Three Christian girls beheaded in Indonesia

Qur’an 5:51 "Believers, take not Jews and Christians for your friends. They are but friends and protectors to each other."

Poso, Indonesia (JihadWatch) -- Three girls have been beheaded and another badly injured as they walked to a Christian school in Indonesia.

They were walking through a cocoa plantation near the city of Poso in central Sulawesi province when they were attacked.

This is an area that has a long history of religious violence between Muslims and Christians....

Police say the heads were found some distance from the bodies.

It is unclear what was behind the attack, but the girls attended a private Christian school and one of the heads was left outside a church leading to speculation that it might have had a religious motive.

Read it all.

Ahmadinejad says Israel should be "wiped off the map".

More from the followers of that wonderful religion of peace. And the non-Muslim world is suppose to believe Iran wants nuclear power plants only to produce energy and not nuclear weapons???

(Newsroom 2005) -- Iranian President Mahmoud Ahmadinejad said on Wednesday that Israel should be "wiped off the map".

The Islamic Republic officially refuses to recognise Israel's right to exist.

The official IRNA news agency reported that President Ahmadinejad told a conference called "The World without Zionism" that "Israel must be wiped off the map".

The conference was attended by 3,000 students who chanted "Death to Israel" and "Death to America".

President Ahmadinejad, a former member of the hardline Revolutionary Guards and traditional religious conservative, said there could be no let-up in hostility to Israel.

He said: "The Islamic world will not let its historic enemy live in its heartland".

Imagine You're a Woman

Saudi author Badriyya Al-Bishr, a lecturer in social sciences at King Saud University, recently published an article titled "Imagine You're a Woman" in the London Arabic-language daily Al-Sharq Al-Awsat.

(MEMRI) --
The following are excerpts from her article: [1]

"Imagine you're a woman. When your brother is born, people say: 'It's a boy, how wonderful,' and when you are born they say: 'How wonderful, it's a little girl' – using the diminutive form. [2] Your arrival is welcome if [you are] the first or second girl, but it's best if there are no more than two, so that nothing undesirable happens to the mother. On the other hand, your brothers' arrivals are welcomed – the more the merrier.

"Imagine you're a woman. You always need your guardian's approval, not only regarding your first marriage, as maintained by the Islamic legal scholars, but regarding each and every matter. You cannot study without your guardian's approval, even if you reach a doctorate level. You cannot get a job and earn a living without your guardian's approval. Moreover, there are people who are not ashamed to say that a woman must have permission to work even in the private sector.

"Imagine you're a woman, and the guardian who must accompany you wherever [you go] is your 15-year-old son or your brother, who scratches his chin before giving his approval, saying: 'What do you think, guys, should I give her my permission?' Sometimes he asks for... a bribe [in return], heaven forbid! [But] your brother avoids taking such a bribe in 'cash' because his self-respect prevents him from touching a woman's money. So he prefers the bribe to be a car, a fridge, or an assurance of money that you will pay in installments [for him], until Allah gets him out of his financial straits...

"Imagine you're a woman, and you are subject to assault, beatings, or murder. When the press publishes your photo [together with] the photo of the criminals and [descriptions] of their brutality, there are people who ask: 'Was the victim covered [by a veil] or not?' If she was covered up, [the question arises:] 'Who let her go out of the house at such an hour?' In the event that your husband is the one who broke your ribs, [people will say] that no doubt there was good reason for it.

"Imagine you're a woman whose husband breaks her nose, arm, or leg, and you go to the Qadi to lodge a complaint. When the Qadi asks you about your complaint, and you say, 'He beat me,' he responds reproachfully 'That's all?!' In other words, [for the Qadi], beating is a technical situation that exists among all couples and lovers, [as the saying goes]: 'Beating the beloved is like eating raisins.'

"Imagine you're a woman, and in order to manage your affairs you must ride in a 'limousine' with an Indian or Sri Lankan driver... or that you [must] wait for a younger brother to take you to work, or that you [must] bring a man who will learn to drive in your car, and will practice at your expense... because you yourself are not permitted to drive.

"Imagine you're a woman in the 21st century, and you see fatwas [issued] by some contemporary experts in Islamic law dealing with the rules regarding taking the women of the enemy prisoner and having sexual intercourse with them. Moreover, you find someone issuing a fatwa about the rules of taking the women of the enemy prisoner even in times of peace, and you don't know to which enemy women it refers.

"Imagine you're a woman who writes in a newspaper, and every time you write about your [women's] concerns, problems, poverty, unemployment, and legal status, they say about you: 'Never mind her, it's all women's talk.'"

[1] Al-Sharq Al-Awsat (London), October 9, 2005.

[2] The expression 'How wonderful' is used here to translate the Arabic phrase ma sha'a 'llah (literally, "that which Allah wills"), which is used to express joy and gratitude and to ward off the evil eye, but is also used ironically.

This War Sucks: Guest Commentary by Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi

What's crackalackin', y'all? I know it's been long-time-no-post, but I gotta tell you it's a little hard to keep up with the blogging when you're getting a daily enema from infidel Tomahawks. I knew that war is supposed to be hell, but dude -- this one is starting to totally fucking suck. Bigtime.

