Francis Meyrick

Tommy Robinson, a British Patriot

April 5, 2016 in Uncategorized

Tommy Robinson, a British Patriot

I posted this answer to a question on “Quora “, which I have found to be a Left Wing front, with strong Democrat prejudices. As I do not share that persuasion at all, I like to amuse myself in posting answers which are instantly blocked by their moderators.

QUORA QUESTION: WHAT IS YOUR OPINION OF TOMMY ROBINSOM AND HIS ANTI-ISLAM MOVEMENT?

(Note: this answer will be almost instantly removed by Quora for criticizing Islam, reflecting their clear Left Wing appeaser bias and lack of moral courage in allowing free speech.)

Tommy Robinson wrote a book called “Enemy of the State “. I have read it. I regard it as incumbent on anybody who answers this question to read it -first. It is quite obvious that:

The British Police Forces are running scared (terrified) of offending their Muslim community in even the slightest way. Even minor arrests of Muslim youths can instantly result in hundreds of screaming Muslim Radicals baying for blood outside the Police Station. Result? In the interest of “public safety ” or “community relations “, the Muslim offender is released without charge. That’s a nice way of saying: “The cops bottled it “.
Such extreme kid gloves are not applied to the local lads, such as Tommy and the EDL or now, Pegida UK. The treatment of Tommy (read the book, watch the quoted Youtube videos, draw your own conclusions) is barbaric. They cops did everything they could to harass him and his family, break his business, expose him to extreme physical danger, frame him, and have the complicit media paint him and his friends as ‘Far Right’ raving lunatics. Both the cops and the British Media have consistently painted Tommy Robinson in the most unfavorable light possible. They ignored the fact that he clearly surrounded himself with black friends, Hindus, Sikhs and even moderate Muslims. (Yes, there are such people, brave enough to stand up). It beggars belief that Tommy Robinson has been consistently labelled a ‘racist’ when he clearly has been bending over backwards to keep fanatical extremists on both sides of the political spectrum OUT of his movement.
The British Home Secretary and in general, the British politicians, have demonstrated an appalling disregard for the writing on the wall, and there is clear evidence of wildly disparate policing of different communities. Their policy at times resembles a mad rush to facilitate the take-over of British culture by Shariah Law as quickly as possible. Minor little details such as massive evidence of Muslims gangs grooming young white girls on a borderline industrial scale (proven) is ignored. Pesky details such as rampant criminal Muslim gangs (proven) -ignored. Drug dealing from ‘fronts’ such as Muslim shops (proven): swept under the carpet. What is essential ‘ethnic cleansing’ of whole neighborhoods and towns by the Muslims: labelled as “Extreme Right ” Fascism. Peaceful protest marches by EDL, Pegida and others: infiltrated by trouble makers, framed, set up, and laughably mis-reported by the Media and the Police. Vast sums of monies -millions- flowing in from shadowy overseas organisations, to fund ever grander -in your face- Mosques and Prayer houses as symbols of their conquest and unassailable political strength are -incredibly- supported by further lavish tax payer funds. Massive evidence that Muslim immigrants stay overwhelmingly on Welfare, do not contribute meaningfully to the economy, are a drain on the Welfare Budget – white washed. Massive evidence that they will pass off multiple wives as ‘single mothers’ with large families, (each allocated limited supply council homes) is greeted with howls of indignation. Each spineless politician trying to outdo the next in his teeth gnashing fury at Tommy Robinson and co..
The policy of the Government seems to be emulating the ostrich with an energy bordering on the manic. Look the other way, mouth platitudes, and keep trotting out the same failed policies, that amount to bribery of the Muslim invaders. It won’t work. An appeaser, as Winston Churchill famously said, is one who feeds the crocodile, hoping it will eat him last. This is Britain’s 1939, and the new Neville Chamberlains are fearfully trying to sweet talk the new Hitler into peace and eternal friendship. It didn’t work then for Nazism, and it didn’t work today for Radical Islam. Tommy Robinson is a great man, with his failings (which he refreshingly admits) (any man who is free from sin may cast the first stone) who loves his country and the people he grew up with. Yes, the Blacks, Sikhs, Hindus, Jamaicans, etc, he surrounds himself with in public. He wrote a great book, in simple language, with the clear ring of honesty. Before you allow yourself to be misled by the many Media attempts to label this man as an Extreme Right Wing Fruitcake, who deserves all the misery heaped upon him and his family, I suggest you take time out, and read this man’s story. You might just find it to be a page-turner.

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The Mitochondrian Manipulation

March 5, 2016 in Short Stories

The Mitochondrian Manipulation.

“I’m very sorry, Sir”, mumbled Jeremy Thumblewick.
He was a small man in stature, barely four foot three inches tall, and he looked forlorn and beaten. He was now gazing sadly at the floor, and fidgeting in a mighty embarrassment. He couldn’t even bear to look up into the apoplectic face seated above him, glaring down upon him. The cross examination, fierce and incessant, had been going on for half an hour already, and the questions from the three men seated on the Board of Enquiry had been raining down, fast and furious, upon his balding head. The assembled crowd packed the court room tightly, with many more huddled in the corridors outside, alternately sighing in horror, or recoiling in stunned amazement. The beans were being well and truly spilled now, and what an astonishing variety of beans they were proving to be.
“You mean to say, Mister Thumblewick, that you never thought your artificial nuclear mitochondria would lead to such rampant evolutionary changes in the unwitting ecosystem that you so foolishly decided to experiment upon?”
Poor Jeremy tried hard to draw himself up in a picture of irritated intellectual indignation. It didn’t really work, but he tried anyway.
“Sir, my invention was not designed to waste away in a laboratory, after thirty years of incessant labor. The never ending regulatory hoops, checks and trials were threatening to wholly negate the potential benefits and bounty to mankind.”
There was an instant chorus of dissent and outrage. One of the three interrogators, a hawkish looking man with extravagant eyebrows, raised his voice and bellowed:
“So you took it upon yourself without reference to this august college of learning, without even a nod at the Hippocratic oath, without a momentary pause or reflection, you took it upon yourself to expose a select number of diminutive Hottentot gentlemen to your unproven biological modification agent…! How, mister Thumblewick, could you possibly justify such a reckless and unheard of course of action?”
Jeremy, feebly, mumbled:
“Well, I felt a deep empathy for them, Your Honor…”
The hawkish man with the extravagant eyebrows feigned breathlessness, and utter astonishment, and snarled:
“You felt EMPATHY for them… EMPATHY…?”
“Well, yes, Sir”, spoke Thumblewick, trying to strike a note of defiance. He raised his four foot, three inch body as erect as it could go. “I did. After all, they were horribly malnourished, and the lack of calories in their diet was leading to stunted development in their children. It grieved me to see it. I knew my modified mitochondria, because they tapped into nuclear processes rather than chemical, would allow these people to healthily subsist off even very small amounts of nourishment. The energy density of the nuclear processes referred to as L.E.N.R. being many millions of times more dense than any chemical storage, I knew would give these poor people an unlimited amount of much-needed energy. And…”
Another member of the panel, a small rotund gentleman, mopping his forehead with a large white handkerchief, quivering in indignation, interrupted at this point, shouting, wild eyed:
“You had no right! No right, I say. What possible justification can you offer this court for the titanic catastrophe that you have foisted upon the human race?”
Fumblewick, beaten but yet defiant, repeated almost petulantly:
“Well, I felt sorry for them…! I know what it feels like to be bullied all your life, just because you’re a lot smaller than all your peers…!”
Wiping his forehead effusively, the small rotund man now yelled:
“Sorry? Sorry? What has sorry got to do with anything?”
Fumblewick, feeling outraged at this callous statement, protested furiously.
“That all well and easy for you to say, but these people, on account of their small stature, were being terribly bullied by the Zulus. They were being humiliated and teased in public, and I just felt I could fix that…”
The man with the extravagant eyebrows, well aware of all the reporters and high ranking dignitaries in the spell bound audience, chose sarcasm as his next weapon.
“Well, you certainly FIXED it, Mister Fumblewick. Indeed, you most certainly FIXED it.”
Fumblewick protested.
“Well, how was I to know that the body relied upon the limited energy supplies available as a system of checks and balances upon development? The body of evidence within the literature seemed to imply that there was a limit to growth, if the body was supplied with adequate nutrition during development. It hadn’t occurred to anybody within the Scientific Community that there was a fundamental limit imposed by the oxygen glucose energy cycle.”
Extravagant eyebrows, still thinking of his dramatic impact on the hushed audience, now snarled triumphantly:
“And that is the reason for those regulatory hoops, checks and trials, which you so vehemently disparaged not two minutes ago. Explain to his court how we are supposed to deal with rampant, eighteen foot super pygmies, currently conquering the entire southern hemisphere, running riot through traditional Zulu heartlands, not to mention even one opposing, hapless modern army…?”
Fumblewick, wishing fervently he was somewhere else, was forced to reply:
“Well, yes, I did. I thought it was only fair. I did what I thought was the moral thing to do at the time, and nobody can blame me for how it turned out. Perhaps it wasn’t the most cautious thing, but it was the moral thing, and therefore the only choice I could have made and still abide by my sense of fair play. “

