Peep Hole into Hell

That's right. Let's get down on one knee and press our noses to the wall and peer intently through that tiny aperture. The view will be edifying. Because we need to be reminded of what evil is - that it really exists. Apparently the horror of the world is not sufficient for some to convince them that there even is such a thing as evil. The Heroes of Islamism are not, apparently, quite vicious enough to demonstrate this reality. To saw off the heads of innocents, for the stated reason that their religion is not that of the monsters, is not enough, clearly, to demonstrate evil.

How readily, how easily, these eyeless mouths condemn the ancient public offices of Christianity, what with its burnings and tortures of heretics hundreds of years ago. How far the spittle sprays in their eagerness to condemn their own roots, from which has grown the strong tree that nourishes their right to an ungrateful and undiscerning heart. They scour the history books to find examples of the failures of their own culture - or rather their parent culture, from which has mutated their subculture of America-loathing and anal fetishism. How broadly they cast their nets, to find cause to hate what is noble. And all the while they kowtow to the dark-eyed impotentates of the East, rising only to their knees to perform whatever service to Islamism such a position might suit them for.

Is my imagery too visceral? It's because I'm discussing a deeply instinctive issue. The Left has slipped its proper place, of soft and symmetrical opposition to the hard clarity of the right, and abandoning every masculine virtue, it has become a fey caricature, mincing and tittering at every off-color nether reference. The left has achieved its logical outcome and had a "sex change" operation. It is a eunuch, a frightful mutilation pretending with the connivance of a reprobate world that it is other than what it is. It is a dry vine, infertile, caustic, noxious. It is fit only for the fire.

We might find hope, though. From the so-eagerly assumed kneeling position, they might open the eyes now so tightly closed, close the mouth now open and filled with that which it ought not to hold, and shift their gaze away from the shameful thing they adore, to another place - a small, bright spot as on a wall, where an intent eye might find enlightenment.

For there is a hell, you see, of which we find a hint, occasionally, simply by casting about our own eyes upon the reality of the world. What do we see? A celebration of what is vile. The raising up of that which should be scorned. How, how can any apology at all be made for the mad bombers? How can the slightest excuse be made for the deliberate slaying of pedestrians? How can any sentence that starts by acknowledging their viciousness, contain the conjunctive phrase, "yes, but..."?

So let's press our noses to the wall and peer through the crack into hell, where every evil thing is eternally remembered and rehearsed, only this time in the light of conscience and regret. Or if that is too painful, let's set up a cable station that plays 9/11 on an endless loop, to the soundtrack of the screams of a beheading victim.

Moral relativity? Moral equivalence? Our soldiers compared to the agents of oppression who would plunge the world into another Dark Age? Oh yes. There is a hell. Too bad its fires shed no light, because the fools of this world just don't seem to be able to see any true thing at all. I suppose that's inevitable. Being children of darkness, how could they stand the light?



J