, put them all together they spell MOTHER

Sometime late in the eighteenth century a mechanical chessman was devised that could beat all comers. The mechanical Chess Master was called The Turk, and it wasn’t until almost a hundred years later that the secret of the Turk was revealed. The Turk was in fact a mechanical illusion that allowed the Turk, a human chess master, to hide inside and operate the machine. The Turk was an illusion. Most illusions are created to hide from us the illusion that we think of as reality Such are the political illusions people like Obama cast in order to get elected. There is, sadly, no escape from these illusions, and to think there is is an illusion. Every illusion has its Turk, for without the Turk the illusion is diffused, inchoate. The illusion requires a Turk to make the illusion real. The question in this case is, is Obama the Turk or the illusion?

It will not work
Without the Turk
Guiding the illusion
Sending probes
Into our lobes
Meant to cause confusion
Molding dreams
And shining beams
Of sunshine in profusion
To make us feel
Illusion’s real
By massive lie suffusion
But who then is
The hidden whiz
Who cast the O illusion
Who is the Turk
Who makes it work
Stay tuned for the conclusion

A Spanish assistant nurse at Madrid’s La-Paz Carlos III hospital has died of Ebola contracted while caring for two Catholic medical missionary priests, members of the Hospital Order of San Juan de Dios, who had been repatriated to Spain after contracting Ebola in West Africa. We do not yet know her age or her name, but none of that matters, for in the end neither age nor name matters so much as what one does with one’s life.

She was just a simple woman
A simple nursing nun
Who cared for those in sickness
And now her work is done
She was just a simple woman
We do not yet know her name
To Christ her life devoted
And in the end He came

A careful examination of the policies of the Obama administration since 20 January 2009 reveals an uncanny similarity of purpose, and that purpose is the debasement, disarmament and ultimate destruction of the United States in its current form, and replacing it with a blue model third world socialist state. To that end the Ebola outbreak in West Africa was seized upon as an opportunity, following the administration’s oft stated position that they would never let a crisis go to waste. No one needed to have helped Mr. Duncan get on an airplane for Dallas. All that was needed was to not prevent it. And who makes the call on when to allow and when to prevent? Why a certain Mr. Obama, the man behind the curtain. The Obamanoids cry it was just one man, it’s no big deal, but so is a tiny hole in a big ship no deal until it becomes one. One man infects four, those four infect sixteen, and so on in a deadly and unstoppable mathematical progression.

A tiny hole and we are sunken
And through that hole came Mr. Duncan
With infection and thematics
Constituting mathematics
That say clearly one infection
That on soberly reflection
Soon will turn into a number
That will not disturb the slumber
Of the hidden curtain master
Who will mumble sleep’ly “Faster”
Mathematical progressions
Make the fiercest of aggressions
Look like snails serenely racing
And not knowing what we’re facing
One thing above all is certain
There’s a man behind the curtain

A Liberian man who had been exposed to Ebola boarded a plane in Nigeria and flew to Dallas, where he got violently sick and went to a hospital where he was treated and mistakenly sent home. Over 100 people in Dallas, including his family and acquaintances he may have been in contact with, are now quarantined, and the number will grow exponentially unless the unknowns who came in contact with him and became infected, and who do not yet show any symptoms, are also quarantined, and we won’t know who they are until they show symptoms. Keeping the deliberately infected out is something that will not and cannot happen in a country of open borders and inadequate screening at airports. What does this have to do with the war the Muslims are fighting against us but not we against them? The pattern is now set. Suicide bombers no longer need to wear an explosive laden vest or sneak an explosive onto an airplane. Retail murder by explosive is no more. Wholesale murder by disease, and not just by Ebola, is the coming thing. Imagine a small number of infected Muslim suicide fanatics, say as few as 100, wandering through various parts of the country, strolling through malls and stadiums, walking downtown city streets, boarding crowded elevators, infecting all they come in contact with. Do the arithmetic. If one hundred infected Muslims each infect 100 people, and those 10,000 infect another 100 people each, then 1,000,000 people are infected within weeks of the Muslim suicides being deployed to the United States. And nobody knows who the 1,000,000 are until they show symptoms. The CDC says you cannot infect anyone until you show symptoms, but suppose the CDC is wrong. And even if they’re right, are we going to round up everyone who gets a fever and send them to a quarantine camp? No, we cannot physically do that, not in the time allotted, even if it were politically possible to do it, which it is not, for we have politically and culturally tied our hands, and cannot close our borders or keep anyone out for fear of being discriminatory, or worse, racist. And in the meantime, showing symptoms or not showing symptoms, the newly infected are infecting others. Pandemic and panic. The healthcare system overwhelmed and collapsed. Murder by the millions, that’s the ticket. Or is it that’s the plane ticket?

The darkness is upon us now
The shadows now grow long
The quiet martyrs showing how
The weak horse has grown strong
So strong the vaunted science of
The once strong horse will fail
How once the eagle now the dove
Has swallowed his own tale
And now believes it’s understood
That vigilance is past
Preferring now to knock on wood
Or how the dies are cast
Our sacred borders open wide
With open arms we cry
Come in! We’ve nothing here to hide
And if by chance we die
Then that is surely but a game
That nature plays at will
It’s no one’s fault, there’s none to blame
And so it ends, but still
A million here, a million there
Pandemics run their course
And at the end no one will care
That you’re the stronger horse

On 22 July 1209, during the Albigensian Crusade, the little French town of Beziers was reported to have given sanctuary to Cathar heretics. A Catholic army attacked the town and slaughtered the populace. When asked how to distinguish between the heretic Cathars and loyal Catholics, it is reported that the reply was, “Kill them all and let God sort them out.” Religious civil wars are the most vicious of all civil wars, and the war raging now in the Middle East is a religious civil war. We must not take sides, we must not decide who wins and who loses. We must kill them all and let God sort them out.

Who then are the Cathars
On whose side do we fight
The Sunni or the Shia
Which one the shining knight
Who do we arm and favor
Whose horse now do we ride
When Muslim knights come riding
A horse called Genocide
Just let them kill each other
Let one in triumph shout
Then kill in turn the victors
And let God sort them out