A chorus of voices were now shouting all at the same time. Above the hubbub, one voice stood out. It belonged to a smartly dressed man with an air of bafflement about him, who shouted:
“So now we know how the eighteen foot, rampant super pygmies came about, sweeping all before them, dishing out payback on an unprecedented scale, especially to the unfortunate Zulus, but where on earth did they get their fifty foot long, thirty foot tall, raging canine war mounts…?!”
Fumblewick shuffled uneasily.
“Speak, Sir, speak..!”
Fumblewick, sheepish once again, mumbled:
“Well, I thought the pygmies would be upset if they flourished, while their pet dogs kept starving…”
It was the turn of the rotund man, perspiring furiously, and now blinking one eye neurotically, to exclaim:
“And so you decided, while you were at it, to expose their starving dingo dogs to the same mitochondrian biological modification agent… am I correct?”
“Yes,” said Fumblewick, feeling ridiculous.
The baffled man now waved some photographs in the air.
“And the fact that a cruise liner was recently casually bowled over, and half the passengers got devoured by a vast armada of hundred and fifty foot ravenous crocodiles, can you explain that, Mister Fumblewick?”
“Yes”, said Fumblewick. “After I injected some of the dogs, two ran down to the river, and tried to escape. I guessed they didn’t like my syringe needles very much. Well, they got ambushed and eaten by a pair of alligators. These alligators then seem to have become river super studs, with unlimited sexual urges, impregnating every female crocodile up and down the river. And even a couple of very perplexed hippopotamuses. This orgasm of…”
The noise in the court room now reached a crescendo. Everybody was talking at once.
“Mister Fumblewick! Mister Fumblewick!”
Breaking all protocol, a member in the audience was now speaking rapidly, with an imploring expression.
“Mister Fumblewick, can you explain the three hundred thousand strong crowd protesting outside the White House, insisting we hand over power to the Pygmies?”
“Well”, mumbled Fumblewick, “It seems that my mitochondrial modification agent didn’t just provide unlimited energy, it also seems to have boosted their intellect and academic brilliance to far beyond genius level. I would estimate triple genius level, actually. Having virtually taken over Facebook and all social media, their all conquering, military brilliance and dynamic rhetoric is such that many people seem to really like the idea of being governed by such strong beings, even if they do tend to run around on super dingoes, wearing only a loin cloth, and a bone stuck through their nostrils. It is my understanding that women especially are drawn to the raw masculinity and…”
There was chaos in the room. Everybody was talking at the same time. All of a sudden, the roar of jet engines could be heard in the distance. The wail of air raid sirens now started winding up. Everybody looked horrified. A side door burst open, and a white faced usher rushed in.
“We’re under attack! We’re under attack! They’re saying on the radio that a new type of fighter is overwhelming our defenses, and they are being flown by super intelligent shrimps!”
Everybody panicked. People started to flee outside.
Fumblewick, thoughtfully, raised his finger.
“I think I can maybe explain that”, he said thoughtfully.
“The super crocodiles would have been defecating in truly massive quantities, especially after all those well fed passengers, which would have slowly been dissolving into minute particles. The shrimps, in turn, would…”
But nobody was listening anymore. Bodies were being trampled in the rush to the exit, and screams and wails of anguish mixed it with the ever increasing volume of noise from the attacking jet fighters.
Fumblewick sighed, and leaned back in his chair. Then he pulled a small brown pouch from his jacket pocket. He looked at it thoughtfully for a whole minute, sighed, and withdrew a shiny syringe.
Holding it up to the light, he mumbled to himself:
“Well, I messed it all up, maybe I can fix it. But I’ll need all the brain power I can muster…”
With that thought he plunged the syringe into his leg, wincing momentarily.
Then he sighed, philosophically, knowing that the mitochondrial biological modification agent would even now be reaching his brain.
With luck, he would figure out the answer to their conundrum.
He shut his eyes, and methodically imagined giant fan-driven mountains of Tartar Sauce rearing up and overwhelming speedy prawns travelling at over the speed of sound.

Yes, it really was quite interesting what you could achieve with nuclear powered mitochondria…

Francis Meyrick

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on March 5, 2016, 10:47 am

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Open Discussion Question/Issue 1-2

February 22, 2016 in Other Authors

Open discussion

Question/Issue 1-2

“Are we opposing ALL Muslims or are we only opposing Fundamental Muslims” 2/21/2016 Question/issue posed by a supporter on FB “Pegida (UK) ”

The following exchange recently took place on the ‘Pegida’ Facebook page. It’s a fundamental issue, and it needs to be patiently addressed, and worked through.

Brett Cool it is not helpful to keep saying that they are not against muslims just Islam — without muslims there would be no Islam . one can not exist without the other !!

Julia Southam to put simply then they are against the ideology if Islam NOT the people themselves without Islam there would be No Muslims

Colin Stubbs Fact is you can’t “get rid ” of Muslims, it’s the ones who want to exploit the extremes of their faith that are the problem.all Muslims need to acknowledge that parts of the Koran have no place in western (modern ) society.were all going to have to work together to sort it out.

Julia Southam those that want out of Islam need support

Brett Cool we can support them to get out of our country — we were never even asked if we would consent to this vile religion being allowed in the UK! we were never asked to agree that millions of muslims can live in the uk ! THESE THINGS WERE IMPOSED ON US !!
we need democracy back — referendum now – ban Islam ! And encourage the muslims to leave by stopping all social security and housing benefits — banning them from political appointments – and so on – these are the real policies we need — All the rest is dancing round the edges and will not give us what we want — an end to islam and , safety for our children from muslim rape gangs- and security for us all from terror plots !

Francis Meyrick @ Brett Cool. Okay, you touched on a fundamental point, we are gonna have to hash out. The term “Muslim ” is very all encompassing. What does it mean? Well, if you rant against “ALL Muslims ” you alienate many people who do NOT even remotely share the radical off-with-their-head Islam-will-rule and Muhammad-was-the-perfect-man full on raw manure. They just have to trace origins and family to kinda, sorta, Muslim origins. That’s why I clearly and loudly propose to be super cautious to condemn “ALL Muslims “. FUndamental, FUzzy beard, 7th century primtives I call FUZLIMS. I believe that many kinda, sorta, “Muslims ” are most uncomfortable with radical-screamer-islam, and could be enlisted to help in exposing (and fighting) the NAZI types who use their ‘religion’ as a disguised battle cry and as football team colors. Provided, you don’t make THEM feel threatened. That’s how I see it. Does that make sense? The similarity between Nazi-ism and Fuzlim-ism is striking. Remember the pageantry when they burned that Jordanian pilot to death? How many non-Fuzlim Muslims were just as SICKENED by that as we were? The cage and the banners, the music and the pomp?

Francis Meyrick @Julia Southam I agree, and a lot of young people ARE out of Islam, and just want to enjoy life and be happy. I see no sense in alienating them by fulminating against “All Muslims “.

Brett Cool are you trying to say that not all muslims have Mohammed as their prophet and therefore are against his actions ?? that is a non-starter just like saying Christians do not have Jesus as the founder of Christianity ! i do not care which muslims think this that or the other — I Do think our own people come first — why should we DIE so that they can be here ! NO !

Colin Stubbs Brett,the world is not black and white,,theres a lot of gray there will be muslims who wang to keep there faith but also disagree with some of islams barbaric teachings,i believe they should or could do more to distance themselves from that part of it, BUT you just cant tar them all with that brush,many muslims have been here decades their lives are here and contribute to modern britain.we need to work together its never going to be just us and them,thats the truth of lt mate.

Brett Cool Colin Stubbs i think you need to re-think your ideas.—–
all Muslims have Mohammed as their prophet , their role model , their perfect person .. ALL Muslims !!
ALL Muslims have a man who was a child rapist and mass murderer as their role model and perfect person !!

Let me know when the Muslims say, ” MOHAMMED WAS AN EVIL MAN. “

++++++++++++

Okay, so here is an issue we have to face. In the ‘moderate’ ‘Dove’ Pegida ranks we have people like Colin Stubbs, Julie Southam and others, and at the other end we have this line of reasoning, the hard-liners ‘Hawks’, well expressed by Brett Cool.
I seem to see the same policy differences emerging in Germany’s Pegida Movement. So how to moderate this discussion?

1) First off, in any political movement, there is room for differences. Many organizations have both ‘Doves’ and ‘Hawks’ under the same umbrella. Sometimes they get along better than at other times, or concerning other issues. So I would see this as a fundamental issue, but not a ‘split’ issue. Both sides hopefully can still march together, while respecting one another’s differences. Ongoing discussion is good.

2) Brett Cool’s statement. I quote it below:

Brett Cool are you trying to say that not all muslims have Mohammed as their prophet and therefore are against his actions ?? that is a non-starter just like saying Christians do not have Jesus as the founder of Christianity ! i do not care which muslims think this that or the other — I Do think our own people come first — why should we DIE so that they can be here ! NO !

He expresses himself clearly here. But hold on a second? Are we seriously going to define ‘Muslims’ as ALL acknowledging 7th century Mohammed as the “perfect Man” whose wonderful example on how to treat women, children, non-believers and booty, not to mention his chummy relationship with arch angels and God/Allah, has to be the only guide on how to live in the 21st century? If you define ‘Muslim’ in that narrow sense, then you have to reciprocate and define ALL Christians as believing implicitly that:

1) Jesus Christ was the Son of God,
2) who died,
3) to atone/make up for our sins
4) was buried,
5) and resurrected on the third day.
6) And that the ONLY way to ‘Salvation’ is ‘through Jesus’,
7) and that everybody else is flat out wrong, ‘doomed’ and going to ‘hell’.
8) And that these facts should loom large in your thinking and actions every day.

Is that the case?
Or would it be perhaps more truthful to say that the word ‘Christian’ undoubtedly DOES mean that to many hundreds of millions of believers, but that to many more, it is a much more vague term. That kinda/sorta descend from a Christian tradition, maybe very religious grandparents and/or parents, but who have softened that traditional fundamental Christian stand? A little bit or a big bit?
I’m ah-thinking so. In the recent Civil War in Northern Ireland, both sides were nominally ‘Christian’ (Catholics versus Protestants), but what percentage of the involved parties would unhesitatingly agree and endorse all eight points above? Nowhere near 100%. Probably less than 50%. Maybe a lot less than that. There is a strong element of ‘tradition’ that people follow. The faith and ceremony and rituals of their forefathers. But the present generation, although it includes many hundreds of millions of fundamentalists, also includes at least the same number (or more) of people who have softened their attitudes. I’m not expressing judgement here, whether they are right or wrong, just pointing out what I believe to be a fact.