Case in point: after taking in the nards in Tel Afar last week, let's just say the martyr recruiting has gone a little slow. And speaking of 'a little slow,' can we talk about this latest busload of asswipes from Damascus? Jeez, I thought the Saudis were stupid, but these Syrians take the fucking baclava. Send one of these choads on a simple martydom operation against a Bagdhad collaborator elementary school, and they're like, "Durrrr, a thousand pardons effendi, I got lost! Doyyyy, can I have a martyrdom car with OnStar?" Then you end up having to print out MapQuest directions for them, which totally chews up printer cartridges, and they end up smeared along some desert freeway because they mistook the detonator button for cruise control.

Just between us, it was almost a relief when Team Satan and their Iraqi puppets greased a couple hundred of my lovable losers last week. 'Thinning the herd,' if you know what I mean, and I suppose it probably raised our average insurgent IQ ten points. To 67, maybe. Still, word-of-mouth about this kind of missile strike crap gets around, and it has really screwed our recruiting. Even with the dipshit teenage mosque-rats in Damascus and Riyadh. It's gotten so bad, in fact, that we had to open up a recruiting office in France. I shit you not: reduced to recruiting Le. fucking. Fron-say.

Go ahead and laugh, sunshine. Yeah, it's humiliating, but these French dudes are actually kinda gung-ho. Until they get here and crap their pantalons after they realize that Le Monde might have exaggerated our success just a tad.

So anyway, I'm dealing with this garbage yesterday, in the middle of a meeting with my French ad agency, when Achmed comes in and he's like, "come effendi! Allah be praised! The infidels are marching against the Satan Bush on the C-SPAN2!"

So I'm like, cool, gather up the boys and throw some Pop Secret in the microwave, this ought to be a morale booster. Allah knows we need one. Then everybody gathers around the TV, and they're all like ululating and shooting off the AKs, when C-SPAN2 breaks out of Booknotes for live coverage of the big insurgent offensive.

Holy. Fucking. Dung.

Have you every been at Friday prayers when somebody just totally rips a gigantic falafel gasbomb while the Imam is cursing the crusaders and Jews? That's what it was like around the TV -- total dead silence. And with every shot of another placard-waving elderly hippie moron, every pachouli drum circle, possibly even more silence. Then, when the speakers started up, so did the uncomfortable buzz.

"Where are their weapons, effendi?"

"Well, ya see, um, they are using their um, voices as weapons, um, against empire and occupation, and..."

"It seems they will need much training for the street battles, effendi. Many are appear weak or fat or old."

"Well, see, er, they are basically offering more of a, uh, moral support, and..."

"Will they be conducting martrydom operations soon?"

"Okay, well, not exactly, but..."

"But... are these what the virgins in paradise will look like, effendi?"

Shit. I don't think I'll ever forget the look of horror in that poor Jordanian kid's eyes when the camera panned across that fugly forest of hairy vegan Heathers and uberbutch Andrea Dworkin manatees. And can you blame the poor trembling kid? Holy fargin' Prophet, sometimes I swear the only thing that keeps me motivated is knowing that a restored Caliphate means these hippie bowsers are gonna have their mugs and their bankles safely shielded under a burqqa.

By then the damage was done. I must have spent fifteen minutes trying to calm the boys down, promising them that Paradise is not gonna be a menage-a-72 with a bunch of Unitarian NPR grannies. Luckily, the camera panned to some guy in who was wearing a dynamite belt, which kinda cheered them up momentarily. At that point I didn't have the heart to tell them it was probably fake.

Where was I? Anyhoo, sorry to be such a buzzkill, but what exactly did I do to deserve all this shit? I mean, Zarkman does his five-a-day. Zarkman volunteers at the madrassa. Whenever there's a village homo who needs stoning, Zarkman brings his A-game high heat. And what thanks does Zarkman get? A goddamned infidel peanut gallery of hashpipe trustafarians and skanky Code Pink insugent groupies too unsightly for Sig Eps Pig Night, that's what. That, plus a smoldering "safehouse" full of Syrian martyr-tards whose families all expect one of my famous personalized thank-you notes:

"Dear Mr. and Mrs. _AL-DURRA____:

Please find enclosed a Ziploc containing the remains of your martyr _TARIQ____. Though he is now frollicking in Paradise, his comrades and I will always remember him for his ___POKEMON COLLECTION____. Thanks to his holy sacrifice, we are one step closer to __EXTERMINATING THE JEWS___.

Yours in Sharia,

Abu Musab Al-Zarqawi

Okay, I know, form letters are cold. But shit, you try writing 300 of these things a week while trying to stay ahead of the crusader missiles. And while I'm mentioning it, these letters are another damn drain on the printer cartridge budget.

Arrrrggghhh. Good Allah, I really need a good long vacation.

Listen man, I seriously gotta book. Achmed says Team Satan is headed this way, and I'm still walking funny from their last laser-guided high colonic. Stay golden, and if you're one of those college fuckwits that was screaming "End The Occupation" yesterday in DC: cracka, please. Allah knows I've got enough crusader problems as it is, and that kinda shit only encourages them.

You really want to end the infidel occupation? Put down the ANSWER picket sign and book a group tour to Damascus. Flights leave daily, and Delta is Ready When You Are, Moby. We may be running short of martyrs, but we'll make sure to have an eastbound bus waiting for you at the airport. And while you're at it, bring along some of that primo chronic you're always bragging about.

And, oh yeah, some Canon BC-6100 printer cartridges.