I first got myself locked up for shoplifting when I was thirteen years old . Then as the years went by I added grand larceny, burglary, simple assault, and then later, arson. But that arson charge was crap! I just happened to be in the apartment when it got set on fire, and as fate would have it, I just happened to know the cat that set it on fire. I'd barely got out the door when they pinched me. They figured it had to be me when they took a look at my priors; so, they convicted me of something I didn't even do. I reckon it all evened out though. I did a lot of other things that I never got caught for. I suppose I had it coming. So I did a stint in the joint...and that's where I learned about the jihad.
I'd been locked up for about three weeks when I met Calvin Jones, aka, Akmed Madullah. Akmed kind of took me under wing, seeing that I'm biracial and that all the skin heads stayed on my ass so much. Before I got locked up I'd never had any problems with the white boys. In fact, some of my biggest scores as a thief came with a guy named Bubba Holliday from a place called Possum Kingdom, South Carolina. But in the hoosegow it was different. They didn't take to my Afro-Asian appearance as well as they did on the outside, so I ended up hanging with Akmed, Mohmmad, Tariq and the boys just to keep my ass out of a sling. And it worked.
Akmed presented me with my first Koran 4 months to the day that I started my 10 year sentence. Before long I was getting instructed daily on infidel hating and Christian bashing. Well, needless to say I was not prepared for the Prophet's teaching, so I just gave lip service in order to keep Akmed happy and to preserve my protection from the crazy white men. But before long, the boys started requiring that I chime in when the berating of the Great Satan began. Again, I faked my way through for the aforementioned reasons. I got pretty good at screeching out Allahu Akbar! I warmed up to the role eventually and started rolling out what I considered to be some damn fine anti American tirades. "Death to the dogs of decadence and impurity! May the breath of Allah forever devour their lands and slaughter their women and children"! Akmed beamed with pride when he heard my screeds. I noticed that the boys really got worked up when you threw in some "kill their women and children" stuff; so, when it was my turn to rant, I incorporated a fair amount of that kind of thing into my performance. It was about that time that Akmed told me that he had a mission for me on the outside. 3 and 1/2 years had sped by and I was up for parole.
It seems the boys had gotten hooked up with some real Muslims on the outside and they had promised them that a recruit from within would carry out a mission in Washington DC once he got sprung. Well, it wasn't going to be Akmed, Mohammad, Tariq or any of the other boys in the Muslim brotherhood, because all of them were in for life without parole. That pretty much left me as the mission boy. I must say that when Akmed gave me the details about the mission, I immediately began having reservations. The plan, if that is what you can call this turkey, was for me to put on a dynamite ladened vest, waltz into a shopping mall, and blow myself to smithereens. It dawned on me then that just maybe these guys were taking this whole jihad thing a little too far. I mean, I tried to sympathize with their inner demons, but in reality I never really caught on with the whole scene. As I said, I went along just to survive the joint, but truth be known, all that death to America chatter didn't make a lot of sense to me. Hell, I was born in the Florida panhandle, I like beer, movies, cigarettes and blonds. And I never told the boys, but more than once I talked to Jesus when the chips were down. His salvation plan sounded a whole lot better to me than blowing myself up in Macy's.
The real trick was to shake the guy who picked me up the day I was released. I thought about tipping off the cops, but I put the kibosh on that idea. I figured, the recidivism rate being what it is, I'd likely get caught doing something stupid, sent back to the clink, and right into the arms of the jailhouse jihadis that I ratted out on the way out the door. So, I decided to keep mum and give my escort the slip once I was free. And that's what I did, but it wasn't easy getting away from my handler, a guy name Sahib. He checked us into a Red Roof Inn where he showed me the vest and drilled me on what to do once I got to the mall. He told me that he would be nearby and that he, or someone, would kill me if I attempted to chicken out. So, after the evening prayer, and some particularly rancid Chinese food, Sahib went to the toilet...and I bolted with his Glock, a box of condoms and a quart of whiskey he had stashed in his backpack. I dyed my hair blond (Like I said I like blonds), shaved my beard and headed for South America. I've been on the lamb now for three months.