You can probably see where I am going with this. What’s good for the Goose, is good for the Gander. If you want to throw out/eject ‘all Muslims’ and ban them from political office, etc, then you will be targeting a huge group of folk who truthfully shudder as much as we do when it comes to screaming Islamic fundamentalism. Check out the continuing targeted assassinations in Bangladesh, against free thinking bloggers. People like Avijit Roy and Niloy Neel. Hacked to death. Gruesome stuff.
I Googled “assassination of bloggers in the Muslim World”
Here are some links to articles, whose headlines alone speak volumes:

Bangladesh blogger Niloy Neel hacked to death in Dhaka

The Hit List – The New Yorker

Fourth Secular Bangladesh blogger hacked to Death

Bangladesh blogger killed by machete gang had asked for police protection

Netizen report: Are blogger assassinations becoming routine in Bangladesh?

There are many gentle people of that mellow, free-thinking persuasion in Britain today. They just want to get on, and live their lives in peace. Do you want to label them all as ‘Muslim’ and seek to eject them all? In truth, hate screaming Muslim extremist hardliners are a source of embarrassment (not to mention understandable fear) to many of these moderate ‘Muslims’ or ‘former Muslims’ or even ‘reformer Muslims’. The last thing they want is to get caught up in a non-discerning and sweeping anti-Islam rage in Western Europe.
To alienate everybody who ‘looks Muslim’ is to drive many potential allies straight into the arms of the delighted, grinning Fundamentalist ‘Fuzlims’. And they DO believe in all the good (and bloody) stuff.
For a longer look at “Islamic Fundamentalism”, here is a link to an in depth article in Wikipedia. Despite the massively funded window dressing (still) about “Islam is a religion of peace” (backed by all sorts of emotional movie stars and assorted gushing glitterati) and despite the huge investment of money, time and energy into presenting the opponents of Islam as mindless, classless “Islamophobes”, the continuing actions of the fundamentalist Islamic hardliners (and there’s a lot of them) give huge cause for concern. Rabid intolerance and a declared end goal of introducing Shariah Law in every country in Western Europe, by force if necessary, is a likely recipe for disaster. And tragedy.

So in conclusion, I would suggest for consideration that there is much truth in this post above:

Colin Stubbs Brett,the world is not black and white,,theres a lot of gray there will be muslims who want to keep there faith but also disagree with some of islams barbaric teachings,i believe they should or could do more to distance themselves from that part of it, BUT you just can’t tar them all with that brush,many muslims have been here decades their lives are here and contribute to modern britain.we need to work together its never going to be just us and them,thats the truth of lt mate.

How all this will work out… if I knew that, with certainty, I’d be a modern day Nostradamus. I don’t know. I have a suspicion what will happen in the next two decades, and it’s scary, but that’s another discussion.
For now, I would just respectfully add to the discussion a sincere caution to ‘tar them all with the same brush’.

It seems counter intuitive, and counter productive, to drive mellow ‘Modernists’ from Islamic descent straight BACK into the arms of the grinning, raging Fundamentalist ‘Fruit Cake’ ‘Fuzlims’. Some of whom are stockpiling weapons in Europe (e.g. Molenbeek, Brussels) and planning (and promising) the all conquering, New Pan European Caliphate.

To pretend that isn’t happening is truly worthy of the ostrich, and the Dodo.

I hope… saner, more rational minds will prevail. But I’m sorry to say I think it will come to a nasty fight at some stage.

‘Peace’ Speaking

Francis Meyrick

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Last edited by Francis Meyrick on February 22, 2016, 8:20 am

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The Good Ship ‘Pegida’

February 21, 2016 in Other Authors

The Good Ship ‘Pegida’

Seeking wisdom and enlightenment, I wandered the hills and mountains of a distant isle. Much poetry I found there, and tales of old, but I could not find the key to unlock a great question troubling me. I inquired in many places, and consulted with many kind and gentle people. But still I knew I could not grasp. My mind was too dull, my reasoning too coarse. At length I was directed to go and visit an old man, who resided in a small stone cottage, perched high on a cliff overlooking the Atlantic Ocean. I was told he was wise, and very patient. I found him, smoking thoughtfully, his eyes gazing out over endless marching waves, with the wind of the Old Country playing with his locks. His lined face told of many an encounter with Weather and Man, and the eyes, deep and seeing, studied my approach patiently and kindly. He showed no surprise at my arrival, almost as if he had been expecting me, and merely motioned me to an empty chair. Several minutes went by, and not a word was spoken. As if he had read my thoughts and mind, at length he smiled, and raised an eyebrow, quizzically. It was as if he was inviting me to pour out my heart, without fear of judgment or ridicule. I found myself talking, and pouring out my life story. He encouraged me with a quiet nod, or a thoughtful draw on his pipe. I told him about the invasion of Europe by hundreds of thousands, soon to be millions of so-called refugees. I told him of the crime, the rapes and the assaults. The wave of arson, and rabid intolerance. The polarization of Society. I told him of the left leaning Politicians in Total Denial, massaging the news and lying to their far too trusting voters. I told him of my fear for the collapse of Western Civilization, the eruption of multiple local civil wars. I told him of my abhorrence of Fundamental Islam. At the same time, I told him I thought it was wrong to color all Muslims with the same broad brush strokes. That I knew some were as appalled as I was, at the fundamental horrors of Shariah Law. I confessed I did not know what to believe anymore. I could not figure out even a coherent strategy to deal with what I saw as an unfolding tragedy of epochal dimensions. I said how much I abhorred violence, yet also that I had been trained to shoot and fight, and that I was no stranger to the application of Lethal Force. I recounted how I had received death threats and death wishes, and been labelled a monster and a crank. I asked him to tell me honestly if he thought I was a racist, bigoted, prejudiced or lacking in compassion. Intelligence and wisdom, even.

Eventually, all of a sudden, I was done. The torrent of words and doubt, the hunger and the confusion, the searching and the groping, all was shut off at the spigot. At once. Now, only silence, save the whistle and sigh of the wind, playing around the craggy rocks and cliffs. Below the waves boomed and crashed on submerged rocks, and salt spray jettisoned into an unruly sky. Seagulls circled and called, screeched and argued. Smaller birds darted around, hungry for a morsel, trying their best to avoid the hungry Skua.
The silence grew longer. He showed no disdain or even any emotion. When at length he smiled gently, I felt a strange relief. Fearful yet of his possible condemnation or judgment, I hung on his every word. He tapped out his pipe, and then, slowly but clearly, he told me a long story. It would be too long to recount here in full, but save it to say that it involved War and Peace, wise men and great fools. It involved arrogance and condescension, ill founded hubris, humility and compassion. It moved me to tears, and it also made me furiously angry.

