The sickness emanating from Babylon knows no reason, no measure.
In amongst the razzmatazz of super duper tuesday, of sarkozy boning bruni, of britney going doolally, a minor story may have passed you by. A story of a cowardice and horror unsurpassed in the cowardice and horror with which Babylon has become curiously synonymous.
On Friday in Baghdad two bombs exploded. Nothing new there. Strapped to two devotees of the Prophet Mohammed, peace be upon him. Nothing new there. 99 innocents, market traders and shoppers died in the blasts. Nothing new there. The bombers were women. Nothing new there. They were mad. Nothing new there. No, they really were mad. Retarded. With Downs syndrome. Their bombs were detonated remotely, no doubt by some man standing at a safe distance from the decapitation and flesh.
By some man who i’d wager has never felt respect for a woman other than his own mother. Some man who preaches to others the glory of martyrdom but in the final analysis prefers to reap the rewards by proxy. Some man who uses his outmoded brand of religion as an excuse to indulge his own psychotic cravings. Nothing new there.













How pathetic.
How pathetic.