I have to say, one lonely night back in the joint with Akmed, I really started thinking about those 72 virgins I'd cash in on once I did my thing in the mall, and it began to sound pretty good. But I snapped out of it. With my luck I'd get to heaven and find out that it wasn't 72 virgins, but 72 Virginians, and instead of lolling around with curvaceous Islamic beauties, I'd spend eternity getting my ass whipped by George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Tyler...
So I came to my senses...and God bless America! I hope to come back some day if the heat dies down.
I'd been locked up for about three weeks when I met Calvin Jones, aka, Akmed Madullah. Akmed kind of took me under wing, seeing that I'm biracial and that all the skin heads stayed on my ass so much. Before I got locked up I'd never had any problems with the white boys. In fact, some of my biggest scores as a thief came with a guy named Bubba Holliday from a place called Possum Kingdom, South Carolina. But in the hoosegow it was different. They didn't take to my Afro-Asian appearance as well as they did on the outside, so I ended up hanging with Akmed, Mohmmad, Tariq and the boys just to keep my ass out of a sling. And it worked.
Akmed presented me with my first Koran 4 months to the day that I started my 10 year sentence. Before long I was getting instructed daily on infidel hating and Christian bashing. Well, needless to say I was not prepared for the Prophet's teaching, so I just gave lip service in order to keep Akmed happy and to preserve my protection from the crazy white men. But before long, the boys started requiring that I chime in when the berating of the Great Satan began. Again, I faked my way through for the aforementioned reasons. I got pretty good at screeching out Allahu Akbar! I warmed up to the role eventually and started rolling out what I considered to be some damn fine anti American tirades. "Death to the dogs of decadence and impurity! May the breath of Allah forever devour their lands and slaughter their women and children"! Akmed beamed with pride when he heard my screeds. I noticed that the boys really got worked up when you threw in some "kill their women and children" stuff; so, when it was my turn to rant, I incorporated a fair amount of that kind of thing into my performance. It was about that time that Akmed told me that he had a mission for me on the outside. 3 and 1/2 years had sped by and I was up for parole.
It seems the boys had gotten hooked up with some real Muslims on the outside and they had promised them that a recruit from within would carry out a mission in Washington DC once he got sprung. Well, it wasn't going to be Akmed, Mohammad, Tariq or any of the other boys in the Muslim brotherhood, because all of them were in for life without parole. That pretty much left me as the mission boy. I must say that when Akmed gave me the details about the mission, I immediately began having reservations. The plan, if that is what you can call this turkey, was for me to put on a dynamite ladened vest, waltz into a shopping mall, and blow myself to smithereens. It dawned on me then that just maybe these guys were taking this whole jihad thing a little too far. I mean, I tried to sympathize with their inner demons, but in reality I never really caught on with the whole scene. As I said, I went along just to survive the joint, but truth be known, all that death to America chatter didn't make a lot of sense to me. Hell, I was born in the Florida panhandle, I like beer, movies, cigarettes and blonds. And I never told the boys, but more than once I talked to Jesus when the chips were down. His salvation plan sounded a whole lot better to me than blowing myself up in Macy's.
The real trick was to shake the guy who picked me up the day I was released. I thought about tipping off the cops, but I put the kibosh on that idea. I figured, the recidivism rate being what it is, I'd likely get caught doing something stupid, sent back to the clink, and right into the arms of the jailhouse jihadis that I ratted out on the way out the door. So, I decided to keep mum and give my escort the slip once I was free. And that's what I did, but it wasn't easy getting away from my handler, a guy name Sahib. He checked us into a Red Roof Inn where he showed me the vest and drilled me on what to do once I got to the mall. He told me that he would be nearby and that he, or someone, would kill me if I attempted to chicken out. So, after the evening prayer, and some particularly rancid Chinese food, Sahib went to the toilet...and I bolted with his Glock, a box of condoms and a quart of whiskey he had stashed in his backpack. I dyed my hair blond (Like I said I like blonds), shaved my beard and headed for South America. I've been on the lamb now for three months.