Half way through, he had picked up a Big Stick.
It was a walking stick, in parts a very rough one, with a crook at one end, and a black, studded point at the other. A small, ornate, brass collar was mounted just below the crook. One could imagine him, climbing the cliffs, with the studded point stabbing the earth, and the crook held firmly in his gnarly hand. The upper half was light in color, and showed the wood grain beautifully. The bottom half of the stick became progressively rougher, darker and uglier, until it ended in the black, stabbing tip. He laid it across his knees, the crook to his right, and the stabbing tip to his left, and asked me, gently:
“What is this…?”
“It’s a big stick”, I answered, truthfully.
He smiled. “More than a stick…”
He watched me, questioningly. I saw only a light-and-dark stick. He held up his thumb and forefinger, two inches or so apart, as if he were holding an invisible egg up to the light for examination.
“What you have here is a measuring tool for the length and breadth of the human race.”
I didn’t understand. He smiled again, and placed his thumb and forefinger on the beautifully grained oak crook.
“Here at the very top you have the Light. The light is brought by some of the best and most well intentioned, good hearted people in the entire human race. They are artists and thinkers, idealists and planners. They share unselfishly, and see themselves as part of the great human family. They will give you the shirt off their back. How-ever…”
He paused, for effect, and I tried to follow his reasoning. I watched him take his thumb and forefinger, still holding the invisible egg, and place it at the other end of the shaft, near the dark bottom, not far from the stabbing tip.
“Here at the bottom, where it is dark, you have the fighters. Here there is coarse work to be done, and the merciless stabbing of the Earth takes place. The people down here are far removed in thinking from those artists, dreamers and thinkers at the top. They don’t understand the Light, or have any patience for it. Their thoughts are cold and vicious, and there is only Darkness at this end.”
He now placed the index finger of his left hand at the crook, and the index finger of his right hand on the sharp tip.
“The distance between the top, and the bottom, in terms of enlightenment and sensitivity, is as wide as the Great Gulf can be. It is a huge distance. Very often, those at the top completely fail to understand the Darkness at the bottom. The Light makes the mistake of attributing values that it cherishes, to the Dark. It tries to shine into the Dark. With the best motivations possible. Well, the Dark does not share those values. The Dark sees such earnest approaches, such offerings of Light, as mere weakness, that makes it easy to infiltrate, under the disguise of friendship. But the Dark often is not only unmoved by the Light, but actually wishes only to extinguish it. “
Vaguely, I started to see the symbolism. He was speaking allegorically. I struggled to follow, but it was as if I could hear a door opening somewhere.
He moved his hands away from the top and bottom of the stick. Holding them in front of my face now, clasped together as if in prayer, the fingers flat together, he smiled as he said:
“Now consider the breadth of understanding that exists in any one man or woman, when it comes to grasping the battle between Light and Dark.”
He moved his praying hands two inches apart. I watched his earnest face through the narrow gap.
“Many people are only this wide, in terms of the range of their understanding. If they are at the top of the stick…”
He placed his two hands, still two inches apart, near the light colored crook.
“If they dwell at the top of the stick, but only this narrow in their understanding, they are vulnerable in their innocence. They are good people, great artists and thinkers, great workers for the common good. But they attribute to the Dark values they cherish themselves. The Dark has a huge advantage over these people. The Dark can play these people, infiltrate, in order to kill the Light…”
He placed his two hands, still two inches apart, near the Dark and gritty tip.
“If they inhabit only this Dark end of the spectrum, they hate the Light. They don’t understand the Light, or love it. They don’t seek it, or wish to preserve it. They will play along, as your Fundamental Fuzlim friends will, but when the time is right, they will rise up like snakes in the night. You are right when you see the rabid, fanatical element wishes only to conquer, and to impose it’s absolute Shariah pounding will, as they have for 1400 years of terrible bloodshed in a suffering world.”
I understood. He had built his case. I saw the range of human values and colorings, I saw the distance, I sensed the terrible dilemma, and the approaching Night. But I failed to see the conclusion. I sighed from the heart.
“What can I do?”, I said, softly and sadly. A feeling of helplessness sweeping over me. He leaned back in his chair, and slowly started to fill another pipe. It took him several thoughtful minutes, before smoke once again billowed forth in patient clouds.
“There is a lot you can do”, he said, at length. And my simple heart leaped.
“You can study the ways of those who walk in the Light, but don’t understand the Darkness.”
He was tapping the crook.
“You can study the ways of those who walk in the Dark, and wish only to stab the Light.”
Now he was tapping the gritty, scarred tip.
“What all that means is, you must walk in the Light, but never fail to study and UNDERSTAND the DARK. You must know the ways of the Dark, and as a trained fighter, you must be able to meet force with force, and never rely exclusively on well meaning but toothless words alone.”
I nodded. I thought of my Karate skills and my guns, the scars and the bullets. I thought of War and Peace. I thought of quiet mornings, with only the sound of my thoughts, Kahlil Gibran and Dostoevsky on my mind, and I remembered the urban riots, the screams, the sirens, the Molotov Cocktails, the raw hate and the vicious blows. I remembered the round whispering past my ear. I remembered peering down the sights, my mouth a thin, bloodless line, and my finger breathing off the trigger, one pound of relentless pressure at a time.
I turned away, and looked out over the Ocean. I saw the endless marching waves, the Universal Soldiers, called upon by their elders to take upon themselves great burdens the callers would never lift. I heard the Wind of the Ages, and the sighing of Human Destiny. I wondered then if the Human family would ever cease its relentless infighting, like so many quarrelsome children in a small house? This pale Blue Dot, this pixel in Space, lost in a Greater Darkness. Where, in truth, we have only ourselves for the warmth and comfort of human company.
I sighed, reflecting on his words. When I turned back to him, he was holding the stick by the two ends.
“It is your calling to understand the whole Big Stick, not just parts of it. For that you must leave your comfort zone, where you are happiest. You must travel far and wide, and ask many questions. It will be a long, tough journey. There is a small boat waiting below at the pier. Some others are already on board.”
Suddenly he tossed the stick in the air, twirled it around, and then caught it expertly with one hand. Now he was balancing the Big Stick carefully in the middle. I knew what he meant. It was a balancing act, requiring self control, and good judgment.
He passed that Big Stick to me then, and as I made my way down to the pier, watching the first rays of sunset probe their gentle fingers across the torn and divided world of Mortal Man, I reflected on the ancient truths, and modern re-discoveries of those ancient truths.
“If you want peace, Prepare for War”.
“Walk softly, and carry a Big Stick.”
“Yeah, though I walk gently in the valley of Darkness, and offer all who I meet the hand of friendship, I shall fear no Evil. For if it has to be, and there is absolutely no alternative, I can be the meanest thug in the whole valley.”
At the bottom of the cliff, I walked carefully along a small, uneven pier. At the end lay moored a small, wooden boat, with some passengers waiting for me.
I turned and look back up at that old house, inhabited by an old man. An ancient warrior, his heart and outlook molded in the crucible of the intense battle of Life. He was watching, and waved his pipe gaily at me in farewell.
Somehow, I knew he was right. I turned up my collar, braced my face against the wind, and took my first step on a New Journey. I thought of the harsh accusations that awaited me, the contempt and loathing, the death threats and the expulsion from polite PC society.
But the words of Voltaire came back to my mind.

“The Koran teaches fear, hatred, contempt for others, murder as a legitimate means for the dissemination and preservation of this satanic doctrine, it talks ill of women, classifies people into classes, calls for blood and ever more blood. Yet, that a camel trader sparks uproar in his tribe, that he wants to make his fellow citizens believe that he talked to the archangel Gabriel; that he boasted about being taken up into heaven and receiving a part of that indigestible book there, which can shake common sense on every page, that to gain respect for this work, he covers his country with fire and iron, that he strangles fathers, drags away daughters, that he leaves the beaten a free choice between death and his faith: now this is certainly something that no-one can excuse, unless he came as a Turk into the world, unless superstition has stifled any natural light of reason in him. ”

I sighed, and we all pushed off together. Our small boat, rocking on the waves, carried just us, a handful of kindred, determined souls. We smiled at one another.
I decided I liked our simple vessel’s name.

‘Pegida’.

It had a nice ring of sincerity and truth about it.

Francis Meyrick

www.islamgenocide.com

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on February 21, 2016, 7:26 pm

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Simone from Calais

February 20, 2016 in Other Authors

Simone from Calais

There is much garbage on the Internet, and that includes garbage You-Boob videos. But amongst the chaff, we find the wheat. One personal story is that of Simone, told with a raw sincerity. If left me sad and despondent, and determined, in my own naïve and gormless way, to ‘do something’. That mindset usually gets me into trouble, as I wade in to waters flowing dark, deep and fast. I invite the viewer to quietly study this intensely personal narrative. If you come out of this thinking we should still ‘help these poor unfortunate immigrants’ then I’m not sure if I should admire your idealism, laugh at your naivety, or weep over your innocence. My sense… oh, watch it first. See what you think.

My sense is that the lady speaks from the warm, feeling heart. Her comment about ‘the death of civilization’ ring uncomfortably true. You sense also a wholly demoralized Police Force, and the breakdown of Law and Order.

The other one I felt conferred another element of the tragedy was this one. Just the sense of normally peaceful life rudely disturbed, probably forever. People should never feel besieged in their own homes.

It seems at first that the interviewer in the third video is heartless. No compassion. Look again. Is there are also maybe such a thing as “False compassion” or “misplaced compassion”…? I think he has a point. Here as well we see how shallow their Muslim ‘religion’ is. It has no depth. Islam is high on ‘voluble expressions’ of their politically motivated ideology, dressed up zealously in fine and colorful garb as a ‘Religion of Peace’ (which is an outright lie), but ranks barely a drop above ’empty’ in substance. Take a look.

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The Spermatozoan Stealth Strategy – Shariah Britain in 2046

February 19, 2016 in Other Authors

The Spermatozoan Stealth Strategy – Shariah Britain in 2046

It seems a certain strange assumption is proving unassailable.
An ‘article of faith’ that is not contested. ‘A pillar’ of a certain creed that is forged from an unbreakable ore. A ‘given’ that cannot be questioned, let alone challenged. A ‘solid floor’ of unavoidable destiny, upon we all appear to be required to tread without hesitation. Or question.
Um. Really? We’re on the 46th floor. It’s a long way down. That floor looks fragile to me. I’m not happy walking on it. That pillar looks to me it has huge cracks in it. I’m not happy relying on it to hold the roof up. And as for an ‘article that ‘cannot be contested’. And a ‘given’ that ‘cannot be questioned’.
Says bloody who?
The academics? The ubiquitous enlightened, noble Left Wingers? Basking in the preening warmth of their self esteem? Feeble, appeasement oriented Government? The biased, fearful, ‘bought and paid for’ Media? The ordinary people of Western Europe?
Well, if they are all saying it’s perfectly okay for barbaric, 7th century Shariah Law to continue its relentless, bloodthirsty, all conquering march out from the ever growing mini Caliphates increasingly dotted all around Western Europe, then, I for one, indignantly raise my feeble voice against the Wind. And if, shouting against the waves, driven ashore by the Coming Storm, my voice is barely heard, I will shout louder. I shall draw symbols in the sand, with a broken stick. I know the waves may well wash away my flimsy characters. But I shall try. For I, a simple wretch, hold that the ‘Spermatozoan Stealth Strategy’ has gone far enough. Way too far already, in fact. Just because a certain grouping has higher fertility -much higher- does that mean they are entitled to inherit the earth? Within a couple of decades? Just because Western Europe has a birthrate below two children per family, and the Fuzlims commonly have over eight, does that mean, Hey presto!, their culture must be right? And not just right, but entitled to IMPOSE their Faith and so-called ‘Justice System’ on the rest of us Kaffir Infidels? Not to mention higher taxes, and second class citizen status? Or worse? Much worse?

