Category: Fourre-tout

We now live in very uncertain times, and yesterday’s rules and regulations have become somewhat obsolete to cope with the evil of terrorism.
These rules need to be updated and made more exacting to meet new challenges.

And the curtailing of individual freedom is the price we will have to pay to prevent the reoccurrence of horrible incidents like the Paris carnage.
In our troubled times, the key to survival is adaptation to new realities.
The new realities are that murderous fanatics can strike almost anywhere and everything possible should be done to thwart their plans.

Privacy (the condition of being free from being observed or spied on) is a casualty of this state of affairs.

Islamist sociopaths are becoming more sophisticated and are embracing new communication technologies.
They are “going dark”.
They have moved to the latest methods of encrypted transmissions making it difficult for law enforcement agencies to monitor their chatter.

Software companies have been reluctant to provide a “back door” to allow authorities to monitor terrorists chats.
I think that this wrong.

I understand the hesitation of the tech companies to divulge trade secrets, but the safety of many should take precedence over the interest of a few.
In my book, security trumps privacy.

And those individuals who so zealously protect their secrets might become victims of their own intransigence.

We have got to become more conscious of our environment and stop wearing virtual horse “blinkers”; our eyes should not be glued on our smartphones but on the fidgety looking characters sitting next to us.

Like it or not, Big Brother has got to have a way to keep an eye on its wayward flock.

Few people like it, but like cod liver oil it might be good for our health.

Alain

I just came back from my daily “constitutional”. That’s where I exercise brain and limbs and that’s where (thinking of terrorism) I got the idea for this column.
I hesitated to write it in English and I finally opted to do it in French, because the French are more familiar with this expression.
Not to say, that there are no “emmerdeurs” (pain in the arse) in America -there are plenty- but I might have more fun doing it in French. So here we are:

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Tout d’abord, qu’est-ce qu’un emmerdeur/emmerdeuse ?

Le dictionnaire me dit :

« Personne qui ne cesse d’importuner, d’agacer, de contrarier ceux qui les entourent. »
Oui, c’est à peu près ça.
Et ils sont légions. Il y en a partout. Ils sont dans le commerce, la politique, l’armée, la religion, la médecine et même chez les amis ou dans la famille.

Etre un emmerdeur « is an equal opportunity occupation» comme diraient les anglo-saxons bien pensants.
On les rencontre dans toutes les couches de la société. Ils peuvent être males, femelles, entre les deux, blancs, noirs, jaunes ou caca-d ‘oie.

Au fait, « On ne devient pas emmerdeur, on nait emmerdeur. » Alain

On reconnaît l’emmerdeur dès la naissance. C’est le môme qui refuse de quitter l’utérus après 15 heures de contractions abdominales.
C’est le gars qui pisse dans le café de la cantine.
C’est le bonhomme qui se gare en double-file dans une rue étroite a sens unique.
C’est la nana qui fait un scandale au guichet parce qu’on lui refuse l’entrée de « razzia sur la chnouf » avec un marmot de six mois.

Est-ce que vous vous reconnaissez ?

Les terroristes sont les rois incontestés des emmerdeurs. Un emmerdeur ordinaire généralement ne verse pas de sang ; il sème seulement la merde.
Un terroriste est un emmerdeur professionnel. Il s’entraîne longtemps à l’avance et comme un vampire, il a un besoin physiologique de sang.

Un emmerdeur est généralement un frustré sexuel. C’est un type mal dans sa peau qui recherche l’attention qu’il pense qu’on lui doit et que l’on ne lui a jamais accordé.
C’est un type qui veut prouver au monde qu’il n’est pas aussi con qu’il en a l’air.
Mais le fait est qu’un emmerdeur quelle que soit l’attention qu’on lui prodigue ne peut pas changer de comportement. C’est dans son ADN.

Même après électrochocs, transplantation cardiaque et agrandissement du pénis un emmerdeur reste un emmerdeur.

Dans le cas des terroristes, comme on dit dans mon quartier, « c’est bien fait pour leurs gueules; qu’ils crèvent la gueule ouverte, abattus (préférablement) par des femmes aux seins nus ».

Alain

“I have read descriptions of Paradise that would make any sensible person stop wanting to go there.”
Charles de Secondat

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After the Big Job in Paris and after blowing himself to smithereens, Mohammed ascended (strangely it felt more like descending) to Paradise.

During his short journey to the Promised Land he exulted. He did a very good job in France (emptied at least 7 ammunition magazines) and slaughtered lots of worthless Infidels.
He totally deserved what awaited him.

Life in Paradise was going to be sweet. He was already counting his blessings.
He would renew his friendship with his comrades in arms, eat good food, drink sweet beverages and last but not least have plenty of sex. As promised, 72 virgins were waiting for him.

As matter of fact, it was a “une histoire de cul” that drove him to Jihad.
He was caught trying to take some liberties with his neighbor’s daughter and her enraged father cursed him, beat him with a stick and chased him away.
Humiliated, angry and sexually frustrated, Mohammed joined ISIS.

For a while life was good. He and his comrades captured a lot of land and took a lot of prisoners. They summarily executed many of them and this gave him a feeling of omnipotence. He felt great.

Then he was assigned to this job in Paris and lived in the French capital for a while. He could not help but feel vaguely envious of what he saw.
People looked well nourished, happy, and above all there were plenty of beautiful women flaunting their sexuality.
Well, he thought a little jealously, after my job is done, I will have plenty of those.

Unfortunately for him, due to the great demand for virgins in Muslim countries there was an acute shortage of presentable maiden in Paradise. The virgins found there were basically rejects. Most were old, lame, or toothless.
When he was presented with his prize, he felt cheated.

After waiting that long though, most of the leftover virgins were eager for sex and they fought hard for his attention.
But Mohammed seemed to have lost the lust he felt on earth.
Having to deal with 2 or 3 girlfriends at the same time is hard enough, but putting up with 72 quarrelsome frustrated harpies is infinitely worse.

He grew irritated and started to get into fistfights (weapons are unfortunately banned in Paradise) with his equally frustrated mates.

He asked to be sent back to earth, especially to France.
Sorry, he was told. This is Paradise, and you cannot leave Paradise. You are here forever.
This is not Paradise he thought, this is Hell.

Everything they told me was a bunch of lies.
“Le Paradis, c’est la France” (Paradise is France).

And he wept bitterly… in Hell forever.

Alain