It was said of the Romans that they made a desert and called it peace. And so it was, for nothing is quite so peaceful as a sere and terminally quiet desert. Ask the next Carthaginian you see if making a desert of your enemy’s homeland is an effective measure or not. The modern West prides itself on no longer being Roman, but not being Roman is a very recent and no doubt brief episode in the history of the European race. To look at the joyous faces of the Muslim killers as they behead an infidel, or to hear the joyous ululations of the Arab street at the sight of rockets heading for Israel, is to understand that the Arab killer and the Arab street know nothing of the history of European desert making, and not understand will be bewildered when it finally happens to them.

The picture is clear, though the pixels are few
The Muslims all thirst for the death of the Jew
They dance in the streets when the curbs are all lined
With bodies of infidels Allah has signed
Beheadings of Christians as cameras roll
The vengeance clock ticks with the mounting death toll
The killings continue, a war without cease
‘Til we make a desert and call it a peace