Excuse me. Based solely on Human Sperm? We are perfectly happy to surrender centuries of Western traditions and Culture – in the relative blink of a randy Fuzlim’s eye – for a barbaric, brutal, 7th century myth, based on humbug and false pretend ‘religiosity’? Genocide, female mutilation, stoning, suppression of women’s right, chopping off hands and BY FAR the bloodiest history of any false ideology ever inflicted upon this long suffering planet?
Because make no mistake, this surrender WILL erase the old ways. Totally.
And if I, worthless wretch, even DARE to query this, shouting into the Wind from the top of the cliff, then I am instantly labelled a racist, raving fruitcake? Yo, honey. You sweethearts occupying your morally superior chairs of wisdom at universities, Media outlets, Government seats, pompous power brokers and blind appeasement freaks. You PC marching lemmings. You over zealous and COWARDLY paper cops when it comes to ‘Britain First’, and ‘Pegida’? Witnessed by your rabid hounding of Paul Golding and Jayda Fransen? Banning them from Luton for exposing the truth everybody quietly knows to be the truth? That barbarous Shariah Law and the Luton Muslim no-go zone for Kaffirs operates with impunity? And is aggressively expanding this mini caliphate? One of many? Growing and prospering? Indeed, with active paper Police SUPPORT? Whilst you IGNORE the screaming, bottle and brick throwing, hate filled, spitting, violence threatening rabid Fuzlims? What’s good for the fundamentally Peaceful ‘Britain First’ Goose doesn’t apply to the hate filled, spitting, attacking, intolerant Fuzlim Goose?
Sheez… Well, if that is the case, I proudly hold up my hand, and declare:

I AM A RACIST, RAVING FRUITCAKE…! IN YOUR BOOK, ANYWAY. AND PROUD OF IT.

**** For I DARE to call out the SCREAMING MORAL COWARDICE OF THE LUTON PAPER POLICE UN-FORCE. You scrawny, biased and impotent lot deserve every brick and bottle and Molotov Cocktail the Fuzlims will throw at your heads – eventually. It’s coming. And you know it. Deep down, you know it. And you will run, and cower, and desperately seek more Fuzlim applicants. That’ll fix it. Sure.

**** For I DARE to call out the WEAK, APPEASING MAGISTRATES. Who even now are taking crash courses in Shariah Law, and experimenting with quoting that sick, 7th century UN-LAW.

**** For I DARE to call out the SICK British Media, ‘bought and paid for’, with a plastic, fold over safety pin instead of a SPINE. And quaking blubber instead of raw GUTS.

**** For I dare to call out the Fuzlim Can kicking British Government Politicians, even now pandering and prostrating themselves before the Fuzlim minority. Elevating myopia and an unwillingness to face the implication of sky high Fuzlim birth rates, to an Olympic Gold Medal ranking.

**** For I dare to call out British people of all walks, who appease, obfuscate, stick their heads in the sand, look this way, that way, and every way, except DOWN THE CUL-DE-SAC.
That leads, unerringly, into a solid brick wall of amply evidenced FUZLIM INTOLERANCE, BIGOTRY and SCREAMING FASCIST ASPIRATIONS OF IMPOSING THEIR BELIEFS ON EVERYBODY.
What part of “SHARIAH WILL RULE THE WORLD” do you NOT understand? They wave it on their placards, they state it in their declared manifestos. They openly BOAST about it.
The writing is on the wall, the ceiling, the front door, the back door, the inside of every cupboard in the kitchen, and there is a banner towing aircraft flying low overhead, backfiring, that is towing the same orange-and-purple flashing neon light warning.
WAKE UP. IF YOU DON’T WANT YOUR CHILDREN AND GRANCHILDREN TO BE SECOND RATE INCREASINGLY OSTRACIZED CITIZENS IN WHAT USED TO BE THEIR OWN COUNTRY, THEN START BY FACING UNPLEASANT FACTS.
And ask yourself: isn’t it about time we queried the ‘article of faith’ that ‘cannot be contested’?
Namely that mere SPERM successfully hitting its mark much more frequently in some foreign invasive culture, does ABSOLUTELY NOT bring with it the right to automatically CONQUER and SUBJUGATE. AND ERASE PREVIOUS CULTURE.
Appease and whimper all you like, my naïve friends. Wring your hands, and protest meekly that I’m a racist, intolerant, rabid fruit cake.
Looking out the window on the 46th floor, in the year 2016, I count 46 years since the Labour party Non-thinkers and Wacky Left Utopian Dreamers opened the door wide to the Trojan Camels. From 1970 up to now, all I see is a sea of minarets. And a seething morass of impotent fury.
I look above me, and I imagine the view from the yet to be built 76th floor. In thirty years time. And I see violence, and hatred, and street fighting. I hear gun shots, and I see bricks, bottles, stones and Molotov Cocktails. I see a crumbled and morally discredited Police Force. I see violent hatreds, and deep divisions.
I see the tragedy of an earlier generation, back in 2016, who failed to see the writing on the wall. Who ignored the truth, for it was too hard to bear. Who turned two blind eyes and two deaf ears to the approaching Juggernaut. Who exhibited moral cowardice a-plenty. In epic quantities of see-no-evil and it-will-be-alright-on-the-night.
In my mind, I advance to 2046, and I look down from the 76th floor, and I see a sea of burqas. I see a shallow ‘religion’ which is not a religion at all. But a fascist ideology, intent on conquering and supremacy, founded on hate and intolerance, dressed up prettily in the convenient accoutrements of ‘religion’. A means to control the weak minded, and persecute and silence the independent thinkers. A façade, that tramples on humility, gentleness, compassion and tolerance. An evil ideology, that is responsible for more Muslim deaths world wide than all other aggressors combined. Many times over.
I see the Spermatozoan Stealth Strategy reigning supreme. Still. The Old England has been trampled underfoot. And they say they never saw it coming.
I see unspeakable tragedy unfolding.

I hear our Fathers and Forefathers.

Turning.

In their graves.

Francis Meyrick

www.islamgenocide.com

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on February 19, 2016, 8:14 am

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An Extraordinary Power Trip

February 17, 2016 in Auto-biographical (spiritual quest)

An Extraordinary Power Trip (when you think you have God in your corner)

How many times have we seen it?
Jimmy or Susan, Muhammad or Abdullah, discover ‘religion’. Oh, boy. Fasten your seatbelts. Hide the whiskey bottle. Here comes the red hot poker. You can burn the Kaffir Infidel with it, sure, but… you can also scorch your own tiny mind. It beats any other addictive drug, ranging from America’s Alternative Religions (baseball, football, pornography and watching Kanye West making a racist twat of himself) all the way to the more mild stuff, i.e. Cocaine, driving drunk and sneakily dodging taxes. Religion is the opiate that beats ’em all. Right across the board, from Christians to Fuzlims, from Hindus to Jehovah’s Witnesses, and from New Age spiritual flute listeners to Old Age grumpy Pot Smokers, you WILL regularly trip across the same interesting phenomenon. To wit: Johnny the grocery store shopping-trolley logistics-coordinator, who is transformed, by the hand of God or Allah, into a divine and inspired being. A leader of Men. Empowered – by God or Allah – to sit in judgment (these dark days often with a meat cleaver) on his sinful apostate neighbors.
What, we may ask, is so unceasingly and wearily tiresome about Johnny when he gets that ‘chosen-one’ idea in his head? Those of us who have been around the block a time or two (and have the scars, bullet holes and outrageous medical bills to prove it) get so caustic because we’ve bloody well ‘seen it all before’. Many times. We’ve seen the ‘high’ that comes with a deluded sense that Johnny has a direct line to God or Allah. We have seen the utopian, fanatical glint in the eye of the preacher. As he (or she) (or it) thunders from the pulpit, wagging a furious almighty finger at the unwashed rabble huddled below his new found Mount Sinai. We can indeed almost SEE the invisible halo of righteousness and divinity descend from the Heavens, and slowly float down in a golden cloud, and settle over Johnny. We can certainly see its effects. Johnny becomes, often overnight, what might be diplomatically termed a thundering pain in the neck.
Religious Mania comes reliably (tediously so) in all sorts of forms and incarnations. We have the mostly benign form of Mania that afflicts many well meaning people. An example might be the Jehovah’s witnesses. Love ’em or hate them, they are not going to chop your head off, enslave your daughters, or kill your sons. They are genuinely concerned about your soul. That’s kind of nice of them, because, if yours is anything like mine, it needs all the help it can get. Having not just broken most of the Commandments, but totally annihilated them, I would be wise to accept any and all offers of salvation. Play it safe, sort of thing. But no, with that particular stubbornness of a mischievous old sod, I delight in playing games with the guy with the halo of God wrapped around him. I used to infuriate wife and family by always inviting Jehovah’s witnesses inside for a cheering cup of tea. They were always nice, nobody ever produced a cleaver, or even asked for money. And they looked dog tired from all that walking, and demoralized from all those doors slamming in their faces. Not to mention the pointed recommendations to go perform unusual anatomical exercises upon themselves. So, me being me, soft hearted sort of codger, I’d invite them in, and treat ’em nicely. You could sense the relief, and a smile would warm their tired faces. Then, of course, the fun begins. I have issues with ‘organized religion’ but I’m not an Atheist either. I kind of know my way around many Holy Books. So they would start doing their Jehova’s thing, and I would gently point out some of the issues I have issues with. Like, “How come God only saves 144,000 of you guys? Doesn’t that seem a bit unfair? How about refusing blood transfusions?” Pretty soon, the cups of tea finished, and the dawning of realization that they were maybe being quietly out-argued, (and played with), they would suddenly remember an important appointment, and ske-daddle out the door. Thanking me politely for the tea and cookies. My wife would remonstrate with me afterwards, (while I’d sit there giggling) and I would explain that I admired their moral courage (who wants to go knock on strange doors and be told to take a running jump all day long?). Also, in my own way, I kinda felt sorry for them feeling sorry for me. I’m probably a hopeless task. Old War horse. Unrepentant.

