It is a month to bring peace and joy for all men through the world.
Except Jews, Christians, Apostates, Heretics and other non-Islamist males.
Women? Don’t be foolish.
more mayhem peace and joy to all the Earth as Barack Humble Obama, now universally proclaimed and revered as Santa Mañana, initiated White House ceremonies celebrating the Holy Month of Ramadan. He made only brief remarks including the request, implicit but clear, that we believe whatsoever he sayeth just as would the smallest and most innocent of the children of whom he is so very fond.
For the world’s 1.5 billion Muslims, Ramadan is a time for thoughtful reflection, fasting and devotion. It is also an opportunity for family and friends to come together and celebrate the principles that bind people of different faiths – a commitment to peace, justice, equality and compassion towards our fellow human beings. These bonds are far stronger than the differences that too often drive us apart.
This month also reminds us that freedom, dignity and opportunity are the undeniable rights of all mankind. We reflect on these universal values at a time when many citizens across the Middle East and North Africa continue to strive for these basic rights and as millions of refugees mark Ramadan far from their homes. The United States stands with those who are working to build a world where all people can write their own future and practice their faith freely, without fear of violence.
In the United States, Ramadan is a reminder that millions of Muslim Americans enrich our nation each day—serving in our government, leading scientific breakthroughs, generating jobs and caring for our neighbors in need. I have been honored to host an iftar dinner at the White House each of the past four years, and this year I look forward to welcoming Muslim Americans who are contributing to our country as entrepreneurs, activists and artists.
I wish Muslims across America and around the world a month blessed with the joys of family, peace and understanding. Ramadan Kareem.
He then graciously left, mounted His beautiful steed and ascended through the clouds toward His Heavenly Home in the Sky to give His Secretary of State, John Kerry, an uninterrupted chance to officiate as master of ceremonies.
Secretary Kerry delivered a typically masterful address from his modest little yacht docked in Rhode Island.
Fellow patriots, lend me you ears, for I come to praise peace and joy, not to bury them. It is but a small thing that we mere mortals do here today, even as the music of true peace that Santa Mañana has proclaimed for His world now sounds ’round the universe of common understanding and submission.
[Sound track of Wild applause erupting spontaneously]
[Extemporaneous comment] Please, hold your applause until I finish so that I can get back to striving tirelessly aboard my little sailboat to advance the causes that Santa Mañana has in his infinite wisdom decreed. Thank you.
Less than four score and seven years ago, Santa Mañana founded upon this continent a vast new nation conceived in the truth that all men are created equal in the sight of Allah, only a few fortunately much more so than most others. Bringing that divine precept to us, His people, Santa Mañana established His legacy which shall live in our hearts and in history forever. We must ask, not what He can do for us, but what we, insignificant though we surely are, can do for Him and His Holy mission.
The tone for this great holy month of Ramadan will now be sounded for us with a gracious hymn of peace and love brought to us by the lovely
Muslim BrotherhoodArab Spring Chorus.
All is and shall be well, as in Merry Old England and in Europe. Let’s get ready for Christmas with them. Allah is Great!
. . . . . .
The first stanzas of Kipling’s In the Neolithic Age offer the best and the brightest in modern Islamist culture.
IN THE Neolithic Age savage warfare did I wage
For food and fame and woolly horses’ pelt.
I was singer to my clan in that dim, red Dawn of Man,
And I sang of all we fought and feared and felt.
Yea, I sang as now I sing, when the Prehistoric spring
Made the piled Biscayan ice-pack split and shove;
And the troll and gnome and dwerg, and the Gods of Cliff and Berg
Were about me and beneath me and above.
But a rival, of Solutré, told the tribe my style was outré—
‘Neath a tomahawk, of diorite, he fell
And I left my views on Art, barbed and tanged, below the heart
Of a mammothistic etcher at Grenelle.
Then I stripped them, scalp from skull, and my hunting-dogs fed full,
And their teeth I threaded neatly on a thong;
And I wiped my mouth and said, “It is well that they are dead,
For I know my work is right and theirs was wrong.”
Perhaps in another millennium or three they may change for the better, read and understand the remaining stanzas.
But my Totem saw the shame; from his ridgepole-shrine he came,
And he told me in a vision of the night: —
“There are nine and sixty ways of constructing tribal lays,
“And every single one of them is right!”
* * * * * *
Then the silence closed upon me till They put new clothing on me
Of whiter, weaker flesh and bone more frail;
And I stepped beneath Time’s finger, once again a tribal singer,
And a minor poet certified by Traill!
Still they skirmish to and fro, men my messmates on the snow
When we headed off the aurochs turn for turn;
When the rich Allobrogenses never kept amanuenses,
And our only plots were piled in lakes at Berne.
Still a cultured Christian age sees us scuffle, squeak, and rage,
Still we pinch and slap and jabber, scratch and dirk;
Still we let our business slide—as we dropped the half-dressed hide—
To show a fellow-savage how to work.
Still the world is wondrous large,— seven seas from marge to marge —
And it holds a vast of various kinds of man;
And the wildest dreams of Kew are the facts of Khatmandhu
And the crimes of Clapham chaste in Martaban.
Here’s my wisdom for your use, as I learned it when the moose
And the reindeer roamed where Paris roars to-night:—
“There are nine and sixty ways of constructing tribal lays,
Might our Islamist “brothers” eventually approach even that less than totally admirable state? I don’t know and never shall. Perhaps I just included Kipling’s poem as a necessary mental mouthwash or cathartic after President Obama’s Ramadan remarks. Then again, maybe it’s just the product of my demented mind.