Posts Tagged ‘prophet’

Girls, Beware — Mohammed’s Boys Will Be Boys

August 24, 2012

Those trademark Islamic fashion accessories, the burqa, the hijab  and the niqab, are a strong hint that “prophet” Mohammed believed Muslim men to be barely civilized human beings. He was clearly convinced that his fellow Muslim males and their male offspring, and their offspring in perpetuity, were doomed to be feral creatures, possessing only a veneer of civilization, and by their very nature, unable to restrain their savage impulses to commit rape, in the presence of any sexual provocation, real or imagined.

Yes, Mohammed set the bar for Muslim men’s behavior toward women that low. I didn’t.

Don’t take my word for it. Check the ahadith, faithful recordings of the acts and sayings of Mohammed, as witnessed by his contemporaries, and gathered over centuries by authoritative Islamic scholars.

Book 32, Number 4092:

Narrated Aisha, Ummul Mu’minin:

Asma, daughter of AbuBakr, entered upon the Apostle of Allah (peace_be_upon_him) wearing thin clothes. The Apostle of Allah (peace_be_upon_him) turned his attention from her. He said: O Asma’, when a woman reaches the age of menstruation, it does not suit her that she displays her parts of body except this and this, and he pointed to her face and hands.

Even the mere presence in the same room of a Muslim man and a woman who is not his wife, sister or mother may trigger an irresistible rape impulse in the superficially-civilized Muslim male, according to the hadith:

Volume 4, Book 52, Number 250:

Narrated Ibn Abbas:

That he heard the Prophet saying, “It is not permissible for a man to be alone with a woman, and no lady should travel except with a Muhram (i.e. her husband or a person whom she cannot marry in any case for ever; e.g. her father, brother, etc.).” Then a man got up and said, “O Allah’s Apostle! I have enlisted in the army for such-and-such Ghazwa and my wife is proceeding for Hajj.” Allah’s Apostle said, “Go, and perform the Hajj with your wife.”

Maybe we should take Mohammed’s word for it, and treat Muslim males accordingly. Mohammed, after all, is the standard against which all Muslims are to be compared, and not just in the Seventh Century, but today, and forever, because his example and his teachings are eternal, according to him and the authoritative Muslim scholars.

Perhaps during this year’s Democratic National Convention, we should direct the attention of Western feminists and other Cultural Marxists, who share Islam’s disdain for Western culture, to this “feature” of Muslim men — or at least of those who follow Mohammed’s example – the real Muslim men.

Modern Western women’s fashions are likely to be an irresistible provocation to the irrepressible, animal instincts of Muslim men, who cannot be held accountable for the resulting sexual aggression and violence toward those women.

After all, those Western women have brought it upon themselves, by going out among men not their husbands, sons or brothers, and without covering everything but “face and hands.”

Those Muslim boys just can’t help themselves. Mohammed said so.

A Suicide Bomber’s “Groundhog Day” in Paradise

October 18, 2008


The following is from a “hadith” — a traditional commentary, on the punishment for suicide in Islam, by Bukhari, a revered Islamic scholar:

Hadith – Volume 7, Book 71, Number 670:

Narrated Abu Huraira:

The Prophet said, “Whoever purposely throws himself from a mountain and kills himself, will be in the (Hell) Fire falling down into it and abiding therein perpetually forever; and whoever drinks poison and kills himself with it, he will be carrying his poison in his hand and drinking it in the (Hell) Fire wherein he will abide eternally forever; and whoever kills himself with an iron weapon, will be carrying that weapon in his hand and stabbing his abdomen with it in the (Hell) Fire wherein he will abide eternally forever.”


A Suicide Bomber in Paradise

The day is hot and dusty, and the bus engine moans like a dying giant, as I walk down the aisle to the center seats. I know what is about to happen. I have been here before, and yet, I am so afraid I am almost soiling myself, soaked in sweat, and the explosives in my bomb belt weigh on me like lead ingots. I look only at the floor in front of me, so the others cannot see my fear, but I know they can smell it.

The prayers my leaders taught me echo in my mind, but the words do not calm my soul. They mock me. I feel a guilty anger toward those “leaders.” If my mission is so sacred, why have they not come along with me? Why is this mission worth my life, but not theirs? I push aside unfaithful thoughts, and try to imagine Paradise.

In the center of the bus, I reach under my jacket for the switch that will detonate blocks of plastic explosive with screws and wire wrapped around them. My prayers are a furious torrent of empty words. As my thumb presses on the button, I glance at last around me, seeing the other passengers for the first time. They are supposed to be “pigs and monkeys,” but they could be my family, my neighbors.

There is a flash too bright to see, a sound too loud to hear. I am instantly dead, but I feel the searing heat, the relentless shock wave, and red-hot metal penetrating the flesh of others, as if their flesh were mine. I hear screams of pain, the screech of metal, and, too late, I understand: their flesh is mine. I am a zealot and a fool, and I have thrown the gift of my life back into the Creator’s face. Others die with me for my stupidity and arrogance.

The gullible child within me wonders: will I know when I have reached Paradise?

The day is hot and dusty, and the bus engine moans like a dying giant, as I walk down the aisle to the center seats. I know what is about to happen. I have been here before, and yet, I am so afraid I am almost soiling myself, soaked in sweat…