The next step up from the mostly very gentle, well meaning Jehovah and mellow Bahai types, are the Mormon straight shooters. I’ve had them around, in their starched white shirts and their backpacks, the gleaming light of righteousness reflected brilliantly off their clean shaven and well scrubbed faces. All the way from Utah. Missionaries, sent to save the dark heathen. Okay, I’m sure I qualify. Same thing, I would offer them a cup of tea. Wait for the opening gambit, and start my little counter game. Question the origins of their texts, and their various interpretations. In my experience, the Mormons were much more brisk than the Jehovahs. To the point. They were there, on a mission of God, to deliver their Message. Did I realize the momentous nature of their arrival? More importantly, did I accept the Salvation being offered? When I would politely demur, fairly briskly, they would move into the bit where they move on from the village, and ‘shake the dust off their feet’. I kind of sensed sometimes that they did that a lot. Shaking the dust off their feet, I mean. They would depart, politely but firmly, and you could often sense a coldness had crept in. Dismissive. Here they had travelled, on a mission of God, all the way from Utah, and this dumb heathen was too lost in his dumb darkness to grasp the hand being stretched forth to him, to lift him out of the dumb slime of his equally dumb existence. Too bad! Onwards down the road, on our bicycles, onwards in the golden Light of God…! I sometimes would peer out the window, to see if they literally shook the dust off their feet, but if they did, they must have done it sneakily, because I never saw it.

Next up, the Born Again Christian. Oh boy.
My favorite memory was when I was real young, wet behind the ears, innocent as the driven snow, but convinced I knew everything. I was a university student. Wholly enlightened. And there was some meeting scheduled, and I went along. Outside, I got approached by a fellow student with this dangerous gleam in his eyes. At the top of his voice, I mean, loudly, no, megaphone-on-steroids loudly, he made an inquiry.
“BROTHER ARE YOU SAVED…?”
It boomed off the walls. Reverberated. Somewhat horrified (well, I’d never met this kind of fruitcake before) I made the mistake of replying to the inquiry. True to my form of perfectly understanding the world (up to that point, anyway) I replied:
“Errrr….. I’m not quite sure.”
Big mistake. Beckoning his chum over (“Hey, we’ve got a repentant sinner here!”) I now found myself with two raving, gibbering, foaming lunatics in my face, waving bibles.
“BROTHER ARE YOU SAVED? DO YOU NOT KNOW THE MEANING OF THE BLOOD ON THE CROSS…?”
I backed away, nervously. I should have kept my mouth shut. And run for cover.
“Errrr…. Can’t say that I do…?”
I had NO CLUE what they were even on about. In my mind I vaguely saw a wooden crucifix bleeding blood, and it seemed rather grotesque, not to mention biologically speaking slightly improbable. I wasn’t even as far as figuring it was the unfortunate dude nailed to the cross that was doing all the bleeding. I backed up as far as I could, into a corner. My escape was now firmly barred by two screaming, (120 decibels plus) gibbering lunatics, waving bibles, quoting scripture, and terrifying the living bejayzus out of me. I remember everybody was looking. I felt wholly humiliated. When I finally broke free, I swear I ran. I was a conformed Atheist for years afterwards. Now I’m sure they maybe meant well, but there was also a glorious Godly ego trip involved here. It’s not every day you get to terrify somebody with your apocalyptic visions of hell and salvation, blood on the cross and the Holy Book, in the secure knowledge that YOU are saved and special, YOUR place in Heaven is assured, and GOD LOVES YOU and has APPOINTED YOU to bring these HEATHEN WRETCHES out of their terrible DARKNESS…
Society in the West, as whole, (except the Fuzlims) (and the crawling political classes) tend to protect Free Speech. Religious Freedom is included. (except if you’re a Fuzlim). People frown on you if you say that Free Speech should be banned, and that unbelievers should be killed. If I suggested that today, I would be mercilessly mocked. Too clean shaven. But if I waited six months, grew a beard, adopted the Fuzlim dress, and made a video entitled “DEATH TO THE KAFFIRS- RAPE THEIR WOMEN-BURN THEIR CHURCHES”, and if this video featured my new bearded, wide eyed Fuzlim persona hysterically screaming blue murder, I would be alright. Because then I could count on a zillion liberated, morally righteous, intellectually superior defenders of humanity, to rush to my defense. I could say my prayers five times a day in the middle of the road in France, deliberately blocking all the traffic (despite being offered multiple other suitable locations), I could walk outside the White House with a placard that said: “KILL ALL INFIDELS, DEATH TO AMERICA, CASTRATE THE POPE, BURN ROME” and nobody would blink an eyelid. “It’s their culture”, everybody would say understandingly. Of course America is the Big Satan. And I could always rely on that nice Missus Hillary Clinton who famously said, with a slightly lecturing tone (impatient head mistress type tone):

“99.9 per cent of Muslims are peaceful and tolerant people who have nothing what-so-ever to do with terrorism.”

Right. Perfectly said. You can always count on Missy Hillary to do her homework carefully. Especially in an election year.

The Divine Message from God featured prominently in the radiant face of the very pretty young woman who turned up at our Sheriff’s Office. To inform us unsubtle members of the Law Enforcement Agency that God had instructed her to come and bear loving witness to the Love of God and witness to the poor unfortunate souls, incarcerated in our jail. Presumably, by our un-loving hands. In a religiously zealous and tolerant America, of course, she was immediately let in, on orders of the Sheriff himself, and my colleagues told me the corridors soon rang to the shouts, not of ‘Allahau Akbar’ but of “Praise the LORD”. Different God, same intensity of divine emotion. She was apparently very popular, and hugely successful in her ministry. The poor unfortunate souls warmly received the Gospel about the Blood. They hugged her closely, tears pouring down their un-loved faces. It was, admittedly, unkindly suggested by some that this was something to do with the shape and size of her mammary glands, but others resolutely dismissed such base innuendos as being disrespectful to the Power of the Holy Spirit. After a few months, she even fell passionately in love with one of her ‘Born Again’ spiritual children. Fancy that. God works in mysterious ways. So mysterious, that there has to be a perfectly sensible explanation for the fact that she agreed to smuggle her boyfriend in some much needed drugs. He had no difficulty apparently of convincing his love to perform this small service for him. Bemused, we got to watch both of them sharing the same side of the bars. The inside side.
Maybe these and other events led to a hardening of the cynic in me, and a reluctance to go with the ubiquitous flow. Indeed, it has been suggested that I am nihilistic in my outlook, which I deny. But it does perhaps explain the day I shocked the entire Evangelical Church of Cheyenne.
I always found myself drawn to observe the religious life of widely different communities. I have an interest in just about any religious or spiritual expression you can mention. Thus my presence in an Evangelical Church should not be construed as being totally of that persuasion. I have attended many diverse services in my time, and I intend to continue to do so. But on this occasion, I was increasingly aware of a young man, who seemed in all respects quite ordinary, with one exceptional ability. He too communed directly with God. I don’t mean the usual run-of-the-mill direct communions with God of the type mostly ordinary mortals have to put up with. This young man, who I shall call ‘Bud’ was the chosen one, to whom God conveyed urgent messages, requiring immediate and dramatic attention. Thus the shout:

“BROTHER! I HAVE A MESSAGE FROM GOD FOR YOU…!”

…came more and more frequently during Church services. In 90% of the cases, this Divine Intervention was placed through the Medium of Bud. Everyone would gather around, including the Ministers, and there would be many “Praise the Lord!” incantations and emotional gasps of spiritual ecstasy. I would observe al this with great interest, and then I would pay careful attention to the resulting missive from up high. I formed the impression very soon, that the transmitted super urgent messages from God, requiring immediate and dramatic attention, were remarkably un-dramatic. Bordering even on the banal. Once the hullabaloo and the “Praise God!” chorus had died down, and everyone had gathered around, what followed was inevitably some mild expression of approval or disapproval, and a mini judgement here or a micro exhortation there. Nothing real seismic, and I had to wonder, in my own black hearted manner, why God would choose to interrupt a more or less orderly church service in such a nuclear fashion, to drop a relative minute, three inch bomblet on the quaking citizens of Hiroshima. After a while, being of a mischievous and slightly heathen disposition, I formulated a plan. And decided to bide my time. I was thus well prepared for the momentous occasion, when the Good Lord, in His Infinite Wisdom, ordained that Bud would communicate with ME. Of all the worthless and wholly undeserving worms, even I was the recipient of Grace.

“FRANCIS! BROTHER! I HAVE A MESSAGE FROM GOD FOR YOU…!”
(Praise the Lord! Praise the lord!) (did somebody just faint?)

True to my quietly formulated Master Plan, carefully crafted over the time of my observations, I replied in a suitable manner. The way I do. Straight face, calmly, with little emotion I replied:

“BOLLOX! NONSENSE! YOU’RE MAKING IT UP, BUD. YOU LOOKING FOR ATTENTION AGAIN…?”
(Shock, horror, Ministers running from all directions…) (nobody knew WHAT to say…)

Bud hung his head. “I’m sorry”, he said.
Somebody asked him, aghast: “Bud, have you been making all this up?”
“Yes”, said Bud. “I’m sorry.”
A full and frank confession being made, (no more Divine messages), it was left for a trio of Ministers to take me to one side. I was complimented on my ability to see through this deception, but asked to give some thought to my “delivery”. Apparently “Bollox!” in the Holy House of God is not part of the normal vernacular. I agreed to work, indeed, on my delivery. And crept home, chastised. Chuckling to myself.

I can smile at many of these harmless manifestations of man’s ability to raise himself into the Mind of God. If there is a God -and there may well be- then we are but a speckle on a speckle on a pixel on a pimple on a very large dromedary’s… hump. A speck of Dust in a World of Galaxies. A tiny tear shed into the Ocean of Life. It is foolish to raise ourselves up to be something awesome grand which we clearly are not. Sadly, I have to depart totally from this gentle tone, in dealing with the last two cases in my ‘Encyclopedia Nuttanica’.
Thus for a while, I billeted myself in Cheyenne, Wyoming. I was doing an Airframe and Powerplant course at the local technical college. These days they call it an Aircraft Maintenance Technician Course. But in those days they just called us Aircraft mechanics. Or grease monkeys.
I started to go to a twice weekly Bible class, presented by a steely eyed Pastor and his quiet, very sweet wife. The three of us shared the rent in this old house. Well, his bible studies were packed. He also controlled the room with a rod of iron. People worshipped him. They recoiled at his anger. They knew exactly when to ‘Praise the Lord!”, when to cringe, and when to be fearful at the Lord’s Terrible Wrath. Everybody was submissive. Except one Irishman, of course. Me. I kind of enjoyed debate. I wasn’t supposed to, but I disagreed with him publicly on many points. Ignoring his dark scowl, and his steely eyes, and the moral righteousness of this Great Man, I slowly formed the impression of a Power Freak. Over a period of time, it seemed to me obvious that he had to have complete control over everybody, and that I vexed him. He didn’t have ANY control over me, and he never knew WHAT I was going to say. Or query. As time wore on, in unguarded moments, he let slip titbits of information that only strengthened my impressions.