I have to say, one lonely night back in the joint with Akmed, I really started thinking about those 72 virgins I'd cash in on once I did my thing in the mall, and it began to sound pretty good. But I snapped out of it. With my luck I'd get to heaven and find out that it wasn't 72 virgins, but 72 Virginians, and instead of lolling around with curvaceous Islamic beauties, I'd spend eternity getting my ass whipped by George Washington, Thomas Jefferson, James Madison, James Tyler...
So I came to my senses...and God bless America! I hope to come back some day if the heat dies down.
Interesting post. Sad thing is that this is the exception to the usual tale.
ReplyDeletevery interesting! As Chuck says, I think it's an exception, but WE CAN DREAM, right? (I like the Scripture above it, too, except it scares the @()$& out of me!)
ReplyDeleteBy the way, I read the last name here as "James TAYLOR" and wondered.."WHAT?" (heh!) xx
No doubt, the prisons are a breeding ground for Islamic extremeism and my off the wall scenario here is NOT representative of what usually occurs. I was simply poking a little fun at the process. Perhaps I should have titled it "A scene we'd like to see inside a US prison, but likely never will". In any event, I prefer ridicule when it comes to writing about radical Islam. Reality is too sad and disgusting.
ReplyDeleteAs an aside: I noticed that my post included links that I didn't make. Has anyone encountered this before? Very strange. I'm sure it's probably something I did, but I'm not sure what it is.
ReplyDeleteThe Venerable Father Solanus Casey, late of the Detroit Franciscans, once said (late in life), "If only I could live long enough to witness the conversion of the whole world!" He was talking about Christianity, though.
ReplyDeleteThe whole world would be nice, but I'd settle for the US prison population and the formerly devout Canadian province of Quebec.
I'm with Father Solanus.
ReplyDeleteI don't think most Americans understand the ramifications of Islaminization. And, as you point out, it's already at the border. As for the prisons...damn.
When the last free man leaves western civilization, he doesn't have to worry about turning out the lights. Mohammad will have already fipped the switch
Let us hope that many will come out of the darkness of Islam, but I suspect the sword of Islam will do much more before we get to the last page.
ReplyDeleteKeep pressing on in grace and truth!
that's the second time I've heard of Father Solanus Casey in one month. Never heard of him before..
ReplyDeletehe always seems to get it right.
The problem in Quebec (so far) is not Islamization, but simply liberal secularization taken to a degree one would otherwise believe not possible.
ReplyDeleteIslamization is a possibility, though, because religion, like nature, abhors a vacuum.
Thanks Bryan, we're pressing!
ReplyDeleteZ, ECI is a veritable fount of information : )
ECI: Good point. As Steyn said in America Alone:
ReplyDeleteIf America won't export it's values - self reliance, decentralization - others will export theirs.
One of the nastier tools of liberalism is multiculturalism; and radical Islam is using that tool all over the world to "export" their control.
Have you ever considered a novel Larry? Some one asked me once if I'd ever considered writing a book. I asked them if they'd ever read my blog. I think you have the talent, a talent I envy by the way. I found myself initially wondering if you'd spent time of the river in your previous life.
ReplyDeleteWatching the dizzying pace of our current collapse with the national debate menu looking more like a Friday night Golden Corral spread, I'm pessimistic about Steyn's America answering her call. Taking in the news is feeling more and more like a spectator in a life long slow motion train wreck that is becoming less and less slow motion as it progresses.
You hiding Marc Sanford? (smile)
ReplyDeleteWow Dan, I appreciate your comments, but with my short attention span I'm afraid fractured, incomplete blog posts might be as good as it gets for me. : ) And I concurr regarding America's dwindling will to stand up. God help us all. As for a novel...I think you've got the "right stuff".
ReplyDeleteZ: Is the Sanford story strange or what? As I've commented at your fantastic blog, I just don't see Sanford as presidential material as some around the nation do. But if it came down to him vs. Barry...well that's a no brainer. Hell, I voted for John McCain!
"Hell I voted for McCain" Hell, I did too. And to think we could have not, with no difference in outcome, and still lived with ourselves.
ReplyDeleteHell, I'm even wondering if McCain voted for McCain, given... you know... his VP and all.
ReplyDeleteYes, I would have liked to have peaked over Johnny Macs shoulder in the voting pod.
ReplyDelete