“How did you come to Jesus?”, I had once asked.
“The Lord came to see me while I was having a bath.”
“While you were having a BATH?”
“Yes, he stood in the door and told me it was my last chance to be saved.”

I guessed then that if God wished to visit our steely eyed Pastor in his bath, it was entirely possible that He would do so. He creates the rules. As well as cockroaches and Taxes. But what was a little perplexing was that on his own admission, our Pastor had previously been a drug dealer and an alcoholic. When I gently tried to suggest (in public) that he had enjoyed the Mother of all Trips, he dismissed that suggestion with a casual dis-interest. No, it had been the genuine thing. God had come to visit him in his bath. Finish. No further discussion allowed. I tried to picture our steely eyed pastor in his bath, surrounded by his favorite plastic toy battleships, and his little Yellow rubber duck, negotiating his salvation with God, but I found the image perplexing.
Another titbit came along when he started talking about Black Magic. In his previous career, not content with alcoholism and selling drugs, he had also been a devout practitioner of the Occult. Now my curiosity was well aroused. In response to my questions (we were not yet irrevocably at loggerheads) he told me a few of his pursuits. One always stuck in my mind. He said he would go up into the mountains, alone, and perform a ritual whereby he would recite solemn prayers to the Dark Forces, and move slowly around in a circle. The object was to encounter a ‘cold’ area. If you succeeded, he maintained you could feel the temperature drop in one specific location. That was a sign you had found what you were looking for…
In the fullness of time, we were to fall out. But not before he had told me that I had been discussed within his obsequiously loyal group. It was felt by everybody that “something was following me around”. A consensus. The implication was that said entity was not benign. I shrugged it off, and I don’t think I was supposed to. The final straw came when he accused me of running up hundreds of dollars’ worth of calls to a sex line. I was amused -the charge was nonsense- and that pretty well sealed my fate. They moved out of the shared rent house, angrily. And took their Bible group with them. The rub of that was this:
I didn’t make those calls. I can’t think of anything more silly than breathing heavily down a telephone line with some unseen old biddy, who is probably a toothless Meth Head with a face like the Lunar Surface. And a bad case of body odor. And odd socks. Who in his right mind is going to pay through the nose for that dubious privilege? I know his sweet little wifey didn’t make those calls either. There were only three of us sharing the house. So who did? But ‘something was following me around’. They could all sense it. Right. Sure. Uh-huh.
My final specimen in my ‘Encyclopedia Nuttanica’ is the now all-too-common ‘Fuzlim’. Here, we have to draw a sharp red line under all the previous specimens, and open up a whole new sub section. I always say you ‘fly’ a small helicopter. You ‘fly’ an open cockpit biplane. But if that is the verb of your choice, you cannot apply it to what you do with a large commercial aircraft, or even a big two pilot heli-whopper. You don’t ‘fly’ them. You sit in them, and watch the auto-pilot do stuff. You ‘operate’ them. You ‘machine watch’ them. You twiddle your fingers, get bored, and ‘wish you were there’. You cannot use the same word. It’s like ‘painting’ a Rembrandt and ‘painting’ a concrete parking garage. It doesn’t compute.
Where the word ‘religion’ is concerned, same-same. The hostility against ‘all Muslims’ I find unwise and unwarranted. The word ‘Muslim’ is broadly used, and includes a vague indication of ethnic origins. They are by no means ALL fanatical, hate filled FUNDAMENTAL muslims (hence my made up word ‘Fuzlim’). Beware scoring an own goal, and alienating 1.6 billion people on this planet unnecessarily. But I have NO PROBLEM verbally lampooning the 10 to 40 per cent (depending where you go) (according to surveys) of Muslims who rigidly, unyieldingly, profess allegiance to Muhammad. If YOU see Muhammad as the ‘Perfect Man’ who did everything right, including sanctioning and encouraging all the grotesque and vile excesses that have taken place during and after his miserable cutthroat life, then I despair. You are my implacable enemy, and there is no way of sugar coating it. You want me dead, or conquered, and I want you cured of your contagious sickness, or, let’s face it, d-e-a-d. I refuse to recognize Fundamental Islam in the same category as all the previously described movements above. You don’t belong there, and you don’t deserve the many rights you claim under the banner headline “Freedom of Religion”. You Fuzlims are the worst. You are on an extraordinary power trip, because you think you have God on your side. You also remember daily the words of Ghaddafi of Libya, when he said:

“We have 50 million Muslims in Europe. There are signs that Allah will grant Islam victory in Europe, without swords, without guns, without conquest, and will turn it into a Muslim continent within a few decades. “

I fear it will come to even greater bloodshed than we have already seen. Rivers of blood have flowed since the beginning of the 7th century in the name of your vile so-called ‘prophet’. A point consistently overlooked is the fact that more Muslims have been massacred by Muslims (by far) than by anybody else. Europe will not turn into a diseased, Shariah afflicted third world slum without a terrible fight. Caliphate dreams or not, there are many ‘Muslims’ who abhor the crazed violence as much as non-Muslims do.

Fundamental Islam is NOT a religion. We can’t ‘fly’ Islam like we can ‘fly’ other ‘religions’. Islam takes us for a drone ride, on a frightening auto-pilot, where we find ourselves strapped in helplessly for the brutal Kamikaze ride.

What is Fundamental Islam, if it is not a ‘religion’? How about a political ideology, a fascist, Nazi style, extremist, empire building obsession. A 7th century cult, that somehow should never have been born. That should have died out, as opposed to butchering hundreds of millions of innocents in the name of ‘Allah’.

Our politicians, craven, opportunistic and cowardly, may seek your votes and your oil money, your approval and your bought peace. We who know better, can see though such appeasement and naivety.

Europe, beware the ‘Fuzlims’ and beware appeasement. Remember The 1939 Munich Agreement, and “Peace in our Time’.

The Trojan Camels are massing inside the gates.

Francis Meyrick

www.islamgenocide.com

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on February 19, 2016, 8:30 am

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Terminology and Glossary

February 16, 2016 in Other Authors

Terminology – Glossary

To avoid lengthy explanations every time, I use specific abbreviations.

AIA Anti-Immigrant-Allianceor,if you prefer, Anti-Islamic-Alliance
A loose and developing Alliance of all bodies who oppose the way the
TRIAD are bending over backwards to facilitate the smoothest possible
transition to the new Pan European Caliphate, and the imposition of Shariah
Law.

Fuzlim(s) FUndamental 7th century Muslim,(FUzzy beard), 100% believers in Shariah Law,
Muhammad was the ‘perfect male’, partied with the Arch Angel Gabriel in
a cave, Shariah WILL rule the world, or-else-off-with-their-Kaffir heads,
rah-rah-rah, Allahu Akbar, etc.
Note: I hold that the ubiquitous hate speech against all ‘Muslims’, is a
AIA major mistake. A huge own goal. The term ‘Muslim’ is a vague
one, but many people who are in ancestry and origins hail from a Muslim
background, will feel slighted, and included as the objects of such hate.
That drives them straight into the welcoming arms of the ‘Fuzlims’. In
truth, many of them loath and distrust the ‘Fuzlims’ just
as much as we do.

The Goose & Gander Conundrum What’s totally inadmissible for the fundamentally
Peace loving Patriotic Goose, is absolutely okay and just
a matter of ‘Culture” when much worse actions involve the
furiously angry Islamic Gander

Paper Mill Syndrome A figure of speech that mocks the Triadic tendency to turn two
blind Eyes (and two deaf ears) to Fuzlims blatantly burning
down the entire Paper Mill, whilst simultaneously jumping
hysterically all over an AIA supporter who DARES to drop a used
cigarette butt on the street.

TRIAD Existing Anti AIA Alliance. Three Entities: Government, Media and Police.

TRIADIC The tendency of weak Government, infiltrated, and pathologically fearful of
upsetting Islam, to ally with PC Left Leaning Media, combined with
demoralized and Politically tightly controlled Police, to apply wholly
unequal standards of enforcement of supposedly ‘impartial’ Law and Justice.
See the ‘Paper Mill Syndrome’.

www.islamgenocide.com

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on February 19, 2016, 8:31 am

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Question 1-1 ‘If only there was a Way’

February 14, 2016 in Other Authors

Question 1-1

“If only there was a way” 2/14/2016 Question posed by a supporter on FB “Pegida (UK) ”

“A Supporter” recently eloquently posed this conundrum:

“If only there was a way to organize ourselves without getting in trouble with the traitorous government, then we might be able to get something done about this problem. Instead we have to do nice little orderly protests which have no effect at all.
Lets face it, unless we risk everything we will lose everything.
As we feel that we have so much to lose, we will risk nothing and lose everything. Or rather our children and grandchildren will lose everything.”

Francis Meyrick: very well stated. Isn’t this the question on EVERYBODY’S mind? Oh, and I 100% agree when you say:

“Or rather our children and grandchildren will lose everything.”


I think that sad statement is TRUE. They stand to lose both their culture AND their country. Maybe even their physical safety and/or lives. You can see that. I can see that. The appeaser-ostriches are too scared to even look out of their favorite tiny place. In the ground.

Here’s a few thoughts:

1) Traitorous government.

I agree, there has been much treachery. What the Labor Party has done, and is doing, elevates “appeasement” to Olympian Gold Medal heights of treason. But they are also worried. That worry shows in different ways, not least the hysterical condemnation of patriotic, concerned Brits as “extreme, far Right, Ultra Fascist nationalists”. Who presumably roast babies and worship Satan in their spare time. In truth, so many of the ‘appeasers’ are just frantically feeding the crocodile (hoping it will devour them last) (A mosque in a residential area? NO problem! Here’s a gift! You want more money? No problem! Here’s a blank check!). They are in truth FAR LEFT. Out of the Solar System, out of the Galaxy FAR LEFT. To us, patriotic Brits are centrist types. Let’s get that straight from the beginning. It’s the rabid left screamers, moralizers, and Cloud Cuckooland dreamers who are the Extra Galactic Far Left Raving Rabble. So that’s a given. We have to work around it. Government wants power, and wants dumb people. We can call them “sheeple”. Are they going to get a peaceful collection of bleating lambs? I doubt it. Very much. My point is this: don’t worry too much about Traitorous Government, barely clinging to power, in the face of mounting popular fury. The hostility is a given. Governments can be changed. WILL be changed.

2) Police response

I’m kind of amused. And slightly contemptuous. Political interference in British Police actions is screamingly obvious. Put it this way. A screaming, raving, Islamic fruitcake can burn down the proverbial Paper Factory, and as long as he shouts “Allahu Akbar” and gets hundreds of his fruitcake buddies on the cell phone, so they come running, the way they do, you can bet there will be ZERO response from the British Police. There is all kinds of evidence of this, including a lot of video. Bricks and bottles flying, and the cops waving their hands pitifully. “Please stop!” “Don’t hit us!” Now, on the other hand, you know what comes next, right? Yesss…. Along comes our Pegida member, or Britain First, or whoever is a member of the AIA (Anti-Immigrant-Alliance), and HE has the unspeakable audacity to drop a used fag end on the ground. Down the road from the blazing paper factory. HE gets arrested, thrown on the ground, handcuffed, and charged with ‘assault with a dangerous weapon’. Heck, his fag butt was still BURNING, right? He allegedly threw it at a Peaceful Muslim, didn’t he? Shocking! Typical Far Right Nazi Skinhead Thug! Etc, etc.
I jest, but you get the idea. If simply handing out leaflets can get you arrested and charged (if you’re a member of the AIA) then the writing is on the wall. British Police have been cowed by their political masters and over lords into passive acceptance of Islamic outrages, brick and bottle throwing, and also into over zealous, wholly disproportionate response to the unlucky fag end dropping AIA member.
Again, it’s a given. I’m not too worried about it. That can be worked around.

3) Media coverage

I read voraciously, and I even dabble a bit at writing. I’ve written six books so far. From where I sit, I maintain that the British (and American) media are overwhelmingly “bought and paid for”. Their agenda is dictated by Government, and by shadowy George Soros type figures. With an agenda all of their own. It sure as heck doesn’t promote the existence of healthy investigative journalism. Toe the line or get fired. But here’s an interesting trend.

*** In the old days, if you wanted to get a BOOK published, you HAD to go on bended knees to a publishing house, and grovel and whine, and accept pennies on the pound for your labors. It was the only way. Then, revolution! Along came the Internet, and multiple self publishing opportunities. Increasingly, authors had their fate in their own hands. No more groveling for pennies on the pound.

**** Well, guess what. The same revolution is happening in the arena of NEWS REPORTING. It’s really interesting what you will learn off the Internet News type videos, often very well produced. The German people are rightly furious that the LOONEY LEFTY politicians, including the Mayor of Cologne, moved heaven and earth to HIDE the truth of the mass Cologne sexual attacks by a drunken mob of a thousand migrants. The Mad Mayor of Cologne even instructed the Police to HIDE the truth for FOUR DAYS. It’s called LYING. Whilst the internet was all abuzz with dramatic ‘amateur’ video and news reporting, the politicians and the complicit Police were maintaining that it had been a totally peaceful New Year’s Eve! Only when the truth could no longer be concealed, did the Looney Left rather reluctantly (and red-faced) admit there had been maybe a ‘slight problem’ in Cologne. And Hamburg, And Bremen. And Vienna. And Frankfurt… etc. etc.

So you can probably see where I am going with this. Sure, the Government is quaking at the thought of an organized and vocal AIA. Sure, the frustrated cops can’t touch the Fuzlims, but they can make up for it by stomping all over the dastardly fag butt dropping AIA protesters. Sure, the media are hostile. But the Internet beckons. You can’t intimidate the Brits. Not for long. They will find a way to do their own News Reporting. You are NOT going to bully true Brits into a cowed silence. Not going to happen.

4) Nice little orderly protests

Here’s what will happen. “Pegida” and others will grow into large, peaceful organizations. Bring the whole family. That’s the way it’s going in Germany. Able to put not just a few dozen people in the field, but hundreds, and eventually, thousands. Nice and orderly. The bigger the peaceful rallies, the more THE TRIAD (Government, Police, Media) are going to be struggling to describe all this as the work of a ‘handful’ of “far Right thugs and hooligans”. To keep it peaceful, you HAVE to have clearly recognizable march ‘stewards’ with reflective jackets, clearly identifiable. They are there, with walkie talkies, to ensure an orderly protest. Scrupulously peaceful. Noisy, but peaceful.

5) escalation

Now you know full well there are other organizations who are much more violently inclined. They exist on the immigrant side, for sure, and we have seen them in action. But they also exist on the opposing side. As I write this. I received an alert that Tommy Robinson just got attacked and badly beaten up. He’s in hospital unconscious. You know that there are those who will be infuriated. While I do not approve of violence, nor do I encourage it, I see extreme frustration spilling over into bloodshed and violence. There are signs the sophistication and organization of more radical elements (MRE) is growing every day. The Deep Web, or the Dark Web, makes it fairly easy for an organization to remain off the radar, but nonetheless highly organized. Able to suddenly put bodies in the field, at a pre-arranged time and location. With numerous apps making it increasingly possible to hide identity, there is intel to the effect that we shall see a much more violent and organized response to the capitulation to Islam as advocated and supported by the Triad. I regret that, and I oppose it, but I know it will happen.
My point is that Pegida and co should first off consolidate their numbers and their appeal. Don’t worry about being “ineffective”. Because the whole issue is going to continue to blow up anyway.

6) “Or rather our children and grandchildren will lose everything.”

I agree. I want to address this in another post.

Note: This is a discussion document, and responses may be included on this page. See the Disqus box below. Opposing views are always welcome.

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on February 14, 2016, 7:25 pm

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ISLAMGENOCIDE.COM

February 14, 2016 in Other Authors

ISLAMGENOCIDE.COM (under construction)

I’m sorry guys, but Islam is hardly a ‘Religion of Peace’. It would be much more accurate to describe Islam as bloodthirsty beyond belief. The more you research the tragic, murdering phenomenon that is Islam in the world since the early 7th century, the more bleak any prospect of attributing ‘peacefulness’ to this pseudo ‘religion’ becomes. This hysteria would be more accurately described as a fascist ideology, unrivaled in its lack of tolerance, with a political agenda. A lust for conquest and power dressed up in sham religious attire, to impress gullible followers, and even more gullible appeasers plentifully available today.

I intend to build this page partly for my own education, and partly -perhaps- to furnish an open discussion area. I encourage those who see themselves as far more enlightened, and are proud of their superior morality and wisdom, to stoop down kindly to my lowly level, and point out the errors of my simple ways and thinking. I’m available on the dreaded FaceBook, or alternatively, you can comment below, using the Disqus comment box. Or you can contact me, and join the site. Inwhich case your comments appear in the top comment box & input box. Since in this age of appeasement, I already know I will be severely chastised for my views, I will point out that if you write me an interesting note on your dissenting views, I may well publish it on this site. I will be delighted to receive contrary views, as they serve my purpose well. Namely, to examine my own opinions closely. Frankly, I fear for the future. If you can prove my fears unfounded, you will have helped me sleep better. So by all means, have at it. I don’t come to you presenting myself as anything special, and I encourage you to come to me claiming superior wisdom and insight into the likely future course of History. I can’t be more fair than that.

Aswith my page ‘Chopperstories’ you will find many hyperlinks here. ‘Chopperstories’ started out small, and then it grew, and grew, to where it’s a bit of a monster portal. I keep trying to organize it, but then I go off reading stuff, and it never seems to be terribly tidy. I’ll do my best here with “Islamgenocide.com ” and TRY and keep it tidier. Sorta. Anyway.
Finally, dare I say this? “Peace “. Speaking
Francis ‘Moggy’ Meyrick

Articles by me, exposing the simplicity of my thinking…

The Fuzlim Manifesto – Draft 1
Terminology and Glossary
An Extraordinary Power Trip
The Spermatozoan Stealth Strategy – Shariah Britain in 2046
The Good Ship ‘Pegida’ NEWEST

Questions, raised by visitors to the ‘Pegida’ Facebook page

Question 1-1 ‘If Only there was a Way’

Question 1-2 Paraphrased: Do we oppose ‘All Muslims ” or just ‘Fundamental, Radical Muslims’?

Articles by others on the subject of Islam & genocide

The Islamic Invasion of India: The greatest Genocide in History (You will have to Google this, as the hyperlink will not work.)

The Future of Europe and Islam

Personal testimony by former Muslims

Personal testimony by Europeans experiencing the current invasion

Simone from Calais – a Calais Resident speaks out

Persecution of Muslims – the flip side of the coin

Persecution of Muslims – Wikipedia

Last edited by Francis Meyrick on February 22, 2016, 8:13 am

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